TASMANIA.
A HOLIDAY RESORT FOR AUSTRALIANS--LAUNCESTON--THE NORTH AND SOUTH
ESK--MOUNT BISCHOFF--A WILD DISTRICT--THE OLD MAIN
ROAD--HOBART--THE DERWENT--PORT ARTHUR--CONVICTS--FACTS AND
FIGURES.
[Illustration: VIEW OF MOUNT WELLINGTON, TASMANIA.]
[Illustration: CORRA LINN, TASMANIA.]
This island is the smallest of the Australian colonies, and the lover of
the picturesque pronounces it to be the fairest of them all. It is a
land of mountain and of flood--another Scotland, but with a perennial
blue sky and an Italian climate. Now that there is a leisured and a
wealthy class in Australia, this wealth of scenery is becoming a real
fortune to Tasmania. A twenty hours' run takes the holiday-maker from
Melbourne wharves to Launceston, and then the island, with its streams,
its hills and its fisheries, is open to him. The rush of excursionists
to enjoy the cool weather and the romantic views has become greater and
greater with successive years; and, though New Zealand is the
Switzerland of the colonies, yet Tasmania, being so much nearer the
mainland, and having so many native charms, is sure to hold its own as a
holiday resort.
Moreover Tasmania is held in affectionate regard by thousands of
Australians whose birthplace she is. Her material prosperity is not so
great as that of her neighbours, and consequently her youth are lured to
the mainland, where they usually establish themselves successfully, and
where they also acquire such substance as enables them at frequent
intervals to revisit the old land. So great is the migration of the
young men that it would have fared ill with the damsels of the isle but
for a compensatory influence. Their own youth were lured away to seek
for wealth and to woo wives in other lands; but the Tasmanian clime
enriches the fair sex with complexions which are the despair of their
more sallow sisters of the north, and the deserted maidens have always
had their revenge by captivating and winning their visitors. His lady
friends tremble for the Australian bachelor who spends a leisure month
across the straits. And then there are many territorial families in
Victoria and New South Wales whose sires emigrated from Tasmania in the
early days of colonisation. It is not surprising therefore that there is
a strong attachment between the rich sons and the poorer motherland
which it will take much to sever.
Bass Straits separate Tasmania from Australia, but the journey is easily
made in large well-equipped steamers which leave Melbourne regularly,
and which speedily reach the smooth water of the Tamar. This river
debouches on the north coast, and is a noble stream forty miles in
length, coursing through alluvial stretches backed in the far distance
by grand tiers of mountain ranges. Along its banks there are dots of
settlement, but, as they are at wide intervals, the traveller
appreciates the charm of navigating what appears to be an unexplored
tract. But for the beacons and buoys to mark the shoals there is little
to indicate the presence of man. Given a clear day--and all days are
more or less clear in Tasmania--a bracing breeze from the south, and a
trip up the Tamar cannot be excelled; and if it be that the traveller
comes in the early spring, before the snow has quite disappeared from
the highest hills beyond, and while the freshness of the new vegetation
still makes the near landscape glorious, he will wish for no better
communion with nature.
Launceston, on the Tamar, is the second city of the island--second in
point of picturesque surroundings, second also in political importance,
because Hobart, in the south, is the capital; but first in the material
aspect, from which point of view even lovers of the beautiful are
content to pay some homage. It is decidedly a pretty town. At its
wharves two rivers, the North Esk and South Esk, meet, and in their
mingling form the Tamar. The North Esk comes down over crags and
precipices, through a striking gorge, whose bold sheer cliffs frown at
each other and on the deep silent stream below. The most romantic spot
of all is Corra Linn, on the South Esk, where the river dashes over
boulders through a gateway of basalt, changes into a quiet restful
stream, reflecting foliage and rock in its peaceful depths, and then
dashes on again, falling and falling and falling, cataract after
cataract, whirlpool after whirlpool, until its force is expended in the
deep Tamar, and its bosom becomes dotted with the 'white-winged
messengers' of commerce. The South Esk flows through rich agricultural
country, where the land has been farmed for more than a generation, and
where the hedged fields on the hillsides recall Kent and Sussex to the
mind of the Englishman, and give the average Australian, whose knowledge
of farm landscape is made unpleasant by the recollection of mile after
mile of rail fencing, a splendid idea of how husbandry may be made to
present a charming aspect.
[Illustration: ON THE SOUTH ESK, TASMANIA.]
A fine railway runs through fertile country to the town of Deloraine, on
the River Meander, and on to the north-west coast to the mouth of the
Mersey, a distance of eighty miles. It passes large properties devoted
to the breeding of high-class sheep, which have served to make the
colony famous throughout Australia, because the flocks which now supply
a vast proportion of the world's wool have been bred from studs imported
from these areas.
The train passes through glades and over plains, round mountain sides
and over streams; and at Deloraine the traveller is delighted by the
bold appearance of Quamby Bluff, jutting from the end of a long range
against the blue sky. The Mersey has beauties, and so have the Don, the
Cam, the Forth, and numberless other limpid streams which 'bring down
music from the mountains to the sea'--this music being particularly
grateful to the visitor who, it may be, has just left the parched plains
of Central Australia.
Back from this coast, through wild country to wilder, lies Mount
Bischoff, the richest tin mine in the world. This prize was secured,
unhappily not for himself, by an old gentleman voted eccentric by his
neighbours, but so strongly inspired with the belief that rich tin
deposits must exist in the interior that for months and months he would
wander through the bush prospecting under conditions of hardship
scarcely conceivable--a long way from the tracks of humanity, absolutely
self-reliant and thoroughly confident. At last, where a pretty river,
the Waratah, turns a prominent hill and runs over a high precipice, he
found the long sought-for treasure. He also found on his return to the
haunts of men that his story was not believed, that 'Philosopher Smith,'
as he was designated, was not able to easily secure the assistance
requisite for the development of his discovery. In time, however, he
succeeded, and the Mount Bischoff Company was formed, and started upon
its career. Mr. Smith held his allotment of stock through the early
years of work, but gradually he was compelled to realise in the market
at ridiculously low rates. Twelve years ago the shares went almost
begging at thirty shillings each, and they have since ruled as high as
eighty pounds. It is difficult, on looking at the mine, to conjecture
when the lode will be exhausted. The 'faces' being worked from part of
the mountain, and as the material is brought under treatment, of course,
the picturesqueness of the scene has to suffer.
When 'Philosopher Smith' broke upon it he must, if he was anything of a
philosopher, have been greatly impressed with its magnificence, for then
not only were the mountains lofty, but they bore magnificent forests,
and the babbling streams were delightfully pure. Now the traveller can
only admire the mountains, which are still high, unless, of course, he
is also impressed by the enterprise which has drawn the wealth from the
hillside, albeit that in so doing the forests have suffered and the
waters have been stained.
Beyond Mount Bischoff the woods grow denser, and traffic through them to
newer tin-fields on the west coast is infrequent and hazardous. Twelve
or fifteen years ago very few men visited that district, and even now
nobody goes there unless impelled by strong business reasons. When you
stand on Mount Bischoff and look across the hills which rise in this
wild region, you are presented with a grand spectacle, and you wonder if
the day can ever come when clearings and cultivation will be where now
the bush appears to be impenetrable.
[Illustration: VIEWS IN TASMANIA.]
From Launceston, in an easterly direction, the traveller finds much to
interest him, particularly in that quarter where stand Ben Lomond and
other mountains, each upwards of 5000 feet high. St. Mary's Pass is a
natural gateway through the ranges, and the coaches which traverse the
road rattle along alarming ridges; but pleasure and surprise are so
strongly excited that there is no time for a thought of danger. Through
to Fingal, and on to St. Helen's at George's Bay, on the east coast, the
variations of scene are endless. And then the cliffs are reached; and,
gazing on the broad blue ocean once more, it is vividly brought home to
the continental Australian that he is on an island, and a beautiful
island also. Tin and gold mines have been worked in this division of the
colony more or less successfully; but the interests were not permanent,
and the attention of investors has long since been diverted to finer
fields.
[Illustration: LAUNCESTON.]
Launceston is connected with Hobart by one of the finest macadamised
roads--120 miles in length--in the world, and by a narrow-gauge railway
of 132 miles. The railway is a comparatively new institution, but the
road has stood for years, and will stand for ages. In 'the old days,' as
the past is happily and conveniently termed in Tasmania, there were only
two settlements--Hobart and Launceston; and it became as necessary to
establish others as to connect them. At that time hundreds of convicts
were being landed from England, and the additional necessity to find
employment for them induced the governing authorities to embark upon the
enterprise of making the road and making new towns. It cost more than a
railway would cost nowadays, for prison labour has always been
expensive. But it is thoroughly substantial, and has the great
advantages of passing through the richest agricultural and pastoral
lands of the colony, and the great charm of running over many bold hills
and of crossing many of the most beautiful streams of the island.
Thirteen hours were required to perform the journey between the two
towns when coaches were running, and there are many who, while
thoroughly appreciating the quicker transit of the railway, nevertheless
sigh for the good old invigorating coach-ride, and the rests at the old
hostelries--just such as would be found on an English turnpike. The
railway had to be constructed along a devious course, and consequently
traffic was diverted from the direct road, and from the ancient hamlets
to newer settlements, where everything is spick and span. The old
resting-places have not yet disappeared, but many of them are decaying,
and present striking contrasts to the new order of things on the rail
route. 'For a young country you have an elegant supply of ruins,' was
the comment of an American who was driven over this road. He was quite
right, but the ruins are revered by all who remember the traffic when it
was at its best. They are not signs of national decay, but the result of
a change of transit. As they stand now even they are not unprofitable.
Without them many a picturesque scene would be less interesting.
[Illustration: HELL GATE, TASMANIA.]
Hobart is a lovely city. It has been made beautiful by nature, and it
will become famous by the act of man, for it is the spot where the first
Federal Council of Australasia met in January 1886. It is rather
inverting the order of things to first dwell upon the newest
characteristic of the town, but the departure is justified by the
promise of the great good which must follow the establishment of the
Union. In due course the federal spirit must expand, and when
Australians, in years to come, revert to the starting-point of their
national life, they will think kindly of Hobart.
The city of 'balmy summers and cheerful winters' stands on the
big-volumed Derwent. The river rises far inland, up among high
mountains, where Lake St. Clair and Lake Sorell reflect the snowy peaks
of their basaltic guardians. It runs through rich country, where
settlement has become permanent, down to New Norfolk, where it bends and
twists, and skirts lofty cliffs, passes through hop-fields, whose golden
crops in the autumn make the landscape beautiful and the air fragrant,
develops into a noble course a little farther on, and at Hobart is in
some places seven miles in width, and in no place less than a mile.
There are high mountains on both sides, and the valleys are
exceptionally productive. The city is seated on seven hills; behind it
is Knocklofty, a respectable eminence; and behind that again Mount
Wellington, 4166 feet in height, forms a grand background. The
population numbers about thirty thousand, and the citizens are tolerably
thrifty, although not so enterprising nor so wealthy as the colonists of
the mainland. The city was established early in the century, and for
very many years it was the _entrepot_ for the thousands of wretched
convicts expatriated from Great Britain. It was an important military
station, and its palmiest days were thirty-five years ago, when the
Imperial Government spent L1000 a day in the maintenance of the gaols
and the barracks. At that time the city was an important place, but the
curse of transportation was upon it. In 1851 the last convict ship
discharged its cargo, and since then the system has gradually run down,
and is now very little more than a memory. The traces must necessarily
linger, but their ultimate effacement is only a question of time. It is
a pity that so fair a spot was ever used for so ill a purpose.
Being the capital, Hobart possesses all the usual official institutions:
a Government House in a beautiful garden on the Derwent, in which
resides a well-paid representative of Her Majesty; Parliament Houses, in
which sit two Chambers, who legislate upon the most approved
constitutional plan; a Supreme Court, Civil Service Court, and other
accessories suited to the requirements of the colony. Its monetary and
trading institutions are sound, and its commercial relations with other
ports expanding. The harbour is lined with well-built wharves, and the
depth of water is astonishing. Twelve miles down the river are the
Heads. The Southern Pacific is beyond; and so easy is the navigation
that vessels very rarely have to employ pilots. Reefs and shoals are
unknown.
