THE RACE FOR THE MELBOURNE CUP.--POPULARITY OF HORSE-RACING IN
AUSTRALIA.--CRICKET AND OTHER SPORTS.--SUMMER RETREATS AMONG THE
MOUNTAINS OVERLOOKING MELBOURNE.--"A SOUTHERLY BURSTER."--ITS
PECULIARITIES.--RAPID FALL OF THE THERMOMETER.--FLOODING THE STREETS OF
MELBOURNE.--CHILDREN DROWNED IN THE GUTTERS.--BALLARAT AND THE
GOLD-MINES.--HISTORY OF THE DISCOVERY OF GOLD IN AUSTRALIA.--THE RUSH TO
BALLARAT AND BENDIGO.--SANDHURST.--ITS PRESENT APPEARANCE.--REMARKABLE
YIELD OF THE BALLARAT MINES.--"THE WELCOME NUGGET."--WESTERN DISTRICT OF
VICTORIA.--LAKE SCENERY.--AUSTRALIA'S POTATO FIELD.--GIPPSLAND.--FROM
MELBOURNE TO TASMANIA.--LAUNCESTON.--A CHAPTER OF TASMANIAN
HISTORY.--MEMORIES OF CONVICT DAYS.--CORRA LINN AND OTHER SHOW PLACES.
[Illustration: THE RACE FOR THE MELBOURNE CUP.]
"We're sorry you are not to be here for the Cup Race," was remarked to
our friends by half the acquaintances they made in Melbourne. "It's the
greatest day in the southern hemisphere," said one of them, "and is to
Australia what the Derby Day is to England. Banks, stores, courts,
legislative councils, and all other places of business are closed on
that occasion, and the whole population takes a holiday."
The race for the Melbourne Cup is the sporting sensation of Australia,
and it is said that nearly two hundred thousand people assemble to
witness it. The city and suburbs furnish a large part of the attendance,
and the rest is made up from the country regions, from the other
colonies of the continent, and not a few visitors from New Zealand and
Tasmania. For weeks--and, one may say, for months--preceding the event
it is the principal topic of conversation, and the stranger is often
surprised at the prevalence of "horse talk" in the best social circles.
For a week before the memorable day the city is crowded with strangers,
and the oft-repeated question, "Which horse will win the cup?" is heard
everywhere and from every lip.
The first Tuesday of November is Cup Day, and the race may be considered
one of the harbingers of spring. Every available conveyance is in
requisition, vehicles of all kinds rent for high prices, the railways
run frequent trains, and many thousands of spectators go and return on
foot. The race-course is at Flemington, three miles from Melbourne; it
covers three hundred and sixteen acres of ground, and is considered one
of the finest racing-tracks in the world. From the grand-stand the
towers and spires of Melbourne are distinctly visible; the whole track
lies directly in front, and altogether the scene, as the horses come in
at the finish, is one long to be remembered.
[Illustration: HEAD OF A WINNER.]
Horses from all the colonies may compete for the cup. It is a curious
circumstance that of all the competitors for the Melbourne Cup in 1887
not one was bred in the colony of Victoria.
Though Doctor Bronson and the youths were not in Melbourne at the right
time for the cup race, they had abundant opportunity to witness games of
cricket, the sport for which the Victorians are famous. The game is
universally popular in the colony; in and near Melbourne there are two
or three cricket-grounds splendidly equipped with everything that
players or spectators could desire, and when notable games are played
they are sure to draw large crowds. The interior cities and towns have
their cricket-grounds, and every vacant lot in Melbourne large enough
for a game is the resort of "larrikins" and other youths, from seven
years old and upwards, all intent upon cricket. In fact, the game is to
Australia what base-ball is to America.
The "Australian Eleven," and its successful competition with the
"All-England Eleven" and other British clubs, is too well-known to
cricket-players to require more than passing mention. It is no more
than justice to say that the Australians are the champion
cricket-players of the world.
[Illustration: A CRICKET MATCH.]
The "larrikin" of Australia, mentioned in the preceding paragraph, is
the equivalent for the "street arab" of New York and the "young hoodlum"
of San Francisco--a youth who is subject to no parental restraint, and
all too often is without any place he can call home. Under these
circumstances he is very apt to drift into vicious ways, and gives the
police a good deal of trouble. When Frank first heard the word
"larrikin," and heard its meaning, he naturally asked for its origin.
