The run down Hobson's Bay to Port Philip Heads takes about four hours,
and just inside the mouth of the harbour are two little watering-places,
much frequented by the citizens of Melbourne.
Presently we come to a curious feature in the water. The currents of the
bay and those of the open sea meet, and produce at their junction the
phenomenon locally known as "The Rip." All at once, as the steamer comes
out of the bay, we pass from smooth water into the regular waves of the
sea; there is almost a wall between, and as the vessel passes through it
a rushing sound is heard, the vessel instantly beginning to roll and
pitch. In rough weather passing through "The Rip" is quite exciting, the
water frequently rushing over the decks.
[Picture: Sydney Harbour]
After a voyage of a little more than two days, we arrived outside the
heads of Port Jackson or Sydney Harbour. Everyone has heard of the
extreme beauty of this glorious harbour; indeed if the visitor stays a
few days in the city he is likely to hear of it many times. The entrance
is about a mile in width, between bold cliffs 250 feet in height. It has
a coast line of more than 100 miles, and is full of beautiful creeks and
bays, with their banks finely wooded to the water's edge, and having
numerous handsome villas picturesquely placed upon every point of
vantage, the city being situated at the head of the bay. The old town of
Sydney is very badly laid out, with narrow, crooked streets, while the
pavements and roads are most execrable, and the drainage and water supply
are as bad as they can well be. The public buildings, and the modern
portion of the city, are very fine, the post-office in particular being a
very handsome edifice, infinitely superior to the new post-office in
Birmingham; but then the citizens of Sydney built their own, while the
citizens of Birmingham were not consulted, and had to accept what the
London architect was graciously pleased to bestow.
Next to the harbour, the public gardens of Sydney form its principal
attraction. The Botanical Gardens are exceedingly fine, and contain a
magnificent collection of almost every known tree that will stand the
climate. A special feature is the Norfolk Island pine, which grows to a
great height, perfectly straight, and with very regular branches. The
gardens are finely situated on undulating ground, sloping down to the
harbour, which is sufficiently deep 200 yards off to float men-of-war.
From these gardens a fine view of the Governor's house and of other parts
of the city is obtained. There is also a beautiful view from the
Observatory Hill, which the Sydney people are justly proud of, for it can
scarcely be equalled in any other part of the world. The harbour, with
its numerous islands, lies spread out before the eyes, while the greatest
animation is given to the scene by the large number of little steamers,
yachts, and sail-boats continually flitting about, for the youth of
Sydney are truly British in their love of the water. While we were
admiring this panorama one morning, an old gentleman, observing we were
strangers, pointed out the various objects of interest. Presently one of
our party observing a strange cloud in the hitherto cloudless sky, called
the old man's attention to it. At first he thought it was a bush fire
away to the south, but in a minute he said, "Come on, we had better get
under shelter, for it is a 'southerly buster!'"
A "southerly buster" is one of the institutions of Sydney, and is a
hurricane of wind: which comes up suddenly from the south, bringing
clouds of dust from the brickfields lying on that side of the city. We
had long been wishing to see a genuine example, and here it was with a
vengeance. In less time than it takes to describe, the whole city and
harbour were completely obscured by a tremendous cloud of dust, blown on
at a great pace, roaring like a furnace, and carrying before it sticks,
paper, and even small gravel, which strike with the force of hailstones.
During the twenty minutes which the hurricane lasts umbrellas are
perfectly useless, and every person and thing becomes completely covered
with dust. Having experienced the "buster" once, we have no desire for a
repetition.
Sydney is fortunate in possessing almost inexhaustible supplies of
oysters, and the old gentleman referred to above told us they sometimes
grew on trees! There is a tree called the Mangrove, which grows very
plentifully on the banks of the Parramatta river; sometimes the water is
very high for days together, and the oyster spawn gets fixed in the mud
on the branches, and so they grow and are gathered in their season.