A two or three hours' trip seawards to the south-east enables one to
reach the famed Port Arthur, in a land-locked bay hedged by bluff
promontories whose aspect is so stern that the beneficent calm within is
made the more beautiful when they are passed. Port Arthur was the centre
of convictism for many years, and the prisons stand now, though the
place has long since been given up as a penal settlement. It is on the
southern point of a peninsula, which is connected with the mainland by a
narrow strip, not more than one hundred yards wide, called Eaglebank
Neck. This was, and is, the only means of communication by land with the
outer world, and the authorities devised stringent if inhuman means to
prevent the escape of prisoners. Fierce dogs were chained at such
intervals that it would be impossible for a man to pass between them,
and they kept watch by night, while armed men were on guard by day. It
was a straight and narrow path, but no one ever passed that way. To swim
through the water on either side was equally hazardous, because of the
risk of being attacked by sharks, and consequently the number of escapes
was extremely small. The only authenticated break away from bondage was
performed by three men--Martin Cash, Cavanagh, and Jones, who swam
Pirates' Bay in the night, reached a farm-house before morning, equipped
themselves for highwaymen's work, and defied arrest for some years. The
last prisoners were removed from Port Arthur in 1876, and the
magnificent buildings, than which there are none better in the world,
have been allowed to decay, the rich fields and meadows, which were
pictures in the busy days of the establishment, are fast becoming
obliterated, and desolation promises to encompass all. Slowly but surely
Nature is reclaiming her own, and is effacing the memorials of an infamy
which none care to look back upon. Chapter after chapter might be
written upon the annals of Port Arthur, but they would be inconsonant
with the tone attempted to be given to these pages.
On the west of the mouth of the Derwent is a magnificent channel
forty-five miles in length, deep and beautiful. It is called
D'Entrecasteaux Channel, after an early French navigator, and is a
passage-way to Hobart for ships coming from the westward. It is lined
with fine harbours, and among other rivers receives the Heron, which
comes down through dense forests from the region referred to in the
remarks made concerning the view from Mount Bischoff. This is indeed a
wild country, but hardy adventurers have made homes among the giant
trees and slowly cleared patches for fruit-gardens and farms. Far back
on the west coast is Macquarie Harbour, which was a convict station
before Port Arthur, and whose history is willingly being forgotten.
Tasmania contains an area of 26,300 square miles, so that she is a
little smaller than Scotland, and a little larger than Greece. Her
population on January 1st, 1885, was 130,541. Her total revenue was
L549,000. She had 215 miles of railway open, and she was constructing
160 miles. Her exports were valued at L1,475,000, and her imports at
L1,656,000. All English fruits--such as the strawberry, the raspberry,
and the apple--grow with a marvellous profusion, and the hop industry
flourishes.
[Illustration: ON THE RIVER DERWENT.]
SECTION III.
AUSTRALIAN LIFE AND PRODUCTS.
CHAPTER X.
HEROES OF EXPLORATION.
TRAGIC STORIES--FLINDERS AND BASS--ADVENTURES IN A SMALL
BOAT--DISCOVERIES--DISAPPEARANCE OF BASS--DEATH OF FLINDERS--EYRE'S
JOURNEY--LUDWIG LEICHHARDT--DISAPPEARANCE OF HIS PARTY--THEORY OF
HIS FATE--THE KENNEDY CATASTROPHE--THE BURKE AND WILLS
EXPEDITION--ACROSS THE CONTINENT--THE DESERTED DEPOT--SLOW DEATH BY
STARVATION--LATER EXPEDITIONS.
[Illustration: NATIVE ENCAMPMENT.]
[Illustration: A NEW CLEARING.]
The story of Australian exploration is for the most part of a tragic
character. Great geographical results have been achieved, but the price
has been paid in great sacrifices. The records of success are saddened
by many episodes of disaster and of death.
The tale of heroism and suffering begins with Bass and Flinders, two
young men who have left their names writ large upon the map for ever.
They went out in 1795 with the second Governor of New South Wales, Bass
as surgeon of the ship Reliance, and Flinders as midshipman. The two
were soon friends; they had an equal love of adventure, and the new
circumstances in which they were placed fired their ardent imagination
with the hope of discoveries that should benefit mankind, if not bring
reputation to themselves. Never did enthusiasts set to work with more
scanty material. With a little boat eight feet long, and a boy to help,
they cleared Sydney Heads, and faced the unknown Southern Ocean, and
mapped out a section of the Australian coast. They used to row or sail
as far as they could in the day, and at night throw out a stone, which
served them as an anchor, and lie at these primitive moorings till
daylight. Many were their narrow escapes by sea and shore.
Once they were upset near the shore; their powder was wet, and they lost
their supply of fresh water. On reaching land and righting the boat, a
body of natives came down upon them, and, as the savages were well armed
and were hostile in their demeanour, it looked as if the defenceless
party would be sacrificed. But after a hurried consultation Bass spread
the powder out on the rocks to dry, and went off to a creek to fill the
keg with fresh water, while Flinders, trading on the personal vanity of
the blacks, and their love for hair-dressing, trimmed the beards of the
chiefs with a pair of pocket-scissors. He had no lack of candidates.
Long before he had finished his task, Bass had repacked the dry powder,
had loaded the muskets, and the two friends with a rush regained their
boat, leaving many would-be customers lamenting, and disappointing
probably some would-be slayers. A few weeks afterwards a vessel called
the Sydney Cove was wrecked in the unsurveyed Tasman seas, the escaping
boats were thrown ashore in a storm near Cape Howe, and this very tribe
massacred most of the crew.
Ingenuity and boldness rescued the adventurers from one peril after
another. As their exploits attracted attention, their friend Governor
Hunter helped the discoverers to some small extent. Flinders had to sail
with his vessel to Norfolk Island, but Bass obtained a whaleboat and a
crew of six men, and with this aid he pushed boldly along the coast of
what is now the colony of Victoria, discovered Corner Inlet and Western
Port, and proved that Tasmania was an island, and not, as was then
supposed, a part of the mainland. The separating strait rightly bears
his name to this day.
On the return of Flinders, Governor Hunter placed a small sloop, the
Norfolk, at the service of the friends, and with it they surveyed the
entire coast of Tasmania, Flinders preparing the charts. Their
discoveries were numerous, the river Tamar being among them. This, alas,
was the last joint expedition of the gallant comrades! Bass was tempted
to join in some trading speculation to South America, and unhappily his
vessel was confiscated by the Spaniards for a breach of the customs
laws. Bass was sent as a prisoner to work in the silver mines, and was
never heard of more. Well can it be imagined that many a hope, many a
bright career, many a noble aspiration, have perished in those living
tombs, but surely they never closed over a bolder or more unhappy victim
than Bass.
Flinders for a time continued his successful career. He visited England,
and was raised to the rank of lieutenant, and he was authorised to
proceed with his surveys in a vessel called the Investigator. A passport
was obtained for him from the French Government, exempting him from
capture during the time of war. At the same time, however, the French
Government sent out an expedition under M. Baudin. With characteristic
energy, Flinders did his work in advance of his French rival, who was
driven by scurvy to Sydney. Flinders was returning home when the state
of his rotten vessel forced him to put into the Mauritius, which then
belonged to France. Here, despite his passport, his ship was seized, and
he was thrown into prison. M. Baudin called at the Mauritius soon
afterwards, and he is accused by history of a great treachery. Certainly
there is much that charity finds it difficult to explain in M. Baudin's
conduct. It is written that he copied the charts and papers of the
prisoner. This seems to be an incredible meanness; but it is certain
that he connived at the detention, and that on his return to France he
published a work anticipating all that Flinders could say, ignoring the
labours of the prisoner, and representing himself as the great
Australian discoverer of the day.
[Illustration: SPLITTERS IN THE FOREST.]
More than six years elapsed before Flinders was released; and, upon
reaching England, he found that the discoveries he intended to announce
had been given to the world, and that the public was familiar with them.
Exposure, hardships, and, above all, the long weary years in the French
prison, had all told upon him. He set to work to bring out his book and
his charts, and just managed to complete his task, but sank immediately
afterwards. It is a mournful chapter. But the fame of Flinders survives
and is growing. In Australian annals no name is more justly honoured.
Very soon the colonists began to push inland from their settlements on
the coast, feeling their way, and gradually becoming acquainted with the
novel features of their new abode. There was great joy when, after many
endeavours, a Sydney party discovered a pass through the extraordinary
precipices of the Blue Mountains, which had long hemmed in the infant
colony. The adventures of Oxley, who thought that he was stopped by an
inland sea, of Sturt, who nearly perished in the Central Desert, and of
Mitchell, who opened up the Western District of Victoria, have already
been incidentally mentioned in these pages.
One of the first efforts to reach the centre of the continent was made
by Edward John Eyre, in after-days Governor of Jamaica. He left Adelaide
in 1840, his party consisting of five Europeans and three natives, with
thirteen horses. But the year was one of drought. The great marsh, now
called Lake Torrens, was a sheet of glittering salt. The horses broke
through the crust, and a hideous and tenacious black mud oozed out.
Advance on this line was impossible; and, upon taking a more westerly
route, the explorer was stopped by the still larger marsh now called
Lake Eyre, which was also a deceptive sheet of salt. Disappointed, Eyre
returned to the head of Spencer's Gulf, and decided to make a dash at
Western Australia, following the line of the cliffs in order to
intercept any rivers. Alas, there were none to intercept! The party had
to depend for subsistence upon the chance of finding water-holes not
dried up, and the little clay pans formed by the aborigines, and called
native wells.
At an early stage Eyre sent all his party back, except his overseer
Baxter, his black boy Wylie, and two natives. The farther he went the
more sterile the country became, and the worse was his position. The
burning sand suffocated the travellers, and day after day passed without
water. Most of the horses died. Eyre was watching the remnant feeding on
some scanty vegetation one night, and was musing on his gloomy
prospects, when he heard a musket shot. The two natives had murdered the
overseer, decamped with the stores, and left Eyre and his boy Wylie to
their fate! The night was dark, and Eyre gives a vivid description of
his feelings as he sat in the gloom by the side of the corpse of his
friend, expecting every moment that the treacherous blacks would use
their muskets upon him and Wylie. He could not bury the body, for the
ground was hard rock, and he had no tools. Day after day he plodded on.
Had Wylie deserted him he must have perished, for in the boy's quickness
in detecting traces of the natives and indications of their 'wells' lay
the only chance of safety. At last, when nearly exhausted, Eyre saw two
boats at sea. They belonged to a French whaler. Eyre was taken on board,
was well fed, was supplied with stores and ammunition; and, after a rest
of eleven days, he and Wylie continued their journey, and, the country
improving, they reached King George's Sound in safety.
Thirty years after this journey was made it was repeated from the
opposite side by Mr. John Forrest, a fine young West Australian
explorer, who with a small party passed over it with but little
inconvenience or difficulty. Mr. Forrest again and again camped on
Eyre's old camping ground, which he recognised at once, and which seemed
to have remained undisturbed from the time Eyre and Wylie left it.
Next comes the tale of the explorer over whose fate a veil of mystery
and romance has fallen. In 1844 Ludwig Leichhardt was an eager young
German botanist. He set his heart upon exploration. His first trip was
most successful, as, starting from Sydney, he made his way to the Gulf
of Carpentaria, and discovered many of the fine rivers of Northern
Queensland. So much enthusiasm was occasioned by these revelations of a
grand country in tropical Australia that the Sydney people subscribed
L1500 for Leichhardt, and the Government presented him with L1000. After
a short trip of seven months in the Queensland bush, Leichhardt
organised an expedition to cross Australia from west to east, a feat
which no man has yet performed, though explorers from the west have met
the tracks of those coming from the east. His party consisted of H.
Classen, six white men, and two blacks, with cattle and sheep. His last
letter, which was dated from McPherson's Station, Cogoon, April 3rd,
1848, concluded in the following words: 'Seeing how much I have been
favoured in my present progress, I am full of hopes that our Almighty
Protector will allow me to bring my darling scheme to a successful
termination.'
The hope was not realised. He has been tracked to the banks of the
Flinders, in Northern Australia, but his fate is unknown. The
disappearance of his party has been absolute, and the Australian
imagination has dwelt long, anxiously and lovingly upon the mystery. No
theory has been so wild but that it has found some eager adherents;
every straw of hope has been grasped at. Expedition after expedition has
sallied forth to rescue the living or to bury the dead, but all in vain:
the tales have proved false, and slowly hope has faded away.
The explanation now generally accepted is that the party was surprised
in low country by some tropical flood, in which all perished. A capital
bushman, Leichhardt was not likely to starve. And if he had died from
thirst, or if he had been murdered by the natives, some of his animals
would probably have escaped, or some weapon or some piece of their
equipment would have been found, and would have furnished a clue to the
mystery. But the earth gives no more trace of him than the deep sea of a
vessel that has foundered, or the air of a bird that has passed by.
[Illustration: AFTER STRAY CATTLE.]
The Kennedy disaster was on a large scale. Edmund Kennedy had explored
the course of the Barcoo with success, and in 1838 he was landed with
twelve men at Rockingham Bay, to strike across country, to a schooner at
Cape York. The dense jungle of the tropical bush and the vast swamps
checked their progress. He left eight men at Weymouth Bay, and proceeded
with three men and a black boy, Jacky, on his journey to the schooner.
The blacks were numerous and hostile, and the bush gave them shelter.
Kennedy was speared by an unseen hand, and died in the arms of Jacky.
The three men were never heard of, and only two of the other party of
eight escaped. Jacky, however, turned up at the schooner with the papers
confided to his care, a living skeleton. He is one of the many instances
of the fidelity of the Australian black when once he has become attached
to his master.
