GRASMERE
What tales came in from far and near of ruin and disaster--farms and
stations, huts and houses, rich and poor!--all had equally suffered in
the Great Fire, long remembered throughout the length and breadth of the
land. However, a bush fire is not so bad as a drought. A certain
destruction of pasture and property takes place, but there is not the
widespread devastation among the flocks and herds caused by a dry
season. Heavy rain set in a short time afterwards, in our district at
any rate. The burned pastures were soon emerald-green, and Mr.
Chamberlain, who had been compelled to flee to Port Fairy homeless, and
there abide till a cottage was built at Tarrone, made sale of a thousand
head of fat cattle in one draft before the year was out.
If the system of moderate alienation of Crown lands then prevalent could
have been carried out in after years--viz. the disposing of agricultural
areas from time to time, as the demand increased--no great harm would
have accrued to the pastoral interest, and the legitimate wants of the
farmers would have been fully supplied. The owners of the stations
referred to, as the wave of population approached, chiefly applied
themselves to secure the purely pastoral portions of the runs, leaving
the arable land for its legitimate occupiers. No squatter was then
suddenly ruined, while all intending farmers were satisfied. Good
feeling was maintained, as each class of producers recognised the
necessity for compromise, when the mixed occupation had become a fact.
It was far otherwise when the whole land lay open to the selector, who
was thus enabled to enter at will into lands which other men's labour
had rendered valuable, or to exact a price for refraining.
In good sooth, the pioneer squatter of that day had many and divers foes
to contend with. Having done battle with one army of Philistines,
another straightway appeared from an unexpected quarter. We had had
trouble with our aboriginals: a canine "early Australian," the dingo,
had likewise disturbed our rest. He used to eat calves, with perhaps an
occasional foal, so we waged war against him. We were not up to
strychnine in those days. The first letter I saw in print on the subject
was from the ill-fated Horace Wills, whose sheep had been suffering
badly at the time. He had come across the panacea somewhere, and lost no
time in recommending it to his brother squatters. With the help of our
kangaroo dogs, and an occasional murder of puppies, we pretty well
cleared them out. As cattlemen, taking a selfish view of the case, we
need not have been so enthusiastic. Though he killed an occasional calf,
the wild hound did good service in keeping down the kangaroo, which,
after his extinction, proved a far more expensive and formidable
antagonist.
We had more than once seen a small pack of dingoes surrounding an "old
man kangaroo" in the winter time, when from weight and the soft nature
of the ground he is unable to run fast. They also kill the "joeys" or
young ones, when too small to run independently, though not to feed. I
saw this exemplified on one occasion when returning late from a day's
stock-riding. There was still light enough to distinguish surrounding
objects, when a doe kangaroo crossed the track in front of me, hard
pressed by a red dog close at her haunches. At first I took the pursuer
to be a kangaroo dog, but seeing at a second glance that it was a dingo,
I pulled up to watch the hunt. The forest was clear; rather to my
surprise he gained upon her, and, springing forward, nearly secured a
hold. She just got free, and not till then did she rid herself of the
burden with which she was handicapped, and without which the dog could
not have "seen the way she went," as the stock-riders say.
"Needs must when the devil drives" is an ancient proverb, and some idea
of corresponding force must have passed through her marsupial mind as
she cast forth from her pouch poor "Joey"--a good-sized youngster of
more than a month old. He recognised the situation, for he scudded away
with all his might, but was caught and killed by "Br'er" Dingo before I
could interfere, his mother sitting up, a few yards off, making a
curious sound indicative of wrath and fear. I somewhat unfairly deprived
dingo of his supper by placing it carefully out of his reach in a tree;
but in the kangaroo battues which ensued, it more than once occurred to
me that I was interfering with a natural law, of which I did not then
foresee the consequences.
On the eastern side of Port Fairy lay Grasmere, which on my first
introduction to the district, in 1843, was the property of the Messrs.
Bolden Brothers. Pleasantly situated on the banks of the Merai, its
limestone slopes formed beautiful paddocks for the blue-blooded Bates
shorthorns, of which these gentlemen were, at that time, the sole
Australian proprietors. They had also a share in the Merang and
Moodiwarra runs jointly with Messrs. Farie and Rodger. It was, however,
arranged that they should remove their cattle within a certain time,
and, I think, early in 1844 the arrangement was carried out. These
enterprising and distinguished colonists also owned Minjah, then known
as "Bolden's sheep station," now Mr. Joseph Ware's magnificent freehold
estate.
A considerable sum of money for those days had been spent, as early as
1843, at Grasmere, when the Rev. John Bolden and I rode in there, having
been piloted from the "lower station," where we had spent the previous
night, by a grizzled old stock-rider hight Jack Keighran. It was pitch
dark, and I was glad to hear the kangaroo dogs set up their chorus, and
to know that we were at home. Messrs. Lemuel and Armyne Bolden were then
the resident partners.