One of the most delightful excursions from Sydney is to the top of the
Blue Mountains, where there are several villages and some exceedingly
fine and interesting scenery. The summit of the mountains is about
3,500ft. above sea-level, and is seventy miles from Sydney, being reached
by a picturesque zigzag railway. In the old convict days it was commonly
supposed by the prisoners that China lay on the other side of the Blue
Mountain range, and many of the wretched men lost their lives in the
jungle in trying to escape to the celestial country; one party succeeded
in getting to a considerable distance before the guard overtook them, and
one of them was found to have in his possession an engraving of a
compass, by which he expected to steer his way!
The railway from Sydney passes many charming villages and extensive
orange groves, crossing the River Nepean by a handsome iron bridge.
Some of the hotels on the mountain are of a very primitive character.
One of those in which we stayed was a single-storied building, with
bed-rooms opening into the yard. The house was built of planks, and the
partitions were not very thick. I found that the landlord was the
brother of an English tradesman with whom I do business. They had not
heard of one another for forty years, which was a suspicious
circumstance, considering the history of the colony.
[Picture: Cottage at Mount Victoria]
In the fireplace of our sitting room we found a "gin" set for rats, which
during the night were quite lively. One morning we observed that our
waiter seemed to be very anxious for us to finish our breakfast.
Presently he asked if we had finished with the coffee-pot, saying that
all the others had been sent to be mended, and as he had a rather
particular couple in the next room, he did not like to take in the coffee
in a tea-pot
At Mount Victoria, the highest village on the mountain, there are good
State schools, to which the children come for twenty-five miles round
from the villages along the railway. Both schools and railways in New
South Wales belong to the State, and the schoolchildren are allowed to
ride free by all trains. Even the goods trains have carriages attached
for the use of the children, and the school hours are arranged to enable
them to take advantage of the trains. Mount Victoria is a beautiful
village, where many of the wealthy citizens of Sydney have charming
residences. It has quite an alpine appearance with its wooden houses and
tree-clad hills. In the neighbourhood are many delightful places, to
which excursions are made; one of the most interesting is to a waterfall
called "Govett's Leap." The road is a very rough one, and goes through
the forest, in which are numbers of large ant-hills more than 5ft. in
height, and formed of clay, which has become so hard that a stick makes
no impression upon them. The entrances for the little creatures are very
narrow cracks, too narrow for any of their enemies to get through.
Sometimes, however, a creature called the "iguana" manages to make its
way inside, when he always clears the entire colony out.
[Picture: The Weatherboard Falls]
After a few miles' drive along an almost level road, we come suddenly
upon the edge of a precipice nearly 1,000 feet deep, down which the
stream falls forming the waterfall. The "leap" is about 500 feet, and
almost all the water becomes spray before it reaches the bottom, its
appearance reminding us of the Staubbach Falls at Lauterbrunnen.
From the precipice a fine view is obtained for many miles round. The
country is broken up into deep ravines or wide gullies, stretching as far
as the eye can reach, and all wooded, while, except the little waterfall,
not a drop of water is to be seen.
On the other side of Mount Victoria, towards Bathurst, is another curious
zigzag railway, at the foot of which is the village of Lithgow, the seat
of iron and coal industries. At present the works are of a very
primitive character, but I have no doubt that at no distant date they
will assume important proportions.
[Picture: Descent to Hartley Vale]
Outside our hotel door the landlord kept his talking parrot, which was
always saying to the passers-by, "a bucket of beer, a bucket of beer."
There was a retired missionary staying at the hotel with his wife, and
one day the old lady told me that she thought they might have taught the
poor thing something "more Christian."
One evening some drovers from Bathurst camped for the night near to the
hotel; they put their cattle into a field, and having taken their tents
from the packhorses, soon made themselves comfortable round their
camp-fires, the whole scene being very picturesque and gipsy-like.
This used to be the old coach-road before the railway was opened, and
many a coach has been stopped and robbed by gangs of escaped convicts
called bushrangers. People were easily frightened in those days. A
woman coming out of a cottage at night has been known to stop a coach,
and snapping the spring of an old candlestick has ordered the passengers
to "bail up" and to throw the mail-bags out, which being done under
terror of the supposed pistol, she commanded them to drive on; the
coachman of course supposing there was a gang of ruffians lying in wait.