The rush to the gold-fields checked exploration for a time. All thoughts
were directed to the auriferous treasure. But after the new population
had settled down somewhat, a strong desire manifested itself to discover
the secret of the continent. The South Australian Government offered a
reward of two thousand pounds to the first person who should cross the
continent from south to north, and the intrepid John McDouall Stuart was
soon in the field to earn the money and to secure the fame. Stuart had
been one of the officers in Sturt's last party, and he had discovered
for South Australian employers a fine belt of pastoral territory beyond
the salt lakes that had discomfited Eyre. In Victoria the public
subscribed a large sum of money, which the Government doubled. The
Government also sent for camels, at a great expense, and the Royal
Society appointed a committee to organise the expedition. The command
was given to Robert O'Hara Burke; Landells, who had brought over the
camels, was second; and a young man from the Melbourne Observatory, W.
J. Wills, was placed in charge of the instruments. The dash and energy
of O'Hara Burke, and the talent and Christian fortitude shown by Wills,
have endeared the memory of both these leaders to the country; but the
admission must be reluctantly made that the tragic issue was due to
Burke's unfitness for the command. He was no bushman, and was too eager
and impulsive for a leader. As a second in command he would have been
invaluable; as a chief he was overweighted.
The expedition left Melbourne August 20, 1860. Burke's orders were to
take his stores up to Cooper's Creek, and, when he had established his
depot there, to start for Carpentaria. On the way up Burke quarrelled
with Landells, who resigned, Wills taking his place. At the same time
Burke met with a man named Wright, who struck his fancy, and this
stranger, utterly unqualified for the post, was placed in an important
command. Burke left the bulk of the stores and most of the party on the
Darling in charge of Wright, who was to bring them on with all possible
speed, while the leader made a forced march with a light party to
Cooper's Creek. Days passed without Wright's appearing; and, instead of
returning to hasten up his stores, Burke, with characteristic boldness,
resolved to make a dash for Carpentaria. He divided his party and his
stores, leaving Brahe and three men at the creek to wait for Wright, and
started with Wills, King and Gray, on December 16, with six camels and a
horse.
The party made a rapid journey through fair and good country. Box
forests and well-grassed plains--a good squatting country--was
traversed, and finally the explorers struck a fine stream, the
Concherry, running to the north, whose banks were clothed with palms
and tropical vegetation. They were greatly pleased, for they knew they
had but to follow this river to reach the northern sea. But the camels
broke down. Leaving them in charge of Gray and King, the leaders
proceeded on foot, and came with exultation to an inlet of the great
Northern Gulf.
Their task was done; they could turn back. But this was their last
moment of joy, troubles thickening afterwards to the end. Their rapid
travelling over broken country under a tropical sun, with scanty
rations, began to tell upon all. There was no time for rest nor for
hunting. The party must push on and on to reach the depot where food
awaited them. Gray complained of a failure of all his powers, and in
particular of an inability to use his legs. It was thought he was
shamming, and he was punished and hurried on; but soon afterwards he
laid down and died, and the same symptoms attacked them all, Burke
bitterly regretting his severity. They began to kill their camels, and,
scarcely sustained by this food, they pushed on, their pace dwindling to
a crawl, and then to a totter. On April 21 they came in sight of the
depot, and a grateful 'Thank God!' burst from their lips. They fired a
gun. It was not answered, and they found the place deserted. Wright,
with the stores, had never reached the creek, and Brahe, seeing week
after week elapse, had fallen back to ascertain what was the matter in
his rear, leaving half of his remaining provisions for Burke and Wills.
When the three travellers entered the desolate depot they gazed round in
dismay, and Burke threw himself on the ground to conceal his
feelings--they had expected safety, and they were confronted by death.
But a tree marked 'Dig' caught their eyes, and they came upon the buried
provisions. A rest for a couple of days was indispensable. And then
Burke came to the decision not to strike for the Darling, as Wills
desired, but to make for a pioneer cattle station at Mount Hopeless on
the South Australian border. This was a fatal choice, the camp being a
few miles away. The same day Brahe, who had met Wright, rode back to the
depot. By one of those fatalities which mark the expedition, Burke had
buried his despatches in the _cache_, and had taken some pains to
restore it to its original condition, and so Brahe thought it had not
been disturbed. It was clear that some disaster had happened to Burke.
But Wright, who was in command of the stores, decided to fall back on
the Darling to report matters to the committee. Thus were Burke and
Wills abandoned. Wright and Brahe, when at the depot, were within two
hours' journey of the perishing leaders. Growing weaker and weaker, the
forlorn and deserted trio struggled on. The country became worse and
worse. They struck the wretched desert where Sturt suffered so severely.
Water failed there, and all vegetation disappeared, and all hope of
food, from the country. Their torn and rotten clothing dropped from
their backs. They killed their last camel. In despair they walked back
to Cooper's Creek, on the chance of finding the natives--just at the
moment when another day would have rewarded them with the sight of Mount
Hopeless on the horizon.
[Illustration: MONUMENT TO BURKE AND WILLS IN MELBOURNE.]
When they regained the creek their provisions were gone. The blacks
showed the hapless men how to gather the little black seeds of a grass
called the nardoo, on which they mostly lived themselves. The white men
hoped that it would support them, but could only starve upon it. An
effort was made to reach the depot to see if relief had arrived, but
the strength of Burke and of Wills gave out. Wills was the first to
sink. As he could travel no farther, Burke and King left him in a native
hut with nardoo seed and water by his side, while they sought assistance
from the blacks, who had given Wills a meal of fish a few days before.
When King returned a few days later with three crows which he had shot,
the pure and gentle spirit of Wills had taken its flight. Burke had only
tottered a few miles from the hut. He laid down to die, asking King to
place his pistol in his hand, and not to bury him. The strong man had
become as a child. He sent many messages to friends. Then he was silent;
and the early morn saw the earthly end of a generous, ardent, manly
leader, whose faults were of the head and are forgotten, while his
virtues were of the heart and endear his memory.
King made his way to the natives, with whom he lived many months, until
he was rescued. The Government granted him a substantial pension. A
married sister devoted herself to his care. But those who looked upon
his face saw his fate there. Thirst, hunger, and privation had smitten
him too severely, and very soon he also fell asleep.
Great energy was shown in sending expeditions to the relief of Burke and
Wills, when Wright returned to the Darling without them. One party under
M'Kinlay started from Adelaide, another under Walker from Queensland;
Landsborough led a third, which was landed at the Gulf of Carpentaria to
reach Melbourne, and Howitt proceeded from Melbourne via Cooper's Creek.
The knowledge these expeditions gave of the country was great, and when
McDouall Stuart, in 1862, crossed the continent, interest in exploration
lapsed. Ten years afterwards a series of efforts were made by Giles,
Gosse, Lewis, Forrest and Colonel Warburton, to cross from South
Australia to the western seaboard. Forrest pushed his way through from
the west, and Warburton from the east. This latter party had a terrible
battle for life, and without the camels, and without an intelligent
black fellow who hunted for the native clay-pans, all must have
perished. The men abandoned everything, even their clothing, down to
shirts and trousers; and Warburton arrived, strapped to a camel's back,
rapidly sinking from exhaustion.
Still there are vast territories in Australia untrodden by the foot of
the white man, but the task of filling up the blanks is now left to the
pioneer settler. One squatter pushes out beyond another, as the coral
insect builds on its predecessor's cell. Without any stir a district
that was once in the desert is occupied, and then the blocks beyond are
attached. The process is sure, though without sensation.
CHAPTER XI.
A GLANCE AT THE ABORIGINES.
FIRST ENCOUNTER WITH THE BLACKS--MISUNDERSTANDINGS--NARRATIVE OF A
PIONEER--CLIMBING TREES--THE BLACKS' DEFENCE--DECAY OF THE
RACE--WEAPONS--THE NORTHERN TRIBES--A NORTHERN
ENCAMPMENT--CORROBOREE--BLACK TRACKERS--BURIAL--MISSION STATIONS.
[Illustration: A CORROBOREE.]
[Illustration: A WADDY FIGHT. (_See p. 168._)]
From large portions of the continent the native has now been absolutely
swept away. The immigrant who intends to settle in the populated parts
of South Australia, Victoria, New South Wales, Tasmania and Queensland,
will have no more to do with the natives than he would have to do with
the Redskins if he visited Ohio or Pennsylvania. The aborigines, unless
in the harmless guise of mission blacks, are not to be found except in
the far-off outlying parts where the pioneer squatter is prosecuting his
labours, and there the old sad tale of plunder and of murder by the
tribes, and of revenge by the white man--too often on guilty and
innocent alike--is still repeated.
The blacks of Australia differ in appearance and in size greatly, quite
as much as do the inhabitants of Europe. There are poorly fed tribes who
are correctly described by Dampier, while on the other hand men of a
splendid physique can be found amongst them. It may be said at once that
the tales that deny their intelligence and which degrade them almost to
the level of brutes are unfounded. They live in their natural state,
without care or responsibility, very much as children, and they have
the cleverness and the uncertain tempers and the mercurial happiness of
children. They could live, it must be remembered, with a minimum of
exertion. So long as a country was not over-populated, opossums, fish
and roots were obtained with little labour, and there was no occasion
for house-building. As animals like the sheep and the horse flourish in
the open in most parts of Australia without artificial shelter, so man
can 'camp out' with comparative ease. Thus the black was not, and is
not, called upon to exercise his higher faculties. Food was too scarce
to enable him to multiply and to form permanent settlements. Yet, such
as it was, its collection did not brace him up to any mighty efforts.
His life was never in danger from wild animals. If he found many
opossums, he indulged in a surfeit; if marsupials, lizards, birds and
roots were scarce, he pinched for a time. If the black had discovered
agriculture, his state might have been very different, but of
cultivation he never had the slightest idea. Once when a tribe was
induced by an enthusiastic settler to plant potatoes, the men and women
rose in the night and dug up the seed and feasted upon it. It was
inconceivable to them why the white man should desire to bury good food.
Thus the black man wandered in one sense aimlessly over vast tracts of
country, living on its chance fruits: a restless nomad, with no apparent
prospect of rising on the social scale. Even in Victoria, the garden of
Australia, it took 18,000 acres to maintain a black. It must be admitted
that this waste of power was too great. The European had a right to
conceive that the land was not in an occupation that need be respected,
though more consideration for the original tenants might have been and
ought to have been shown. The mischief was that colonisation was
unsystematic. No one knew how to deal with the blacks. The blacks did
not know how to establish friendly relations with the white man.
We give two illustrations here of Victorian natives. The likeness in
profile is that of a civilised black, and is strongly characteristic of
the Victorian race. The woman is also a good representative of the
Victorian lubra. In civilised races the woman eclipses the man in
beauty, but the rule reads backwards in savage races. The Australian
black man is often stately and picturesque--his mate is generally
hideous.
An offence committed within a tribe was generally settled by the
disputants fighting the issue out with spears or with waddies until the
elders thought that justice was satisfied. Terrible wounds would be
given and received, but to the healthy black man, cuts, smashes, and
bruises that would be fatal to the white are as nothing.
Although many pioneer settlers lived on friendly terms with the blacks,
yet their sheep would be stolen, and then there were reprisals. Here and
there all the hands on a station would be sacrificed. When the settlers
were at all near each other, it was the custom in Victoria to fix heavy
bells on posts near the house, and thus the warning of an attack was
passed through a district, and a force would be brought together to
relieve the white men and to punish the black. So it has been in turn in
all the settlements.
[Illustration: CIVILISED ABORIGINES.]
Mr. G. F. Moore, when Advocate-General at the Swan, gave the following
narrative of a defence made to him by a black, who for his crimes had
been outlawed: 'A number of armed native men had surrounded the house,
when Mr. Moore went to the door to speak to them, having his fire-arms
close at hand. He soon recognised Yagan, but the natives near the door
denied that he was present. However, when the outlaw perceived that he
was known, he stepped boldly and confidently up, and, resting his arm on
Mr. Moore's shoulder, looked him earnestly in the face, and addressed
him, as the first law officer of the Crown, to the following effect:
"Why do you white people come in ships to our country and shoot down
poor black fellows who do not understand you? You listen to me! The wild
black fellows do not understand your laws; every living animal that
roams the country and every edible root that grows in the ground are
common property. A black man claims nothing as his own but his cloak,
his weapons, and his name. Children are under no restraint from infancy
upwards; a little baby boy, as soon as he is old enough, beats his
mother, and she always lets him. When he can carry a spear, he throws it
at any living thing that crosses his path; and when he becomes a man his
chief employment is hunting. He does not understand that animals or
plants can belong to one person more than another. Sometimes a party of
natives come down from the hills, tired and hungry, and fall in with
strange animals you call sheep; of course, away flies the spear, and
presently they have a feast! Then you white men come and shoot the poor
black fellows!" Then, with his eagle eye flashing, and holding up one of
his fingers before Mr. Moore's face, he shouted out--"For every black
man you white fellows shoot, I will kill a white man!" And so with "the
poor hungry women: they have always been accustomed to dig up every
edible root, and when they come across a potato garden, of course, down
goes the wanna (yam-stick), and up comes the potato, which is at once
put into the bag. Then you white men shoot at poor black fellows. I will
take life for life!" And so far as in him lay Yagan kept his word.'
