CHAPTER XXTHE MIRACLE OF THE MALLEE
Letno man declare anything to be impossible until he has seen the Mallee; he will then be in a position to affirm the reality of natural miracle wrought with the co-operation of man; he will know that a desert can blossom as the rose, and that the place where jackals lay can become a glorious human habitation. I have just beheld this miracle and now hasten to declare it.
The Mallee is an immense territory embracing about one-quarter of the State of Victoria—that is to say, twelve millions of acres. Until recent years it was regarded as a hopeless wilderness. In the early ’eighties a Royal Commission was appointed to inquire into the possibilities of this dreaded country. Their report was dismal to the last degree. The wise and learned men declared that the aspect of the country was that of a wilderness in the strictest sense of the word! sand, scrub and mallee below, the scorching sun and blue sky above, and not a sound of life to break the solemn silence. In a journey of 100 miles from north to south the Commission did not encounter a solitary bird or a single living creature. The only evidence of animal life was the barked stems ofstunted scrub and bushes where the rabbit had once fed, and the dead carcases of a few dingoes which the trappers had snared or poisoned. As for water, all that could be discovered over an area of a few thousands of square miles was a few native wells, a small lagoon or two and one or two muddy water-holes. Throughout the entire region there was no grass.
Such a country was pronounced to be hopeless, and more than once the question was asked in Parliament: “Is the Mallee worth saving?”
It is a little difficult to convey to an English reader what is meant by “scrub.” It must be seen to be understood. But some idea of it may be gained if the reader can imagine an interminable country as big as four or five of the largest English counties put together, and this country covered with a dense undergrowth through which no man unaided could possibly force his way. A country absolutely flat, with not so much as a ghost of a hill to serve as a landmark. Not a track ever made by human feet. Scrub so thick that a man passing into it even for a short distance would need the device of a piece of string fastened to a tree at the place of entrance and by means of which alone he could find his way out again. That was the Mallee of forty years ago. More than one man set himself the task of conquering this wilderness. In every case he had to retire beaten. If he succeeded in clearing a space of ground and planting upon it wheat or vegetables, or raising a few head of sheep or cattle, down came the dingo and therabbit from afar to kill his lambs and consume his green crop, or, if he successfully armed himself against these intruders, the heavens became his foe and refused to shower down the kindly rain. Wild animals, vermin and drought—the settler could not withstand them.
Then came a day when the Government erected a fence of wire netting around an enclosed area of two hundred miles. That was to keep out the dingo and the rabbit, and to give the new settlers a chance of cultivating the ground. Then followed the discovery of water in the heart of the country. Already sixty-three bores have been put down which tap water in an area of 500,000 acres. Later a supply of water has been drawn from the Grampian Hills, eighty miles away, and this is conveyed by means of channels to various settlements in the Mallee. Periodically the huge receptacles at the bottoms of the fields are filled up by this supply. Then the farmers draw it upon their land. The discovery of water in the interior, and the new supply from the Grampians, have helped to solve the problem of the Mallee. The country could not possibly exist upon its rainfall, which averages at the best only fifteen inches per annum. Enclosure and water, then, were the two primary elements in the transformation of this desert. The final element was found in scientific farming. One grand secret lies in frequent fallowing. The soil is so treated that it retains its moisture. “Dry” farming is practised by many, and the results of this process are remarkable. Senator McColl, who hasmade a special study of this particular branch of agriculture, predicts that by means of “dry” farming most of the difficulties of the Mallee will yet be overcome. Barely twenty years have passed since the problem of the Mallee was seriously attacked, and already a miracle has been accomplished. This former desert now produces one-fifth of the entire wheat crop of the State of Victoria, and it is claimed that Mallee wheat is the best in the world. Where twenty years ago or less a hundred acres of land would support only one sheep, to-day five sheep are supplied by two acres. Land that was not worth giving away is now valued at £5 per acre, and prices are rising. The Mallee promises to be the Beulah Land of Victoria. Indeed, the people have become prophets in naming one of their chief townships “Beulah.” At the first, the place was named in faith, and when the great drought came “Beulah” seemed to be a ghastly caricature of the actual situation. One poor settler, crushed to the dust by misfortune, yet retained enough waggishness to parody a well-known revival hymn thus:
“We’ve reached the land of drought and heatWhere nothing grows for us to eat;For winds that blow with scorching heatThis Beulah land is hard to beat.O Beulah land, hot Beulah land,As on the burning soil we standWe look away across the plainsAnd wonder why it never rains!”
“We’ve reached the land of drought and heatWhere nothing grows for us to eat;For winds that blow with scorching heatThis Beulah land is hard to beat.O Beulah land, hot Beulah land,As on the burning soil we standWe look away across the plainsAnd wonder why it never rains!”
“We’ve reached the land of drought and heatWhere nothing grows for us to eat;For winds that blow with scorching heatThis Beulah land is hard to beat.O Beulah land, hot Beulah land,As on the burning soil we standWe look away across the plainsAnd wonder why it never rains!”
