UP COUNTRY.
OBTAIN A SITUATION IN AN UP-COUNTRY BANK--JOURNEY BY
RAIL--CASTLEMAINE--FURTHER JOURNEY BY COACH--MARYBOROUGH--FIRST SIGHT
OF THE BUSH--THE BUSH TRACKS--EVENING PROSPECT OVER THE
COUNTRY--ARRIVAL AT MY DESTINATION.
I had now been in Melbourne some weeks, and the question arose--What
next? I found the living rather expensive, and that it was making a
steady drain upon my funds. I had the option of a passage home, or of
staying in the colony if I could find some employment wherewith to
occupy myself profitably in the meanwhile. But I could not remain much
longer idle, merely going about visiting and enjoying myself.
I took an opportunity of consulting the eminent physician, Dr.
Halford, who pronounced my lungs sound, but recommended me, because of
the sudden changes of temperature to which Melbourne is liable, either
to return home immediately, in order to establish the benefit I had
derived from the voyage, or, if I remained, to proceed up country,
north of the Dividing Range, where the temperature is more equable.
I accordingly determined to make the attempt to obtain some settled
employment in the colony that might enable me to remain in it a
little longer. I found that there were many fellows, older and more
experienced than myself, who had been knocking about Melbourne for
some time, unable to find berths. It is quite natural that the young
men of the colony, desirous of entering merchants' houses, banks, or
insurance offices, should have the preference over new comers; and
hence those young men who come here, expecting to drop into clerk's
offices, soon find themselves _de trop_, and that they are a drug in
the market.
The prospect of obtaining such employment in my own case did not,
therefore, look very bright; yet I could but try and fail, as others
had done. In the last event there was the passage home, of which I
could avail myself. Well, I tried, and tried again, and at last
succeeded, thanks to the friendly gentlemen in Melbourne who so kindly
interested themselves in my behalf. In my case luck must have helped
me: for I am sure I did not owe my success to any special knowledge.
But happy I was when, after a great deal of running about, it was at
length communicated to me that there was a vacancy in an up-country
branch of one of the principal colonial banking companies, which was
open to my acceptance.
[Illustration: MAP OF THE GOLD-MINING DISTRICT, VICTORIA.]
I took the position at once, and made my arrangements for starting to
enter upon the duties of the office forthwith. I of course knew
nothing of the country in which the branch bank was situated,
excepting that it was in what is called a digging township--that is,
a township in which digging for gold is the principal branch of
industry. When I told my companions what occupation I had before me,
and where I was going, they tried to frighten me. They pictured to me
a remote place, with a few huts standing on a gravelly hill,
surrounded by holes and pools of mud. "A wretched life you will lead
up there," they said; "depend upon it, you will never be able to bear
it, and we shall see you back in Melbourne within a month, disgusted
with up-country life." "Well, we shall see," I said: "I am resolved to
give it a fair trial, and in the worst event I can go home by the next
Money Wigram."
After the lapse of two days from the date of my appointment, I was at
the Spencer Street Station of the Victoria Railway, and booked for
Castlemaine, a station about eighty miles from Melbourne. Two of my
fellow-passengers by the 'Yorkshire' were there to see me off, wishing
me all manner of kind things. Another parting, and I was off
up-country. What would it be like? What sort of people were they
amongst whom I was to live? What were to be my next experiences?
We sped rapidly over the flat, lowly-undulating, and comparatively
monotonous country north of Melbourne, until we reached the Dividing
Range, a mountainous chain, covered with dark-green scrub, separating
Bourke from Dalhousie County, where the scenery became more varied and
interesting.
In the railway-carriage with me was a boy of about twelve or
fourteen, who at once detected in me a "new chum," as recent arrivals
in the colony are called. We entered into conversation, when I found
he was going to Castlemaine, where he lived. He described it as a
large up-country town, second only to Ballarat and Melbourne. But I
was soon about to see the place with my own eyes, for we were already
approaching it; and before long I was set down at the Castlemaine
Station, from whence I was to proceed to my destination by coach.
The town of Castlemaine by no means came up to the description of my
travelling companion. Perhaps I had expected too much, and was
disappointed. The place is built on the site of what was once a very
great rush, called Forest Creek. Gold was found in considerable
abundance, and attracted a vast population into the neighbourhood. But
other and richer fields having been discovered, the rush went
elsewhere, leaving behind it the deposit of houses now known as
Castlemaine.[5] It contains but few streets, and those not very good
ones. The houses are mostly small and low; the greater number are only
one-storied erections. Everything was quiet, with very little traffic
going on, and the streets had a most dead-alive look.