Generally speaking, the colour of the natives is a chocolate brown;
their dress is of the simplest kind: the opossum cloak, the strips of
skin worn round the loins and the apron of emu feathers constitute their
wardrobe. The aboriginal is essentially a hunter. His hands reveal his
occupation at once, as they exclude the idea of manual labour. An
English ploughman, it has been said, might squeeze two of his fingers in
the hole of an Australian shield, but he could do no more. Like most
nomads, the objection of the natives to steady work is insuperable. In
pursuit of game, in stalking an emu or a kangaroo, they will concentrate
their attention for hours, and will occasionally undergo great fatigue,
but without some excitement or object they will do nothing. No black man
will ever stoop to lift an article if he can raise it with his toe. And
the big toe of the black man in the bush is almost as useful and as
flexible as the thumb. The missionaries at the blacks' stations have
achieved wonders with their pupils, but the one thing they cannot do is
to induce the pure aboriginal to labour in any such way as the white man
works. Give him a horse, however, and he is happy.
Mr. E. M. Carr, Chief Inspector of Stock in Victoria, in his interesting
and valuable _Recollections of Squatting in Victoria_, brings the daily
life and the customs of the blacks vividly before the reader. His father
took up country so far back as 1839, in the Moira district; and Mr.
Carr, though a stripling, was left in charge. He came in contact with
the blacks therefore when they were absolutely in a state of nature. He
gives a long and interesting account of some matrimonial negotiations
carried on between the Ngooraialum and Bangerang tribes. We have space
for only a small part of his graphic story. The young people are
betrothed to each other years before the time of marriage, and, of
course, have no voice whatever in the arrangements. While Mr. Carr was
staying with the Ngooraialum tribe, the Bangerang, preceded by one of
their number named Wong, arrived. 'The Bangerang, after they had
satisfied themselves by a glance that it was really Wong, continued as
if entirely unconcerned at his arrival; taking care, however, to keep
their eyes averted from the direction in which he was coming. This
little peculiarity, I may notice, is very characteristic of the blacks,
who never allow themselves to give way to any undue curiosity as regards
their fellow-countrymen, and as a rule refrain from staring at any one.
Wong, when he arrived within twenty or thirty yards of the camp, slowly
put his bag off his shoulder without saying a word, gazed around him for
a moment in every direction save that of the Bangerang camp, and sat
down with his side face towards his friends, and quietly stuck his
spears one by one into the ground beside him, with the air of a man who
was unconscious of any one being within fifty miles of him; the
Bangerang, in the meantime, smothering all signs of impatience. Probably
five minutes passed in this way, when an old lubra, on being directed in
an undertone by her husband, took some fire and a few sticks, and,
approaching the messenger, laid them close before him, and walked slowly
away without addressing him. Old Wong, as if the matter hardly
interested him, very quietly arranged his little fire, and, as the wood
was dry, with one or two breaths blew it into a blaze. Not long after,
an old fellow got up in the camp, and, with his eyes fixed on the
distance, walked up majestically to the new-comer and took his seat
before his fire. Though these men had known each other from childhood,
they sat face to face with averted eyes, their conversation for some
time being constrained and distant, confined entirely to monosyllables.
At length, however, they warmed up; other men from the camp gradually
joined them; the ice was broken, and complete cordiality ensued; and
Wong having given the message of which he was the bearer, that the
long-expected Ngooraialum were coming, the conference broke up, the
new-comer being at liberty to take his seat at any camp-fire, at which
there was no women, which might suit his fancy. The next evening, from
amongst the branches of a tree in which they were playing, some young
urchins announced the arrival of the Ngooraialum. The bachelors, being
unencumbered, arrived first; next, perhaps, couples without children;
then the old and decrepit; and, lastly, the families in which there was
a large proportion of the juvenile element. As they arrived they formed
their camps, each family having a fire of its own, some half-dozen yards
from its neighbour's; that of the bachelors, perhaps, being rather
further off, and somewhat isolated from the rest. After the strangers
had arranged their camps (which, as the weather was fine, consisted
merely of a shelter of boughs to keep off the sun), and each group had
kindled for itself the indispensable little fire, which the aboriginal
always keeps up even in the warmest weather, they began to stroll about.
On this occasion two or three Bangerang girls found husbands amongst the
Ngooraialum, who returned the compliment by making as many Bangerang men
happy. In every instance it was noticeable that the husband was
considerably older than the wife, there being generally twenty
years--often much more--between them; indeed, as I frequently noticed,
few men under thirty years of age had lubras, whilst the men from forty
to fifty had frequently two, and occasionally three better halves.'
In another chapter Mr. Carr shows his friends in an unamiable light.
One of the warriors of the tribe died. 'Pepper' was buried with all
honours; but, as usual, the great question was who had bewitched him.
The common practice was resorted to for discovering the enemies.
'Shortly after sunrise the men, spear in hand (for no one ever left the
camp without at least one spear), went over to the new grave. Entering
its enclosure, they scanned with eager eyes the tracks which worms and
other insects had left on the recently-disturbed surface. There was a
good deal of discussion, as, in the eyes of the blacks, these tracks
were believed to be marks left by the wizard whose incantations had
killed the man, and who was supposed to have flown through the air
during the night to visit the grave of his victim. The only difficulty
was to assign any particular direction to the tracks, as in fact they
wandered to and from every point of the compass. At length one young
man, pointing with his spear to some marks which took a north-westerly
direction, exclaimed, in an excited manner: "Look here! Who are they who
live in that direction? Who are they but our enemies, who so often have
waylaid, murdered, and bewitched Bangerang men? Let us go and kill
them." As Pepper's death was held to be an act particularly atrocious,
this outburst jumped with the popular idea of the tribe, and was
welcomed with a simultaneous yell of approval which was heard at the
camp, whence the shrill voices of the women re-echoed the cry.
'A war-party, fifteen in number, proceeded stealthily, and chiefly by
night marches, to the neighbourhood of Thule station, visiting on their
way those spots (known to one of the volunteers) at which parties of the
doomed tribe were likely to be found. After several days' wandering from
place to place, subsisting on a few roots hurriedly dug up, and
suffering considerably from hunger and fatigue, they caught sight, as
they were skulking about towards sundown, of a small encampment, without
being themselves seen, upon which they retired and hid in a clump of
reeds. About two o'clock in the morning the war-party left their
hiding-place and returned to the neighbourhood of the camp, and having
divested themselves of every shred of clothing, and painted their faces
with pipe-clay, they clutched their spears and clubs, and, walking
slowly and noiselessly on, soon found themselves standing over their
sleeping victims.
'According to native custom, no one was on watch at the camp, and I have
often heard the blacks say that their half starved dogs seldom give the
alarm in cases of strange blacks, though they would bark if the
intruders were white men. They gently raised the rugs a little from the
chests of the doomed wretches, and at a given signal, with a
simultaneous yell, plunged their long barbed spears into the bosoms or
backs of the sleepers. Then from the mia-mias, which were quickly
overturned, came the shrieks of the dying, the screams of the women and
children, blows of clubs, the vociferation of the prostrate, who were
trying to defend themselves; the barking of the dogs and the yells of
the assailants, who numbered fully three to one. Altogether it was a
ghastly, horrible scene that the pale moon looked down on that night at
Thule.'
Mr. Carr describes the agility displayed by the men in such feats as
mounting the trees for opossums, &c., and the illustration on page 12
tells the story of one of these hunts.
Of Australian weapons the most interesting is the boomerang. Mr. Brough
Smyth, in his work on the aborigines, discredits the idea that there is
any connection between the boomerang and the throwing or crooked stick
of the Dravidian races of India, as has been contended, and insists that
it is _sui generis_. Its peculiar action depends upon a twist in the
wood, the twist of the screw, which may be imperceptible to the careless
observer, but which is always there.
[Illustration: A BOOMERANG.]
When a skilful thrower takes hold of a boomerang with the intention of
throwing it, he examines it carefully (even if it be his own weapon, and
if it be a strange weapon still more carefully), and, holding it in his
hand, almost as a reaper would hold a sickle, he moves about slowly,
examining all objects in the distance, heedfully noticing the direction
of the wind, as indicated by the moving of the leaves of the trees and
the waving of the grass, and not until he has got into the right
position does he shake the weapon loosely, so as to feel that the
muscles of his wrist are under command. More than once, as he lightly
grasps the weapon, he makes the effort to throw it. At the last moment,
when he feels that he can strike the wind at the right angle, all his
force is thrown into the effort: the missile leaves his hand in a
direction nearly perpendicular to the surface; but the right impulse has
been given, and it quickly turns its flat surface towards the earth,
gyrates on its axis, makes a wide sweep, and returns with a fluttering
motion to his feet. This he repeats time after time, and with ease and
certainty. When well thrown, the farthest point of the curve described
is usually distant one hundred or one hundred and fifty yards from the
thrower. It can be thrown so as to hit an object behind the thrower, but
this cannot be done with certainty. The slightest change in the
direction of the wind affects the flight of the missile to some extent;
but the native is quick in observing any possible causes of
interference.
The northern blacks are the southern blacks, but are 'much more so.'
They are finer and fiercer men; more given to slaughter, building better
houses, more intractable. The engraving on the next page depicts an
encampment of blacks on the shore, at the mouth of Wreck Creek,
Rockingham Bay, Queensland. The figure to the right of the picture is
engaged painting a shield. The curiously-shaped huts of the North
Australian blacks form characteristic objects in the engraving.
The engraving on page 166 of a corroboree in the far north is from a
photograph by Mr. P. Foelsche, at Port Essington. The males group
themselves as shown in our illustration, and stamp the ground with both
feet simultaneously, making a peculiar sound, and keeping tune with a
guttural exclamation. The first who sounds a false note or misses a beat
leaves the group amidst the ridicule of the bystanders, and this process
is continued until the number of performers is reduced to a pair, who
divide the honours. These northern tribes are guilty of revolting acts
of cannibalism.
[Illustration: A NATIVE ENCAMPMENT IN QUEENSLAND.]
No keener observers of nature in the world are to be found than the
Australian blacks. Their gaze is microscopic rather than extensive. They
have no appreciation of natural beauty and taste; but their attention is
directed to the broken twig, the crushed grass, the displaced stone, the
light impression--to anything and everything that may reveal the
proximity of a foe or the presence of food. No such trackers exist
anywhere. Celebrity has recently been thrust upon them. In 1880 a gang
of marauders took to the bush in Victoria. They committed many daring
crimes, and the police were unable to check or to capture them, though
the best men in the force were employed, and tens of thousands of pounds
were spent.
The idea of employing black trackers was mooted, and some of the
Victorian aborigines were first tried. But civilisation dulls the
instinct. Trackers were obtained from the far north, who did their work
well. The criminals were surprised and brought to bay. Three were killed
in the conflict, and the leader, who was captured severely wounded, was
hanged in Melbourne Gaol. It was acknowledged on all hands that the
presence of the trackers paralysed the gang, and a few blacks have been
kept about Melbourne ever since.
[Illustration: A NATIVE TRACKER.]
So soon as the black has been dispossessed, and has ceased to be
dangerous, the heart of the white man relents towards him, and he
proceeds to look after the remnants of the tribes. Philanthropists, lay
and clerical, find liberal support from the state and from individuals.
Thus Government stations and mission stations are called into existence
in Victoria, in South Australia, in New South Wales, and in Western
Australia, where the blacks have homes provided for them and food, and
where strenuous efforts are made to improve their morals and to
Christianise them. They are taught to grow hops and to look after cattle
and to repair their fences, but it is all essential that reserves and
streams should be at hand in which they can hunt and wander. Under these
favourable circumstances the full-blooded black is dying out; and, as
there is a movement to distribute all half-castes amongst the general
population, the time will come when these institutions will be closed,
owing to a lack of inmates. The visitor should not miss the opportunity
of inspecting one of the establishments, most of which are easily
reached. Illustrations are given here of the Lake Tyers station, which
is under the charge of the Rev. J. Bulmer. A railway journey of a
hundred miles to the town named Sale, and steamer thence to the entrance
of the Gippsland lakes, brings the visitor to the spot, and he is sure
of a hospitable reception. The upper view represents the mission church,
a handsome building, constructed of wood, and erected by the Rev. Mr.
Bulmer. Service is held morning and evening. Other sketches show the
school building, in which the aboriginal children are taught by Mr.
Morriss, state school teacher; and a native camp, occupied by natives
who decline the accommodation of the huts.