Bushrangers are not yet a thing of the past, for while we were in Sydney
four were sentenced to death for the murder of a policeman, who was one
of a party sent in pursuit of the gang.
Hard by our hotel is a solitary graveyard, where lie the bodies of many
convicts who died while confined in a neighbouring stockade in the old
transportation days. A more desolate and melancholy place it would be
impossible to imagine. Some of the public-houses have queer mottoes on
their sign boards. We observed three not far apart having these
inscriptions: "Labour in Vain," "The Leisure Hour," "The Rag and Famish."
A favourite drink amongst the people is sarsaparilla, which is generally
mentioned on the sign along with the beer.
There are two kinds of birds in the woods about Mount Victoria which make
a great noise at night; one is called the "Great Goat Sucker," and
continually cries "more pork, more pork"; while the other, called the
"Laughing Jackass," or the great kingfisher, makes night hideous by its
insane laughter; in the day-time, however, it performs a very useful
service, in waging perpetual war against the snakes.
[Picture: The Laughing Jackass]
The ants in Australia are rather formidable creatures. Some of them are
more than an inch in length, and one kind, called the "bull-dog," is very
fierce, and will attack anything; he can run backwards or forwards with
equal facility, and never turns his back to the foe. Their hills are
very large, and a slight tap brings numbers of them out at once, and
unless you want to be well punished, you had better leave them quickly,
for their bite is something to be remembered. One morning while on a
walk we observed two boys "prodding" an ant-hill; but by the time we had
come up to them we found them otherwise engaged, for the "bulldogs" had
got up their clothes and were causing the boys to jump about as though
they were "possessed;" occasionally they would pause and rub their legs
with great devotion; and altogether it was apparent they felt their
position keenly. As we passed them they gave us a ghastly smile, and I
think they will let "sleeping bull-dogs lie" in the future.
[Picture: The Author Sketching]
During one of my visits to Sydney the political situation was this:--Two
questions were before the Parliament and country--viz., an Amended
Education Act, and an Excise Act, by which latter it was proposed to put
a tax upon colonial beer.
"It happens that a vacancy has occurred in an important constituency, and
as these questions are greatly agitating the whole country, the election
is looked forward to with great interest as being a sort of test of the
public sentiment. The Government candidate of course supports the two
measures above referred to, while the opposition candidate is adverse to
both, the latter being the largest brewer in the Colony, (which of course
accounts for his opposing the excise duty on beer) and, what is not
unusual in the case of brewers, he is a decided Churchman, and supporter
of what he calls 'religious education.' The whole strength of the
clergy, publicans, bishops, loafers, avowed atheists, Roman Catholic
archbishop, priests, and Irish is most heartily with the Church-loving,
beer-brewing candidate, who is socially much liked, and very strong. His
opponent is supported by the whole Liberal party, by large numbers of the
Churchmen, and by a few Catholics. The Amended Education Act simply
provides that whereas at present State aid is given to denominational
schools it shall now be withdrawn. The Bible is not read in the schools,
but the lesson books of the Irish National Schools are used. Facilities
are offered to the various denominations to give religious instruction to
the children in the State schools. The bishop and clergy of the Church
of England and the Roman Catholic priests unite heartily with the beer
interest (as usual), the proposal to tax the beer coming in very
opportunely to enlist the sympathies and votes of the idle, drunken,
venal, and dissolute portion of the community. The bishop takes an
opportunity of stating publicly how much he is in favour of temperance,
and his clergy follow suit; the Catholic clergy do the same, and in the
evenings clergy of both religious denominations appear at public meetings
in support of the brewer! The publicans and their followers are relieved
from saying anything about the tax on beer by the existence of the
education question, which they heartily oppose, thus avoiding the subject
in which they have a selfish interest; so it comes to this--Bible says to
beer, 'I'll support you, although it is rather inconvenient, for am I not
pledged to temperance?' Beer says to Bible, 'I'll support you with all
the strength of my lungs, rendered all the noisier by copious draughts of
untaxed beer; beer and Bible, Bible and beer for ever!'
