Reminiscences of Travel in Australia, America, and Egypt Part 3

One of the prettiest features of this handsome city is a fine sheet of water called Lake Wendouree. This lake is about a mile across, and lies in the crater of an extinct volcano. The Botanical Gardens are on the farther side of Wendouree, which has a fine boulevard round each side leading thereto. On the lake are several pretty little steamers, which make frequent excursions. In the evening they are provided with coloured lamps, and music and dances may be enjoyed by the pa.s.sengers. Ballarat is less than thirty years old, yet has quite an old-world appearance. It is a charming city and well worth a visit, and we were well pleased to have seen it.

A favourite excursion from Melbourne is to the Black Spur Mountains, about two days' drive from the city. Leaving Melbourne the route pa.s.ses through some miles of suburban villa residences with beautiful gardens.

After about ten miles "the bush" is reached, and continues for the remainder of the journey, relieved here and there by a clearing or by a little village. The term "bush" must not be understood as scrub, furze, etc., but all kinds of uncultivated land, thick forests, and open country. A curious feature of colonial life is to see in full operation the old stage coaches, so long ago discarded in England. They are painted a brilliant red, and indeed appear to be the veritable machines used in the "good old days when George the Third was king." They are frequently drawn by six or more horses, and, true to their ancient traditions, now and then have a spill, for roadmakers in the Colonies have the same habit as their English brethren of making short "right about turns" at the bottom of steep hills. We drew up at a small wayside inn, intending to bait the horses, but found it was closed, owing to the death of the landlord. This man was a large wine grower, and his vineyards extended for a considerable distance round his house. After pa.s.sing through many miles of country under vine cultivation we pulled up for the night at a little village called Healesville, where a very miscellaneous company sat down to a substantial repast, ending with what the waiter called a "soafler." The light being dim it was difficult to see what the dish really was, and curiosity being awakened, inquiry elicited the fact that it was intended for a souffle. The hotel being quite full of visitors, two of our party had to sleep in the parlour on sofas of the horse-hair order. The landlord, coming in to see if we were all right, informed us we could not have our boots cleaned in the morning, as his man was just then out on a boose. A colonial friend travelling with us remarked that it was "awkward when master or man took to boosing." Our friend had previously told us that the landlord was generally "on that line." "You never saw me boosy!" said he. "_Never_!"

retorted our friend, with peculiar emphasis, which summarily stopped the discussion. We were awakened early in the morning by the screams of laughing jacka.s.ses and the crowing of c.o.c.ks. Our toilette was performed somewhat under difficulties, one of us having to use the piano as a washstand, and another being constrained to go through the same operation in the open street under the hotel verandah. Our route now lay over a steep hill, through a forest of gum trees, the fragrance arising from the latter in the early morning air being delightfully refreshing. The main roads are kept very fairly, a certain number of men being told off for each section at 9s. per day wages. The old corduroy roads, formed by laying trees across the track and filling the interstices with earth, are being gradually superseded by Macadam. The men seemed to work in very leisurely fashion. We were to have breakfasted at a cottage on the road, but when we arrived there found that the old lady who kept it had gone to a ball at some village public-house, several miles away, as also had the owners of all the other cottages along the route. A little girl left in charge told us that after the ball all these good people were going to the funeral of the wine grower and innkeeper previously mentioned, and our friend told us they would doubtless stay there to comfort the widow as long as there was any wine left in the house. We soon after entered the region of the big gum trees and of the tree ferns, and a wonderfully beautiful sight it was.

[Picture: A Big Tree]

The whole valley is filled with tree ferns, and the fronds, in many cases being new, with the sunlight falling upon them, formed a picture not soon to be forgotten. Some of the gum trees were enormously large-we saw several 15ft. in diameter and over 200ft. in height-but these were small when compared with some found in the less frequented parts. In the midst of such surroundings lies the pretty little village of Fernshaw. When we were first invited to spend a week at the country house of our friend we rather unreasonably pictured in our minds an English country or seaside residence, and antic.i.p.ated much pleasure in the change from dusty Melbourne. Our surprise was great, therefore, when after jolting over some half-formed roads we came upon a clearing among the gum trees, and were told that the wooden shanty before us was the Melbourne citizen's country house. We were not disposed, however, to be very critical, for the sixty miles drive in the mountain air had made us hungry, and we were quite ready to respond to the invitation to the evening meal. But our disillusion was complete upon entering the sitting room and finding that no provision had been made for the satisfying of our keen appet.i.tes. By some accident the supplies from Melbourne had not arrived; the rough table was covered with a couple of towels, and on it was spread a repast consisting of some bad bread and sour raspberry jam, while the "cup which cheers but not inebriates" was innocent of milk and sugar. It was Sat.u.r.day evening and we were "out of humanity's reach," being many miles from any source of supply, so had to content ourselves as best we might with this Spartan fare until the Monday, when our host proposed an excursion to a distant part, involving the staying a night at an hotel.