[Illustration: CHURCH, SCHOOLHOUSE, AND ENCAMPMENT AT LAKE TYERS.]
There are many missions to the blacks. How far is the race capable of
Christianity? On such an issue only one who has closely studied the
natives can pronounce an opinion. If there is any one person who is more
entitled to be heard on the subject than another, it is the Rev. F. A.
Hagenauer, who has had nearly a thirty years' experience with the
Australian black. Mr. Hagenauer came to Australia in 1858 as a Moravian
missionary to the aborigines, and has been engaged in his self-denying
labours ever since. Recently he has associated with the Presbyterian
Church of Victoria, and he has acted--without any stipend from the
state--as manager of the Government aboriginal station, Ramahyuck. The
following letter speaks for itself:--
ABORIGINAL MISSION STATION, RAMAHYUCK, GIPPSLAND,
_January 30, 1886_.
DEAR SIR,--I gladly comply with your desire, to furnish you with
some reliable information as to my views and experiences among the
aborigines in reference to their capability of understanding and
receiving Christianity as a power to change the hearts and lives of
these people.
The beneficial influence of true Christianity, through the progress
of education and civilisation, has worked a wonderful change in the
lives, manners and customs of the blacks. Any one not acquainted
with their former cruel and most abominable habits, but knowing
them only as now settled in peaceable communities, would scarcely
believe that the description of heathen life which the apostle Paul
gives in the Epistle to the Romans was a correct picture of their
mode of life. Given to the continual licentiousness of their carnal
minds, they were slaves to their lusts and passions, which, working
with their superstitious and cruel nature, made them ever ready,
and their feet swift, to shed blood. Without a settled home, they
wandered about from place to place in a most miserable and depraved
condition, adding to their native vices drunkenness and other
evils, which they had learned from white people. The different
tribes, either from superstitions or family quarrels, or from
violation of tribal territory and the sacred surroundings of their
dead, were at continual warfare; and their fear of revenge by
secret enemies was sometimes terrible to behold. Their howling
noises for many days and weeks before and after the deaths of their
friends and relatives, which told but too plainly that they were
without hope in this world, were most pitiful to hear, and the
disgusting scenes in connection with their nocturnal corroborees
cannot be fully described. Added to this came the tormenting custom
to which some of them were subjected at their peculiar native
festivities, and especially the barbarous treatment of females by
their tribal lords. It is not necessary to refer to the many
atrocities and crimes committed by them in days gone by, for it is
well known that they gave trouble to the earlier settlers, and were
a terror to lonely women and children in the bush; nor need I say
anything about their loathsome diseases, which were prevalent among
them in consequence of their immoral lives and habits. Having lived
for so many years among them as a close observer, I can testify
that the above statements give only a faint picture of what
actually took place, for there is not one hour of the night or day
in which I did not witness one or other of their cruel customs.
In the midst of their quarrels and bloody fights, at their ghastly
corroborees, and during the time of their most pitiful cries around
their sick and dead ones, we have been able to bring to them the
Gospel of life and peace, and many times did they throw down their
weapons and stop their nocturnal dances in order to listen to the
Word of God and the joyful news of salvation through our Lord Jesus
Christ. In the beginning of 1860 a remarkable awakening amongst the
blacks began with earnest cries to God for mercy, and sincere tears
of repentance, which was followed by a striking change in their
lives, manners and habits. The wonderful regenerating power of the
Gospel among the lowest of mankind worked like leaven in their
hearts, and, through patient labour and the constraining love of
Jesus, we were soon privileged to see a small Christian church
arise and a civilised community settled around us. To the glory of
God it can be said that a comparatively large number of the remnant
of this rapidly decreasing race has been brought to the knowledge
of the truth, and a good many honoured the Lord by their humble
Christian life for many years, and a still greater number died in
full assurance of eternal happiness through faith in Jesus Christ.
The old manners and customs of the blacks have changed even among
the remaining heathen under the influence of the Word of God. The
war-paints and weapons for fights are seen no more, the awful
heathen corroborees have ceased, the females are treated with
kindness, and the lamentable cries, accompanied with bodily
injuries, when death occurred, have given place to Christian sorrow
and quiet tears for their departed friends. With very few
exceptions, all the wanderers have settled down as Christian
communities on the various stations, and, where they are kept under
careful guidance and religious instruction, the change from former
days is really a most remarkable one.
Whilst, on the one hand, we have reason to rejoice that God has
blessed His work to such an extent, we feel sorrow at stating that
our joy is often mingled with disappointment, in so far that so
very many of these people pass away either through the consequences
of their former diseases, or for some unknown reason. The Lord does
what seemeth good in His sight; and we have reason to thank Him for
so many tokens of His grace, and for the triumphs of the Gospel in
the redemption of those members who passed away in peace to their
eternal home, to be for ever with the Lord.
The carrying out of the Saviour's commandment to His Church, to
preach the Gospel to every creature, has accomplished that which
was considered by many an impossibility; for the influence of the
Word of God proved its Divine power, and many of these poor
depraved blacks soon began to sit at the feet of Jesus, 'clothed,
and in their right mind.' General civilisation and education, in
and out of school, for young and old, followed step by step as a
fruit of true Christianity, and showed in reality a greater
progress than we ourselves could have expected in accordance with
the generally adopted opinion in reference to the capability of the
aborigines.
I may state here that in every case of conversion we have been most
careful and cautious not to administer the ordinance of baptism too
soon, but only after long trials and careful instruction in the
Word of God. Some of the converts have honoured their confession of
faith by most honest, faithful, and consistent lives from beginning
to end; some have been, and still are, weak in their Christian
course, whilst others have often to be reminded, and have even had
to be put under Christian discipline, in consequence of
backslidings and sins; but even of those it can be stated
truthfully that, though weak, they did cling to Jesus for
salvation, and cried for mercy to Him who alone can forgive sins.
To enter into particulars of individual conversions and triumphs of
faith would be out of place in such a short statement as this; but
there are very many instances, both of young people, and of the
very oldest aborigines, who lived and died as faithful humble
Christians. On the whole, I believe that there is not any great
difference between these blacks and any new converts from the
heathen in other lands, or even among some classes of white people.
It may also be stated that many people here and elsewhere at once
expect the converted aborigines to be model Christians, whilst they
forget that Christianity truly teaches all to grow in grace and in
truth, and with patience and perseverance to press forward to the
great aim; and this certainly is carried out by the converted
aborigines in this colony.
I remain, dear sir, yours very truly,
F. A. HAGENAUER.
CHAPTER XII.
SOME SPECIMENS OF AUSTRALIAN FAUNA AND FLORA.
MARSUPIALS--THE 'TASMANIAN DEVIL'--DINGOES--KANGAROO HUNTING--THE
LYRE-BIRD--BOWER-BIRD--THE GIANT KINGFISHER--EMU
HUNTING--SNAKES--THE SHARK--ALLEGED MONOTONY OF
VEGETATION--TROPICAL VEGETATION OF COAST--THE GIANT GUM--THE
ROSTRATA--THE MALLEE SCRUB--FLOWERS AND SHRUBS.
[Illustration: AUSTRALIAN TREE-FERNS.]
[Illustration: DINGOES.]
No large carnivorous animals roam over the Australian plains, to
endanger the life of man or to destroy his flocks and herds. Australia
is the mother country of the meek and mild marsupial, which is found in
abundance, varying in size from the great red 'old man' kangaroo, which
stands between six and seven feet high, to the marsupial mouse, which
will sleep in a good sized pill-box. There is the stupid, heavy wombat,
which seems a mere animated ball of flesh, which burrows in the ground,
and which apparently cannot move a mile an hour when it appears on the
surface, though its pace is really better than that. On the other hand,
there is the elegant flying fox, or rather flying opossum, which by
means of a bat-like membrane glides through the air at night,
astonishing the traveller, who sees hundreds of large forms sweep
noiselessly by. Great fruit-eaters are these flying foxes, and there is
tribulation when a horde visits a settled district. The native bear, as
a marsupial sloth is termed, is the most innocent-looking of animals,
and the most harmless, feeding on the leaves of the gum. It swarms in
the various colonies. In the next tree will be found a family of the
_Dasyuridae_ or native cats, beautiful spotted creatures, the size of a
half-grown cat, whose sharp face and continuous activity betray at once
a restless and a wicked disposition. It is carnivorous, fierce and
intractable. The marsupial pictured on page 183 is a specimen of an
elegant variety of the common opossum, found principally in the
neighbourhood of the Bass River, Victoria. The common opossum is found
everywhere.
[Illustration: THE _Sarcophilus_ OR 'TASMANIAN DEVIL.']
While the native cat is the only mischievous carnivorous marsupial on
the Australian mainland, Tasmania is possessed of two much larger and
more destructive animals, the _Thylacinus_ or 'tiger-wolf,' and the
_Sarcophilus_ or 'Tasmanian devil;' the former is nearly as large as a
wolf, and is shapely and handsomely marked with stripes on the flanks.
The latter is a smaller animal. It has been described as 'an ugly
bear-like cat.' It is a thick-set creature, black in colour, with white
patches, and its hideous appearance and its untameable ferocity quite
entitle it to its popular designation. Both 'tiger' and 'devil' are
nocturnal, and both have been so hunted and trapped by the settlers,
whose sheep and poultry they killed, as now to be very scarce. Neither
has ever been known to attack man. At one time, as geological
examination shows, the marsupial 'devil' and his relative were both
found in Australia, and the wonder is that they should have so
completely disappeared from the scene as they have done.
[Illustration: BASS RIVER OPOSSUM.]
An animal that stands entirely apart from the marsupials in Australia is
the wild dog. The dingo is one of the mysteries. Whence did he come? He
is allied to the wild dogs of India, but why should this Indian animal
be in Australia--his form on the surface and his bones in ancient
deposits--while no other representative of the fauna of the Old World is
known? Leaving science to unravel this problem, it may be said of the
dingo that he is a good-looking but an ill-behaved animal. He is
compared to the sheep-dog, to the wolf, and to the fox, and, in fact, he
has a dash of each of these creatures in his appearance. He is about two
feet high, is well-proportioned, with erect ears and a bushy tail. He
stands firmly on his legs, and shows a good deal of strength in his
well-constructed body. His colour varies from a yellowish-tawny to a
reddish-brown, growing lighter towards the belly; and the tip of his
brush is generally white. He cannot bark like other dogs, but he can
howl, and he does howl with a soul-chilling effect. His note is to be
likened unto
The wolf's long howl from Oonalastra's shore.
Campbell's melodious line conveys the idea of misery, and discomfort and
uneasiness are engendered when the slumbers of the sleeper in the bush
are disturbed by the blood-curdling cry of these breakers of the
nocturnal peace. The blacks used to catch the puppies of the wild dog,
and then train them to hunt, but they found the European dog sufficient
for their purposes, and much more docile and affectionate. As dingoes
worry sheep, the first task of a squatter is to get rid of them. When
they breed in shelter and a semi-settled district--if they can issue
from mallee scrub--a handsome reward is always offered for their heads.
In parts of Victoria as much as L2 per head is paid. An engraving of the
creature is given on page 181.
[Illustration: A KANGAROO BATTUE.]
Man has to be fed, and therefore game has to be shot and fish has to be
caught. The animal life of Australia had little rest when the blacks
roamed over the country, but it has still less, now that the white man
is in possession. The kangaroo hunt varies from a necessary slaughter of
the blue and red kangaroos of the plains, to an exciting run and
desperate fight for life at the finish of it, when the game is the big
dark forester living in the timber belts that line most of the
Australian streams. The battue of kangaroos is often rendered imperative
by the rapid increase of the marsupials after the disappearance of their
old enemies, the aborigines and the dingo. As regards the kangaroo,
matters are apt to become very serious for the grazier. On an average,
these animals consume as much grass as a sheep, and where a few score
originally existed there soon come to be a thousand. In some places they
have threatened to jostle the sheep and his master out of the land; and,
in consequence, energetic and costly steps have to be taken to reduce
their numbers. In a battue of this description a whole neighbourhood
joins. It may seem hard that this aboriginal should be ruthlessly
destroyed in favour of the sheep, because he has no wool; but then, if
he could reflect, he would see that, fed and cared for as the merino is,
yet his fate would usually be the butcher at last.
The battue is not so welcome to the sportsman as the chase of the
forester. The 'old man,' when finally run down, backs like a stag into a
convenient corner, perhaps the hollow of a great gum-tree, the trunk of
which has been partly burned away with a bush fire, and there, with a
calm no-surrender expression in his mute face, and just the merest blaze
in the big deer-like eyes, waits for the enemy like the splendidly
resolute old veteran he is. If he can find a water-pool or river in
which to 'stick up,' so much the better for him and the worse for those
who attack him. He wades in until only his nervous fore-arms and head
are above water, and in this position can keep even a half-dozen dogs
from coming to quarters. The forester, standing six feet high, has the
advantage over the dogs that, while he stands upon his hind-legs, they
must swim.