"Nobody knows positively," was the reply. "The story goes that years ago
a policeman arrested a boy whom he had caught in some violation of the
law. When called to testify against the young culprit the policeman, who
was a native of Dublin, gravely said,
"'I caught him, yer honor, a larrikin (larking) around and making a dale
of noise.'
"From that time to this, so the story goes, the turbulent youth of
Australian cities and towns have been known as 'larrikins.' Sydney,
Melbourne, Adelaide, and all other large places in the colonies are
plentifully supplied with them."
"Melbourne was determined, as I've said before," wrote Frank, "not to be
outdone by Sydney in hospitality, and it certainly wasn't. We have had
invitations that would require weeks and months to accept them.
Everybody has made us welcome, not only to their houses here but at the
sea-side and up-country. Doctor Bronson received cards for all the
clubs, and in a good many ways we have had 'the freedom of the city.'
There are several fine clubs here--among them the Athenæum, the
Australian, the Melbourne, and the Yorick, the last being
semi-professional in its character, like the Lotos of New York. In fact,
it has an exchange with the Lotos, members of either club having the
privileges of the other without charge for a period of three months.
"Many of the private houses have ball-rooms attached, and
dancing-parties are very common in fashionable life. A favorite social
amusement is lawn-tennis, and I don't think there is any place in the
world where it has greater popularity. It is played by old and young of
both sexes, and many of the young ladies in society devote three or four
hours daily to the sport. We were invited one day to accompany a
gentleman on a round of afternoon calls. The calls amounted to visiting
six or eight tennis-courts in succession, and in each court we found a
goodly-sized party, some of the ladies and gentlemen playing as though
their lives depended on winning, and the rest drinking tea, chatting,
and looking on.
"When the heat of summer comes on those who have country-houses, either
by the sea or on the mountains, retire there, just as New Yorkers run
away to Long Branch, Newport, or the White Mountains. Some of the owners
of country-houses keep them open throughout the year, and are never
contented unless they have a party of guests to accept their
hospitality. We were invited to several of these houses, but time
prevented our accepting all the invitations. We ran up for a few days to
a rural retreat on the southern slope of one of the mountains that looks
upon Melbourne from a distance of forty or fifty miles. The place and
all its appointments were delightful.
"The house stands in a broad clearing in the gum forest, and in a
position commanding an extensive view. To the rear and on each side the
wood-covered slopes rise above it, but in front there is a view along
the gently descending plains to Melbourne and the ocean beyond. Though
the city is nearly fifty miles away we can clearly make out its position
on a fine day, so great is the purity of the atmosphere. When the air is
a trifle murky we see in place of Melbourne a cloud of smoke, which the
winds bear away, sometimes to the north and sometimes to the south or
east. Port Phillip Bay shines between the city and the ocean, and with a
glass we can trace the course of the steamers as they enter or leave the
great haven or creep along the coast.
[Illustration: SUMMER RETREAT IN THE MOUNTAINS.]
"Immediately in front of the house the lawn sweeps down to a pretty pond
or tiny lake, and around it is a garden in which all the flowers of two
hemispheres seem to have made their home. We have been reminded over and
over again, and on nearly every day of our stay in Australia, of the
welcome which the climate gives to the flowers of other lands, and
nowhere is the reminder more forcible than in the gardens of these
country-houses near Melbourne. Every description of ornamental tree and
flowering shrub is to be found there, and exotics vie with the native
flowers of Australia in covering the ground with all the colors known to
the artist. Not only is the ground carpeted with them, but the trunks
of the trees, the posts that support the houses, and even the fronts and
roofs of the buildings themselves, are so covered with creeping and
flowering plants that scarcely any of the original wood or other
material is visible.
"Evidently Melbourne knew that we had been treated to a brickfielder in
Sydney, and was therefore determined to give us a taste of its climatic
peculiarities before our departure. To offset the hot wind of Sydney we
had a 'southerly burster' in Melbourne, and also two or three showers of
rain that came down with such vigor as to fill the gutters of the lower
streets to a depth of two or three feet. Most of the crossings are
bridged, so that one can walk over the temporary rivers in safety, but
in former times accidents were not infrequent. 'Another Child Drowned in
the Gutters Yesterday' was by no means an unusual heading in the
Melbourne papers, and sometimes full-grown men fell victims to the
streams that flowed like mill-races while they lasted.
