BURCHETT OF "THE GUMS"
This was the well-known name of an exceedingly choice run close to
Nareeb Nareeb, on Muston's Creek, and at an early period in the
occupation of the Messrs. Charles, Henry, and Fred Burchett. The name
was allotted by Charles, who said that as the old country places were
christened "The Oaks," "The Ashes," "The Beeches," and so on, he thought
it befitting that an Australian homestead should be known as "The Gums."
So mote it be; and I fancy Mr. Ross, the present owner, has by no means
changed the name.
Charles Burchett was a humourist of the first water, and as such
delighted in by his numerous friends. The district was hardly ever
without the excitement of "Burchett's last." He had a serious,
tentative, doubtful way of bringing out his good things, which
heightened the effect.
"The Gums," like Dunmore, boasted a better library than ordinary, and
there was set on foot the Mount Rouse Book Club, which, founded on a
moderate subscription, and compelling members to send round the books
at monthly intervals, provided mental food for a goodly number of
friends and neighbours.
Charles Burchett and his brother Fred were both somewhat deaf. Whether
or not the slight infirmity concentrated the reflective powers, certain
it is that they resembled each other closely in being exceptionally
original and amusing in conversation.
Occasionally Mr. Charles Burchett's difficulty in hearing led to
diverting cross purposes, as in the case of his celebrated interview
with the bushrangers. He and a friend, it is related, some time in the
early days, met with two men, one of whom carried a gun. They addressed
themselves to his companion, who appeared to be, from the expression of
his countenance, much interested in their remarks.
Mr. Burchett looked at them with an inquiring air. "What do they want,
Scott?" he said, in his resonant, high-pitched voice, accentuating
always the last word of the sentence. "Do they want _work_?"
None of them could help laughing, it is said; but the man with the gun,
observing the gentleman place his hand to his ear, raised the gun
sharply to a level with his breast, by way of explaining matters.
Again Mr. Burchett looked up with a grave and meditative expression.
Then he addressed the spoiler--"I say, take away that gun, it might go
off." Even the hardened old hand was not proof against this
characteristic jest; he put down his gun in order to laugh in comfort.
However, it was explained that business was business. So having relieved
Mr. Burchett and his friend of their horses and loose cash, the robbers
departed. But they behaved with civility, and a ten-mile walk was the
worst of the affair. The horses were afterwards found at no great
distance from the spot, and returned to their owners.
Unfortunately, as it happened, the fraternal triumvirate at "The Gums"
held diverse opinions as to the stock upon which to stake the fortunes
of the firm. Henry Burchett was gifted with a strongly arithmetical
turn, in consequence of which he was generally alluded to by Charles as
"my brother Cocker." A calculation of the average value of the wool-clip
led him doubtless to decide--with considerable accuracy, as events
proved--in favour of sheep. Charles and Fred preferred cattle. In the
end Charles sold his share of run and stock, and commenced a business in
Melbourne. Having made a pilgrimage to Riverina, riding one wiry hackney
the whole way there and back, without apparent distress to man or beast,
Henry posed as the apostle of a new faith on his return, after
beholding, near Deniliquin, what he then decided to be the true home of
the merino sheep, and purchasing for a small price a certain run on the
Billabong, since tolerably well known to wool-buyers as "Coree." He
bought sheep with which to stock it, and removed those still at "The
Gums." He it was who first placed a dam across the uncertain watercourse
of the Billabong, and thus aided the inception of the great system of
water-storage now so universal. It was a primitive time enough on the
Billabong, one may be sure. The late Mr. Sylvanus Daniel was a man in
authority at Deniliquin, then known as one of "The Royal Bank" stations.
Some of his good stories the wayfarer from Port Fairy brought back with
him, so that the fame of that gentleman's hospitality and genial
temperament reached the colony of Victoria years before he migrated to
the north-western district of New South Wales.