In the morning I was able to look around at my leisure, and as I had
just become inoculated with the shorthorn complaint, which I have never
wholly lost, I had a treat. The paddocks, in size from fifty to two
hundred acres, were securely enclosed with three-rail fences, and were
well grassed, watered, and sheltered.
I have never ceased to regret that the low prices which ruled then and
for several years afterwards, coupled with the failure of a
well-considered experiment in shipping salt beef in tierces from
Melbourne, should have caused the breaking up of that model stud farm,
the dispersion of a priceless shorthorn tribe. I had been previously
introduced to "Lady Vane," a granddaughter of "Second Hubback," and her
inestimable calf "Young Mussulman," at Heidelberg. Here I had the
pleasure of seeing them again, if not on their native heath, still in
pastures befitting their high lineage and aristocratic position. Also a
former daughter of Lady Vane and the Duke of Northumberland. There
grazed the imported cows Lady and Matilda; the imported Bates bulls
Fawdon, Tommy Bates, Pagan, and Mahomet. Besides these a score or more
of Circular Head shorthorn cows, then perhaps the purest cattle which
the colony could furnish.
No pains or expense were spared in the keep and rearing of these
valuable--nay _invaluable_ cattle--for which, indeed, high prices, for
that period, had been paid in England. Everything seemed to promise well
for the enterprise--so incalculably advantageous, in time to come, to
the herds of Australia. And yet ere the year had rolled round the whole
establishment had been disposed of to the Messrs. Manifold. The bulk of
the herd cattle went to Messrs. John and Peter Manifold, of Lake
Purrumbeet, with a proportion of the bulls. The shorthorns were
purchased by the late Mr. Thomas Manifold, who for some years after made
Grasmere his residence. In the Spring Valley, a lovely natural meadow,
were located a lot of beautiful heifers, the progeny of picked "H over
5" cows (the Hawdon brand), and then the best bred herd in New South
Wales.
I was present at the purchase of Minjah from the Messrs. Bolden by Mr.
Plummer, of the firm of Plummer and Dent, which took place in 1843. With
him came Mr. Richard Sutton, as _amicus curiæ_, in the interest of Mr.
Plummer, who was a newly-arrived Englishman--verdant as to colonial
investments. There was a certain amount of argument; but finally Minjah
was sold with fifty head of Spring Valley heifers and a young bull, the
price, I think, being £5 per head for the heifers, £50 for the bull,
_and the station given in_. This was the origin of the famous Minjah
herd. Grasmere and Spring Valley, as also the run of Messrs. Strong and
Foster, were subsequently "cut up" and sold. They were too near the town
of Warrnambool to escape that fate. Mr. Manifold saved part of his run,
but Messrs. Strong and Foster were less fortunate, losing nearly the
whole of "St. Mary's." It was not sold, I think, until the gold year,
1851, which accounted for its wholesale annexation. This is the only
instance I can recall in that district of the proprietor losing his run
in its entirety. The land, however, was exceptionally good, and unmixed
with ordinary pastoral country.
The Messrs. Allan Brothers--John, William, and Henry--held Tooram, and
the country generally on the east bank of the Hopkins, where that river
flows into the sea. It was a picturesque place, having a fine elevated
site, and overlooking the broad, beautiful stream not far from its
mouth. I thought they should have called it "Allan Water," but
apparently it had not so occurred to them. The country was more romantic
than profitable, it was said, in those days, being only moderately
fattening, and wonder was often expressed that, having the rich western
country all before them when they arrived in 1841, or thereabouts, they
did not make a better choice. But pioneers and explorers are often
contented with country inferior to that which is picked up by those who
come after.
The real secret is that explorers are far more interested in the
enterprise and adventure than in the promised land which should be the
reward of their labours. They delight in the wilderness, and often
undervalue Canaan. No spot could have been more suitably situated than
the _locale_ the Messrs. Allan selected for ministering to such tastes.
On the south was the coast-line, stretching away to far Cape Otway. On
that side they had no neighbours, and Mr. John Allan, who was an
intrepid bushman, made hunting and exploring excursions in that
direction. I paid them a visit in the early part of 1844. I regarded it
as a perfectly lovely place, with all kinds of Robinson Crusoe
possibilities. Wrecks, savages, pathless woods, an island solitude--it
was on the road to nowhere; nothing was wanting to enable the possessors
to enjoy perfect felicity. The romantic solitude has, however, of late
years been invaded by a cheese-factory. No doubt it supports a
population, but the charm of the frowning, surf-beaten headland looking
over the majestic, limitless ocean--of the broad reaches of the
reed-fringed river--of the south-eastern trail leading into "a waste
land where no one comes, or hath come since the making of the
world"--must be fled for ever.
"St. Ruth's" was the name given to a tract of country which joined
Squattlesea Mere on the western boundary. I believe the name and the
reputation of the district sold the place more than once, which was hard
upon the purchasers, for it was one of the worst runs in Australia. It
comprised a few decent limestone ridges--with some passable flats, but
the "balance" was scrub, fern, swamp, stringy-bark forest, and heath.
