CHAPTER II

A Chopping Contest.CHAPTER IITorbay—Denmark Timber Mills—Mount Barker—Katanning—Wagin—Narrogin—Beverly—York—Lovely Wildflowers.

A Chopping Contest.

Torbay—Denmark Timber Mills—Mount Barker—Katanning—Wagin—Narrogin—Beverly—York—Lovely Wildflowers.

Leaving Albany under more auspicious circumstances this time than when I had left it by road, I took my seat in the train, my destination being Denmark Mills, where I went to see a great timber station and Jarrah Forest. On arrival at Torbay Junction, 9 miles from Albany, I left the mail train and took the timber train, as the company, who own the Denmark Timber Mills, have a private line running to that place; once seated I was soon carried into the timber country. We passed through country covered with boronia and other sweet flowers, and with Sheoak, Karri, and Jarrah trees. We crossed the Hay river and came to Denmark Mill and township. We were now in the thick of the Karri country, covered with immense trees. The site of the township, covering 150 acres, has, of course, been cleared, and there are many comfortable wooden and slab cottages with nice gardens attached, giving aplentiful supply of fruit and vegetables; as well as a good store, where everything appertaining to housekeeping can be obtained. No liquor is allowed to be sold at the mill on account of the dangerous nature of the occupation, consequently this is a model township. There are several coffee-houses, and, in spite of their enforced sobriety, the men seem to be very jolly and happy. An enormous stack of timber was ready to be shipped to Colombo, and the men were at work cutting more, as the enormous demand for Western Australian wood keeps the workmen busy night and day, working in relays. The line train wound round the hills in picturesque fashion, until we came to a valley which looked more picturesque still, but rather dangerous to cross in a timber-train. Here the flying fox or aerial tram is used to bridge the steep part and to carry small timber. I was glad I did not venture down into the valley, for I was afterwards told that it was not an infrequent occurrence for the timber-trucks, and occasionally the engine also, to leave the line, and as the trucks are of the roughest description, consisting merely of four wheels and a platform, and are loaded with immense logs, the passenger can only travel on the engine, or on the “dummy,” which is a special truck placed immediately behind the engine to keep it from being damaged in case some huge log, weighing perhaps 20 tons, should slide forward in the course of a descent. It is difficult to give an idea of the size of the gigantic Karri-trees here. One which I saw was quite hollow, and a bullock team drove right through it with perfect ease. In returning to the town I saw another large quantity of battens or pickets waiting to be shipped for London to fence two large cemeteries. Enormous fires are always burning in the town to consume the great heaps of waste from the mills. A pile, about 120 feet high, was waiting to be burned, and it did seem a pity that good wood should be reduced to ashes merely to get it out of the way. A scheme for shipping the refuse of the mills to America for conversion into paper has lately been mooted.

THE HOMESTEAD, KENDINUP STATION

Hauling Logs at the Mills

The Karri-trees, grow to a height of 300 feet, with a circumference of from 20 to 30 feet. From one Karri-tree alone 100 tons of timber have been cut. Karri is also calledEucalyptus collosseaordiversicolor, the latter name denoting the difference between its leaves and those of other eucalypti. The timber is impervious to damp. I was shown a block cut from a log that had been buried forty-six years in moist earth, and it was perfectly sound. For mining, harbour works, railways and street-paving the wood is unequalled, and is now greatly used in different parts of London, notably in paving Charing Cross, where traffic goes on at the rate of 402 omnibuses every hour; and in Paris the Rue Lafayette and Rue Château d’Eau are also paved with our famous Australian woods. This particular wood is preferred for street-paving because it is safer for horse traffic than other kinds; observations taken by Colonel Hayward, late City Engineer of London, have shown that horses might be expected to travel over 446 miles of Karri road without accident. On Westminster Bridge, London (south side), the Jarrah paving has lasted for seven years. This wood is also being used all over the world for jetty piles; some enormous ones, 90 feet in length, were waiting at the train-shed to go to Albany, where thirty vessels are under charter to take the timber away to South Africa, SouthAmerica, India, &c. There is another very large karri district which I mean to visit; I must not therefore exhaust all I have to say about karri timber here, but pass on, leaving behind Denmark Mill with its 20,000 acres of forest, where the manager told me over two million loads of timber were waiting to be cut down. Mr. Millar also owns very large jarrah forests, the Wagerup of 35,000 acres, and the Mornington, 55,000 acres, and employs upon them a very large staff of workmen.

