Yalgoo—A Cold Welcome—Native Shepherds—Geraldton—Pearls—The
Abrolhos—Dutch Navigators—Aborigines—Finis.
I reached the uninteresting township of Yalgoo at 2 o’clock, very
cold, tired and hungry. I stepped from the train with my portmanteau
and sallied out of the station to look for a vehicle to take me to the
hotel to which I had been recommended; but, alas! there was no sign of
a conveyance. A drearier-looking place I never saw. So disheartened did
I feel that I returned and got back into the railway carriage again,
intending to resume the journey and go on to Geraldton; but on looking
out of the now open window I saw so many nice and jolly-faced people
on the platform that I thought it might not be so bad a place after
all, so I took a second thought and got out of the carriage once more.
Approaching the gate I discovered a small boy in charge of a cart, on
which I placed my belongings, and told him to take them to the Emerald
Hotel, I walking behind. When we arrived there he put out my luggage
and left me. Not a soul was about the hotel or the street. I felt like
a sailor in a desert. I essayed to reconnoitre the place, and went in
and out of several rooms, with no result. I then tried the kitchen,
and found every one out there also, except the fire, which luckily was
in, so I took possession and sat down on a box to warm myself. Looking
out of the window, I saw two enormous emus stalking about and peering
into everything. I was afterwards told that they are the most curious
birds in existence, and their prying ways often cause them to be taken
captive. Presently the cook turned up; strange to say, a woman cook, as
most cooks in these parts are Japanese men. I asked her for some dinner;
she said she had none in the hotel, it was all at the railway station.
I may as well here explain that the proprietor of the hotel also caters
for the railway station, and his staff goes down there to attend to the
train passengers at the dinner-hour, everybody who requires dinner being
supposed to get it there. The whole male population of Yalgoo goes to see
the train come in; it is the event of the day. However, the cook made me
a nice cup of tea and some hot toast, and boiled some fresh eggs, after
partaking of which I felt myself again. Taking a look out of the front
door I saw the street just as deserted as ever, so, going into a bedroom,
I took a siesta until 4 o’clock, when sounds about the neighbourhood
told me that the townsfolk had returned from the railway station. I
accordingly went forth to make their acquaintance, and having done so I
am able to speak of them in the warmest terms.
The township being such a barren-looking place I was surprised, on
driving around, to find very beautiful environs. The rains had brought
up millions of wild flowers of all colours, and the grass and trees
were exceptionally green. There are a great many sheep stations in this
district, and the mines are a considerable distance away, so I did
not go to them. The exception was the Emerald Mine, which is almost
in the township, and which has returned its owners a large fortune.
Fifteen thousand pounds worth of gold was dollied out of it before it
was sold to an English company, who then erected machinery and crushed
large quantities of rich ore with big results. It was on this spot that
Yalgoo’s first find was made by a native shepherd and his lubra, who
told some prospectors that they knew of a quartz-heap with bright stuff
on it. You may be sure the prospectors lost no time in finding the heap;
other finds followed, and the Yalgoo rush commenced. Aboriginal shepherds
are almost the only ones to be had in the West, and they are not very
reliable; yet if any animal is lost they can always find it; they are
wonderful trackers, and can follow up the track of anything alive; this
power has been cultivated in them by hunting for food from infancy.
[Illustration: MARINE TERRACE, GERALDTON]
The next day I left Yalgoo, longing ardently for a breath of sea air
once more. After a journey of eight hours in the train I arrived at
Geraldton, on the shores of Champion Bay; the town nearest the point at
which the history of the colony really commences. It is a shipping port
for a large agricultural and pastoral country, although as yet only 2000
acres are under cultivation. I went for many beautiful drives, and one
night to a “social” given by the footballers, to which I was invited;
but as I did not dance, and contented myself with being a “wallflower,”
my participation in the enjoyment was not very keen; I consequently
returned early to my comfortable parlour at the Club Hotel. The new
public buildings here are quite an ornament to the town, and the people
may well be proud of them. There are also some other fine buildings and
many nice shops. Altogether Geraldton is a very jolly place in which to
spend a holiday. It can be reached from Perth by boat instead of the long
train journey of 297 miles, for the steamers going to the far north of
Western Australia and Singapore every fortnight always call; there are
also several coasting-boats. The extensive and rich goldfields of the
Murchison make Geraldton a very important place, and in course of time,
when the North is more known and visited, it will, no doubt, become one
of the most important towns in Western Australia.
