In December 185- we left Sydney to spend four months in Tasmania. I had
not been outside Sydney Heads since our arrival in 184-, and being a
good sailor enjoyed the short voyage. At this time Tasmania was the
principal health resort for the Australian colonies. Our New South Wales
railway was only completed as far as Penrith, so Mount Victoria,
Blackheath, and Katoomba on the western line; Bowral, Moss Vale, and
Sutton Forest on the southern line, were not thought of for that
purpose. Hobart Town, therefore, in the season was filled with wealthy
tourists from New South Wales and Victoria. Those who were not blessed
with too large a proportion of this world’s goods had to be content
without change, or be satisfied with Mauly Beach, Botany, and Coogee,
all very primitive as to hotels and lodging-houses then. And really, as
is the case with many other luxuries, we were just as well without this,
now considered a necessity. Nevertheless I was delighted at an
opportunity of visiting another colony. I heard a gentleman say, who had
travelled over most of the civilised portions of the globe, “that
Tasmania bore the palm for salubrity; its climate being neither too hot
nor too cold; its scenery charming, with splendid trees and ferns--in
fact, an earthly paradise.” It really appeared so to me, with the
English fruits and flowers. Its magnificent trees, hawthorn hedges, and
general appearance of cultivation reminded me of the land of my birth,
which I so longed to see again. The indigenous trees of Tasmania are
finer and more luxuriant in foliage than most of those on the Australian
continent; the huon pine is of immense height and girth; so is the
_Eucalyptus globulus_--Tasmanian blue gum--and many others.
Hobart Town is situated on the River Derwent; and with Mount Wellington
for a background is most picturesque, and certainly at that time struck
me as being beautifully clean.
The beaches, with one exception, being shingly, there was an absence of
that terrible sand and dust we were accustomed to in Sydney. The traffic
was considerably less also. There I saw a mail-coach of the old English
type leave for Launceston; and the roads are much better, while the air
is more delightful and exhilarating than in New South Wales or Victoria.
There were many pretty girls with fresh complexions, and the children
looked the picture of health. It struck one as being like a quiet
seaside town in England, and Mrs. Frederick and I enjoyed the change
very much.
The Domain and gardens were smaller than ours, but the Government House,
not quite finished at that time, appeared larger; we called there, as
also at the bishop’s at New Town, and left cards. We also attended the
opening of the Legislative Assembly; but as Mrs. Frederick was not equal
to much visiting, we merely went out during the daytime. As there had
been a terrible accident to one of a party attending a picnic on Mount
Wellington but recently, I did not accept an invitation “to ascend it.”
On the mountain there is a place called “The Ploughed Field,” consisting
of masses of rock scattered over the surface as though by an earthquake:
to stray alone in this place is most dangerous. On the occasion I have
referred to, a young man left the party, his friends thinking “he had
returned to Hobart Town by another route.” They “coo-eed” vigorously for
a time, and receiving no reply, wended their way home; however, finding
he had not returned, they went in search of him, but in vain. Some
considerable time after the body was found, with the legs fixed between
the rocks, not very far from where a search party had rested a few days
after he was lost.
As the house Mr. Frederick had taken had but a small garden, he arranged
for us to gather any fruit we required from an orchard near, where there
were quantities of red, white, and black currants, strawberries, and
cherries; later on plums of all kinds, apples and pears. In one garden
at New Town we often spent an afternoon.
We had numberless drives to many pretty spots, and along the Sandy Bay
road. I also went for a few days’ visit to a pretty place on the other
side of the river, the name of which has slipped my memory; it was the
residence of Captain Forster, a retired naval officer, and his wife,
such a dear old lady. We sometimes went fishing; but were far from
successful in this, though there were quantities of fine fish in the
Derwent, and scarcely a day passed while at Hobart without having some.
New Norfolk about this time was becoming famous for its salmon ponds, as
well as the surrounding scenery, which was indeed lovely. The ferns were
very beautiful, and in great variety; but I do not think the native
flowers were equal to those of New South Wales; perhaps it was past the
season, or I may have sought them in the wrong localities. One fact
struck me, after thunderstorms and rain the air became deliciously cool
and refreshing--so different from New South Wales, where in the summer
after rain it is generally steamy, close, and sultry, especially near
Sydney--and I am inclined to think that Tasmania will again rival many
of the health resorts the extended railway service has made accessible
in New South Wales, now that the sea voyage is so short between
Melbourne and Launceston.