Returning next day to Torbay Junction, I caught the mail-train and continued my travels, passing thousands of acres of land waiting for selectors. Stopping at Mount Barker, 28 miles from Torbay, I visited the homestead of Mr. Somnes, the land around which was first cultivated over 40 years ago by Mr. Somnes, senior, now 90 years of age, and many of the fruit-trees, though planted so long ago, are still bearing good crops of fruit. Over 55 acres of fruit-trees of different kinds, bearing lovely fruit, testify to the excellence of the soil. Two thousand apple-trees seem to be specially prolific. In another part of the Mount Barker district, Mr. Miller’s estate, comprising more than 5000 acres, has a fine orchard of over 6000 fruit-trees of all descriptions. Two other orchards, not quite so large but with much exquisite fruit, are not far off, and the old homestead of St. Werbergs, where the late Colonel Warburton resided, is a place of much interest. In addition to fruit, the necessary potato and onion are being cultivated, and in some cases yield very largely per acre. It was my intention to stay at Katanning, as I wished to see the much-talked-of orchard and vineyard of the Hon. F. H. Piesse.

It being night when I arrived, I could not see what the place was like, but in the morning light I found it a most charming little village. A great deal of land has recently been taken up by selectors; during last year over 1500 applications were made for homesteads and farms on conditional purchase, and many more for pastoral leases and town and suburban lots. Theharvest returns here are very satisfactory, 15 bushels of wheat to the acre being the average. Many farmers are coming over from the other colonies to select land for farms, as well as people from England and other countries. The Katanning area contains 100,000 acres, so there is plenty of room for many farms and orchards. Assisted passages are granted from England to intending farmers and agriculturists and their families, also to single women and widows. They can come to this colony by only paying £8 5s.towards their passages. These people must, however, be approved by the Agent-General, Hon. Henry Bruce Lefroy, in London (15 Victoria Street, Westminster, S.W.), from whose clerks intending passengers can get any necessary information by writing to ask for it. On arrival in Western Australia the new-comer will be afforded every assistance by the Government land-agents who are stationed in the principal towns.

The orchards and vineyards of Mr. Piesse are really wonderful. There are 65 acres of fruit-trees, bearing all kinds of fruit of exquisite flavour, some of the pears weighing over 2 lb. each, and the peaches, apricots, and apples of equal size and beauty. The apples grown here are famed for their size, sweetness, and flavour.

There were acres and acres of vines loaded with large and luscious grapes, the purple ones, with their lovely bloom, offering a picture to the eye as well as refreshment to the palate. The cost of clearing land in this district is only from 35s. to £3 per acre, so that any one with small capital could soon have an orchard or farm of their own. The day is evidently not far distant when Western Australia will not only produce sufficient for all her own requirements, but, being nearer the European markets by several days’ journey than the other colonies, will be able to supply the markets of the outside world with her fruits, especially grapes, the soil in some parts being particularly suitable for vine culture. Her goldfields may in time be exhausted, her forests may be converted into timber, but the soil will always remain and vineswill always grow as long as the sun shines to mature the grapes for wine to make glad the heart of man. Almond-trees also grow wonderfully well, and tons of almonds are sent every year from Katanning to different parts of the colonies.

