THE AUSTRALIAN CHILD
His school and his games--"Bobbies and bushrangers"--Riding to
school.
Australia is the child among civilized nations, and her life throughout
is a good deal like that of a child in some regards--more gay and free,
less weighed down with conventions and thoughts of rules than the life
of an older community. So Australia is a very happy place for children.
There is not so much of the "clean pinny" in life--and what wholesome
child ever really enjoyed the clean pinny and the tidied hair part of
life?
But don't run away with the idea that the Australians, either adults or
children, are a dirty people. That would be just the opposite to the
truth. Australians are passionately fond of the bath. In the poorest
home there is always a bath-room, which is used daily by every member of
the family. On the sea-coast swimming is the great sport, though it is
dangerous to swim in the harbours because of sharks, and protected baths
are provided where you may swim in safety; still children have to be
carefully watched to prevent them from going in for a swim in unsafe
places. The love of the water is greater than the fear of the sharks.
The little Australian is not dirty, but he has a child's love of being
untidy, and he can generally gratify it in his country, where conditions
are so free and easy.
I am sorry to say that the Australian child is rather inclined to be a
little too "free and easy" in his manners. The climate makes him grow up
more quickly than in Great Britain. He is more precocious both mentally
and physically. At a very early age, he (or she) is entrusted with some
share of responsibility. That is quite natural in a new country where
pioneering work is being done. You will see children of ten and twelve
and fourteen years of age taking quite a part in life, entrusted with
some little tasks, and carrying them through in grown-up fashion. The
effect of all this is that in their relations with their parents
Australian children are not so obedient and respectful as they might be.
This does not work for any great harm while the child is young. Up to
fifteen or sixteen the son or daughter is perhaps more helpful and more
companionable because of the somewhat relaxed discipline. Certainly the
child has learned more how to use its own judgment. After that age,
however, the fact of a loose parental discipline may come to be an
evil. But there is, after all, no need to croak about the Australian
child, who grows up to be a good average sort of woman or man as a
general rule.
It is very difficult indeed for a child in Australia to avoid school.
Education is compulsory, the Government providing an elaborate system to
see that every child gets at least the rudiments of education; even in
the far back-blocks, where settlement is much scattered, it is necessary
and possible to go to school. The State will carry the children to
school on its railways free. If there is no railway it will send a 'bus
round to collect children in scattered localities. Failing that, in the
case of families which are quite isolated, and which are poor, the State
will try to persuade the parents to keep a governess or tutor, and will
help to pay the cost of this. The effect of all this effort is that in
Australia almost every child can read and write.
Going to school in the Bush parts of Australia is sometimes great fun.
Often the children will have the use of one of the horses, and on this
two, or three, or even four children will mount and ride off. When the
family number more than four, the case calls for a buggy of some sort;
and a child of ten or twelve will be quite safely entrusted with the
harnessing of the horse and driving it to school.
In the school itself, a great effort is made to have the lessons as
interesting as possible. Nature-study is taught, and the children learn
to observe the facts about the life in the Bush. There is a very
charming writer about Australian children, Ethel Turner, who in one of
her stories gives a picture of a little Bush school in one of the most
dreary places in Australia--a little township out on the hot plains. I
quote a little of it to show the sort of spirit which animates the
school-teachers of Australia:
"A new teacher had been appointed to the half-time school, which was all
the Government could manage for so unimportant and dreary a place. His
name was Eagar, and his friends said that he suited the sound of it.
Alert of eye, energetic in movement, it may be safely said that in his
own person was stored up more motive power than was owned conjointly by
the two hundred odd souls who comprised the population of Ninety Mile.
"There was room in Ninety Mile for an eager person. In fact, a dozen
such would have sufficed long since to have carried it clean off its
feet, and to have deposited it in some more likely position. But
everyone touched in any way with the fire of life had long since
departed from the place, and gone to set their homesteads and
stackyards, their shops or other businesses elsewhere. So there were
only a few limpets, who clung tenaciously to their spot, assured that
all other spots on the globe were already occupied; and a few absolutely
resigned persons. There is no clog on the wheel of progress that may be
so absolutely depended upon to fulfil its purpose as resignation.