We gladly embraced the proposal, and finding that the hotel was a comfortable one I determined to excuse myself from joining in the excursion on the following day in order that I might have the opportunity of recruiting nature's exhausted powers by an extra meal, a resolution I had much satisfaction in carrying into effect. Our friend and his sons own about one thousand acres, at present covered with trees, with the exception of a small clearing round the house. When a piece of land is taken, the first care is to fence it, which is done with logs, at a cost of 25 per mile, including the cutting of the logs. The next step is to "ring" the trees-that is, to cut a deep groove round them, and so by killing them prevent any further exhaustion of the soil. The trees being dead, vegetation rapidly springs up, and there is soon abundance of food for cattle. Clearing the ground of trees and stumps is a very costly operation, and takes many years to finally accomplish. The Government with a view of preventing the acc.u.mulation of lands in a few hands, refuse to sell more than 320 acres to one person, but of course this is easily evaded. At the time of our visit the price was 1 per acre, payable in ten years by equal instalments, a condition being that some one should reside upon the allotment. At the end of three years the owner can obtain from Government a lease of the land, and can then pay up the full value, which leaves him at liberty to sell if he wishes to do so. Of course the building up of large estates is thus encouraged, but this could, perhaps, be prevented by imposing a tax on every acre. The 20,000 acre men would soon be compelled to dispose of some of the land which they hold in the expectation that it will increase in value. Such a plan has been proposed, but it naturally met with great opposition from the landed interest.

[Picture: On the Black Spur]

Leaving our friend's house a drive of a few miles through the bush brought us to the picturesquely-situated village of Marysville. This little village lies in a deep hollow surrounded by fine ranges of tree-clad hills of extreme beauty. A pleasant hour's walk from the village, under the shade of the tree ferns, took us to the Stephenson Falls. The princ.i.p.al fall is 80ft., and the volume of water is unusually large for an Australian waterfall. Close to the fall are some magnificently large tree ferns, and while sitting here enjoying the lovely view some little birds came flitting about, one of them hopping on to the shoulder of one of our party, attracted, doubtless, by the aroma of a fragrant "weed" which at the time he was enjoying. English visitors to Australia, especially those in search of health, would find the conditions existing at Marysville most conducive to their restoration.

The air is bracing, and as before stated, the scenery most delightful. A tolerably good accommodation is to be had at the inn, which will doubtless be improved as the place becomes more widely known.

Returning to Melbourne, we stayed another night at Healesville, arriving at 7.30, and as we had fared badly during the day we were quite ready for a substantial dinner, and from our previous experience of the house made no doubt of obtaining it. But unfortunately for us, there had been a chapel tea-party during the afternoon, at which a large force of parsons had been present. We had therefore to be content with a tough, woody steak, a wild duck of ancient and fish-like smell, varied by salted mutton. The b.u.t.ter was rancid and full of dead flies, and the bread appeared to have been cast upon the waters. We had to go to bed feeling quite faint, but hoping for a better breakfast. The beds were good, and we should have had a good night's rest, which we sorely needed after the twig beds of the previous night at the Marysville Hotel, but the part.i.tions between the rooms being only of half-inch plank everything pa.s.sing around us could be heard all too plainly. A little after midnight some fellows came in from night-fishing, and going into the room next ours woke us up by a great noise. One old donkey was telling the two younger ones he had had a deal of experience among snakes, killing as many as eight a day for many years, and that as the result of a series of experiments during that time he had found an infallible cure for snake bites. He had offered his discovery to the Government for 1,000, and his partner offered to be poisoned by the most deadly snakes to test its efficacy, but all to no purpose. So he had determined to let the secret die with him. The others asked if the sovereign remedy was to be swallowed. "Oh, no," said the old fellow, "for it is composed of five deadly poisons. You must first cut out the wounded part, and rub the antidote in. But," added he, "the secret shall now die with me." "But how about your partner?" asked the others. "Won't he tell the secret?"