Henry Burchett retained his share in "The Gums" after his purchase of
Coree, but, wishing to concentrate his investments, he--unfortunately
for his partner and himself--decided to realise on the Port Fairy
property. The sale of "The Gums" accordingly took place. It was, of
course, before the gold--only one year I think. The price of a
first-class, well-improved, fattening run, with a good herd of 1500
cattle thereon, was--what does any one think?--£2 per head! Yes, at this
melancholy price did "The Gums" pass into the hands of Mr. Henry
Gottreaux, a gentleman lately arrived in the colony, formerly in the
Austrian service. He was a brother of William Gottreaux, of Lilaree; he
had, therefore, the advantage of the advice of an experienced colonist.
Mr. Gottreaux did not look, to our eyes, the "man for Galway"; or likely
to make much out of a cattle run in those hard-riding, hard-living days.
Tall and soldierly-looking, with a big moustache, he had a bluff,
German-baron sort of air. He was portly withal, and, though a cavalry
man, not up to much in the "cutting-out" or cattle-muster line. The
first thing to which he devoted his energies was the building of a
spacious, wide-verandahed brick cottage, dooming the snug old slab
homestead, where we had all spent so many pleasant hours, to do duty as
barracks and out-offices. After this he inquired of one of the visitors,
who, after our custom, had come to help at the muster, whether it would
not be easy to transmit his share of the profits to a friend in England,
who had an interest--as a sleeping partner--in the station.
The man whom he addressed smiled inwardly, and sardonically replied,
"Very easy." We thought this a good joke when it was handed over to us a
week after. But Mr. Gottreaux was right, and we were all wrong, proving
how difficult it was to decide in such matters unless all the factors of
the sum are in view. In the first place, the new proprietor was a man of
brains and method, culture and knowledge of the world. He did not scurry
about in the camp on the stock-horse of the period--it was not his
_métier_; but he paid and controlled a good stock-rider who did. He
lived comfortably, preferring, reasonably, to dine at ease after the
business of the day was concluded. But he kept his accounts correctly,
and provided that the balance should be on the right side. The seasons
were favourable; they are rarely otherwise in the pleasant west country,
to the green pastures of which fate had guided the "bold Uhlan." And
then--trump card of all--the Gold Magician played shortly afterwards. He
threw down an ace--waved his wand. The cattle which our friend purchased
at £2, with right of run added, became worth £10 per head. So he _had_
profits to remit to his partner after all, by no means of small annual
amount either.
Terenallum was in early days the property of Messrs. Lang and Elms, who
considered it a fairly paying sheep run, though bare of timber and
rather desolate of aspect. Disadvantageously for the firm, as it turned
out, Mr. Elms, the resident partner, was tempted by what was then
thought to be a high price--12s. per head or so, with about one-third of
the stock it afterwards carried--to sell to Mr. Russell of The Leigh. He
invested in a presumably richer country between The Grange and the
Eumeralla, and, I should think, never ceased to regret the exchange. The
new runs were chiefly cattle country, being well-grassed forest, not
over dry in winter, and therefore in those days looked upon as liable to
foot-rot. The eastern subdivision, called "Lyne," was at no great
distance from Mr. Cox's Werrongourt station. This transaction
illustrates the errors of judgment so often made by pioneer squatters,
men of exceeding shrewdness and energy notwithstanding. So George
Wyndham Elms sold Terenallum, now proverbially one of the most valuable
sheep properties west of the Barwon, and purchased a run which must have
paid indifferent interest on capital for long afterwards. Yet the seller
was sufficiently experienced, could work with both hands and head, had
confronted all the regulation pioneer troubles--bad shepherds, blacks,
low wool, everything--had shepherded on a pinch, and slept in a
watch-box. Then, when all was well and a fortune coming to meet him, he
was fated to ruin everything for the sake of change. _Mais, telle est la
vie._
Lyne and the other station were good enough, fairly watered, splendidly
grassed, and so on; but the cautious critics said they would never make
up for Terenallum. And they didn't.