"It was to this manner of a village that Eagar came. In a month he had
established a cricket club; in two months a football club. The
establishment of neither was attended with any great difficulty. In
three months he had turned his own box of books into a free circulating
library, and many of his leisure hours went in trying to induce the boys
to borrow from him, and in seeing to it that, having borrowed, they
actually read the books chosen.
"But his success with this was doubtful. The boys regarded 'Westward
Ho!' as a home-lesson, while the 'Three Musketeers' set fire to none of
them. Even 'Treasure Island' left most of them cold; though Eagar,
reading it aloud, had tried to persuade himself that little Rattray had
breathed a trifle quicker as the blind man's stick came tap tapping
along the road. The sea was nothing but a name to the whole number of
scholars (eighteen of them, boys and girls all told). Not one of them
had pierced past the township that lay ninety miles away to the right of
them; indeed, half the number had never journeyed beyond Moonee, where
the coach finished its journey.
"Eagar got up collections--moths, butterflies, birds' eggs; he tried to
describe museums, picture-galleries, and such, to his pupils. At that
time he had no greater wish on earth than to have just enough money to
take the whole school to Sydney for a week, and see what a suddenly
widened horizon would do for them all. Had his salary come at that time
in one solid cheque for the whole year, there is no knowing to what
heights of recklessness he would have mounted, but the monthly driblets
keep the temptation far off.
"One morning he had a brilliant notion. In another week or two the
yearly 'sweep' fever for far-distant races would attack the place, and
the poorest would find enough to take a part at least in a ticket.
"He seized a piece of paper, and instituted what he called 'Eagar's
Consultation.' He explained that he was out to collect sixty shillings.
Sixty shillings, he explained, would pay the fare-coach and train--to
Sydney of one schoolboy, give him money in his pocket to see all the
sights, and bring him back the richer for life for the experience, and
leaven for the whole loaf of them.
"'Which schoolboy?' said Ninety Mile doubtfully, expecting to be met
with 'top boy.' And never having been 'top boy' itself at any time of
its life, it had but a distrustful admiration for the same.
"'We must draw lots,' said Eagar.
"Upon which Ninety Mile, being attracted by the sporting element in the
affair, slowly subscribed its shilling a-piece, and the happy lot fell
to Rattray.
"He was a sober, freckled little fellow of ten, who walked five miles
into Ninety Mile every morning, and five miles back again at night all
the six months of the year during which Government held the cup of
learning there for small drinkers to sip."
I need not quote further about young Rattray's trip to Sydney and to the
great ocean which Bush children, seeing for the first time, often think
is just a big dam built up by some great squatter to hold water for his
sheep. That extract shows the Bush school at its very hardest in the hot
back-country. Of course, not one twentieth of the population lives in
such places. I must give you a little of a description of a day in a
Bush school in Gippsland, by E. S. Emerson, to correct any impression
that all Australia, or even much of it, is like Ninety Mile:
"A rough red stave in a God-writ song was the narrow, water-worn Bush
track, and the birds knew the song and gloried in it, and the trees gave
forth an accompaniment under the unseen hands of the wind until all the
hillside was a living melody. Child voices joined in, and presently from
a bend in the track, 'three ha'pence for tuppence, three ha'pence for
tuppence,' came a lumbering old horse, urged into an unwonted canter.
Three kiddies bestrode the ancient, and as they swung along they sang
snatches of Kipling's 'Recessional,' to an old hymn-tune that lingers in
the memory of us all. As they drew near to me the foremost urchin
suddenly reined up. The result was disastrous, for the ancient
'propped,' and the other two were emptied out on the track. From the
dust they called their brother many names that are not to be found in
school books; but he, laughing, had slid down and was cutting a twig
from a neighbouring tree. 'A case-moth! A case-moth!' he cried. The
fallen ones scrambled to their feet. 'What sort, Teddy? What sort?' they
asked eagerly.