"Oh no," was the reply; "he's safe enough, for he's dead." Then we heard the voice of the landlord's pretty daughter telling them it was time to go to sleep, upon which the old boy growled, "I wonder people can't go to sleep without bothering me." The rest of the night was made miserable for us by the two "night fishers," who, rising long before dawn, went prowling about the different rooms, ours included, collecting their tackle for a shooting expedition, but leaving behind them, as we found afterwards, their percussion caps.

[Picture: The Lyre Bird]

We returned to Melbourne by another route, affording us some fine views of the plains called Yarra Flats, and the Marysville Hills in the far distance.

CHAPTER IV.

At the end of January we left Melbourne for a few weeks' tour in Tasmania, taking steamer from the wharf on the Yarra Yarra, the river upon which the capital of Victoria is situated.

The banks of the Yarra have been selected as the scene of the operations of all the most offensive trades in the colony-the bone boilers, tanners, fellmongers, candle makers, chemical manure makers, glue manufacturers, etc., in addition to which all the sewage which is not left on the surface of the streets is run into it. The river is very narrow, the fall to the sea extremely slight, and the traffic great, hence at every revolution of the paddle-wheel or screw-propeller the abominations from the depths below are stirred up and mingled with those coming from the before-named savoury factories, forming a more horrible compound than ever proceeded from witches' cauldron. In this one respect the New World has certainly shot far ahead of the old, for even the memory of ancient Cologne is made savoury to the nostrils by this colonial stench.

Our friends came to say good-bye, and brought quite a sack of peaches and apricots, which were very acceptable during the voyage. If there were on board any roysterers or betting men they had no opportunity for displaying their peculiarities. Until we reached the entrance to the river Tamar almost every person on board was ill, for Ba.s.s's Straits is notorious for its disagreeable cross seas.

Launceston is forty miles up the river, and is the capital of the county of Cornwall, as in England. The scenery along the river banks is very beautiful, and is so exactly like the Truro river at home that it is difficult to believe we are out of England. The river is winding and broad, and the sh.o.r.es slope gently down from high ground covered with trees. Here and there are bright green meadows and villages and scattered farmsteads and churches. I saw nothing in Victoria to compare with it.

Launceston, a quiet city of 10,000 inhabitants, is surrounded by hills.

Looking down upon it, one is reminded of Florence from Fiesole, the beautiful climate and clear air being quite Italian, with the lovely Tamar winding its circuitous route for miles away. We drove out towards a place called the "Devil's Punch Bowl," walking the last mile through a beautiful wood down a hill, with firs, gum trees, etc., in abundance, with here and there delightful glimpses of green glades. The air was filled with the sounds of the tree locusts and the tremendous hissing noise of the cicadas, the sun shining through the trees and producing a temperature and light which were simply perfect. The only drawback is the presence of snakes, which, our driver said, are very abundant here.

The scene is truly English. At the bottom of the little wooded valley we came upon an old wooden shanty, where we tried to get a gla.s.s of milk, but there was no one at home. Presently an old man appeared, driving cows. We asked him for milk-he had none, but gave us water, and offered raw eggs. My companion took two, and said he liked them, but I am sure he liked the first best. The old man was seventy-three years of age, and lived there alone, sleeping on a door covered with an opossum rug. He told us his master died there close by the bee-hives a few weeks ago, "so," said he, "I put the bees in deep mourning, or they would all have left."

I wrote my notes sitting on a gatepost, out of the way of snakes; the moon shone brightly, and in the distance I could hear the church bells, mingled with the voices of children, the tinkling of cowbells, and barking of dogs.

The shops close at six o'clock, but the public-houses of course remain open. I observed a small fruit-shop, a mere shanty, with the sign of "Pomona's Temple," and a hairdresser's saloon with the high-sounding name of "Tonsorial Palace," while a democratic opponent in the same street, with a proud humility, called his place of business a "Barber's Shop."