"The Roman Catholic clergy anathematise Protestants of all kinds and
classes, including the Church of England, but the latter joins hands with
the Roman Catholics and the beer party to gain its ends, the said ends
being the same with both Churches--viz., the triumph of priestly rule and
domination."
The answer of the constituency, applauded throughout the length and
breadth of the land, was to return the Liberal candidate by a majority of
two to one.
In reference to this election the _Sydney Morning Herald_ said--"Many of
the advocates for the extension and maintenance of the denominational
schools lay great stress upon the doctrine that it is not just to deny
denominational schools to those who prefer them--that if any citizen pays
the education tax he ought to have the sort of education provided for his
child that he most desires, and that it is a wrong-doing to his
conscience if this claim is not regarded. It is certainly somewhat
singular that the few advocates of this line of argument are to be found
in the ranks of the two great churches, which, having been national
churches, have, to say the least, not distinguished themselves by
defending the rights of conscience. In England the march of religious
liberty has done much to undo Church-inspired legislation against those
outside the pale of the Church; and that being achieved it sounds
strangely to hear the 'conscience' argument against a uniform treatment
of all citizens proceed from a quarter which has not been the home of the
rights of conscience."
[Picture: A Bullock Team on the Blue Mountains]
Before leaving Sydney it may be well to describe an overland ride I made
from Sydney to Melbourne _via_ Wagga Wagga and Albury, at a time previous
to the completion of the through railway.
Leaving Sydney by the Pullman train at six in the evening, Wagga Wagga is
reached about ten next morning: During the night we ascended 2,200ft. A
large extent of the country is cleared, and, being New Year's Day, it was
rather strange to our English eyes to see the wheat cut and stacked, and
harvesting operations going on.
[Picture: Bush Hut]
The country through which our track passes is famous for its sheep runs
and for the high quality of the wool produced in it. Here and there in
the bush are occasional labourers' cottages, wretched, uncomfortable
looking buildings, constructed of rough planks covered with bark. The
children we saw had a very uncared-for look.
Wagga Wagga (pronounced Wogga Wogga) covers a large extent of ground, but
at present the number of houses is few, most of them, however, being well
built. From this place we hired a buggy and pair of horses to take us to
Albury, a distance of some seventy to eighty miles, the charge for which,
including the services of a smart, bright boy as driver, was 7.
Immediately on leaving Wagga we got into the "bush" country, and during
the afternoon passed some large stock "stations." The land appears to be
much more fertile than in the neighbourhood of Sydney, with greater depth
of soil. We put up for the night at Jerra Jerra, a place consisting of
two or three wood shanties, one of them being the hotel, and left at 6.30
next morning, taking breakfast at a somewhat larger group of wood huts
called Germanton. Every driver through the "bush" makes his own track
among the trees, and ours was no exception to the rule; he made long
detours at intervals, only coming out into the regular road when a creek
had to be crossed. We saw many pairs of large magpies, and some other
birds which the driver informed us build large mud nests. Then the Great
Ants, too, are very numerous, so that one dare not sit down anywhere to
rest. The flies are also a great pest, and as my companion said, "won't
take a hint," requiring to be toppled over before they will move. At
about seven a.m. we passed the Royal Mail bowling along amongst the
trees, our driver quickly making a fresh track to avoid the fearful dust
which it raised. The coach is a big lumbering machine, painted flaring
red, and drawn by six horses. It is licensed to carry sixty-five
passengers, who can only be got on to it by being packed like herrings in
a barrel. The weather being so hot and the dust so great, it must be
terrible to be cooped up in it with fat people and thin smokers and
others. The coaches are hung upon enormous leather "springs," and they
need them, for the road is so rough, and the coachmen are so daring, that
the bumping and thumping are terrific. Each coach is fitted with four
large reflector lamps, three in front and one behind.