"But Teddy had caught sight of me.
"'Well, what will you do with that?' I asked.
"'Take it to school, sir; teacher tells us all about them at school.'
The answer was spoken naturally and without any trace of shyness.
"'Did you learn that hymn you were singing at school, too?'
"''Tain't a hymn, sir. It's the "Recessional"!' This, proudly, from the
youngest.
"But they had learned it at school, and when I had given them a leg-up
and stood watching them urge the ancient down the hillside, I made up my
mind that I would visit the school where the teacher told the scholars
all about case-moths and taught them to sing the 'Recessional'; and a
morning or two later I did.
[Illustration: AUSTRALIAN CHILDREN RIDING TO SCHOOL. PAGE 75.]
"The school stands on the skirt of a thinly-clad Gippsland township, and
is attended by from forty to fifty children. Fronting it is a garden--a
sloping half-acre set out into beds, many of which are reserved for
native flowering plants and trees. School is not 'in' yet, and a few
early comers are at work on the beds, which are dry and dusty from a
long, hot spell. Little tots of six and seven years stroll up and watch
the workers, or romp about on grass plots in close proximity.
Presently the master's voice is heard. 'Fall in!' There is a gathering
up of bags, a hasty shuffling of feet, the usual hurry-scurry of
laggards, and in a few moments two motionless lines stand at attention.
'Good-morning, girls! Good-morning, boys!' says the master. A chorused
'Good-morning, Mr. Morgan!' returns his salutation, and then the work of
the day begins.
"But do the scholars look upon it as work? Something over thirty years
ago Herbert Spencer wrote: 'She was at school, where her memory was
crammed with words and names and dates, and her reflective faculties
scarcely in the slightest degree exercised.' In those days, as many old
State-school boys well remember, to learn was, indeed, to work, and when
fitting occasion offered, we 'wagged it' conscientiously, even though we
did have to 'touch our toes' for it when we returned. But under our
modern educational system the teacher can make the school work
practically a labour of love.
"The morning being bright, the children are put through some simple
exercises and encouraged to take a few 'deep breathings.' Then the lines
are formed again. 'Left turn! Quick march!' and the scholars file into
the schoolhouse."
But we need not follow the school in its day's work, except to say that
the ideal always is to make the work alive and interesting. Naturally,
Australian children get to like school.
In the cities the schools are very good. All the State schools are
absolutely free, and even books are provided. A smart child can win
bursaries, and go from the primary school to the high school, and then
on to the University, and win to a profession without his education
costing his parents anything at all. When I was a boy the State of
Tasmania used to send every year two Tasmanian scholars to Oxford
University, giving them enough to pay for a course there. That has since
been stopped, but many Australians come to British Universities
now--mostly to Oxford and Edinburgh--with money provided by their
parents. There are, however, excellent Universities in the chief cities
of Australia, and there is no actual need to leave the Commonwealth to
complete one's education.
In the Bush, and indeed almost everywhere--for there is no city life
which has not a touch of the Bush life--Australian children grow to be
very hardy and very stoical. They can endure great hardship and great
pain. I remember hearing of a boy in the Maitland (N.S.W.) district
whose horse stumbled in a rabbit-hole and fell with him. The boy's thigh
was broken and the horse was prostrate on top of him, and did not seem
to wish to move. The boy stretched out his hand and got a stick, with
which he beat the horse until it rose, keeping the while a hold of the
reins. Then, with his broken thigh, that boy mounted the horse (which
was not much hurt), rode home, and read a book whilst waiting for the
doctor to come and set his limb. Another boy I knew in Australia was
bitten by a snake on the finger; with his blunt pocket-knife he cut the
finger off and walked home. He suffered no ill effects from the
snake-poison.
Endurance of hardship and pain is taught by the life of the Australian
Bush. It is no place for the cowardly or for the tender. You must learn
to face and to subdue Nature.
