FROM MELBOURNE TO SYDNEY--CROSSING THE BLUE MOUNTAINS.
When their visit to the sheep run was concluded, our friends returned to
Melbourne, where they spent two or three days, and then proceeded to
Sydney. Two ways were open to them, one by sea, and the other by land;
they chose the latter, as it would give them an opportunity to see more
of the country than if they went by water. The water journey is mostly
made by night, and consequently they would be deprived of a sight of the
picturesque coast which lies between the two cities.
The railway out of Melbourne runs through a picturesque country, as it
ascends the slope of the dividing range of mountains in the neighborhood
of the city. There are many country residences of gentlemen concerned in
business in Melbourne, and the country has a prosperous appearance.
Further away on the slope of the range, our friends passed through large
wheat fields, sheep and cattle runs, occasional patches of forest, and
not infrequently crossed small rivers flowing on their way to the sea.
They also crossed a goodly number of dry beds of rivers, which had every
appearance of being full and running over in the season of heavy rains.
The side of the range next the coast receives more rain than the other
side of it, and the reasons therefor have been given in a previous
chapter.
After the train had passed the crest of the range, it rolled along
through a broken and undulating country, largely devoted to sheep and
cattle raising, and having many stretches of blue gum forest. In some
places great numbers of rabbits were visible, but this was a sight to
which the eyes of our young friends had become accustomed. As they
approached the frontier of the colony of Victoria, Dr. Whitney remarked
that they would spend the rest of the day and the night at Albury, so as
to have another view of the Murray River, and study the peculiarities of
the colonial frontier.
"I believe," said Harry, "that we have our baggage examined at the
frontier, just as it is examined at the frontiers of the empires and
kingdoms of Europe."
"Yes," replied the doctor, "that is the case; and I suppose the
examination will be a light one for us, as we are going out of a
protection colony into a free trade one. If we were going the other way,
the custom house officials would be more particular."
"How is that?" Ned asked.
"Why, don't you see?" the doctor answered, "a protection country is on
the lookout for goods that may interfere with its manufacturing
interests; the free trade one has no such care for its manufacturing
industries, but levies its duties on articles of luxury principally.
When you come into the United States, your baggage is examined much more
carefully than when you go into England. England is a free trade
country, while our own is a protection one; at least it has been for
the greater part of the time since it began its existence."
"It is rather a strange circumstance," remarked Ned, "that two colonies
of the same country, lying side by side, and one of them an offshoot of
the other, should be so radically different in their tariff laws. How do
you account for it, sir?"
"We are treading on dangerous ground," replied the doctor, "as it is not
prudent for a traveler in foreign lands to talk politics; but as we are
quite by ourselves, we may be permitted to discuss the subject a little.
Victoria, as you are aware, is an offshoot from the colony of New South
Wales, from which it was separated in August, 1851. I don't know
anything about the matter, but presume that the origin of the
differences in tariffs between the two colonies grew out of the
opposition of the new to the old. There has always been a great deal of
jealousy between them, and as New South Wales had a free trade policy,
it was the most natural thing in the world that the jealous young colony
of Victoria should adopt a protection one. In each of the colonies there
is a strong party opposed to its tariff policy; in Victoria there is a
goodly number of free-traders, while in New South Wales there is an
equally good number of protectionists. Whatever a man's views are, in
regard to free trade or protection, it is generally useless to attempt
to change them by argument; and if he is a skilled debater, he can give
you facts and figures to demonstrate, with great clearness, the
correctness of his views. On that point I can tell you what was to me an
amusing story."
"What was that?"
"Several years ago, when the financial authorities of the two colonies
had made their annual reports, the two documents were taken by a free
trade writer for an English magazine, and out of them, by the use of the
figures and facts that they contained, there was constructed an
admirable article, demonstrating, with great clearness, the advantages
of free trade in New South Wales. Almost simultaneously in an American
newspaper appeared a similar article, drawn from the same facts and
figures, which demonstrated with equal clearness and with equal
conclusiveness the advantages of protection in Victoria. There was not a
weak point in either of the articles, and the curious thing was that
they were drawn from the same sources. Each writer showed that the
colony whose tariff policy he had favored was far more prosperous than
the other, and was making progress steadily, while the other was running
behind."
"It's pretty much the same in our own country, is it not?" queried
Harry. "It seems to me that I have read articles in the New York
_Tribune_ and the New York _Evening Post_ that were flatly contradictory
of each other on the subject of the tariff."