While baiting the horses I had a chat with a farm labourer, who, like a
great many of the immigrants with whom I have spoken, was sighing for old
England again. He told me the ordinary farm labourer's wages here are
12s. to 15s. a week with board, and that 20s. a week is considered
exceptionally good, while the great heat, dust, and reptiles are so
troublesome that most of the labourers wish they were well out of it.
This man told me his little terrier was killed by a snake a day or two
before; the poor creature swelled up and died in great agony in ten
minutes after being bitten; its death, however, was speedily avenged, his
master killing the snake shortly afterwards. The landlady said she was
in great terror of the snakes, which were very numerous. Near the run
was a large log, and it was well known that a big black snake had taken
up his abode there, for he was frequently seen to come out. In the
winter season the reptile would very soon have been despatched by the
same process adopted by the Chinaman when he wanted "roast pig," but this
being summer, to fire the log meant to cause a general conflagration in
the bush.
The power of endurance of Australian post-horses is something wonderful;
yesterday we travelled more than thirty-five miles after one o'clock,
over a rough bush road, or rather no road at all, bumping up and down in
a way that must be very trying to the poor animals, as the "path" is
never certain; and to-day we had to go nearly fifty miles more, the heat
being intense, and the track covered with dust nearly a foot thick.
[Picture: An Up-Country Town]
Our driver, a mere lad of thirteen years, drove on with the greatest
confidence, never having missed the way once, though there were no
direction posts, and we did not come across a person or house once in ten
miles, and were amongst the trees all the time. Towards evening the
horses got rather tired, and so did poor "Tommy," the driver, who at
times had a quiet "weep" to himself, but at last we reached Albury, and
found our Melbourne friend awaiting us at the hotel.
For hours before, we had in view a fine range of hills, enclosing a large
extent of country, including the valley along which the River Murray
runs. Here we got the blue, purple, and roseate tints on the mountains
to perfection, and as the sun was going down just as we entered the town
I thought I had rarely seen a more delightful picture.
There is a thriving, well-to-do look about the place which is very
enlivening, the houses being well built, with wide verandahs projecting
from two storeys, the streets straight and wide, and planted on both
sides with acacias, poplars, and several varieties of pines, the whole
forming a veritable little paradise.
This being the great centre of the wine-growing industry we were desirous
of visiting the vineyards and seeing the capacious cellars which are
formed in the hills, and for which the district is somewhat celebrated,
but our friend, being very anxious to get back to Melbourne, assured us
there was "nothing to see here," and told us to wait till we got into
Victoria, and so hurried us off.
We left Albury at 5.30 on the following morning, driving across the
Murray to the railway station at Wodonga, the first town on the Victorian
side, as Albury is the last on the New South Wales side, and the contrast
between the two is great indeed--just the difference between prosperity
and decay. New South Wales, with its Free Trade policy, is fitly
represented by bright and shining Albury, while Victoria may well read a
lesson from the decay and ruin into which Wodonga has fallen. I could
not help thinking that a dozen such contrasts along the frontiers of the
two States would do more than anything to settle the fate of Protection.
Even the omnibus driver was full of the subject, pointing out to us as we
rode along the difference between the two places.
The railway ride to Melbourne occupies eight hours, although the distance
is only about 180 miles. On the way we passed through Euroa, the town
which was "stuck up," _i.e._, plundered, by the notorious Kelly and his
gang. There were only four of these fellows in the gang, but such was
the terror they inspired that they were able to rob a whole town in broad
daylight, while a train was passing through the station close by the bank
from which they took a considerable amount of cash. Having done this,
they next ordered all the people into carts, and drove them some miles
out of the town, ordering them not to stir for four hours under pain of
death. Having secured their booty the scoundrels rode off, and for two
years succeeded in eluding the vigilance of the police, although the
Government offered a reward of 8,000 for their capture, alive or dead.