The games of the Australian child are just the British games, changed a
little to meet local conditions. A very favourite game is that of
"Bushrangers and Bobbies" ("bobbies" meaning policemen). In this the
boys imitate as nearly as they can the old hunting down of the
bushrangers by the mounted police.
The bushranger made a good deal of exciting history in Australia.
Generally he was a scoundrel of the lowest type, an escaped murderer who
took to the Bush to escape hanging, and lived by robbery and violence.
But a few--a very few--were rather of the type of the English Robin Hood
or the Scotch Rob Roy, living a lawless life, but not being needlessly
cruel. It is those few who have given basis to the tradition of the
Australian bushranger as a noble and chivalrous fellow who only robbed
the rich (who, people argue, could well afford to be robbed), and who
atoned for that by all sorts of kindness to the poor. Many books have
been written on this tradition, glorifying the bushranger. But the plain
fact is that most of the bushrangers were infamous wretches for whom
hanging was a quite inadequate punishment.
The bushranger, as a rule, was an escaped convict or a criminal fleeing
from justice. Sometimes he acted singly, sometimes he had a gang of
followers. A cave in some out-of-the-way spot, good horses and guns,
were his necessary equipment. The site of the cave was important. It
needed to be near a coaching-road, so that the bushranger's headquarters
should be near to his place of business, which was to stick-up
mail-coaches and rob them of gold, valuables, weapons, and ammunition.
It also needed to be in a position commanding a good view, and with more
than one point of entrance. Two bushrangers' caves I remember well, one
near to Armidale, on the great northern high-road. It was at the top of
a lofty hill, commanding a wide view of the country. There was no
outward sign of a cave even to the close observer. A great granite hill
seemed to be crowned with just loose boulders. But in between those
boulders was a winding passage which gave entrance to a big cave with a
little fresh-water stream. A man and his horse could take shelter there.
Another famous bushranger's cave was near Medlow, on the Blue Mountains
(N.S.W.), in a position to command the Great Western Road, along which
the gold from Lambing Flat and Sofala had to go to Sydney. This was
quite a perfect cave for its purpose. Climbing down a mountain gully,
you came to its end, apparently, in a stream of water gushing from out
a wall of rock. But behind that rock was a narrow passage leading to a
cave which opened out into a little valley with another stream, and some
good grass-land. To this valley the only means of access was the secret
passage through the cave, which allowed a man and his horse to pass
through. A gang of bushrangers kept this eyrie for many years
undiscovered.
The latest big gang of bushrangers were the Kelly brothers, who infested
Victoria. Ned Kelly was famous because he wore a suit of armour
sufficiently strong to resist the rifle bullet of that day. The Kellys
were finally driven to cover in a little country hotel in Victoria. They
held the place against a siege by the police until the police set fire
to it. Some of the gang perished in the flames. Others, including Ned
Kelly himself, broke out and were shot or captured. He was hanged in
Melbourne gaol.
But this is getting far away from the Australian children's games. It is
a curious fact that when the Australian children assemble to play
"Bushrangers and Bobbies," everybody wants to be a bushranger, and the
guardian of the law is looked upon as quite an inferior character. Lots
decide, however, the cast. The bushrangers sally forth and stick up an
imaginary coach, or rob an imaginary country bank. The "bobbies" go in
pursuit, and there is a desperate mock battle, which allows of much
yelling and running about, and generally causes great joy.
"Camping out" is another characteristic amusement of the Australian
child. In his school holidays, parties go out, sometimes for weeks at a
time, sailing around the reaches of the sea inlets, or, inland,
following the course of some river, and hunting kangaroos and other game
as they go. Generally adults accompany these parties, but when an
Australian boy has reached the age of fifteen or sixteen he is credited
with being able to look after himself, and is trusted to sail a boat and
to carry a firearm. I can remember once on the way down to National Park
(N.S.W.) for the Field Artillery camp, at one of the suburban stations
there broke into the carriage reserved for officers, with a cheerful
impudence that defied censure, a little band of boys. They had not a
shoe among them, nor had anyone a whole suit of clothes. But they
carried proudly fishing tackle and some rags of canvas which would help,
with boughs, to build a rough shelter hut. The remainder of the train
being full, they invaded the officers' carriage and made themselves
comfortable. They were out for a few days' "camp" in the National Park.
