Government House, Perth,
_13th October 1883_.
I am obliged to scribble very fast to get any of my English letters
ready for to-day’s mail. But I must make time to tell you what a famous
drive we had in from New Norcia the day before yesterday. I believe
it has never been done before on wheels, all in one day; and we took
exactly eleven hours to travel 85 miles. There were three relays of
horses, and the van was much lighter, because all the cases of tinned
provisions, and the soda water, and fresh water for tea, etc., had
gradually been consumed. The good fathers tried, however, to make up
the weight by all the good things they heaped on us; and I am sure, you
and all your schoolfellows would have liked to have “looted” that van
ten minutes after our start!
The road was very pretty, and nothing could have been more delightful
than the early rattling drive through the forest, taking us to the
top of Bindoon Hill by sunrise. It is not much of a hill after all;
but in this flat country it is considered quite a precipitous and
danger-place. Just at the bottom a very shallow little stream crosses
the road, only enough to wet the horses’ hoofs; but even that amount
of running water was a welcome and novel sight. The road was fairly
good all the way, and we trotted along at a fine pace, halting at noon,
for exactly one hour of rest and luncheon. Then in and on again with a
fresh third team, and in two hours and a half we rattled and jingled
up to our own door, triumphant but somewhat jaded, and weary as well
as dusty. The poor orderly had collapsed at Guildford, for his horse
refused with much good sense and firmness to pass its stable-door.
Monsieur Puppy was very glad to see me, and so were the other parrots
and pets of all sorts and kinds. You shall hear about them some other
day.
Cullum, near Newcastle, _31st October_.
I have not been able to write much lately, for you see we are again on
our travels, and moving about every day is bad for my letters! Whilst
we were in Perth (only ten days) we were very gay as well as very busy;
and among other festivities I gave away the prizes at some capital
athletic sports. It was a lovely afternoon, and the sports were held on
a green and pretty spot, almost close to the water’s edge. You would
have enjoyed seeing the young men and boys run and jump even more than
I did. It was also amusing to watch a flock of large pelicans which sat
on the water, gravely looking on at the sports from a safe distance. I
wonder what they thought of the shouting and applause? Every now and
then a great bird rose heavily up and slowly sailed away; evidently his
nerves could not stand the noise.
We had not had time to get rid of our sunburn before we started again,
on the 23d, for York. The first 10 or 12 miles was by rail to the
pretty and large village of Guildford, nestled amongst its fields and
vineyards. We could not stop there this time, but we had often been
there before, and it was barely nine o’clock, on a perfect morning,
before we were rolling away from the railway station in the old
familiar van. This time we did not need to take water or provisions
with us; but then our best clothes had to be carried, for we were
going into highly civilised regions, instead of rumbling over the dear
desolate old sand-plains. So the van looked just as much of a Noah’s
ark, or rather a parcel’s delivery cart on a large scale, as ever.
Eastward from Perth I have been looking, ever since I arrived last
June, on a certain blue range of rather low hills—the only rising
ground to be seen except the Bluff, called Mount Eliza, which is the
final headland of a low range outside Perth. These higher hills lie
between Perth and York, so that morning we had to cross them, and a
very pretty drive it turned out to be. A good road and an easy incline
made it pleasant travelling, and the glimpses of the wide plains below
us all in their spring green were really charming. The only adventure
you would like to hear of is that I nearly sat down on a snake! The
road ahead, from where we stopped to lunch, looked so shady and pretty
that we all strolled on, leaving orders for the van to follow. But it
did not catch us up very soon, and we sat down to wait for it. Just
as I was going to seat myself on a log, which had on a sort of loose
greatcoat of thick bark, some one said, “Take care, that is the very
place for a snake;” so I tapped the bark with my parasol, and out
darted a small but active snake, who had hidden himself between the
tree and the bark. There are lots of snakes about in the summer, they
say, and this is a dangerous time, because they are just beginning
to wake up and feel lively after their short winter’s sleep. We also
passed several iguanas basking in the sunshine—hideous rugged lizards,
a foot or more long—frightful to look at, but perfectly harmless, and a
favourite native delicacy. They declare it tastes exactly like chicken.
A couple of miles out of York we were met by a great number of ladies
and gentlemen, who escorted us back to the arches and welcomes of that
pretty little town. I must say I feel dreadfully ashamed of the untidy,
dusty figure I generally present on these public entries. The gentlemen
manage much better, for, by taking off an overcoat, and producing a
tall hat from a box under the seat, they fill me with envy by their
suddenly full-dressed and respectable appearance. In spite of all my
efforts I always feel more or less dishevelled, and cannot arrange
for a fresh toilette in this rapid manner, though I do my best with a
dust-cloak and a veil.