Some beautiful pearls were shown me by a trader from Sharks Bay in the
North-west district of Western Australia, and I wished I were a queen
who could order a necklace of them. As it was I had to content myself
with one for a ring. They were really exquisite gems, especially three
pink ones. The trader also had two black ones, which are rare and very
valuable, but I prefer those of delicate hue.
Pearls to the value of £285,000 and pearl shell valued at £1,000,000
have been raised from the North West Fisheries during the last ten
years. Nearly two hundred luggers, with over a thousand Malay, Japanese,
Chinese, and Manilla men, with whites for officers, are engaged in the
pearl industry. For diving, natives are chiefly employed, they being
such wonderful swimmers and divers. Occasionally dissensions take place
between these mixed people and their masters. Not long ago a terrible
tragedy occurred on a pearling vessel, the _Ethel_, and the captain, his
son, and the first mate were cruelly murdered by some of the Manilla
and Malay crew. The offenders escaped at the time, but were afterwards
captured (chiefly by the instrumentality of a poor Chinese cook, who was
loyal), and have since paid the penalty of their terrible crime.
There is a pretty river near this place, called the Chapman, which falls
into Champion Bay. Garnets are found in the sand near the mouth of it,
and you may be sure that any one who visits the place spends some time
looking for the jewels. I was no exception to the rule, and found a few
small ones, but until they are polished they are not very beautiful.
The orange groves are exquisite, and produce quantities of splendid
oranges. Mr. Jupp, one of the growers, had just sent into Geraldton some
immense loads, the whole of his golden crop. The rainfall having been
exceptional in the previous season, the country was bright with grass and
flowers. It seemed quite a pity the fine grass should not be feeding more
cattle.
The view from the top of the lighthouse, where we stopped on the way back
from a river picnic, is very grand. The rocky Abrolhos, 35 miles away,
with the surrounding agricultural country, Champion Bay, and, farther
out still, the grand rolling Indian Ocean, make up a most impressive
scene. The lighthouse has a revolving white light, brilliantly flashing
every 40 seconds, and visible for 16 miles; two other lights, lower
down, showing red rays, visible from the north and south. Another day
I drove to Greenough Flats, a level and fertile plain, with many fine
crops, principally wheat, under cultivation. These flats were, no doubt,
in former days vast lagoons, which accounts for the unlimited supply of
good underground water. The grass is very nutritious, and the sheep and
cattle looked fat. At Minchooka, Mr. Redhead’s station, the stock was
looking exceptionally well, and a fine crop of wheat returned 26 bushels
per acre from 11 acres. Mr. T. McGuiness, of Greenough Back Flats, lately
had a peculiar experience while cleaning out his well, which is 96 feet
deep, and was dry. In the hope of obtaining a fresh supply, Mr. McGuiness
sank the well 13 feet deeper, and, when driving down his bar, struck
water, which spouted up so quickly and with such a rush that he had
hardly time to escape drowning; the water rose 30 feet in a very short
space of time.
The Greenough river runs between the flats, and there is a nice little
township, with public offices, hotels, churches, and many comfortable
dwelling-houses; there are also several large farms in the district,
which is a magnificent grain-producing one.
Newmarracarra Station, 20 miles from Geraldton, was formerly the property
of Mr. Maitland Browne, the resident magistrate, who at one time used
his land exclusively for horse-breeding. Thirty thousand acres of the
station are now utilised for sheep-farming at great profit, there are
24,000 sheep on the run in splendid condition, as well as many beautiful
high-bred cattle. Mr. McKenzie Grant, the owner, manages this station
himself, and has spent £55,000 on improvements. A grand water supply
comes from the Greenough river and also from twelve springs in different
parts of the land, which is very picturesque, with its hills and rich
flats, covered with waving grass, and, in some spots, is brilliant with
wild flowers. All kinds of native trees add beauty to the scene.