"A gentleman says that quite recently he saw a man try to jump across a
gutter, but he made a miscalculation and fell into it. Instantly the
stream took him off his feet and carried him partly under a low bridge,
where he would have been drowned had not the spectators pulled him out
by the heels. Melbourne streets are very muddy in wet weather and very
dusty in dry times. The mud in winter is said to be something almost
surpassing belief, unless one has actually seen and tested it. Most of
the streets are macadamized with a basaltic rock which breaks up into a
very irritating and disagreeable dust that is said to be trying to the
eyes of a good many people.
"But about the burster, which I had forgotten for the moment. The
weather was fine and warm, with a north-east breeze and not a cloud in
the sky. In the morning Doctor Bronson remarked that the barometer was
falling, and during the forenoon it continued to go down with
considerable rapidity.
"We were going on an excursion, but the gentleman who had invited us
came around to suggest a postponement, as we were about to have a
burster. 'We always expect it,' said he, 'when the barometer falls
rapidly in the forenoon, as it is doing now.'
"So we stayed in and watched for the storm. There was an appearance as
if a thin sheet of cloud was being rolled up before the advancing wind;
in fact it was not unlike the beginning of the brickfielder in Sydney.
Then came a high wind which brought clouds of dust, and then the breeze
chopped suddenly to the south and blew with great violence. It was
thirty miles an hour at the start, but before it got through with its
performance it was sixty or seventy miles. It has been known to go to
ninety or a hundred miles, and on one occasion it reached one hundred
and fifty miles an hour, and did a great deal of damage.
[Illustration: CAUGHT IN A "BURSTER" ON THE AUSTRALIAN COAST.]
"The thermometer fell more rapidly than the barometer had done. In the
morning about nine o'clock the mercury was at 89° Fahrenheit, and it
remained about that figure until the wind went around to the south a
little past noon. In less than an hour it had fallen twenty degrees, and
in another hour twenty more. These sudden changes are the trying
features of the Australian climate, but the people say nobody suffers
from them except in discomfort.
"They tell us that the mercury has been known to drop thirty degrees in
half an hour, and the readings of the thermometer at noon and midnight
sometimes show a variation of ninety-nine degrees. William Howitt
mentions experiencing a temperature of 139° in the shade, and it is no
uncommon thing for the mercury to mount to 130°. There is an official
record of 179° in the sun and 111° in the shade in South Melbourne, and
at the inland town of Deniliquin of 121° in the shade.
"The burster ended towards evening with a heavy fall of rain that
filled all the gutters to their fullest capacity, and but for the
bridges at the crossings would have made them navigable for small boats.
Thunder and lightning accompanied the rain, and while it lasted the
shower was as tropical as one could have wished. Nowhere else in the
world have we seen heavier or more drenching rain than in Australia.
[Illustration: SEEKING SHELTER.]
"If you want to know how fast rain can fall here, look at these figures:
"On February 25, 1873, nearly nine inches of rain fell in as many hours.
At Newcastle, March 18, 1871, they had the heaviest rainfall ever
recorded in Australia; ten and a half inches fell in two and a half
hours, accompanied by a terrific squall of thunder and lightning. During
the whole storm, which lasted twenty-two hours, more than twenty inches
of rain fell."
Our friends went to Ballarat, one hundred miles from Melbourne, and once
an important gold-mining centre. It is still heavily interested in
gold-mining, but the alluvial diggings in its neighborhood were
exhausted long ago, and the operations at present are confined to the
reefs or ledges of rock. The mines are in the suburbs, and as our
friends entered the city and passed along the wide avenue called Sturt
Street, with shade-trees along its centre, they could hardly believe
they were in a mining town. There is hardly a trace of the usual
features of a mining region; the public buildings are substantial, there
are numerous churches, the streets are wide, well shaded with trees, and
the town boasts of a botanical garden on the shores of a lake where
there are numerous pleasure-boats! Who would dream of finding these
things in a town devoted to taking gold from the earth?