On this occasion, however, these personal fears were entirely swallowed
up in great anxiety about the behaviour of the horses. The team for the
last stage was a very spirited one, and it became so excited by the
other horses galloping alongside, besides the cheering and the waving
of fluttering banners and pennons, that by the time we reached the
centre arch, and they caught sight of the Volunteers, the leaders had
evidently made up their minds that the only safe place was _in_side the
carriage; so they swerved suddenly round, and the next thing I saw was
a horse’s head just at my feet, as I sat in the high tray. However,
they were soon turned round and securely held, whilst the ladder was
fixed and we descended, with what grace and dignity we could manage,
from our perches. I am afraid you would laugh very much if you could
see me climbing in and out of that van. Everybody near seems rather
anxious for my safety, so I suppose it looks as perilous as it feels.
And as the ladder has gradually got very much bent by the sudden onward
starts of the horses, whilst it was still in position, the danger and
awkwardness increases every journey.
I did not see how pretty York was until next day, when we managed to
find time to go up to the top of the highest of the low hills which
form the cup or hollow in which it nestles. Large fields of fine wheat
and oats and barley, made immensely big and beautiful green patches in
every direction; the houses also looked picturesque and comfortable,
and nearly all of them had gardens round them. The house where we were
most kindly taken in, and most hospitably entertained, seemed specially
pretty, and more like a large Swiss châlet, as we looked down on it
from our little pinnacle.
The weather remained lovely, though rather warmer than when we were
last on our travels, and I enjoyed the long excursions to the small
outlying townships or large stations which made up part of the
programme of each day. You see the main object of these visits to
the different parts of this huge colony is, that your father may
make himself acquainted with the country, so that when questions of
railways or harbours, or any other kind of improvement, come before
him, he may know what sort of place they are talking or writing about.
And, as I told you before, all the Queen’s far-away subjects take the
only way they have of showing their love and loyalty, and so make
Her representative’s visit to their little towns one constant scene
of welcome and entertainment. This is all very nice, and quite as it
should be, but the long, rapid drives through this fine air make me so
sleepy! And just when I want to tumble into bed, and go off to sleep
like a dormouse, poor old Mater often has to put on a smart gown and
her best cap and go to a ball! Luckily I wake up after a little, and
manage to enjoy myself nearly as much as your father does, but I envy
him for never looking tired or sleepy.
There were lots of balls and banquets and parties of all sorts at
York, and so there are here, but we are a long way off—12 miles—from
the pretty little township of Newcastle, staying at a charming
country-house, where everything is very English and comfortable. The
road between York and Newcastle is the prettiest I have yet seen, and
one part of it, through a forest by the side of a river, was really
lovely. The two little towns only lie about 35 miles apart, and we
stopped to lunch at a nice village—one day to be probably a place
of great importance—called Northam, where we hungry travellers were
splendidly fed and comforted, and sent on our way, through many arches,
rejoicing.
The land of this part of the country, called the Eastern Districts,
is capital, and it is fairly thickly settled with prosperous-looking
farms. I don’t think I have seen any curious animals to tell you about
because, naturally, the noise the lumbering old van makes scares the
creatures away, all except a stolid iguana, whom we now and then pass
asleep on the sunny road, and who sometimes allows himself to be driven
over sooner than move. Occasionally a kangaroo or two dart across the
path, or a snake, basking in the sunshine, wriggles away under the
nearest bush. I have caught sight occasionally of a little animal,
something like a squirrel, scurrying up a tree, but it was only a
large opossum rat. A flash of brilliant green, like a wet jewel, means
a covey of startled paroquets; but the handsomest birds I have seen
are the hawks, which are so large that they look more like falcons or
eagles. There are some flowers, though nothing like the wondrous growth
of the sand-plains, and we pass lots of ferns and orchids.
The strangest animal (or is it a reptile, I wonder?) hereabouts is what
the natives call a York Devil. It is quite ugly enough for its name,
but seems peaceable and harmless enough. It must possess something of
the nature of a chameleon, for it changes its colour gradually to match
the stone or gravel or wood on which it finds itself. It is about the
size of the palm of a man’s hand, with a queer, rugged, knobby body,
and four short feet like a lizard’s; its long neck and spiky head give
it a weird and uncanny look. I cannot say it is very lively, nor did I
perceive that it ate anything. I kept one, tethered by its leg to the
tap of a water-barrel in the garden, for some days; but as I was told
that they invariably die, and die slowly after months of starvation, I
could not be happy until I had taken it to its favourite rocks, and let
it loose. I suspect it lives on small flies and things it cannot get,
except on a wild hillside, for it is always found among rocks and in a
desolate spot. I should have liked to keep one, but it seemed too cruel
to starve an inoffensive creature to death merely because it looked
odd. I could not hear that, in spite of their aggressive name, the poor
little York devils ever did the least harm to any one, nor are there
very many of them.
Our pleasant stay here is just over. To-morrow we are to drive early
into Newcastle, for all sorts of festivities in the daytime—an
agricultural show, a bazaar, and a banquet—winding up with a ball at
night, and then we have to start early next morning, for a rapid drive
into Perth. So it is settled that we sleep at a friend’s house in
Newcastle to-morrow, to save the horses the extra 12 miles before they
begin their journey.