Mr. Broadhurst, to whom I am indebted for all the information relating
to the Abrolhos, 35 miles from the mainland, gave me, as a great favour,
a copper coin from the _Batavia_, wrecked there in 1629, also a part of
a pair of scissors that have nearly lost their form, and other relics of
the past. A very interesting curiosity is a pair of large silver buttons
with links, in splendid preservation and very slightly tarnished. The
figures on these buttons represent Joseph and Potiphar’s wife. The
Abrolhos are the abode of countless millions of birds, principally the
noddy and sooty tern, which in the breeding season congregate there
in such numbers that the sky is quite obscured by their flight, and
everything is in almost total darkness. The group of islands have been
leased from the Government since 1883 by Messrs. Broadhurst and McNeill,
who command a very large trade in guano. The main stations in the group
are Rat, Pelsart, and Gun Islands, on each of which there are commodious
managers’ quarters and laboratory, besides kitchen and quarters for 48
hands. No Australian should neglect to see the relics of the wrecks on
the Abrolhos that are in the Perth Museum. Mr. Broadhurst showed me a
book, printed in the Dutch language, that he accidentally came across
on a London bookstall in 1895, being then on a tour and engaged in
collecting information concerning early Australia. The book bore the date
of 1647, and has since been translated into English by Mr. Siebenhaur, a
Dutch gentleman in Perth, and proved to be, strange to say, a complete
narrative of the wreck of the _Batavia_ and the massacre of the people,
in 1629, at the Abrolhos Islands. The _Batavia_ was the commodore’s ship
of a fleet of eleven vessels sent from Amsterdam in 1628 to the East
Indies in search of treasure and to form a colony on one of the islands.
Storms arose, the commodore’s vessel was separated from the others, and
finally got down among the perilous banks of the Abrolhos, where the
vessel became a wreck. After much danger, the people, numbering several
hundreds—soldiers, sailors, women and children—were landed on two of the
islands, several trips having to be made between the ship and the shore
before this could be effected. Some water and bread was also got ashore,
as well as some cases of treasure, jewels, and gold-laced clothing
belonging to the Dutch Government that the commodore was anxious to save.
The ship shortly afterwards foundered and the hardships of the seafarers
commenced. It was found that there was very little fresh water on the
island, so the commodore, Pelsart, and several of the men set off in
the sloop, which had been saved, to the mainland to look for water for
their fellows. After much difficulty six of them succeeded in landing by
swimming, the shore being stony and rocky, and great breakers beating
violently against the rocks so that it was not safe to take the sloop
in too near. They saw smoke rising, and going towards it, saw four dark
figures creeping on their hands and knees, who, on the approach of the
sailors, leaped to their feet and fled away at full speed. Each carried
a stick, no doubt a boomerang. Around the fires were the bones of birds.
The savages were naked, and were the first ever seen on Australian
soil by white men. The sailors dug holes, trying to find fresh water,
but could find very little, and returned to the ship disconsolate. The
commodore then, knowing that by returning to the islands he could do
no good for his fellow sufferers, determined to return to Batavia for
assistance. On arrival there he obtained speedy help from the Government,
and provided with all necessaries and a good crew, at once set out again
for the Abrolhos to succour the shipwrecked people. On arrival there they
saw, close to where they had been wrecked, smoke from several fires, and
were much rejoiced, hoping to find all or most of the poor people alive.
Having cast anchor, the commodore, taking with him a cask of water, bread
and wine, went in his boat to the highest island, but on arrival there
found no one, at which he was much astonished. Jumping ashore, they saw a
little boat coming round the northern point with four men rowing; one of
them jumped ashore and welcomed the commodore, but begged him to return
to the ship, as there was a party of miscreants who intended to seize the
vessel. He then told the terrible story of the massacre. These miscreants
had murdered 120 people on the island, now called Pelsart Island, or
“Batavia’s Churchyard.” The commodore then sorrowfully returned to the
ship. The man who told the commodore all this was named Webbey Hayes,
and he with forty others had tried their best to save their comrades,
and were then on what they called Long Island. The commodore took some
boats and men and brought them away, arming them with muskets. With
these he proceeded to Batavia’s Churchyard and captured the mutineers.