Considering it lay in a good district, and enjoyed a fine climate, it
was astonishing how it contrived to be so bad. If it did not ruin
everybody that was ever connected with it, it was because they had no
money to lose, or that exceptional amount of acuteness which enabled
them to dodge hard fortune by passing it on.
It was taken up, soon after our performance in that line, by Messrs. Cay
and Kaye, sometimes called English and Scotch Kay. The former of these
gentlemen, Mr. Robert Cay, was "shown" the run by the Yambuk people,
when he rode over a very small bit of it, and, going back to his
homestead on the Lodden, sent a trustworthy man up with two or three
hundred head of cattle, who formally occupied it.
A hut and yard were built--the cattle broken in, more or less--and the
occupation was complete. A year or two after Mr. Cay sold out to Mr.
Adolphus Goldsmith, of Trawalla, for a reasonable price, the cattle to
be taken by book-muster. Mr. Goldsmith had a herd at Trawalla, which was
being encroached upon by the sheep. He required room, and bought this
curiously unprofitable place to put them on. The Port Fairy district, I
should say, had a great reputation; so had the adjoining runs. Mr.
Goldsmith could not imagine that a run so near Tarrone, Yambuk, and
Dunmore could be so very bad. Buyer and seller rode over it together. At
the end of the day Mr. Cay said, "Look here, old fellow! I never saw
half as much of the run before. I had no idea it was such an infernal
hole, I give you my word. If you like you can throw up your bargain!"
"Oh no!" quoth Dolly, "I'll stick to it. It will answer my purpose."
The end of it was that Mr. Cunningham, as overseer, came down in charge
of five or six hundred well-bred cattle, which were turned out at St.
Ruth's after a reasonable "tailing," and presently were all over the
district. Mr. Cunningham, as I have before stated, was one of the most
energetic men possible, but he failed to make St. Ruth's a payable
speculation. The cattle never fattened; they became wild; they could
never be mustered with certainty; they furnished none of the pleasing
results with which cattle in a crack district are generally credited.
Eventually Mr. Goldsmith lost patience, and sold this valuable property
to a former manager of his own--Mr. Hatsell Garrard. This gentleman had
accompanied Mr. Goldsmith from England, and, it was said, had chosen for
him the celebrated "Cornborough," a son of Tramp, a grandson of
Whalebone, and one of the grandest horses that ever looked through a
bridle. A good judge of stock, both in England and Australia, how Mr.
Garrard came to buy such a place is "one of the mysteries." The terms
were easy, probably, and the price tempting; he thought "it couldn't
hurt at the price." The homestead, too (Mr. Cunningham was a great
improver), was now very comfortable. That and the name together did it.
Mr. Garrard, who was a most genial, jolly, but withal tolerably shrewd
old boy, kept the run for a year or two, just selling cattle enough to
pay his way, when _he_ dropped on a chance to "unload" and make a sale
to Messrs. Moutray and Peyton.
The former, like the seller, had abounding experience, had lived on an
adjoining run, was quite capable of managing his own affairs, yet _he_
went into it with his eyes open. His only excuse was, that store cattle
were worth £4 and £5 a head "after the gold," and he thought he saw his
way. His partner, Mr. Peyton, was a young Englishman of good family,
vigorous and ardent, just the man to succeed in Australia, one would
have thought. He was told exactly and truly by his friends all the bad
points of the run; but it was difficult in that day of high prices to
find an investment for two or three thousand pounds, so _he_, being
anxious to start, made the plunge. In a couple of years the partnership
was dissolved, Moutray having saved some of his money, and Peyton
having lost every shilling.
They sold to Mr. Doughty, who had formerly owned a sheep station near
Mount Gambier. He was a married man, and preferred, for some reasons,
the Port Fairy district to live in. He was economical, active, a famous
horseman, and a good manager. He tried "all he knew," but was beaten in
a little more than a year, and "gave it best." I heard of other
purchasers, but about that time I severed my connection with the
district and followed the fortune of St. Ruth's no further. Probably, if
cleared, drained, laid down in grasses at the rate of £10 per acre,
fenced and subdivided, it might, under the weeping western skies,
produce good pasture. But it always was an unlucky spot.
In the strongest contradistinction to St. Ruth's--a regular man-trap,
and as pecuniarily fatal as if specially created for Murad the
Unlucky--was the station generally known as "Blackfellows' Creek," lying
east of Eumeralla. By the way, the original pathfinders of Port Fairy
had a pretty fancy in the naming of their watercourses. There were Snaky
Creek, Breakfast Creek, and, of course, Deep Creek and Sandy Creek. Now,
this Blackfellows' Creek was as exceptionally good a station as St.
Ruth's was "t'other way on." It was proverbially and eminently a
fattening run; and on the principle "who drives fat oxen should himself
be fat," its owner, Mr. William Carmichael, was, and always had been,
far and away the fattest man in the district.