This was the scene of the great rush in 1851, after the discovery of
gold became known. Some of the earlier diggers obtained from twenty to
fifty pounds of gold daily; the precious metal lay almost on the
surface, and in several instances large nuggets were turned up by the
wheels of bullock-carts, or were found shining in the sun after a heavy
shower.
[Illustration: PIONEER GOLD-HUNTERS.]
"They told us," said Frank in giving the account of his visit to the
gold-mines, "that a man one day sat down to rest at the foot of a tree
in the scrub. Wishing to sharpen his knife, he proceeded to rub it upon
a large stone that lay half imbedded between the roots. As he rubbed
away on the supposed stone, what was his surprise to see it turn to
gold! With his knife he dug around it, gashed it in several places, and
found he had unearthed a nugget larger than he could carry. Here was a
fortune, and all gained by accident!
"What to do he did not know. He could not carry the nugget, and he dared
not go away to obtain aid, lest it might be discovered in his absence,
and also for fear he might not find his way back to it. If he dug a hole
and concealed it, some one might observe him, and would know at once
what he was about; and he could not wait where he was, as he might be
there for days without being seen, and he had no provisions with him.
Besides, his first visitors might be bush-rangers, who would appropriate
his treasure to their own use, and quite likely knock him in the head to
get rid of a disagreeable witness against them.
[Illustration: MAP OF THE GOLD-FIELDS OF VICTORIA TWENTY YEARS AGO.]
"He did the best thing he could under the circumstances. He covered his
treasure with earth and leaves, then tied his shirt to a neighboring
tree to mark the spot, and, half naked, went as quickly as possible to
the Gold Commissioner of the district and obtained an escort to
accompany him to the place and secure the prize. Luckily no one had been
there in his absence, and the great nugget was borne safely to the
commissioner's tent.
[Illustration: EDWARD HARGREAVES, THE GOLD DISCOVERER.]
"According to Australian history, gold was discovered at Lewis Pond
Creek, in New South Wales, in February, 1851, by Edward Hargreaves; and
at Clunes, sixteen miles from Ballarat, Victoria, in July of the same
year, by a miner named Esmond. Both Hargreaves and Esmond were rewarded
by the Government for their discoveries; they had been gold-miners in
California, and were led to search where they did through the similarity
of the ground. There is a report that gold was really found by a
shepherd near Clunes at least two years before the discovery by Esmond;
and there is another report that gold was found in 1814 by convicts who
were building a road over the Blue Mountains, but the Government kept
the discovery secret.
"No gold-mining region in the world ever gave up so much of the precious
metal in the same time as did Ballarat in the early days. Claims eight
feet square and the same in depth yielded from fifty thousand to sixty
thousand dollars each; at the Prince Regent mine men made eighty
thousand dollars each in a few months' time; at one claim a tubful of
earth washed out nearly ten thousand dollars; one nugget, the 'Welcome,'
was sold for fifty-two thousand five hundred dollars; and a claim that
had been abandoned on the supposition that it was worked out, gave to
the fortunate two men who then took possession no less than forty
thousand dollars in less than two weeks. I could fill a volume with
stories such as these and then shouldn't be at the end. The total yield
of the Australian gold-mines up to the present time is said to be very
nearly one billion seven hundred million dollars.
[Illustration: THE RUSH TO BALLARAT.]
"Just before gold was discovered in Victoria the colony had
seventy-seven thousand inhabitants; in a single year eighty thousand
were added to the population, and three years after the gold discovery
there were two hundred and thirty-six thousand inhabitants there. The
number has increased ever since with more or less steadiness, and now
exceeds a million. In 1854 there were fifty-one females to every one
hundred males; now the proportions are eighty-eight to one hundred."
"We went from Ballarat to Sandhurst, another mining city," said Fred in
his journal. "It was formerly known as Bendigo, and in old times was the
scene of a rush much like that to Ballarat. It has had about the same
history as Ballarat, having been wonderfully rich in alluvial diggings,
then almost deserted, and finally doing a fine business in quartz
mining. In one respect, to-day, it differs from Ballarat; at the latter
place the mines are in the suburbs, while here they are right in the
city. There is a mine in nearly every backyard; gold is sometimes--so
they say--picked up in the street, and is even in the bricks of the
houses. The first brick house built in Sandhurst was pulled down and
crushed, and the crushing yielded three ounces of gold to the ton; at
any rate, that's what they tell us, and they're very earnest about it
too.