They found them all dressed in the beautiful clothes trimmed with gold
lace belonging to the Government, and jewels were scattered about in
all directions. The mutineers were divested of their gay clothes, put
in irons and conveyed to Seal Island, to remain there till they should
be tried, which was afterwards done, and they were then executed for
their crimes. This is a very short and crude synopsis of the interesting
translation of the Dutch book of which I have spoken, but may serve to
give some idea of the Abrolhos. The many curios of this time that are
spoken of on page 51 are well worth seeing. Previous to this, in 1540,
Portuguese vessels had been driven on to the coasts of the Great South
Land, as it was called. Houtmann, a Dutchman who had served with the
Portuguese, had sighted the cluster of rocky islets and called them
Abrolhos, a contraction of the Portuguese “Abro vos olhos” (“Keep your
eyes open”). In far-back ages Chinese junks used to sail down to the Gulf
of Carpentaria, and the natives of that part of Australia are now said to
have a distinctly Mongolian cast of countenance. Marco Polo, at the close
of the thirteenth century, alluded to the Great South Land. Allusions
to this unknown land are also met with in writings dating as far back
as Alexander the Great in the fourth century; Strabo, Pliny and Ptolemy
also make mention of a mysterious territory, which was probably the
continent of Australia. Dampier is said to have been the first Englishman
to land on the coast of Western Australia, which was then, in the reign
of William III., called New Holland. His report was so unfavourable, that
Australia was left to itself again until 1770, when Captain Cook landed
at Botany Bay, New South Wales, and not until 60 years afterwards was
Western Australia found to be suitable for colonising. In 1829 the first
governor, Captain (afterwards Sir James) Stirling, with his family and
over 60 settlers, arrived at the Swan River and founded the settlement
which is now the city of Perth; two years previous to this, Captain
Fremantle had hoisted the British flag at the entrance of the river, and
the port of Fremantle is named after him.
[Illustration: Four generations of the Western Australian Native]
For some time past I have been collecting all the facts of interest
that I could concerning the natives of Australia, and have gathered a
really fine collection of the native weapons, boomerangs, nulla-nullas,
spears, waddies, womerahs, shields, &c. There are a good many aborigines
about Geraldton at present, but civilisation has made them lazy, and it
is not easy to get many of their weapons. Mine have chiefly been given
to me by friends who have gone to the trouble of collecting them for
years. The blacks are not a very pleasant race, still we ought to have
a kindly feeling for the poor creatures, whose chief capacities seem
to be hunting, fishing, and tracking. Their own laws, and the way they
keep them, are somewhat remarkable, especially those relating to the
affinities and the division of the people into families.
There are four tribes or clans amongst the aborigines of Western
Australia, namely—Booranggnoo, Banagher, Kimera, Palgarie. A Booranggnoo
man may marry a Banagher woman, their children will be Kimera; a
Banagher man may marry a Booranggnoo woman, their children will be
Palgarie; a Kimera man may marry a Palgarie woman, their children will be
Booranggnoo; a Palgarie man may marry a Kimera woman, their children will
be Banagher.
Children take the name of the mother, and intermarriage between the same
tribe is not allowed. Polygamy is permitted. A native may have several
wives and various families, but each family incurs the responsibilities
of the mother, and all such relations become involved in the guilt of any
crime; if the offender cannot be reached, any other relative may have
to suffer instead. In case of death by violence, the nearest relative
of the slayer is found and punished. Homicide in obedience to law is
therefore common among them. Their law is blood for blood, an eye for
an eye, a tooth for a tooth. Girls are betrothed when they are young,
and may be claimed at any time. A blackfellow must take his lubra (wife)
from the clan or tribe which alone is eligible to give a wife to him,
otherwise he becomes an outcast. The women are severely punished by the
men even for trifling offences. On the death of the husband the wives and
children pass to his brother; all property in land is held for hunting
and obtaining food. They are very fond of music and dancing, their songs
being chiefly extempore. The dances, or corroborees, are adapted to the
various circumstances of their lives—marriage, birth, death, war or
hunting. It is not usual for the women to take part in these dances, but
on rare occasions they do, and they carry a peeled stick tufted at one
end, as was the custom of the ancient Bacchantes. Songs are composed
by musical natives of the clan, and are soon learnt: every blackfellow
knows the songs of his clan, and if one is composed for any special
occasion it is soon learned. The food of these natives is very varied and
peculiar, one kind being the knomat, the gum of the swamp mimosa. There
are also six kinds of kangaroo eaten, two kinds of opossum, twenty-nine
sorts of fish, three kinds of turtle, emu, wild turkey, and many kinds
of waterfowl; frogs, seven kinds of lizards, four kinds of grubs,
twenty-nine roots, seven fungi, four gums, two kinds of manna, four
fruits, four nuts—two of the zamia, which are poisonous without proper
preparation—the seeds of many plants and the flowers of the banksia.
Cannibalism is not common, but has been known in the North and East.