Of the amphibious platypus everybody has heard. The creature has been
playfully likened unto a creditor, because it is a 'beast with a bill';
but its peculiarities do not stop here. As a survival, or a 'connecting
link,' it has other qualities that render it an object almost of
veneration to the naturalist. It is a mammal, suckling its young, and
yet it lays eggs. This fact was long known to bushmen, but it was
doubted by the scientific world, and Mr. W. H. Caldwell, 'travelling
bachelor,' of Cambridge, visited Australia in 1884-5, to specially study
the subject, and his researches proved that, as the bushmen had
declared, the platypus is oviparous. On the one hand, the platypus, with
its duck's bill and its webbed feet, connects the beast with the bird,
and, on the other hand, its peculiar oviparian qualities are held to
establish a relationship with the reptile. The name once given it,
'water-mole,' indicates its size, though certainly the platypus has
considerably the advantage of the mole. It is larger, indeed, than the
largest water-rat. When the first specimens were taken to Europe a hoax,
we are told, was suspected, the idea being that the bill and the feet
had been cunningly attached to the body; but the platypus is too common
a creature for the idea to be long entertained, and so its existence was
officially acknowledged, and it received the title _Ornithorhynchus_.
The platypus is a 'survival,' and it is likely to survive for many a
generation. It breeds in security in a chamber at the end of a long
passage which it constructs from the river banks. It is sensitive to
sound, and, as it dives with alacrity, and swims with only its beak
above water, a shot is no easy matter. As it is still to be obtained in
streams so well visited as the Yarra and the Gippsland Avon, it may be
imagined that its existence in other rivers is perfectly secure. Yet its
skin is much valued. As a fur it is equal to the sealskin; and if the
animal were only larger it would be systematically hunted for its
covering.
Australia is rich in the abundance and variety of birds of the parrot
tribe, and in the occurrence of peculiar species of the feathered race.
She possesses the birds of Paradise, the king parrot, the blue
mountain-parrot, the lories, parroquets and love-birds. The plumage of
other birds is often of the gayest type. Thus, the blue wren is common
about Nutbourne; and this bird, says Gould, is hardly surpassed by any
of the feathered tribe, certainly by none but the humming-birds of
America. The cockatoo, with white, black, or rosy crest, flies in
flocks, and few sights in the world are prettier than one of these
flights. When they finally settle on a tree, they cover it as with a
snow-drift. Noisy they are, and clever, never feeding in the settled
districts without posting sentinels to warn the rest of the approach of
the human enemy.
[Illustration: THE PLATYPUS.]
One of the most interesting birds of Australia is the so-called
lyre-bird, the _Menura Victoriae_ of the naturalist, the 'pheasant' of
the settler, and the 'bullard-bullard' of the aborigines, the two words
somewhat resembling the native note of the graceful creature. Gould was
strongly of opinion that the lyre-bird, and not the emu, should be
selected as the emblem of Australia, since it is very beautiful,
strictly peculiar to the country, and 'an object of the highest
interest.'
[Illustration: THE LYRE-BIRD.]
The lyre-bird is about the size of the pheasant, and is valued because
of the magnificent tail of the male bird. The tail is about three feet
long. The outer feathers are beautifully marked, and form the lyre from
which the bird takes its name. There are also curious narrow centre
feathers crossing each other at the base, and curving gracefully
outwards at the top. The habitat of the lyre-bird is the romantic fern
country of South-eastern Australia, and the creature is in accord with
its lovely surroundings. It has many peculiarities. Thus, the male bird
forms a mound of earth, on which it promenades, displaying its tail to
its utmost advantage, and uttering its liquid notes for the benefit of
its female audience--for the female, dowdy as she is in comparison with
her lord, has to be wooed and won. Then they are the best of
mocking-birds. They imitate with precision the notes of the laughing
jackass, the parrot, the solemn mopoke, and moreover they reproduce
every sound made by man. Every splitter on the mountain-side has his
story of endeavouring in vain to discover the users of a cross-cut saw
in the neighbourhood, until he found that a 'pheasant' was mocking him;
and another favourite topic is the perplexity of the 'new chum' settler,
who hears an invisible mate chopping wood on his allotment, with an
invisible but barking dog at his heels. The lyre-bird is slow of flight,
and he would have a poor chance of escape from the shot-gun were his
haunt not in the thick fern vegetation; but this jungle protects him.
The birds are not so common as they once were in the ranges immediately
about Melbourne, but in the fastnesses of Gippsland they are met with in
their old numbers.
The satin or bower-bird is another of Australia's wonders. It not only
builds a 'bower,' but decorates the structure with the most
gaily-coloured articles that can be collected, such as the blue
tail-feathers of the rose-bill and Pennantian parrots, bleached bones,
the shells of snails, &c. Some of the feathers are stuck in among the
twigs, while others, with the bones and shells, are strewed about near
the entrances. The propensity of these birds to pick up and fly off with
any attractive object is so well known to the natives that they always
search the runs for any small missing article, such as the bowl of a
pipe, that may have been accidentally dropped in the bush. In the
spotted bower-bird the approaches are decorated with shells, skulls, and
bones, especially those which have been bleached white by the sun; and
as these birds feed almost entirely upon seeds and fruits, the shells
and bones cannot have been collected for any other purpose than
ornament.
Another bird peculiar to Australia is the 'giant kingfisher,' or 'piping
crow,' or 'musical magpie,' or 'settler's clock,' or, to use the term
everywhere applied, 'the laughing jackass.' Its extraordinary note, and
insane and yet good-humoured prolonged and loud cachinnation is unique,
and so is the appearance of the bird. It is a great Australian
favourite, is never shot, and as a consequence is tolerant of man. It is
called the 'settler's clock' in the bush by virtue of its regular
hilarious uproar at noon-tide and of its far-heard 'salutation to the
moon,' and it will equally make any city reserve lively with its note. A
dog-show was recently held in the Melbourne Exhibition. Five hundred
dogs naturally made themselves audible. But above all the discord was
heard the laugh of the giant kingfisher, intimating that he had secured
a golden perch from the pond, and was disposed to rejoice accordingly.
It is doubtful whether the laughing jackass destroys snakes. His critics
deny the assertion, which is made on his behalf. His admirers cling to a
belief which is widespread and has earned for the jackass the immunity
from destruction which he enjoys.
[Illustration: THE GIANT KINGFISHER, OR LAUGHING JACKASS.]
The largest game bird is the emu, but it is not pursued by sportsmen.
The chase is cruel, and is only indulged in by stockmen and Bohemians of
the plain, who traffic in the skins, for which, unfortunately for the
emu, there is a good commercial demand. Before a horse can be of any
service as an emu hunter he must become accustomed to the peculiar
rustling sound of the long light tail-feathers when the bird is in rapid
motion. Further, he must be sound of wind and limb to keep alongside an
emu; and these virtues are centred in some of the veteran stock-horses,
which by long practice have become accustomed to tread closely upon the
heels of a racer while the rider uses his long stock-whip. Swerve as the
hunted animal may, the old stock-horse never leaves the line. In this
way the emu is generally run down, only horse and whip being used. At
first he runs with a long clean swinging stride, but as he tires the
legs bend outward and get farther apart, until the movement is more akin
to the waddle of a fat barn-yard goose. He struggles along bravely until
every fragment of strength is gone, and then falls never to rise again.
[Illustration: THE EMU.]
The finest game-bird in Australia is the bustard, or wild turkey, which
is found all over the continent, but more plentifully in the Western
District of Victoria. On those clear frosty winter mornings peculiar to
the interior you may see them standing rigidly out in the centre of the
plain, as though the cold of the night had frozen them into
bird-statues. As they avoid the timber, and keep almost constantly to
the open, it is only by artifice that the sportsman can get within
range. For generations they have been stalked by the blacks, and have
thus inherited a dread of man when on foot. They are shot without much
difficulty from the saddle or a vehicle, the usual method being to drive
round the bird in narrowing circles until within range.
The native companion, a bird of very much the same habits and size as
the wild turkey, but very different from him in plumage and appearance,
also frequents the plains, and is often found in very large flocks.
Although not generally esteemed as a table bird, he sometimes finds his
way into the game market, plucked and dressed, and masquerading as a
turkey. An occasional blue feather beneath the wing instead of the
spangled grey of the turkey now and again betrays the deception, but, as
the birds at table are accepted by all except experts as being genuine
wild turkeys, the difference in the flavour of the bird is not very
marked.
Wild ducks are almost universal in Australia. The finest of them all is
the beautiful mountain duck, found all over the continent, but which
seems more closely associated with the woods and waters of Lake George,
in New South Wales. On this broad sheet of water they float in countless
thousands, and nest in the thickets upon its banks. Next to them in size
comes the black duck, a long low bird as seen in the water, and one of
the finest of Australian wild ducks. The wood-duck is, according to
strict scientific classification, a diminutive goose. It has the head,
bill, and body of a goose, and yet in popular estimation it is, and
always will be, a wild duck, and one of the most beautifully plumaged of
Australian ducks. The drakes have some of the brilliant tints of the
English mallard, and the neck and head are a rich velvet brown, while
the breast-feathers are beautifully spangled. The Australian teal is
much larger than the English bird, but otherwise not unlike it. These
four varieties are the best known, but the widgeon and blue-wing are
also plentiful, and outside these are at least half a dozen varieties
less familiar to Australian sportsmen.
The black swan can hardly be called a game bird, but it is shot on all
the lakes and swamps along the southern coast. In the Gippsland lakes it
is not an uncommon thing to find thousands of swans in a single flock,
and when these rise for a flight, striking the water with feet and
wings, the noise can be heard for miles across the lake. When means have
been taken to get rid of a rather rank flavour, just as the taste of the
gum-leaves is removed from opossum flesh, the swan is occasionally eaten
as game. Both swans and ducks are very largely shot from light punts,
and for many years punt and swivel guns were used with terrible
destruction by men whose business it was to supply the game markets of
the large cities. In Victoria the Legislature has by enactment declared
the swivel gun an illegal instrument, and since its abolition the ducks
are returning in hundreds to their old breeding-grounds.
Smaller game is abundant everywhere. The snipe, as nearly as possible a
prototype of the British bird, provides good shooting, more especially
in Gippsland. British epicures would be shocked at the uses to which the
bird is put in rough bush cookery, where its virtues are held in small
esteem. An Irish recipe for cooking a snipe is merely to burn its bill
in a candle, but some Australian cooks go to the other extreme. One
recipient of a present of a few brace 'just fried them with steak.' The
heresy as regards the steak was bad enough, but such treatment of snipe
was altogether unpardonable. The Argus snipe is a rare but rather
beautiful bird, the markings on its back and wings being exceptionally
fine. Of Australian quail there are at least a dozen varieties, ranging
from a small partridge down to the little king quail. In some parts of
the colony, without the slightest efforts being made at game
preservation, enormous bags are frequently made.
[Illustration: THE TIGER-SNAKE.]
Amongst the game of southern forests the wonga-wonga and bronze-wing
pigeons are two really splendid birds, the latter as large as an
ordinary blue-rock, and the former making all varieties of the pigeon
tribe look like mere dwarfs beside them. They keep closely to the
thickets. It requires a quick eye to detect them.
Snakes are often considered a drawback in Australia, but then it must be
remembered that a man may live ten years in a snaky part of the country
and never see one of these reptiles. Now that rational ideas of
treatment are gaining ground, death from snake-bites will not average
above one per million of the population per annum.
The most vicious as well as the most dangerous of these reptiles is the
tiger-snake, so called from its tawny, cross-banded colouring. Like its
near ally, the cobra di capello of India, when irritated it flattens and
extends its neck to twice its natural size. A full-sized tiger-snake in
the summer season, when it secretes its maximum amount of poison, can
inject a dose that is speedily fatal.
The treatment in snake-bite cases is still in dispute. The Indian
doctors reject ammonia, and are followed by the Central Board of Health
(Victoria), which has issued notices recommending excision and the use
of the ligature. Spirits are given in abundance by some medical men.
Walking the sufferer about to avert sleep and coma is a popular
procedure. It is the general use of the excision treatment, however,
that has reduced the death-rate so wonderfully. If a schoolboy is bitten
now he pulls out his knife and excises the bitten part, or he sacrifices
the joint of a finger. Keep the poison out of the system, and no harm is
possible, and the bitten person now directs his energies to carry out
that, instead of wasting his time in running after a doctor, who cannot
repair the neglect.
One sport there is in Australia which can be most heartily enjoyed by
all. This is shark-catching. The shark is a worse terror than the snake.
Every harbour contains some monsters fourteen, sixteen, and eighteen
feet long, and every year there is some tale of horror. The catching of
one of these creatures is a popular event, men rejoicing over the
destruction of a dreaded enemy.
To the angler Australian waters offer great attractions. Trout were long
ago established in the streams of Tasmania and New Zealand, and within
the last few years they have become very plentiful in Victorian rivers.