The outskirts of the town presented a novel appearance. Small heaps of
gravelly soil, of a light-red colour, lying close to each other,
covered the ground in all directions, almost as far as the eye could
reach. The whole country seemed to have been turned over, dug about,
and abandoned; though I still observed here and there pools of red
muddy water, and a few men digging, searching for gold amongst the old
workings.
I put up at one of the hotels, to wait there until the coach started
at midnight. The place was very dull, the streets were very dull, and
everybody seemed to have gone to bed. At length the hours passed, and
the coach drew up. It was an odd-looking vehicle, drawn by four
horses. The body was simply hung on by straps, innocent of springs.
There were no windows to the carriage, but only leather aprons in
their place. This looked rather like rough travelling.
Away we went at last, at a good pace, over a tolerably good road.
Soon, however, we began to jolt and pitch about, the carriage rolling
and rocking from side to side. There was only one passenger besides
myself, a solitary female, who sat opposite to me. I held on tight to
the woodwork of the coach, but, notwithstanding all my efforts, I got
pitched into the lady's lap more than once. She seemed to take it all
very coolly, however, as if it were a mere matter of course.
After changing horses twice, and after a good deal more jolting, the
road became better and smoother; and then I observed, from the signs
outside, that we were approaching a considerable place. I was told
that it was Maryborough, and shortly after the coach pulled up at the
door of an hotel and I alighted. It was now between four and five in
the morning, so I turned into bed and had a sound sleep.
I was wakened up by a young gentleman, who introduced himself to me as
one of my future "camarades" in the bank, to whom my arrival had been
telegraphed. After making a good breakfast I stepped on to the
verandah in front of the hotel, and the high street of Maryborough lay
before me. It seemed a nice, tidy town. The streets were white and
clean; the shops, now open, were some of brick, and others of wood.
The hotel in which I had slept was a two-storied brick building. Two
banks were in the main street, one of them a good building. Everything
looked spic-and-span new, very unlike our old-fashioned English
country towns.
The township to which I was destined being distant about six miles
from Maryborough, I was driven thither in the evening,--full of
wonderment and curiosity as to the place to which I was bound. As we
got outside Maryborough into the open country, its appearance struck
me very much. It was the first time I had been amongst the gum-trees,
which grow so freely in all the southern parts of Australia.
For a short distance out of the town the road was a made one, passing
through some old workings, shown by the big holes and heaps of gravel
that lay about. Further on, it became a mere hardened track, through
amongst trees and bushes, each driver choosing his own track. As soon
as one becomes the worse for wear, and the ruts in it are worn too
deep, a new one is selected. Some of these old ruts have a very ugly
look. Occasionally we pass a cottage with a garden, but no village is
in sight. The brown trees have a forlorn look; the pointed leaves seem
hardly to cover them. The bushes, too, that grow by the road-side,
seem straggling and scraggy: but, then, I must remember that it is
winter-time in Australia.
At length we reach the top of a hill, from which there is a fine view
of the country beyond. I have a vivid recollection of my first glimpse
of a landscape which afterwards became so familiar to me. The dark
green trees stretched down into the valley and clothed the undulating
ground which lay toward the right. Then, on the greener and
flatter-looking country in front, there seemed to extend a sort of
whitish line--something that I could not quite make out. At first I
thought it must be a town in the distance, with its large white
houses. In the blue of the evening I could not then discern that what
I took to be houses were simply heaps of pipeclay. Further off, and
beyond all, was a background of brown hills, fading away in the
distance. Though it was winter time, the air was bright and clear, and
the blue sky was speckled with fleecy clouds.
But we soon lose sight of the distant scene, as we rattle along
through the dust down-hill. We reach another piece of made road,
indicating our approach to a town; and very shortly we arrive at a
small township close by a creek. We pass a shed, in which stampers are
at work, driven by steam,--it is a quartz-mill; then a blacksmith's
shop; then an hotel, and other houses. I supposed this was to be my
location; but, no! The driver turns sharp off the high road down
towards the creek. It is a narrow stream of dirty-coloured water,
trickling along between two high banks. We drive down the steep on one
side and up the other with a tremendous pull, the buggy leaning
heavily to one side. On again, over a crab-holey plain, taking care to
avoid the stumps of trees and bad ground. Now we are in amongst the
piles of dirt which mark abandoned diggings.
Another short bit of made road, and we are in the township. It is
still sufficiently light to enable me to read "Council Chambers" over
the door of a white-painted, shed-like, wooden erection of one story.
Then up the street, past the shops with their large canvas signs,
until at length we pull up alongside a wooden one-storied house,
roofed with iron, and a large wooden verandah projecting over the
pathway in front. The signboard over the door tells me this is the
Bank. I have reached my destination, and am safely landed in the town
of Majorca.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 5: Before railways were introduced, the town was a great
depot for goods going up-country to the different diggings.]