The weapons employed are suited for the chase as well as war. These are
the codja or hatchet, the dabba or knife, the meera or throwing-stick,
the guicka or spear, the dowark or club, the womerah or digging-stick,
and the killy or boomerang, which they throw with great skill. Their
skill in hunting is remarkable, weirs are made for fish, stakes driven
to intercept the kangaroos at their watering-places, and the fish are
commonly speared by day and by torchlight. Their mias, or huts, vary
in construction from a light shell made of brushwood to a dome, large
enough to contain several persons, of logs covered with clay, and in size
according to season and locality. From the Murchison northward, and also
in the interior, the natives go naked; but southward, near the coast,
the dress is the “booka,” a sort of cloak made of kangaroo-skins, that
of the men being longer than that of the women, who use bags of skin,
coota or boka, and mats of vegetable fibre, for carrying their children
and domestic necessaries. They have many ornaments, and work opossum fur
with yarn to make girdles for carrying things and bands to twine round
the head to stick feathers in. They tattoo their bodies, and during the
operation of tattooing, other natives swing round small curved pieces of
wood, producing a whirring noise. They cover themselves with wilgey, a
sort of red ochre, charcoal, or white clay. They send messages by marked
sticks or bomar, the markings being quite intelligible to them, but to us
just looking like a number of jagged chips in the sticks. They are not
deficient in gratitude, but rather treacherous, although they will offer
themselves up for punishment, a thing which very few white men ever do.
They are very superstitious; the power of evil is a constant source of
terror to them. They have their karakats, boolga-men, or medicine-men,
able to inflict as well as cure diseases. They greatly fear an evil
spirit, Jingie, and an imaginary monster, Wangul, inhabiting the fresh
waters, and chiefly making victims of women. Each family has its kobong,
or cognisance, some animal or vegetable for which they have a reverence,
and which, therefore, is not used as food by the family who adopt it.
Some of the domestic and personal habits of the natives resemble those
inculcated by the laws of Moses. Their social intercourse is regulated
by very strict and ceremonious customs. There are forms of meeting,
also forms of parting. Mrs. Canfield, who had charge of the school at
Amesfield, Albany, especially reports their fondness for music. One girl,
sent to Sydney, played the harmonium in St. Philip’s Church for some
time. Several other native scholars have become good housewives; some are
now employed as school-teachers. Mrs. Canfield also notes the fondness of
the boys for mechanical arts. The native Mission home is near Guildford,
and another is in the Vasse district, but there are only about 40
children in each place. The natives around Geraldton are half-civilised;
in fact, some speak quite good English. I suppose the heavy fine of
£50 for supplying drink to natives keeps them sober, as they find it
difficult to obtain strong drink, of which they are very fond. They have
been known to go to a large heap of bottles, and taking one, empty into
it the dregs of all the others, until they get sufficient to take a
drink, which they seem to relish exceedingly.
[Illustration: Aborigines with Spears]
Native wells or “namma-holes” have saved may a prospector from death by
thirst, and men well used to the Bush soon know how to find them. Some
of the wells are not more than two feet deep; others go down to ten or
twelve feet, and are usually found by rock-holes, or certain trees that
are near them. Some wells have a small drive at the bottom, so arranged
by the blacks that, when the water gets shallow, it cannot be seen from
the top of the hole. The old prospectors have learned from the blacks
how to find these oases in the desert, but “new chums” might pass dozens
while parched with thirst and never find one.
After saying good-bye to the numerous friends I had made in Geraldton, I
set out for the south in the Perth mail-train, my destination, however,
being Dongarra, a little station 24 miles from Geraldton. On alighting
there I found that the hotel was some distance off, and I regretted that
I had got out of the train at all. However, a good-natured boy with
a cart solved my dilemma by saying: “Get up, missus, I’ll give you a
lift.” I accepted his invitation with much pleasure, and drove on through
wonderful grass lands. I thought, as it waved in the wind, that this must
be a cultivated crop, but found it to be common wild grass. A great deal
of the land about here is rented to the farmers at 10_s._ per acre, and
they have an average yield of 16 to 25 bushels of wheat and 30 bushels
of barley. Wheat can be grown at a large profit, as the cost of growing
it is not more than 4_d._ a bushel, and the timber being light in the
district, the expense of clearing the land is small.
There are a number of farms about Dongarra, which is one of the prettiest
little country places I have seen in the colony. The township is situated
near the mouth of the Irwin river, and so there is no lack of water.
There is a small and safe harbour at Dongarra, formed by a reef at the
river’s mouth, which is the outlet to the valley of the river. There are
many early settlers living here. The following notice that was fastened
on a tree I thought very comical: “If any man or woman’s cows or horses
get into this paddock, his or her tail will be forthwith cut off, with no
respect to persons.” This is on a par with a letter written by a justice
of the peace in one of the places that shall be nameless:—
“To J. murphy: thars 5 kows of yourse runnin in mi paddock and
if they aint tuk out be Frida nite ime goin to sit the lor agen
yer; ime on the binch and ile make it warm for yer.”