One very great feature connected with fruit farming in Western Australia is that there are no fruit pests in the colony, no phylloxera, no codlin moth, and no nasty little fruit-fly to spoil the growth of things. Every care is taken that nothing of the kind shall be brought here from other places, all fruit being rigorously examined by experts before being passed by the Customs.

Seated behind a fast pair of Australian brumbys—(these horses, called by the natives Warrigals, are very hardy animals, and are well known to go longer distances without nourishment of any sort than any others of their kind; when proper food is unobtainable, they can subsist on the driest of spinifex grass, or scrub, and what would kill other horses does not seem materially to injure them)—I had a lovely drive over Mr. Piesse’s properties. One splendid field of wheat, 300 acres in extent, was a great sight. As far as the eye could reach this field, with its magnificent crop, waved before the breeze. We had passed the orchard with its acres of fruit-trees bending beneath the weight of fruit. Then we came to the vines with their rich and luscious grapes, then—a complete and charming change of scene—to the cornfield. On the far side of the field two waggons, each drawn by nine horses and laden with a tremendous load of produce of the glorious earth, were wending their way to the mill, which was seen in the distance on the other side. A forest of trees, white gum, York gum, and raspberry wood, sent a subtle perfume through the air. Opening a large white double gate (one of many), we drove right through the pretty cornfield, and one could imagine the feelings of Bobby Burns when he wrote his exquisite poem, “When the corn is waving, Annie dear.” Returning on the other side of the field, a pretty view is seen of the village of Katanning bathed in the golden sunlight.

We passed the model farm of Mr. Stanbury and came to Mr. Piesse’s splendid and most interesting mill: all the very newest machinery for turning the ripe corn into flour is here. I thought of our ancestors crushing wheat between stones, and watched the beautiful white stuff coming down the huge cylinders, automatically filling the corn sacks and coming to a dead stop when full, with no assistance from the human hand, while the man who had placed the sack on the cylinder stood by sewing up with twine the last one filled. The click came to notify that a bag was full; it was taken off, and another put on to go through the same process. Tons of refuse from the wheat were being thrown out, and on my asking what was done with it, Mr. Piesse said that it was given to the pigs. This splendid mill was built in 1891, but, in consequence of the rush to goldfields which broke out in 1893, lay idle for nearly two years, all the produce being wanted for chaff, which could not be cut quick enough for the demand.

A great deal of land-clearing is going on in the different selections, and it is interesting to see the forest devil or tree-puller at work. This operates by means of a chain placed round the tree and a lever worked by a man; in about 15 minutes a great tree will come up root and branch, and fall never to rise again.

Ready for Cross-cutting, Denmark Mills

Resuming my journey next morning, I once more sped on by train through the flower-scented country, passing Wagin, Narrogin, famous for oranges; Pingelly, and Beverley (all rich agricultural country). Here we partook of a very good repast, this being the place where many Perth passengers break the journey when going to Albany, orvice versâ; then, after a further run of 20 miles, we stopped at the pretty little town of York, on the banks of the Avon river. It nestles in a valleyalmost surrounded by green hills, and as I walked across the bridge, built of jarrah-wood, that spans the pretty river, I thought I had never seen a more pastoral or a prettier place. The town is in two parts, one each side of the Avon, which is crossed by three bridges. The pale yellow fields of corn, the pretty houses on the hillsides, the beautiful cattle grazing, and the fruit growing in profusion in the various gardens and orchards, make a charming picture. Quantities of sandal-wood grow close to the town, and constitute a valuable industry; the jam-wood also thrives well, and the scent of it makes one imagine oneself in the vicinity of a raspberry-jam factory. The headquarters of Parker’s Eucalyptus Distillery are here. The distillery is at Dangin, about 40 miles off, where the beautiful fruits that grow at York are preserved by the same firm, and are quite tempting to look at and exquisite to taste. Farming is very advanced in York. I was shown some wheat from a farm, a portion of a crop that yielded 32 bushels per acre. The farmers employ the very latest improvements in machinery, and say that, though expensive at first, they find these cheaper in the end, the expense of working the land being greatly reduced by using the newest strippers, &c. It speaks well for the productive capacity of the district that 24,000 bushels of splendid wheat were waiting, at the Empire Milling Company’s storehouse, to be turned into flour.