Strolling in the town one evening I talked with a policeman, who was an almost exact counterpart of Count Moltke. He had just received his new regulation helmet, and did not like it at all: it was hard and heavy. He was very pleased to hear we liked Tasmania better than Victoria. "Ah,"

said he, "you will find real hospitality here; here everybody helps everybody, but in Melbourne everybody helps himself, and the bobby or somebody catches the hindmost." He said he had been a policeman for twenty years, and, "although I say it as shouldn't, I will say for the Launceston police, they are the most civillest, honestest body of policemen going," with which I quite agreed.

Another beautiful ride is to the Cora Linn, seven miles from Launceston.

On one side of the road, stretching almost the whole distance, is a hedge of sweetbriar, giving forth delicious perfume. It is difficult to get accustomed to the reversal of the seasons; here in February the farmers are busy cutting and saving their corn, but with no fear of rain to spoil their harvest, as in England. A bridge crosses the Linn, and a cataract-like stream tumbles down over rocks, very much like the Lynn at Lynmouth. Below the bridge is a deep basin, and all around are numbers of queer trees, young and old, with many burnt-out trunks black as negroes, with white spots in them like eyes. The trees and shrubs are full of _cicadas_ making a great noise.

Leaving Launceston, we drove to Falmouth, ninety miles away. The road lies through a beautifully-wooded country; indeed, the entire ride is just like going through a park in England. We saw lots of magpies, very much larger than ours, but quite as mischievous. A gentleman told us a person once asked him to change a sovereign, which he did, and then looked for the sovereign, but it could not be seen. Presently, looking up, he saw Master Mag in a shrub, with one eye shut, his head on one side, and standing on one leg, with the piece of gold in his mouth.

Our first night's stopping-place was at Stoney Creek, where there is a comfortable hotel, just like a private house, with only one other house for miles around. Near to the hotel flows the River Esk, a black, silent, swiftly-flowing and suicidal-looking stream, suggestive in its motion of some huge black snake, of which there are many in the neighbourhood. In crossing a field to look at the river our clothes became covered with burrs and spines from the p.r.i.c.kly pear. We sat down on a gra.s.sy mound to watch the flowing of the river, but had quickly to move, as we found ourselves in the midst of a colony of great ants. The following verses were written on the occasion by one of my companions:

[Picture: THE DOCTOR CONTEMPLATES-A POEM]

THOU AND I.

Thou art in happy England With peace, content, and joy, And there no poisonous reptiles Thy comfort can destroy; No hissing sound the startled ear With fear of death awakes- Thou art in happy England, I, in the land of snakes.

About thy household duties Serenely thou canst go, No fear of fierce tarantulas Or scorpion brings thee woe; And day by day flows calmly on, And sleep wings through the night- Thou art in happy England, I, where mosquitos bite.

Thou hast the trusty faithful dog, The quiet, harmless cat, But I the fierce Tasmanian D-, Opossum, and wombat; Familiar objects greet thy sight, Here all is strange and new- Thou art in happy England, I, with the kangaroo.

Thou hast the blithe canary, The robin chirps to thee, While here the magpies chatter And rail from every tree; Bright parrots glint beneath the sun, And shriek their hideous song- Thou art in happy England, I, wattle-birds among.

Thou canst recline in any place, And watch the moments pa.s.s, Here burrs and p.r.i.c.kles fill the clothes While lying on the gra.s.s, They stick into the flesh, and sting Like gnat, or wasp, or bee- But thou in happy England From all such plagues art free.

Hurrah for happy England, For all the folk at home!

From hill and dale resounds the cry, No matter where we roam.

Rare scenes of beauty greet the sight, The balmy air is sweet, But still I sigh for England Where thou and I shall meet.

DR. L-.

The landlady was a widow, her husband having recently died. Her son had just returned from sea, where he had been for twelve years. He had been wrecked three times, and the last time should have given him enough of the sea for the rest of his life. It was in the ship "Euxine," taking 3,000 tons of coal to the Mauritius. She took fire off the Cape of Good Hope in the midst of a terrific storm. The captain was washed overboard and drowned; a sailor was also swept away, and while only twenty feet from the ship was attacked by a flock of albatrosses, right in sight of his comrades. He fought with them, but all in vain, and the wretches literally pulled him in pieces with their strong bills in a very few minutes. The crew got out the boats, but of course they were in a bad state. It was, however, a choice between burning and drowning, so they put off, preferring to risk the latter. After two or three days, two of the boats were picked up, but the third was out for eleven days. The poor wretches on board had nothing whatever to eat, and in their extremity were driven to cast lots which among them should die. One unhappy man was disposed of, and in two hours after a ship came in sight and picked them up.