Within twenty miles of Melbourne good trout-fishing may now be had. The
fish are slightly more sluggish than in British waters--a fact no doubt
accounted for by the warmer climate; and experts say that at table
something is lost in flavour also. The Californian salmon have also been
acclimatised with fair success. There are several varieties of perch in
the colonies; but those of the Gippsland rivers, discarding the
traditions of their kind all the world over, rise eagerly to the fly,
and give splendid sport. To kill fifty a day with the fly, many of them
going up to five pounds, is not an uncommon feat. The bream in all the
southern rivers and lakes are strong, lusty fellows, that make the reels
whistle in a style that is sweetest music to the angler's ear; but if
one wants a bag, he must use double-gutted hooks. Gamer or better fish
than these bream no fisherman could desire. The triton of Australian
sweet-water streams is the Murray cod; but he has nothing but his size
to recommend him. Along the coast and in the tidal rivers the so-called
sea-salmon is another source of gratification to the fly-fisher, for he
rises freely, and the largest ones make quite a gallant rush when
struck. In the lagoons bordering on the chief of Australian rivers,
there are large Murray perch that at certain times bite voraciously. But
the handsomest of his kind in Australia is undoubtedly the golden perch,
found in the Murray and its tributaries. Its scales have the beautiful
burnished gleam of old gold, and when a big one is brought to bank it is
something to admire. Judged from the standard of the epicure alone, the
black-fish is perhaps the finest of all Australian fresh-water fish, its
flesh being snow-white, and of a remarkably fine flavour. The fish is
found to greatest perfection in the clear mountain streams that come
tumbling down from the Otway ranges, in the southern part of Victoria;
but he is of sluggish habits, and by no means the angler's ideal. When
these streams are discoloured by storm water very good fishing may be
had through the day; but if the water is clear the black-fish comes from
his hiding-place only when the shadows from the hill-tops begin to
deepen over the water.
In some few rivers widening into the sea whiting are caught at certain
periods of the year. The best sea-fishing is perhaps that to be had with
the schnapper in Port Phillip Bay, where the fish are plentiful about
the lines of reef, and range in weight up to forty pounds.
Notwithstanding the merits of some of the native fish, the traditional
love for trout has risen superior to every other inclination with the
anglers of Victoria and Tasmania. The trout in many places have worked
themselves so far up the streams that man can only follow with the
greatest difficulty, and the scrub is so thick that an angler would find
it hopeless to attempt a cast. With these natural preserves extending
for miles, the supply of trout in colonial rivers is inexhaustible. In
fly-fishing for trout in the colonies it has been found, however, that
the most sacredly observed rules of British angling are entirely
useless. Flies that were deadly in the old country are impotent here;
and, as far as the Australian is concerned, all the main tenets of the
fly-fisher's faith must be absolutely cast aside, and a new angling
creed built upon the basis of colonial insect life and the changed
habits of the trout as we know them in Australia.
Australian vegetation is sometimes considered monotonous in appearance.
But this is the criticism of the stranger, and not of the resident. The
first idea of the observer is one of uniformity. When the Chinese
originally came to Australia, no one could see any difference between
the units of the Mongolian horde. Often did robbers of fowl-houses
escape punishment from the inability of the prosecutor to identify the
men he had chased and lost sight of, and frequently, it is to be feared,
was the wrong wearer of the pigtail stoutly sworn to. The yellow skin,
the round face and the flat nose conveyed the idea of identity. And to
Chinamen all Europeans were alike. The puzzled Celestial could not
distinguish between Englishman and German, and still less between
individual beef-eaters.
But Australian vegetation has distinctive features that quickly catch
the eye. The eucalypt is always the eucalypt, with its sombre green and
its peculiar adjustment of foliage. The leaves do not spread out
horizontally, but depend vertically from the boughs, an arrangement
which minimises the shade afforded in the daytime, but gives beautiful
effects in the gloaming, when the tree, not obscuring the light,
becomes a network of elegant tracery. Viewed in the daytime in
juxtaposition to oak or elm, and the confession must be made that the
average gum of the plains is scraggy; but in the moonlight the oak or
elm will be a black blotch, when the eucalypt is transformed into a
wonder of light and shade and of graceful outlines. An acquaintance with
the bush soon dispels the notion of monotony. The eucalypts are found to
differ one from another; the handsome Banksias, the curious Casuarinas,
or shea-oaks, the graceful acacias, all claim attention and
individualise the scene, while palms, grass-trees and tree-ferns add
charm and character to many a landscape.
[Illustration: AUSTRALIAN TREES.]
In vegetation as in other matters Australia delights in the vast,
sometimes in the _outre_, often in the contrast of extremes. Dwarf scrub
will cover whole regions. One tract of the mallee scrub, shared between
Victoria and South Australia, covers an area of nearly 9000 square
miles. The mallee is just high enough to render it impossible for a man
on horseback to look over it. And on the mountain ranges in the same
colony are to be found long stretches and avenues of the 'giant gums,'
whose pure white silvery columns seem as though intended to support the
sky. Between these two extremes is to be found a pleasantly-wooded
country presenting a park-like appearance. Farther afield are the
interior plains, covered often with the terrible spinifex, or porcupine
grass, a hard, coarse and spiny grass, uneatable by horse or ass, or, I
believe, by camel, and apt to wound the feet of the unfortunate animal
that journeys over it.
Different indeed from these treeless, waterless steppes are the valleys
and mountains of the seaboard. In these regions, protected from hot
winds and favoured by a heavy rainfall, we have a luxuriant and elegant
vegetation. Beginning with the gullies of the Dandenong ranges, near
Melbourne, the traveller can proceed from fairy scene to fairy scene
along the coast to far-away Carpentaria and Papua, the vegetation
preserving its identity, and yet slowly changing from a sub-tropical to
a tropical character. In the Victorian region there are rivulets of
clear water hidden from sight by the tree-ferns which flourish on their
banks. Journeying northwards, the vegetation thickens. Parasitical
ferns--the staghorns of the conservatory--depend from every branch.
Palm-trees make their appearance, the noble _Livistonia_ attaining in
suitable places a height of eighty feet. The musk-tree and the
_Pittosporum_ scent the air, and lovely twining plants help to form an
impenetrable foliage. On reaching the ranges of New South Wales, the
luxuriance is found to have further developed. From some hill-top you
gaze upon a verdant lawn gay with flowers and studded with shrubs.
Descending, you find that the surface is a vegetable canopy formed by
stout and hardy creepers and climbers that spread from tree to tree,
only the tops of the lofty eucalypts appearing above this mid-air
canopy. Lower down, fern-trees and cabbage-palms form a second roof,
while the soil supports an undergrowth of mosses, lichens and ferns.
But the gum-tree is as distinctive of Australia as are the emu and the
kangaroo. It pleases Australians greatly that their country contains the
'tallest tree in the world.' For years it was believed that Nature had
done her utmost in the big trees of California, but experts and visitors
admit that this belief must be abandoned. The two countries have the
issue to themselves; but the _Sequoia gigantea_ has had to retire in
favour of the _Eucalyptus amygdalina_, or giant gum. The following list
of generally accepted heights will show how completely the indigenous
vegetation of other lands is put out of court:--
The elm 60 feet to 80 feet.
The oak 60 feet to 100 feet.
_Pinus insignis_ 60 feet to 100 feet.
Himalayan cedar 200 feet.
_Sequoia gigantea_, or
'big tree' of California 200 feet to 325 feet.
_Eucalyptus amygdalina_,
or giant gum 250 feet to 480 feet.
The giant gum is rich in a peculiar volatile oil, and it supplies a
splendid timber for shingles, palings, &c. Hence, in all accessible
parts, the fine specimens are doomed to early destruction by the
splitter. The woodman does not spare the tree. The more huge the round,
straight, polished, and beautiful stem, the more likely he is to mark it
as his own. Confident statements have been made that in favoured spots
the giant gum attains the height of 500 feet; just as equally confident
assertions have been published that the _Sequoia_ of California runs up
to 450 feet. The highest gum of which there is authentic record is
growing on Mount Baw-Baw, Gippsland. Mr. Clement Hodgkinson, C.E., gives
the official measurement as 471 feet. The highest tree now standing in
California is 325 feet, so that the eucalypt is the taller by 146 feet.
If two tall elms, 70 feet high, were placed on the top of the tallest
_Sequoia_ in existence, the Mount Baw-Baw eucalypt would still overlook
the three.
The Fernshaw or Black Spur timber is famous because it is easily reached
from Melbourne, but the trees themselves are not the head of their clan.
A gum felled in the Otway ranges, at the instance of the late Professor
Wilson, measured 378 feet to the spot where its top had been broken off,
and, allowing for the average taper, 40 feet had been carried away. A
gum felled at Dandenong, and measured by Mr. D. Boyle, measured 420
feet. And the quantity of the timber supported by the soil where these
large trees are found is very remarkable. The secretary of the State
Forest Board noted the growth on one acre of ground in the Upper Yarra
district, and he found that the plot contained twenty eucalypts of a
height of 350 feet, and thirty-eight saplings of a height of 50 feet,
these trees emerging from a dense undergrowth of fern and musk trees.
In his _Goldfields of Victoria_ Mr. Brough Smith photographs a tree 69
feet in circumference, and 330 feet in height, and of greater
proportions therefore than the greatest of the _Sequoias_. This tree,
with hundreds of others, was felled for splitting purposes. The
Australian giants abound, and new discoveries are constantly made; and
it is quite possible that in some one of the valleys yet to be broken
into by man the real giant of the globe will be discovered. The picture
on page 16 of the Gippsland railway running through a cleared track
gives some idea of a primaeval forest in Victoria.
Mention has been made of the silver columns of the giant gum. The tree
sheds its bark annually, and the new skin is of a pure and dazzling
whiteness. As the stem is perfectly cylindrical, and as the huge fabric
towers 200 and 250 feet high without a branch, the sight of a group of
these monarchs is at these times especially beautiful. Below are the
tree-ferns and a lovely bush undisturbed by the wind, which may be heard
rustling the far-off tops of the grove. The elegant lyre-birds will be
drinking at a spring. Parrots of gorgeous plumage flit by. Few can gaze
upon such a scene without emotion, without realising with silent awe
that this fair spot is Nature's temple. And then the oppressed heart,
acknowledging the charm, will turn from all that Nature gives to what
she must bring.
Of the other gums the pride of place must be awarded to the noble
_Eucalpytus rostrata_, or red gum of the colonists. Fine specimens are
still to be found near Melbourne, though the value of its wood has
marked them out for destruction in the neighbourhood of towns and
cities. The _Rostrata_ has an enormous spreading upper growth. Some of
the limbs rival in size the parent stem, and will be gnarled and
contorted in a manner recalling the writhings of the Laocoon. It should
be studied from a distance, for their enormous weight sometimes causes
the branches to snap suddenly without the slightest warning, to the ruin
of all below.
[Illustration: SILVER-STEM EUCALYPTS.]
The rival of the red gum as a timber tree is the jarrah, an eucalypt
peculiar to Western Australia, where it grows in forests. Seen in its
home on the Darling range, or the hills of Geographe Bay, the jarrah is
a magnificent tree, running up to a hundred feet before it branches, and
reminding the spectator sometimes of the rostrata, and sometimes of the
giant gum. The specialty of the jarrah is its power to defy the ravages
of the insect world and of the sea. This is complete. An examination
recently made of a pier at Banjoewangie, which was constructed thirty
years ago of jarrah, showed that the piles were as sound as the day they
were put in, although the seas of Java swarm with the _Teredo navalis_.
The official examination made by a select committee of Parliament in
South Australia, in 1870, of the Port Adelaide bridge, erected in 1858,
disclosed the fact that while every other timber employed below water
'had been completely destroyed by the teredo and other submarine
insects, the jarrah remained unscathed,' and had apparently saved the
work from collapse. In point of beauty many award the palm amongst the
gums to the _Eucalyptus ficifolia_, or scarlet flowering gum. It is met
with in groups. The tufts of bright scarlet blossom contrast well with
the dark-green foliage, and the tree adds greatly to the attraction of
the West Australian bush.
The mallee (_Eucalyptus dumosa_) is one of the strangest products of a
strange country. The root is a globular mass, varying in size from a
child's head to a huge mass which a man can hardly carry. From this bulb
a tap root descends to a great depth to reach moist ground below, while
other roots spread more horizontally. Above ground a few saplings shoot
out to a maximum height of about twenty feet, each sapling having a tuft
of leaves at its top. The appearance is that of a skeleton umbrella,
with the central stick or handle removed. No surface water is to be
obtained in the mallee district; its silence is only disturbed by the
melancholy wail of the dingo. Miserable is the fate of the luckless
wretch who wanders into such tracts as these. Unable to discern his way,
or to gain any point of vantage, and suffering from thirst, the man's
reason often succumbs, and he perishes a maniac. Yet the Victorian
mallee district is now being cleared by energetic colonists, who aver
that when they have exterminated the rabbit, and poisoned the dingo, and
got rid of the scrub--which succumbs to treatment--these plains will
prove the most fertile in Australia.