Driving from York to Greenhills, through the Avon valley, I passed Mr. Jesse Scott’s magnificent farm. Imagine a cornfield, or, I should say, a succession of cornfields, of 450 acres, on some parts of which the oats had attained the height of 7 feet. These portions of the fields would yield 60 bushels to the acre, and the whole 450 acres would average 35 bushels per acre. It was, indeed, a magnificent sight. On other parts of Mr. Scott’s property rye, buffalo, and prairie grass were making great progress, while 12 acres were planted with vines.

YORK

The tanning industry is well represented. I saw splendid samples of plain and fancy leather when visiting Mr. Hay’s factory; one enormous side weighed 39 pounds, kangarooskins are also tanned and make a beautiful shiny leather. Kangaroo meat is eaten here, although beef and mutton are plentiful. Many people seem to prefer “Roo” steak. I confess I was rather surprised at breakfast to hear the waiter, in reading the menu, mention the latter dish. I did not test it, but at dinner tried kangaroo-tail soup, and found it really excellent. The much-esteemed Roman Catholic priest, Father Gibney, brother of Bishop Gibney, lives in York, and also has a pretty little place (which is his hobby) called Springfield, about three miles out. The Rev. Father has hundreds of fruit-trees of different kinds, and quite an orangery. I brought away several branches with eight or nine oranges on each as mementoes of my very pleasant visit. There are some good buildings, a fine Post Office, Mechanics’ Institute, Court-house, and some handsome churches, as well as many good shops. York is one of the oldest Western Australian towns, and enjoys the distinction of being the place where the first official execution took place in 1840. The wife of a settler, Mrs. Cook, and her infant, were murdered by aborigines during the absence of her husband. The murderers escaped into the Bush, and were only brought to justice through a tribal quarrel which resulted in some natives betraying them. They were conveyed to the scene of their crime and hanged in chains, in the presence of a large gathering of natives. Up to this time there was an impression amongst the natives that an absence in the bush, long or short, absolved them from punishment. This execution dispelled any idea of that kind which they may have entertained, and taught them a wholesome lesson.

A very well-known person in early times was called the Duke of York. He used to go between Perth and York in a little cart carrying goods, not least of which was a keg of rum, the virtues of which would have been even more warmly appreciated if the old fellow had left it in its natural state, and not mixed so muchaqua purawith it. His descendants have risen in the world, and in place of the keg of rum of their ancestor have now bonded stores of large extent.

On leaving Yorken routefor Perth the train journey was rendered delightful by the beautiful carpet of wild and many-coloured flowers on each side of the line. As the train sped past the idea struck me that these flowers—lovely immortelles, white, pink, and yellow, growing in countless millions—could be turned to good account. Conversing with a Westralian (white) native in the train, I find such a thing had never been thought of, and what could be made a source of wealth by some energetic people seems here hardly to be noticed. Thousands of crosses, wreaths, anchors, screens, fans, and other decorations could be made of these flowers, and would, I am sure, command a ready sale on the Continent, especially in France, where there is such a love of flowers for ceremonial purposes. At present, like the boronia, which usually seems to waste its sweetness on the desert air, they appear to be not much admired, except by people travelling through the country, who cannot fail to be impressed, like myself, by their beauty. For perfumery purposes, the little coffee-coloured boronia must have a great future before it, as well as the lovely immortelles. My friend in the train said, “I don’t think they are much good.” He put me in mind of the soldier, a good many years ago, who, on the defeat of Parses the Persian, found a bag of shining leather filled with pearls. Not knowing their value, he threw them away, but kept the leather bag, saying, “What was of no use could be of no value.”

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