For about ten shillings they would hire a rowing-boat for three days.
Railway fares would be sixpence or ninepence per head. A good deal of
their food they would catch with fishing lines; bread, jam, a little
bacon, and, of course, the "billy" and its tea were brought with them.
This was the great yearly festival, planned probably for many weeks
beforehand, calling for much thought for its accomplishment, showing the
sturdy spirit which is characteristic of the young Australian.
All the usual British games are played in Australia: tops, hoops,
marbles among the younger children; cricket, football, lawn-tennis among
their elders. The climate is especially suited for cricket, as it is
warm and bright and sunny for so long a term of the year. On a holiday
in the parks around the Australian cities may be seen many hundreds of
cricket matches. All the schools have their teams. Most of the shops and
factories keep up teams among the employees. These teams play in
competitions with all the earnestness of big cricket. As the players
grow better they join the electorate clubs. In every big parliamentary
division there is an electorate club, made up of residents in that
electorate. The club may put into the field as many as four teams in a
day--its senior team and three junior teams. So there is an enormous
amount of play--real serious match play--every Saturday afternoon and
public holiday. Australia thus trains some of the finest cricketers of
the world. For some years now (1911) the Australian Eleven has held the
championship of the world.
The Australian child of the poorer classes usually leaves school at
fourteen. The children of the richer may stay at school and the
University until nineteen or twenty. Usually they launch out into life
by then. Australia is a young country, and its conditions call for young
work.
* * * * *
That finishes this "Peep at Australia." I have tried to give the young
readers some little indication of what features of Australian life will
most interest them. The picture is of a land which appeals very strongly
to the adventurous type of the Anglo-Celtic race. I have never yet met a
British man or boy who was of the right manly type who did not love
Australian life after a little experience. The great distances, the
cheery hospitality, the sunny climate, the sense of social freedom, the
generous return which Nature gives to the man who offers her honest
service--all these appeal and make up the sum of that strong attraction
Australia has to her own children and to colonists from the Motherland.
THE END
BILLING AND SONS, LTD., PRINTERS, GUILDFORD
LIST OF VOLUMES IN THE PEEPS AT MANY LANDS AND CITIES SERIES
EACH CONTAINING 12 FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOUR
BELGIUM IRELAND
BURMA ITALY
CANADA JAMAICA
CEYLON JAPAN
CHINA KOREA
CORSICA MOROCCO
DENMARK NEW ZEALAND
EDINBURGH NORWAY
EGYPT PARIS
ENGLAND PORTUGAL
FINLAND RUSSIA
FRANCE SCOTLAND
GERMANY SIAM
GREECE SOUTH AFRICA
HOLLAND SOUTH SEAS
HOLY LAND SPAIN
ICELAND SWITZERLAND
INDIA
A LARGER VOLUME IN THE SAME STYLE
THE WORLD
Containing 37 full-page illustrations in colour
PUBLISHED BY ADAM AND CHARLES BLACK
SOHO SQUARE, LONDON. W.
AGENTS
AMERICA THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
64 & 66 FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YORK
AUSTRALASIA OXFORD UNIVERSITY PRESS
205 FLINDERS LANE, MELBOURNE
CANADA THE MACMILLAN COMPANY OF CANADA LTD.
ST. MARTIN'S HOUSE, 70 BOND STREET, TORONTO
INDIA MACMILLAN & COMPANY, LTD.
MACMILLAN BUILDING, BOMBAY
309 BOW BAZAAR STREET, CALCUTTA
End of Project Gutenberg's Peeps At Many Lands: Australia, by Frank Fox