My dear old friend, the Rev. W. H. Walsh, was on a visit at Bishop
Bromby’s, so we had the pleasure of seeing him occasionally; also Mrs.
Augustus of Graycliff, who was staying at Hobart Town for change, as she
had been seriously ill since I was at her garden party a few years back;
but she was still very beautiful. She and her sister were the two
handsomest women I ever met, tall, elegant in figure, and perfect in
face. The wife of one of our governors had an album of Australian
beauties, amongst them Mrs. Augustus and her sister, two nieces of my
Hereford House friends, and many others I had seen. I have photos of
many of the young people of the present day quite equal to any I have
met in England in face or figure, and without partiality, displaying
more expression and decidedly more winning manners. Certainly my means
of judging may have been limited, still I have been to many places of
amusement--to theatres, the Handel Festival, the Royal Academy, and
other exhibitions--walking and riding; but could not help remarking that
the one prevailing expression in the faces I have seen was supercilious,
and never once have I noticed the courtesy to elderly people I have been
accustomed to see in Australia. There appears to me in England a dread
of being natural for fear of “what people will think.”
Hobart Town was very quiet, though it was the height of the season; but
as the girls remarked, “What was the use of thinking of dances, picnics,
or any other amusement when there were neither partners nor escorts?”
there being so many ladies, and so very few of the sterner sex. The
arrival of the steamer from Sydney was an event which caused half the
population at least to wend their way to the wharf. The arrival of the
mail was another source of great excitement; we seemed to be so far
removed from Sydney then--almost as far away as England is from
Australia at the present time, when there is a weekly mail, and when we
can read a cablegram in this morning’s newspaper of the doings in the
colonies not a day ago.
We were to leave in the beginning of May, and by that time the weather
was really cold. Mount Wellington had already a little snow on its
summit, and furs were in requisition.
Our friend Mr. W. H. Walsh returned to Sydney with us, and when we
arrived at Twofold Bay, Maria and James came on board in the
custom-house officer’s boat to see me. They were out on horseback when
the steamer was signalled, and had only just time to ride down to the
boat before she pulled off from the shore. We were delighted to meet
again; they both thought Tasmania had benefited us considerably. They
told me, had they known in time when we were in the Bay before, I could
have gone to their cottage at Eden. “Yes,” said Maria, “and you would
not have thought it ugly then.” It was hard to say “Good-bye”; but we
all felt it would not be for long, as they hoped to be in Sydney again
soon.
We had enjoyed our four months’ stay; but how delightful it was to be
once more at “Hurst,” in our own rooms and with our own surroundings.
The feeling of being at home is enhanced by these changes, however well
conducted the lodging-house may be. We often laughed over our Hobart
Town experiences and at Mrs. Mills, the owner of the house where we
stayed, who would shut all the windows immediately we were out of the
house, which it was my mission to open immediately we returned. When her
cooking had not been quite satisfactory, and we had ordered things from
the pastry-cook’s, our dear old friend W. H. Walsh, desiring to please
her, praised some dish which it was high treason to have ordered from
outside. All these little matters we could now laugh at, being once more
at home, where life had charms not to be compassed elsewhere. Our old
pursuits gained value by the change, and the old walks and drives in
interest. The winter in New South Wales is very enjoyable from May until
November, and life is indeed worth living, after the heat, dust, and
mosquitoes, which are most trying.
Now after a year in England, without clear skies, much rain, fog, and
snow, I am bound to agree with many who say, “If I were once again in
Australia I would never return to this miserable climate.” I shake my
head, and call to mind the many discomforts of a hot, dry climate.
My old friends were about to return to the colony and I had promised to
go to them again, so my stay at Hurst was drawing to a close. It was a
wrench to leave the children I had learned to love; but they were so
young compared with others I had taught, and felt I was losing ground in
many branches; besides, I had promised. Unfortunately Mrs. Woolley had
decided on living in Sydney, so after remaining with them a few months,
I had to leave, as my health completely gave way, and an attack of
congestion of the lungs rendered me an idle woman for many months. This
gave me time to realise what had been accomplished during eighteen
years.