Government House, Perth,
_30th December_.
Whilst we were away rumours had reached us that there was a severe
epidemic of measles in Perth, but I had no idea of _how_ severe it
really was, until my return. Not only did I find half the servants
down with it, but all the tradesmen’s messengers were laid up. An
un-measly boy was a treasure in Perth during December, and hardly to be
obtained at any price, and all the public offices found themselves at
their wits’ end for want of clerks and messengers. One morning I was
passing through the hall, and I saw a nice gentlemanly-looking little
boy standing timidly at the door, and holding out a telegram. It seems
he was walking past the door of the Telegraph Office when the clerk
came out, in despair at not finding any of his boys at their posts, and
begged this little passer-by to carry the telegram to me, which he
did, and got well paid in sugar-plums!
Perth was without bread one fine morning. All the bakers had gone to
bed with measles. I could not get myself supplied with butter or meat,
besides having no bread. The only thing people seemed to want were
lemons. All day long I received messages asking for a few lemons, of
which luckily there were great quantities in the garden. And the worst
of it was that several people died entirely of not knowing how to
take care of themselves, for it was unusually damp, showery weather,
and they left windows open, or even managed to get up and go out of
doors, and consequently got a chill. It is more than thirty years
since an outbreak of measles has appeared in the colony, so there was
a whole generation to catch the disease. Fortunately Louis had it in
England, and so had two of my maids, and they—I don’t mean to include
Louis!—helped me to look after the sick people near me. In one case a
woman, whose husband was away, owed her life, I am sure, entirely to
the care of one of my maids, who was, by the way, a perfect stranger
to her. This girl used to go every morning and evening, make the sick
woman’s bed for her, arrange her room, and leave her well supplied with
nourishment, and lemonade, and put everything within her reach, for she
was far too ill to nurse herself, and all her neighbours were equally
bad. Luckily I had lots of chickens, and I spent half my time in the
kitchen, superintending the making of chicken-broth, for my cook was
ill, and her very inefficient substitute would have turned out a truly
queer compound if left to herself.
The first few days after we returned were wet and damp, but when they
had passed, the weather became broiling. A hot wind set in and blew for
a week, and really the whole place became as hot as an oven. The nights
were as hot as the days, in fact hotter, because during the day the
house used to be tightly closed, with all its green blinds pulled down,
so it felt cool, and dark, and pleasant. But after sunset the shut-up
rooms seemed to stifle one, and the windows, when opened, only let in
air which might have been heated in a furnace.
One Sunday night about eight o’clock I was sitting out on the upper
terrace of the garden, with one of the gentlemen of the staff watching
for Louis and Catherine’s return from evening church. I had been afraid
to let them come with me to the Cathedral that morning, on account of
the heat of the sun, and they both liked going at night on the chance
of the church being cooler. As we sat on the terrace, with our backs
to that expanse of water I have told you about, a splendid meteor,
large, bright, and dazzling, shot over our heads, and seemed to drop
more slowly than meteors generally do, into the dark belt of trees
before us. It was much too hot to talk, and we had been sitting silent,
only thinking how best to defend ourselves with large palm-leaf fans
from the clouds of mosquitoes. In this silence, just as the meteor
flashed over us, we heard a distinct loud splash in the water beneath
and beyond us, exactly as would be made by a little wave breaking
all along the shore. “What is that?” we both cried, quite as much
startled by the splash as by the meteor. Afterwards I was told that
all the people, whose houses looked upon the sheet of water, heard the
wave-like splash as well as ourselves, and they supposed it had been
caused by the fishes, who had probably been as much startled as we were
by the sudden bright light,—giving a jump all at once. Some people,
who live quite close to the water’s edge, declare that they have heard
this sudden sound like a wave breaking on the shore on other occasions,
when the fish might have been frightened. It only shows that, like
ourselves, the fish were evidently sitting at their hall doors on
account of the heat!
The fruit is all ripening fast, and you would enjoy the plates of
delicious green figs at breakfast every morning. The grapes are hanging
down in clusters from the long green arcades. If they ever got thinned
or pruned I dare say they would be very nice to eat; but, as they
are entirely left to themselves, they only manage to be little hard
berries, tightly squeezed together, and rather sour. Other people have
good grapes, and I often get beautiful bunches sent to me. My roses do
not seem to mind the heat, and I have quantities of them; but neither
roses nor mignonette smell quite so sweet beneath this scorching sun as
they do in England.
You must not think we have this horrid hot wind always. It seldom
blows for more than three or four days at a time, and when it is not
blowing, the summer, though hot, is quite bearable, and the nights are
cool and pleasant. The measles have been raging all the month; and one
consequence of the epidemic is that I have had to put off my Christmas
tree until after our return from Rottnest, whither we go next week
for three months. I am sure I could not get twenty children together,
instead of the five hundred I hope to have; and even those twenty would
be just recovering from measles, and probably would look very weak and
wan.
The Governor came back from his long drive the day before Christmas.