That year of drought was terrible. Men were reduced to living on the very minimum of rations. It was only a decade ago, but the recovery has been phenomenal. As the years pass, science will lay for ever the spectre of drought.
It was through this wonderfully fertile country that I had the privilege of motoring in December, 1913. The experience was unique in every way. The hospitality of the people was unbounded. In the small towns there were banquets and receptions given in honour of the “distinguished visitor.” Churches and halls were crowded for the sermons and lectures. Farmers drove in by carriage and motor from every point of the compass. An angel from heaven could not have been treated more royally than was a preacher from Melbourne. To my amazement I found in little far-away Beulah the electric light installed in every house. The churches are beautiful little buildings. The streets of the “town” are wide. The shops are modern. The houses are commodious and comfortable. A year ago there was not a garden in the township: to-day every house has a garden. A grass lawn springs up as by magic when once water is laid on.
My tour consisted of an eighty-mile drive through one vast wheat field. As far as the eye could reach in every direction the fields were filled with ripening or ripened wheat. Fields! I said. And what fields! Several of them extended for over half a mile in one direction alone. Farming hereisfarming. Land is measured by miles rather than by acres.The whole process of reaping is modern. The “complete harvester” is in general use over these immense fields. It is a wonderful piece of machinery, completely superseding the old methods of reaping, binding, stacking, etc. The “harvester” does everything. It cuts the wheat, winnows it, fills up one bag with chaff and another with wheat, while the driver moves across the vast space. Automatically, the bags filled with grain are deposited at certain intervals upon the field. When the “harvester” has been over the crop there is nothing more to be done; the wheat is ready for exportation. The perfect climate permits this complete process to be undertaken at a stroke. The wheat is cut when quite ripe and quite dry. It never lies in the fields to be sodden and spoiled by capricious rain, as is often the case in England.
At this harvest season in the Mallee we tasted all the charms of a perfect Australian summer climate. The eucalyptus was putting forth its new, delicate tips of gold and brown—a perfect blend of bush colour. The sky was a deep blue, unrelieved by a fleck of cloud. The air, dry and hot, encompassed us like the breath of a generous oven in which all manner of savoury things were yielding up their odours. This blend of bush perfumes, liberated by the heat of the sun, has a character all its own. The charm is completed by the extreme clearness of the atmosphere, which creates many a sweet illusion of the landscape. On these broad spaces the mirage is frequently seen. At least half a dozen times we were tricked into believing that ahead of us lay a glorious stretch ofwater, when all that awaited us was a particularly dry part of the plain.
Despite the partition of the country amongst farmers, there is an air of solitude in the Mallee that is at times depressing. During our eighty miles run we encountered upon the highway only four living beings, while on the morrow, we encountered not a single human being. Life is confined to the farms-teads, which are scattered. Neighbours are separated by several miles from each other. But these farm-houses were the surprise of our journey. Not one of them is twenty-five years old, yet we found in each the telephone installed. One farmer, at whose generous table we lunched, has his own plant of air gas, and his house is brilliantly illuminated at night. In every house we visited we found a valuable piano: in one case it was a German instrument worth over £100. These are the Mallee farmers who in twenty years or less have compelled this wilderness to blossom as the rose, and who, as the result, have furnished their houses in modern fashion, and with many luxuries. I could not help contrasting many of the farms I know well “at home” with these abodes of comparative luxury in the once desert of Australia.
In some cases the primitive houses and the modern abodes stand side by side. The former, built of rude pine blocks and covered with corrugated iron, represent the struggle and the simplicity of the pioneer days: the latter represent success and comfort. Most of these farmers are deeply religious men. They have not allowed their motor-cars to cheat them outof the old-fashioned Sunday. The churches are crowded on Sundays, and it is quite a common sight to behold the chapel yard filled with motors, buggies, cycles, and other means of locomotion. Worshippers come for twenty miles to their central churches. And these Mallee men have not allowed their prosperity to kill their native generous sentiments. They are most generous towards their churches. One small congregation raised £80 last year for foreign mission work. A modification of the tithe system is in operation amongst these good people. They give in “kind” as well as in money. So many bags per hundred of wheat and oats are set aside for sale on behalf of Christian work. It is a primitive but very effective method of giving.
There is another side to the picture. Away on the back blocks are men and women who are more heathen than any persons in Fiji or Samoa. A clergyman in the Mallee told me that he had visited people in distant places of the Mallee who had not even seen a church for more than eighteen years. These families grow up in complete ignorance of religion. One child of twelve years of age was brought in to the “town” to become a mother: later her sister, a child of fourteen, followed her for the same purpose. My friend discovered that these children, brought up amongst the animals, scarcely knew the name of God. Their moral sense was unawakened. There are therefore drawbacks to a garden which has sprung out of the desert.