"Yes; that is quite likely the case, as both of the papers you name are
ready to debate the subject, and it is evident that the writers upon
both sides of the question believe what they say. I don't think it worth
our while to enter into the abstract question here, and so we'll drop it
for something else. You are aware, I presume, that we have to make a
change of train at the frontier on account of the different gauges of
the railways of the two colonies."
"Yes, sir, I was aware of that," said Harry; "one track is six inches
wider than the other."
"Yes; that is another indication of the hostility between the two
colonies. When the railway between Sydney and Melbourne was projected,
it was impossible for the opposing interests to agree upon a uniform
track for the whole distance, and consequently each colony did as it
chose. The result was, that the Victorian line was of one gauge, and
that of New South Wales of another. Neither passenger nor freight cars
can run through from one city to the other, but all passengers and
freight must be transferred at the frontier."
"Let me call your attention to another thing while we are on the subject
of colonial disagreements," the doctor remarked. "Each of the colonies
has its own postal system and each its own postage stamp. In New South
Wales, a Victorian stamp would be of no use, any more than would a
British postage stamp in the United States Post-office. You can prepay
letters from one colony to the other in the stamps of the colony where
you happen to be, but if you post a letter in Sydney with a Victorian
stamp upon it, I am afraid it would go to the dead letter office, just
as if it had borne no stamp at all."
"What a pity it is," said Harry, "that the colonies cannot reconcile
their differences and come together."
"You are not the first one, by any means, who has thought so," was the
reply. "Statesmen have been for a considerable time discussing the
question of a federation of all the colonies in the same way that the
British American colonies are federated. Federation would have been
accomplished long ago, at least it is so claimed by the others, had it
not been for New South Wales, which stands aloof from the rest
principally on account of the tariff question. All the other colonies
are in favor of the protection of home industries, while New South
Wales, as before stated, favors a free trade policy. I saw, while in
Melbourne, a cartoon representing several young women standing in a
circle. All were dressed in white and wreathed with roses, and the
various members of the circle were marked with the names of Victoria,
Tasmania, Queensland, South Australia, New Zealand, and West Australia.
A little in the background, and leaning against the wall with one finger
in her mouth as though she were angry, was a young woman dressed in
black, and labeled 'New South Wales.' The others were evidently trying,
but without success, to induce her to join the circle.
"I presume," he continued, "that federation will come in time, and an
Australian gentleman told me the other day that he believed it would be
a step towards independence. He thought, as do many other Australians,
that the long distance from the mother country and their diversity of
interests would tend, as the years go on, to weaken the bonds between
Great Britain and her Australian colonies, and that separation would be
sure to come. The colonies realize their great danger in case Great
Britain should become involved in a foreign war, and especially with a
power possessing a powerful navy. The colonies have a military force on
the volunteer system, which could no doubt do efficient service in time
of war. The British government maintains a certain number of warships in
Australian waters, but neither they nor the volunteer troops provided by
the colonies would be of much avail against a powerful force sent here
by a first-class power."
There was further conversation upon various topics of which we have no
record, and in due course of time the train reached Wodonga, the
frontier terminus of the line. It halted a few minutes in the station,
and then moved on to Albury, in New South Wales, crossing the Murray
River on an iron bridge; Harry remarking, as they did so, that it was
the same Murray, though not the same bridge, that they crossed between
Adelaide and Melbourne.
Harry learned, on inquiry, that the railway line from Melbourne reached
Wodonga in 1873, but the line from Sydney did not arrive at the northern
bank of the Murray until eight years later. There were disagreements
between the management of the two concerns, so that for three years the
ends of the two railway lines were not brought together. Passengers were
transferred by coaches or omnibuses, and baggage and freight by wagons,
between Wodonga and Albury, a distance of two miles. At last, however,
the quarrels came to an end. A bridge was built, the lines of railway
were completed, and since then everything has been harmonious.
Passengers from New South Wales cross the river in the train by which
they have arrived, and alight in the station at Wodonga. Passengers from
Victoria cross the river, and make their change of cars on the
territory of New South Wales in the Albury station.