Here allusion may be made to the question whether or not the eucalyptus
is a fever-destroying tree. The subject has been thoroughly investigated
and discussed by Mr. Joseph Bosisto, M.P., Commissioner for Victoria at
the Colonial and Indian Exhibition, 1886, and his decision is in favour
of the utility of the eucalypt. Mr. Bosisto dwells specially upon the
fact that malarious diseases are not native to Australia, and that
imported fevers are believed to diminish in virulence; and he directly
connects the absence of malarious disease with the presence of a
peculiar aroma-diffusing vegetation. Mr. Bosisto mentions the powerful
root action of the eucalyptus, which, being an evergreen, is continually
at work, absorbing humidity from the earth, and upon its large leaf
exudation of oil and acid. His contention is that the volatile oil
thrown off by the eucalyptus absorbs atmospheric oxygen, and transforms
it into ozone. This much is certain: that if a small quantity of any of
the eucalyptus oils be sprinkled in a sick room, the pleasure of
breathing an improved air is realised at once. And as Mr. Bosisto
contends that he has established the diffusion of volatile oil by the
eucalyptus, and the chemical consequences of such diffusion, he submits
with a calm confidence that 'there is an active agency in Australian
vegetation unknown in other countries,' and that the eucalyptus is
rightly described as an anti-fever tree.
The tree most favoured for this purpose is the blue gum, or _Eucalyptus
globus_. The blue gum is extensively cultivated outside of Australia,
because experiment shows that it produces the most timber in the least
time. The rapidity with which the Australian forest recovers itself
after apparent destruction is indeed one of its marvels. In conversation
a landed proprietor of Benambra mentioned how, twenty-five years back,
there were places in his district in which scarce a stick could be
seen--then diggers had cut down every tree for firewood and for their
workings. But the diggers have gone, and now there is again the original
dense forest.
Next to the eucalypt the tree most prized in Australia is the graceful
acacia, varieties of which flourish throughout the continent. The tall
slender stem of the 'wattle'--as the tree is termed--supporting a
feathery foliage is everywhere to be met with in the south-eastern
colonies. In the spring-time the valleys and their river-courses are lit
up with the golden bloom which the tree bears in rare profusion, and the
perfume scents the air. In a room the odour of a mere twig of the wattle
will often be found to be overpowering. In England the young people can
'go a-Maying,' and in Australia they have no happier time than when they
go 'to bring the wattle home.' The quotation is the refrain of a song
which the sentiment made popular. Not only is the wattle 'a thing of
beauty' in itself, but the circumstance that its bark is one of the most
powerful tanning agencies in the world, and has a high commercial value
accordingly, renders it to its possessor 'a joy for ever.' The tree is
now being extensively planted in Victoria, where the valuable varieties
flourish, not by landscape gardeners, but by shrewd agriculturists
intent upon netting L10 per ton from the bark.
A world of other vegetation demands notice. The seaboard has a
characteristic shrub of its own in the so-called tea-tree scrub,
described by Baron von Mueller as a 'myrtle-like _Leptospermum_, of tall
stature, with half-snowy, half-rosy flowers.' It is the best of
sand-binders. No tract is so inhospitable but that the tea-tree will
flourish there. It fights the ocean to its edge. On some jutting
promontory on which not a rush will grow, exposed to every storm and
swept by spray, the tea-tree will be found, stunted and deserted, but
still battling bravely for existence against sea and breeze.
Inland the shea-oak (_Casuarina striata_) attracts attention. It is
scattered over the continent, and once seen is always remembered. The
tree is well shaped, but is leafless, long thin thongs taking the place
of foliage. The dark and gloomy appearance of the tree impresses itself
upon the spectator, and so, if he camps near it at night, does the
melancholy moaning of the wind through its pendent whip-like
branchlets.
[Illustration: THE BOTTLE-TREE.]
Small space has been left for a notice of such marvels as the
bottle-tree, and such beauties of Australian vegetation as the
flame-tree. The Sydney or Queensland visitor in the summer season may
see in full bloom, in the Illawarra bush, the local 'flame-tree'
(_Sterculia acerifolia_). The tree bears a profusion of scarlet racemes
of flowers, and of large bright green leaves. The foliage sheds itself
to make room for the profuse inflorescence, so that the tree has
veritably the appearance of a fire. Cycads and palm-lilies are
picturesque wherever they are met with.
The grass-trees (_Xanthorrhoea_) are peculiar to Australia, and in some
places cover myriads of acres. I have seen them in valleys in Western
Australia growing so thickly that it was impossible to push a horse
through their ranks. A rugged resinous stem five to ten feet high
supports a drooping plume of wiry foliage, from which a flowering
bulrush springs. The 'black boy,' as the grass-tree is called in the
west, is often weird, and is essentially Australian. Useful advice to a
settler would be, 'Be chary of buying land where the grass-tree grows,'
for, though there are exceptions, the _Xanthorrhoea_ has a weakness
for the desert. The warratah, with its single stem of six feet, bearing
a crimson blossom resembling a full-blown peony, is one of the most
popular of the wild flowers of New South Wales. The boronia, with its
powerful perfume, will be admired by the visitor; the _Araucarias_ have
here their home. The heaths are beautiful; and it may be said of them in
their place and season, 'You scarce can see the grass for flowers.' For
a long time the wild flowers of the country were neglected, but now in
some places shows are exclusively devoted to them. The dictum of Mr. A.
A. Wallace is not to be lightly challenged, and it is that 'no country
in the world affords a greater variety of lovely flowers than Australia,
nor more interesting forms of vegetable life.'
The grape is providing us with a national industry; the orange-groves of
Sydney, Perth, and other districts are amongst the sights of the place.
CHAPTER XIII.
THE SQUATTER AND THE SETTLER.
PRESENT MEANING OF THE WORD 'SQUATTER'--CATTLE-RAISING--CAPITAL HAS
CONFIDENCE IN SQUATTING NOW--ORIGIN OF MERINO
SHEEP-BREEDING--MANAGEMENT OF A RUN--DROUGHT--BOX-TREE
CLEARINGS--MODERN ENTERPRISE--SHEEP-SHEARING--'SUNDOWNERS'--FARMING
PROSPECTS--CHEAP LAND--EASY HARVESTING--SMALL CAPITAL--SELECTION
CONDITIONS--BUSH FIRES--BLACK THURSDAY--THE OTWAY DISASTER--LOST IN
THE BUSH--MISSING CHILDREN.
[Illustration: GRASS-TREES.]
[Illustration: DRIVING CATTLE.]
The terms 'squatter' and 'squatting' are now misleading. They cover a
number of different occupations, and perhaps the words 'grazier' and
'grazing' ought to be substituted. The original squatter paid his L10
licence fee, and he was at liberty to go where he pleased and to take up
as much land as he required for his sheep and for two years' increase.
Whether he had five hundred sheep or five thousand did not matter.
Australia was large, and the adventurous pioneer was at liberty to pick
and choose. The flocks were 'shepherded'--that is, were not confined
between fences, but were looked after by men who drove them to their
feed during the day, and placed them inside hurdles at head-quarters at
night. But, as land was taken up, the squatter obtained a particular run
for a term of years. He subdivided it by fences into paddocks, and so
reduced his number of herds and conducted his operations more
scientifically.
When a new run is taken up, it is pretty sure, in the first instance, to
be stocked with cattle. Cattle-raising requires no heavy outlay of
capital, because, beyond horses for the men, yards to work the stock,
and perhaps one or two paddocks to enclose young heifers and separate
them from the general herd, no buildings have to be erected. Then the
produce of a cattle station--the fat stock--can be cheaply driven to
market. Travelling with stock through the bush costs no more than the
wages of the men employed, and, if carefully driven, the bullocks do not
deteriorate. Last but not least among the advantages possessed by the
cattle squatter is the fact that he can make shift with comparatively
few water-holes. Cattle can feed their way to water much more readily
than sheep.
At first cattle are not happy on a new country, and will make frequent
efforts to break away. Often have the stockmen left a herd quietly
grazing at night, and found not a hoof in the morning, whereupon comes a
fine gallop after the runaways, who always head straight for home.
Nevertheless skilful herding of the cattle on the run, and extra
vigilance for a few months, suffice to accustom the animals to their new
home. Once 'broken in to the run,' as it is called, the cattle remain on
it, and can indeed hardly be driven away. They select their
camps--generally tracts of open country, with trees growing in groups,
and near water--and the choice is often directed by the stockmen when
first they are brought on to the country. On these camps the cattle
assemble in the heat of the day, lying lazily in the shade, and moving
off to feed at night and in the afternoon and morning. They are easily
trained to assemble on the camp whenever hunted up, and the crack of a
stock-whip anywhere on a cattle-run, with a well-broken herd, will set
all the animals within hearing moving off to the camp. Mustering is
attended to at frequent intervals on a well-worked cattle station. The
stockmen ride round, hunting up all stray groups, and direct them to the
central camp, where they assemble in a great compact herd. When thus
gathered together, the animals required for any special purpose--fat
bullocks for market, or cows and calves for branding--are ridden out of
the mass by the stockmen on their well-trained horses, and collected in
a separate herd.
There is no more interesting sight than this 'cutting out,' as it is
called. The stockman rides into the mass of animals, which opens out
uneasily as he enters. A touch of the stock-whip on the selected beast
indicates him to the intelligent horse, whose rider practically leaves
to him the rest of the work. The selected beast tries to escape by
wedging himself into masses of his companions; but the horse, who
apparently enters thoroughly into the fun of the thing, turns and twists
with surprising rapidity, and, before the hunted animal knows what is
happening to him, he finds himself edged outside of the main herd, and
driven to a separate little group. Other men guard this group, and
prevent them from rejoining the mass, plying their stock-whips with
terrible effect on any refractory beast. When the selection is complete,
the chosen herd is driven towards the head station yards, and the main
body of cattle allowed to disperse again.
Cattle-raising is a pursuit full of excitement and danger. Chasing the
wild animals through the bush or down the steep sides of precipitous
hills is work that requires sure feet on the part of the horse, and cool
heads and firm seats on the part of the riders. Even more perilous is
drafting in the yards. The men who enter the great enclosures full of
angry frightened animals, to separate and drive them into different
compartments, often run quite as much risk as the Spanish bull-fighters.
But they have quick feet, sharp eyes, and cool heads, and fatal
accidents seldom occur; though it often happens that a charging cow or
bullock will send all the men in the yard scrambling precipitately to
the top rail of the strong high timber enclosure.
Drought is the great enemy that these pioneers have to dread. Nature has
fitted the grasses and herbage of the interior to withstand prolonged
dry periods. By many beautiful adaptations the herbs growing on the
plain are enabled to flower and mature their seed with great rapidity;
so that even one soaking downpour will often suffice for the lifetime of
a plant, and allow it to shed its ripened seed, which lies hidden in the
cracks of the arid, sun-baked soil till the next favourable season
occurs. The principal grasses have a remarkable power of remaining in
what seems like a state of suspended animation. This is especially
noticeable in the case of the Mitchell grass, which becomes white and
apparently dead, but still retains nourishment for stock in its dried
leaves, and vitality in its apparently withered stems.
One great reason why the squatter is better off now than he ever was
before is that capital has confidence in the occupation. Thus the
individual is more secure than he was. And large institutions have been
formed that make it their business to finance for the squatter. These
institutions have their one, two, or three millions of English and
Scotch capital, and they are managed by men of great colonial
experience, who know it is bad policy to do other than support a
deserving pioneer right through. Their capital is indeed subscribed for
the purpose of making stations drought-proof, and their record shows
that the system is highly profitable. An enormous amount of the
annexation of the desert which is now going on has English and Scotch
gold as its basis; and this union of home capital and of colonial
enterprise is as happy and as effectual a form of federation as can be
desired.
The following remarks on squatting are contributed by Mr. G. A. Brown,
author of the standard work, _Sheep Breeding in Australia_: 'It is
curious that the first settlers in Australia firmly believed the country
to be quite unfitted for rearing wool-bearing sheep. For fully a
quarter of a century the hairy sheep of India and the Cape of Good Hope
were bred by the colonists; and it was not till Captain McArthur sold
Australian grown merino wool in the London market at the rate of 5_s._
per lb., that the sheep-owners became aware of the splendid industry
that awaited development. Merino sheep then became the rage, and large
sums of money were spent in importing the finest specimens of the breed
from the purest flocks in Germany. In a few years Australia took her
place at the head of the list of fine wool-producing countries, and has
held it ever since. The world never before saw merino wool so soft, so
bright, or so long in staple. It produced a revolution in the
manufacture of woollen fabrics, and it brought within the reach of the
artisan cloths of a quality that only the wealthy could afford in the
previous century. This great work has been effected by the Australian
squatters.
[Illustration: A MERINO SHEEP.]