I wish he had time to tell you about it, for I cannot do so half as
well. The distances he has gone over astonish me more than they would
you, for _I_ know the roads, and you have no idea of what a bush-track
can be like. He made a circuit of nearly 400 miles between the Vasse
and Albany, going over very rough country, but contriving to reach a
settler’s house each night. He was rather surprised to find what nice
comfortable homes these back-settlers had built for themselves; and,
when once you reached one of the stations, you would never dream that
it and its inmates were buried in the heart of a forest. They seemed
all pleasant and nice and well-informed people, besides being the
very soul of hospitality. There were books and music, and evidences
of refinement and taste; and the ladies looked as pretty and merry
and nicely dressed as if they lived only a little way from an English
country town.
Wherever he stopped his hosts used always to advise him to turn back,
because they thought the traps could never, never get through the
forest. But Pater kept on, and eventually got through all right, though
he had one or two adventures. Once, driving through a _very_ thick
part, the light top or tilt of his trap caught in a strong branch and
snapped right off! It is stuck there now, and will remain in the heart
of that desolate “Bush” for many and many a year. I wonder what the
cockatoos and opossums will think of it? Another time he was driving
along quietly, but something frightened the horses of the trap behind
him, and they bolted. It was, of course, impossible for anything but
a squirrel to have got out of their way, so they rushed right into the
back of the carriage in front, and one of the horses laid its head
affectionately on papa’s shoulder! It must have looked very absurd to
see him tugging at the bit and trying to lift this great heavy head
up. However they soon put themselves to rights and went on. It was
impossible to see any distance on account of the thick trees all round;
but they seem to have passed through what settlers call “good country”
for horses and cattle. Once they crossed a river with the horses
swimming behind, and the crazy boat was nearly weighed down to the
waters’ edge by the trap. Mr. Plimsoll would have been very unhappy if
he could have seen them. Besides rivers, there were swamps and bogs and
all sorts of difficulties to be surmounted; but the driver brought them
safely through dangers and bad places which an English coachman would
have declared impassable.
Fancy the flights of cockatoos, with their pretty yellow crests up,
startled by the sight of a trap; but Pater said they seemed quite
tame—much too tame the settlers declare. A few kangaroos crossed the
track sometimes; but they were off and hidden in the dense forest in an
instant. A dog might have got one, perhaps; but huntsmen, especially in
a carriage, had no chance whatever.
I asked if anything very curious had been seen in the forests? and was
told that the strangest thing had been an odd root or trunk of a tree,
which grew a little way off the track, and which looked exactly like a
gate-post. It stood straight up, and was neatly rounded off and smooth,
without branch or leaf, and stood about 5 feet high. It must have had
a very odd appearance among all the tall trees and thick underwood.
Some of the trees were splendid mahogany, and really magnificent. That
hot weather we suffered from in Perth was just beginning when the
adventurous travellers arrived at Albany; so it was fortunate they had
reached shelter, and a place where those scorching winds—which blow to
them across a bit of the sea—are not so broiling as they are by the
time they get to us, 250 miles farther up the coast.
After a few days’ stay at Albany—devoted to business and looking about
at everything, in the splendid harbour as well as on land—they all set
out at three o’clock one midsummer morning and never stopped, except
for a few minutes to change horses—every 20 or 30 miles—until they
reached Perth at noon precisely the next day. The mails take fifty-six
hours to do this distance, though they too are supposed to go through
without stopping; but Pater did the 254 miles in thirty-three hours,
to every one’s great astonishment, as that “beats the record” by a
good deal. They would even have done it in less time, only in the
night, when they must all have been dozing (it was about 10 P.M., and
they had been in the carriage _then_ for nineteen hours!), they drove
into a waggon slowly creeping along the road. You may suppose what a
terrible crash they made, doing no great harm, however, except to one
wheel; fortunately they were only a mile or so from the post-house, so
they were able to get another trap and come on directly. Still, they
lost nearly two hours, and would have taken this tremendous drive in
thirty-one hours, had they been able to keep awake just then.
We had a broiling Christmas day, and rather a dull and sad one, for
everybody is still either laid up with measles or nursing those that
are sick, and you see a good many black dresses, I grieve to say. What
a year of travel by land and sea it has been for us all! Your father
has done the most, and has really and truly been over more than 1000
miles by land alone, in the six months we have been here. I think I
have done most by sea. Many days, when we have been out on our tours, I
have stayed at home and rested; whilst he and the other gentlemen have
ridden or driven 50 miles between breakfast and dinner, and called that
an “off-day”!
_2d January._
We all went to the races yesterday; but although the horses were really
very good, and the racing capital, I did not enjoy it much, it was so
very, very hot. No wind fortunately, but a blazing sun, and then when
we went to eat our luncheon under some trees, the ants tried to eat
us up all the time! Such big black ants! but I don’t really believe
they are so fierce as they look, for I have often seen them swarming
on a garden path, where dogs and children were playing, and no one
ever seemed to get bitten. However, one must not talk about ants at
a race-meeting! The dear horses were really very good, and ran well.
This is a good country for them, and I am sure it might be made to
supply horses to the whole world; but hardly any one yet has had either
capital or knowledge enough to set about it properly, so there are very
few really good-looking animals to be found. They are very cheap and
do a lot of work, but they are not much to look at. You seldom see a
handsome horse, and still more seldom a handsome pair of horses. Papa
has a capital stout cob called “Jarrah,” who is as clever as he is
powerful, which is saying a good deal.
Now we are off to Rottnest for three months.