The original cattle had been neglected, it would appear. Among them was
a large proportion of bullocks which declined with fiendish obstinacy
to fatten. They would do anything but go off to the butcher. They
oppressed the rest of the herd, showed a bad example, and paid nothing.
They were what are known by the stock-riders as "ragers" or
"pig-meaters." Fierce of aspect, and active as buffaloes, they appear
with regularity at each muster, but are never permitted the chance of
road-adventure with any buyer of fat cattle. The price offered for them
is generally so small that in many instances the owner ceases to form
plans for their conversion into cash, and, if easy-going, permits them
to eat grass and demoralise the herd indefinitely. The run was now
worked with fair results for a year or two, but it soon became apparent
that it was not likely to return the same sort of dividends which were
so satisfactory each year at Terenallum. This probably tended towards
discussion between the partners. However that might have been, a
division of the runs took place. Mr. Lang retained Lyne, with the herd
of cattle depastured thereon, while Mr. Elms removed to that portion of
the area which lay nearer to the town of Hamilton. Upon this he built a
new homestead, and proceeded to convert it into a sheep station.
Mr. Lang had visited England more than once during the partnership, and
so loosened his hold upon matters colonial. It has generally happened,
within my experience at least, that a squatter who permitted himself to
behold "the kingdoms of the earth, and the glory of them," rarely
settled down into a contented colonist upon returning to Australia. So
Mr. Lang put Lyne into the market. It was sold to Captain Stanley Carr,
a retired military officer, who had passed years at a German court, and
held property in Silesia. There, it seems, he had acquired a taste for
high-class merinoes. He had been tempted to visit Australia, probably as
a larger field for investment, bringing with him some good sheep of the
type then prevailing, and fashionable in the country of his adoption.
These were sent to Lyne, where they were only moderately praised by the
sheepholders of the district, being acknowledged to be fine as to
quality of fleece, but considered small and delicate of frame.
Captain Stanley Carr, by birth Scoto-Irish, was a genial and polished
personage, not altogether averse to the privilege accorded to
travellers, but most amusing and agreeable. He bought, as did Mr.
Gottreaux, "before the gold." The price he paid was therefore moderate,
leaving a large margin for profit in the rising markets which were
imminent, and of which he shortly experienced the advantage. Residing
for a few months at Lyne, he made himself popular with his neighbours,
who were nothing loath to visit and entertain a courtier, a man of the
world, and a _raconteur_ at once so experienced and original. He
justified the shrewd outlook upon events which had caused him to become
an investor in the first instance, by prophesying an extraordinary
development of Australian prosperity which was to be rapid and
astonishing. The soil, the climate, the extent of the waste lands of the
Crown, all excited his admiration. The captain's pre-auriferous
predictions have since received curiously close fulfilment.
Our gallant pastoral comrade had some knowledge of sheep-farming. For
the management of a mixed herd of cattle, after the Australian fashion,
he was as unfitted as the confidential German shepherd of his priceless
Silesian ewes to "run" a South American _saladero_. Wisely, therefore,
he took the neighbours into his confidence, requesting the advice which
was cheerfully given. He was, in the first instance, by them adjured to
cull the herd severely--to that end to eliminate without delay all the
bovine "larrikins" (the word had not then been coined, but an analogous
social remedy may yet in future ages be legally applicable) by boiling
them down. There happened to be at Port Fairy in that brooding year just
before the gold--and what embryo events were not then ripening in the
womb of fate!--a regularly-appointed _saladero_. How much more concise
is the expression than "a boiling-down establishment where salting beef
for exportation is also carried on," and yet foolish utilitarians see no
advantage in schoolboys learning Greek and Latin. But this savours of
digression. Such an institution was then in full working order,
organised for the reduction of the "dangerous classes" of the bovine
neighbourhood into tallow and corned beef. It was managed by Mr.
M'Cracken, and (of course) subsidised by Mr. William Rutledge. "Unto
this last" the Lyne larrikins were by a consensus of notables forthwith
relegated.