After the custom-house examination was concluded, and it was by no means
severe, our friends found a fairly good hotel where they put up for the
night. Then they took a carriage and drove around the town, which was
evidently a prosperous one, and had the usual paraphernalia of public
institutions, such as churches, hospitals, jail, town hall, etc. It is
said to be the home and the place of business of a considerable number
of smugglers, whose occupation is invited by the long frontier line
which separates Victoria from New South Wales. A resident of Albury,
with whom our friends fell into conversation, admitted that a good deal
of smuggling was carried on there, and added that it would take the
whole male population of Victoria to guard the frontier efficiently. Of
course, smuggling, like the same business everywhere else, relates
chiefly to goods where high values can be included in small parcels. No
one would think it worth his while to smuggle bulky articles of small
value, since it would not pay to carry them long distances on men's
backs, as most of the smuggled articles are carried.
Albury stands on the bank of the Murray River, five hundred and
thirty-one feet above the sea; it is about three hundred miles from the
source of that stream, and six hundred above its mouth. During the rainy
season, when the Murray is at its height, steamers run up to Albury, but
ordinarily the river is not navigable to that place. As our friends
drove along the edge of the stream, below the two bridges which span it,
they saw a small steamboat tied up at the bank, and having an
appearance of idleness about it. They stopped the carriage for a few
moments to inspect the boat, and found that it had been left there by a
sudden fall of the river, and was waiting for the next flood to come.
"It is a very light draft steamboat," said Harry in his notebook; "and
makes me think of those they talk about in the western part of the
United States, that can run on a heavy dew, or where a man goes ahead of
them with a sprinkling pot. It is a side-wheel boat, the wheels being
very large, but not dipping far into the water. The engine seems rather
small for such a large pair of wheels, but I suppose the boat was not
built for speed so much as for general utility. She has a saloon over
the engines, with cabins opening out of it, and there are quarters on
the main deck for the officers and crew. The rooms in the upper cabin
are intended for passengers, and as there are only ten of them on each
side, you can readily understand that the accommodations are limited.
They told me that the steamer was built at one of the towns lower down
the river, her engines having been made in Adelaide, and brought
overland to the place where the hull was constructed. They also told me
that the first steamer which ever ascended the Murray was named the
_Albury_, and arrived in the year 1855. I infer, from the name of the
boat, that it was owned by people living here, but on that point my
informant was unable to say anything definite."
When the party returned to the hotel for dinner, they were regaled with
a fish which was new to them. At Melbourne they had fish from the sea
almost daily, but when visiting the cattle and sheep stations they had
none at all, for the reason that no fish were to be obtained in those
localities, and it would be an expensive matter to bring them there from
the sea with the strong probability of their being unfit for eating at
the time of their arrival. As they were not looking for fish in any
inland town, they naturally inquired what it was before them.
"That is the Murray cod, sir, or cod-perch, as we call it," said the
waiter, in reply to Ned's question. "It is a fish caught in the Murray
River, and I think you'll like it, gentlemen."
They did like it, all three of our friends pronouncing it quite
toothsome. It is a fish somewhat resembling the American perch, both in
appearance and in taste, and probably belongs to the same family.
Australia is poorly supplied with fresh water fishes. Many of the lakes
contain no fish whatever, and the few that are found there are poor
eating. There are trout in the mountainous districts, but they are not
numerous. Attempts have been made to stock the rivers with European
salmon, carp, and other food fishes, but thus far the experiments have
not been especially successful. Once in a while a fisherman catches a
small salmon in one of the streams, and paragraphs concerning his
performance are circulated far and wide in the newspapers. The habit of
most of the Australian rivers of running dry at certain portions of the
year is a serious discouragement to the industry of fish culture.
At Albury our friends found themselves in one of the mountainous
districts of Australia. Mount Kosciusco, the highest peak in Australia,
was not far away, though not visible from the town, but other mountain
peaks were in sight of the place. Kosciusco is not a very high mountain,
as mountains go, as its summit is only 7,308 feet above the level of the
sea. It is quite picturesquely situated, forming one of a group of
several mountains, and the journey to its summit is by no means an easy
matter.
Athletic young men, with a fondness for adventure, occasionally make up
parties for an excursion to the top of the mountain, and if the weather
is good they come back with their spirits high, their shoes or boots
well worn, and their clothing more or less damaged. Traveling facilities
are limited, and anybody who climbs Mount Kosciusco must expect to
"rough it." The town nearest to the mountain is Tumberumba, and the
excursion is made partly on horseback and partly on foot. It is forty
miles from Tumberumba to the mountain, and in order to reach that town
it is necessary to travel by coach a distance of seventy-four miles,
from Calcairn, which is the nearest station on the railway.