A lovely drive through Epping Forest brought us to Avoca, where "the bright waters meet," the North and South Esk uniting here. Our route lay along a fine road, through avenues of gum trees, wattles (acacias), cultivated for their bark, the sweetbriars and hawthorns scenting the air delightfully. We saw a splendid eagle, and large numbers of parrots, magpies, and hawks.

[Picture: Avoca]

On our way we pa.s.sed many residences of great woolgrowers, owning as much as 20,000 acres of land each, but living, for the most part, in England, their affairs in the Colony being managed by agents. They keep only one man on each 5,000 acres. There is scarcely any agriculture, although the land is very suitable, but being taken up in this way, there is no room for population to increase, and the people have to emigrate.

At Fingal we stopped at an hotel, kept by an Irishman married to a Jewess. They presided at either end of the table, and kept us short of food; indeed, I never saw a small joint go so far before. Next day we left the hotel, still hungry, although the charges were quite as high as those at the Great Western Hotel, Paddington.

Soon after leaving Fingal we saw something by the roadside which looked very like a snake, and on examining it we found it was one-a black snake, 4ft. 6in. long. It lay perfectly still, and presently we found it was dead; but the sensation was not pleasant. A gentleman at the hotel told us he had killed four the night previously, and doubtless this was one of them.

[Picture: St. Mary's]

After pa.s.sing through the charming village of St. Mary's, embowered in trees, we entered a lovely avenue, two miles in length, filled with beautiful flowers and ferns, the air laden with scents from the gum and other trees, and on emerging came upon St. Mary's Pa.s.s. This is an immense gorge, four miles long, filled with fine trees, the road, which is remarkably good, being cut in the side of the cliff by convicts in the old days of Van Diemen's Land. It winds down the valley to the sea at Falmouth, and on either side rise lofty hills, while the valley below is 1,000 feet deep, and filled with immense trees of various kinds, including the tree fern. I have seen most of the pa.s.ses and valleys in the Tyrol, but have never seen one to excel this in grandeur or beauty.

[Picture: Falmouth Hotel]

In the map the word "Falmouth" was printed in rather large letters, so we expected to find a somewhat considerable place. At the head of the pa.s.s we were told the township lay between the foot of the hill and the sea.

On getting down the hill we could plainly view the sea and the intervening land, but no town was visible. Inquiring of some little boys the way to Falmouth, they directed us away to the right. We went on, feeling a.s.sured we were going wrong; and presently, meeting a gentleman, we inquired again, when he told us to retrace our course, to go through an ordinary field gate, and that we should then get to Falmouth in three minutes! We told him that the little boys had directed us the other way, but he said we should have asked for "Hotel." The town of Falmouth, where the boys lived, consisted of two or three houses, and was a mile from the hotel. On exploring the place next day we were informed that fifty years before it was much more important than now. Miles of streets were marked out, but were gra.s.s-grown, and there were not more than a dozen houses in the place, all built of wood, and of one storey in height. The burying-place for the district is about a mile away, on the open common, each grave being surrounded with stakes, with no wall or fence enclosing the whole. It was a melancholy sight, reminding me strongly of the graves on the battlefields of the Franco-German war.

[Picture: Burial-Place at Falmouth]

The beach and sands are very fine, like those of my native county. The bathing is delightful, but you must keep a sharp look out for sharks.

One morning, however, while bathing, we stood in much greater danger from the mad folly of some c.o.c.kneys who had recently come to the hotel. We had been bathing in an arm of the sea, the point beyond which it was not safe being marked by a stake driven into the sand. Between our bathing place and the hotel was a high sand bank, screening us from sight, the stake being visible from the verandah of the hotel. After dressing, we were leisurely walking up the sandbank towards the hotel, when we were startled by a bullet pa.s.sing between our heads and lodging in the sand behind us! We threw up our towels and shouted, and then saw the c.o.c.kney sportsman standing on the platform under the verandah, from whence he had been aiming at the stake in the sand with his rifle for the past half hour. On examination we found the sand riddled with bullets, not 50ft.