The little hotel at Dongarra proved very comfortable, and next morning I
resumed my journey in the train, which took all day. In the afternoon we
stopped for awhile at a place called Watheroo. I gathered a pretty bunch
of wild flowers while waiting; some red ones especially took my fancy.
They smelt very sweet, something like honeysuckle. I found that they were
of the “verticordia” species, and that they grow in great profusion near
the Irwin river. In the evening, at seven o’clock, I left the train at
Gingin, for I wanted to see some of the famous orange and lemon groves
there. After quite a pastoral supper at the little inn where I put up I
retired early, feeling somewhat fatigued after my long journey in the
slow train. In the morning I set out to see some of the groves. The
forest scenery through which I passed looked particularly grand after
the monotony of the goldfields, and the beautiful orange groves further
enhanced the scene. I have seen oranges growing in various parts, but
the fruit hanging here in golden clusters was the finest I had seen
in Western Australia. In returning I stopped at a large garden, where
strawberries and other fruits were growing; some children were picking
the ripe fruit, which looked so tempting that I went to the door of the
little homestead and asked whether I could buy some. “Oh, certainly, and
cream, too,” replied the mother of the children, who had now come in with
their spoils from the garden. After I had finished my unexpected treat,
the mother put on her big white sun-bonnet (the usual head-covering in
country parts), and, with the children following, showed me all over
her selection and farm (which was a very fine one), and, with true
Australian hospitality, pressed on me many gifts of fruit and flowers.
There are about 350 people in the district of Gingin, mostly gardeners
and graziers; all kinds of cereals are grown, as well as the fruits I
have mentioned, and grapes of the finest quality are produced. Fat cattle
and horses are also raised for export; a splendid clear stream of water
runs near the township; sportsmen can have good shooting, for kangaroo;
wallaby and wild duck are abundant in the vicinity of this pretty little
place, which is 50 miles from Perth.
[Illustration: FREMANTLE]
In the morning I took the train for Perth and Fremantle, and on arrival
at the Perth railway station there, waiting for me, were my own horse
and Ralli car. Didn’t we spin along through the park? I thought of
the Mulga scrub and red dust “out back”; here the roads were red, but
“with a difference,” and the grass and the trees delightfully fresh and
green; surely the water never looked so sparkling. In and out through
the trees along the winding road we drove, past the little villas, with
their sweet gardens, up the hill, around the bend to the dearest spot on
earth, “Home, sweet home.” The house and verandah were almost hidden by
the glossy green leaves of the “Canadia” and passion vines; through the
lattice of the fern-houses peeped the delicate pink blossoms of the tall
ivy-geranium twined with the ever-flowering purple runner. The gate-porch
and garden fence were embroidered from end to end with blue and green.
Blue sea beyond, blue sky above. The gate was open, and thus my journey
of two thousand miles came to an end. I hope that my record of it may
help the reader to gain an idea of Western Australia.
Our hands are outstretched to our brothers and sisters across the sea.
We want them to come and work _with_ us. Energy and courage are the best
cards to bring out to this big land. Should they wish to see the country
for themselves, as I have done, I trust that my efforts will help to make
their tour as easy as possible.
Like all new countries, it has its rough uncultivated tracts, but I have
also tried to show that it has its “meadow sweet” as well. Hundreds of
thousands of acres of the soil are waiting to be tilled by strong willing
hands and to yield richly of its fruits, while underneath the earth is
“golden,” “golden,” overhead the glorious sun is shining, and the Austral
sky is blue.
[Illustration: MAY VIVIENNE]
FOOTNOTES
[1] These are names given to each other by the Australian-born people of
the then separated colonies.
[2] For most of these particulars of the early days of the goldfields I
am indebted to Mr. Calvert’s book, “The Coolgardie Goldfield,” 1894.
[3] A stope is the part of the workings in a mine between the levels.
[4] The levels are the drives, or excavations, at different depths in a
mine.
[5] Since the above was written the mine has been sunk over 100 feet, and
Mr. Merton has now gold valued at over a hundred thousand pounds.
[6] The nut of the tree that, when polished, makes pretty ornaments.
Printed by BALLANTYNE, HANSON & CO.
London & Edinburgh
[Illustration: The Golden Butterfly]