Travelers who have visited Switzerland before going to Australia say
that the region around Mount Kosciusco is quite Alpine in character, as
it has deep gorges and ravines, and the streams plunge for long
distances over precipitous rocks. The Murray River takes its rise among
these mountains, and a great contrast is offered between the country
around its head waters and that through which it flows in the latter
part of its course. The country is too rough around these mountains for
sheep and cattle stations. There is a considerable amount of tillable
land among them, which is principally devoted to the growing of oats
and wheat.
At their appointed time, our friends proceeded by train in the direction
of Sydney. They found the railway running for much of the way through a
mountainous region, some of it very mountainous indeed. The railway
engineering on many parts of the route evoked their admiration, and
certainly it deserves a great deal of praise. There are numerous tunnels
on the way, gorges and ravines are traversed by bridges high up in the
air, and nowhere in the world can be found better examples of
engineering skill in mountain work. A gentleman who was in the carriage
with them said they would find equally good work on the western line of
railway, the one on which they were traveling being the southern.
"The range of mountains that winds around the whole coast of Australia,"
said the gentleman, "has made our railways cost us very dearly. To go
any distance at all into the interior, we had to traverse the mountains,
and for a long time it was believed that it would be absolutely
impossible to get through them. The first railway line in New South
Wales was surveyed about 1847, and ground for it was broken in July,
1850. The obstacles which the Blue Mountains presented retarded the work
very much, but finally, after they were passed, we got along well
enough. You will see for yourself how difficult they were."
"From what we had already seen," wrote Harry, "we fully agreed with the
gentleman in his statement, and were not surprised to learn that the
engineers were considerably discouraged when they began their work.
After a pause, he described to us some of the interesting points of the
western line, as it is called, and said he hoped we would be able to
make a journey over that part of the railway system of New South Wales.
He assured us that we would never regret it, and that we would see some
of the most magnificent sights to be obtained anywhere in railway
travel.
"When you have crossed the crest of the Blue Mountains," the gentleman
continued, "you will see a piece of railway engineering which has never
been undertaken, as far as I know of, anywhere else in the world."
"What is that?" one of the party asked.
"It is the accomplishment of a feat that has always been disastrous in
every other part of the globe, that of two trains passing each other on
a single track."
"It certainly results in disaster as far as I have ever known," Dr.
Whitney answered. "I have never heard of two trains trying to pass each
other on a single track without both of them coming to grief."
"Well, you know that Australia is a land of contradictions," was the
reply; "and why shouldn't we be contradictory in this as well as many
other things? The way we perform this trick is this:--
"The railway climbs the mountain by means of zigzags, running first one
way, and then the other, and all the time making an ascending grade. At
the end of each zigzag the track is prolonged sufficiently to hold two
railway trains. When an ascending train sees a descending one coming,
the engine driver runs his train to the end of this prolonged track and
stops. Then the descending one comes down, runs upon the track, is
switched off down the mountain, and the way is then clear for the
ascending train to proceed. There is no double track anywhere, and yet
the trains have passed each other, and safely too."
"Very simple when you know what it is," said Harry, and the others
echoed his remark.
When they crossed the Blue Mountains they found the zigzags, readily
recognizing them from the description. On seeing the rugged character of
the mountains, they were not at all surprised that the engineers were
appalled at the difficulties before them. Neither did they wonder that
the officers in command of the first convict settlement at Sydney for a
long time regarded the Blue Mountains as impassable, and believed that
escaped convicts traveling in that direction would be stopped by this
formidable barrier. The Blue Mountains were not crossed and the country
beyond them explored until 1813, although the settlement at Sydney was
founded in 1788.
Mountain regions are always considered healthy places to live in, and
this is especially the case with the region of the Blue Mountains. A
fellow-passenger in the train told our friends that it was a favorite
saying in the country that nobody ever dies in the Blue Mountains; he
simply dries up and disappears. Another passenger said that once, when a
town was founded in the Blue Mountain district, the people wanted to
start a graveyard, and took along an elderly man who was in the last
stages of consumption. They had agreed to pay his expenses and give him
a grand funeral, on the condition that he lived until he reached the
site of the town. Not only did he live until he got there, but he
continued to live for many years, and finally dried up and blew away.
The people felt that they had been defrauded, and if the man had left
anything in the way of property, they would have brought suit for the
recovery of damages.
Harry recorded the above anecdote in his notebook, adding to it the
words, "Interesting, but of doubtful authenticity."