[Illustration: LAKE SCENERY.]
"Then we came back by railway through Ballarat as far as Geelong, where
we turned off to Colac and Camperdown to see the famous Lake district of
Victoria. At Colac we climbed a hill, and from its summit counted
fifteen lakes varying in size from tiny ponds to that of the Dead Sea of
Korangamite, with an area of forty-nine thousand acres, and a circuit of
more than ninety miles. It is so salt that no fish can live in its
waters--salter a good deal than the sea.
"A strange feature of the lakes of this region is that they are
alternately salt and fresh. Almost at our feet, as we sat on the summit
of the hill, were five lakes, two fresh and three salt, and they were
separated by very narrow strips of land. The salt is said to come from
the drainage of the rocks, the water being evaporated faster than it
flows in. In summer the lakes fall below their winter level, and leave
great quantities of salt on the banks, where it is gathered by the
people.
"We all agree that we have never seen prettier lake scenery anywhere in
the world than in this famous western district of Victoria. The lakes
are at various levels, the larger ones studded with islands, and the
shores of the salt lakes glistening with snowy crystals. In the
landscape are plains, undulating areas, and mountains. The plains are
dotted with trees, there are flocks of sheep and herds of cattle
scattered over them, and here and there we can make out the houses of
the prosperous farmers, and trace the fences that enclose fields of
grain. Most of the smaller lakes are in the craters of extinct
volcanoes, and there is abundant evidence that this region was once the
scene of great convulsions of nature.
"Warnambool and Belfast are the ports of this district, and they supply
the markets of Sydney, Brisbane, and Adelaide, as well as the nearer one
of Melbourne, with potatoes. The people claim that their potatoes are
without competitors, quality and quantity being of the highest class.
The maximum yields are from twenty to thirty tons an acre; land sells
for four hundred dollars an acre for growing potatoes, and one happy
land-owner lets out two square miles of ground for twenty-five dollars
an acre annually! This is the part of the country that was originally
named Australia Felix, and it certainly deserved the title."
"Where will we go next?" queried one of the youths, as the party was
returning from Colac to Melbourne.
"Where do you wish to go?" said the Doctor, answering one question by
asking another.
"According to what they tell us," responded the original questioner,
"there is still a great deal to be seen--at least from a resident's
point of view.
"We are urged to visit cattle and sheep stations in the interior, but
there can hardly be anything especially new about them after what we
have seen in New South Wales and Queensland; so I vote against any more
pastoral visits."
The other members of the party assented to his opinion, and it was
decided that time did not permit them to stay longer among sheep and
cattle.
[Illustration: A GIPPSLAND SETTLER.]
For a similar reason it was concluded to decline an invitation to spend
a few days in Gippsland, which was named after one of the former
governors and is famous for its mountain scenery, its lakes, rivers, and
other natural features. Some portions of it are too rough for
agriculture, but a considerable part is peculiarly rich and fertile, and
produces abundantly when brought under cultivation. A large proportion
of the cattle sold in the Melbourne market comes from Gippsland; and the
region has great resources in minerals, which are as yet but slightly
developed.
Tourists with a love for fishing and shooting generally find time to
visit Gippsland, as these sports can be had there to the fullest extent.
The forests of this region are very dense, and consequently the clearing
of the land is attended with considerable expense. Frank thought, with a
sigh, of the trout in the streams of this fertile district; he had hoped
to be the captor of some of them, but his hopes were dashed when it was
decided to give the go-by to Gippsland.
"And now," said the Doctor, "I'll tell you my plan." The youths listened
attentively as he continued:
"To-day is Tuesday. There's a steamer twice a week (Monday and Thursday)
for Launceston, in Tasmania. We are due at Melbourne at 3.41 this
afternoon; we will devote this evening and to-morrow to saying good-by
to our friends, and leave by the steamer on Thursday for Launceston. How
will that do?"
The youths promptly assented, as they always did when the Doctor told
them his plans, and it was at once agreed that the scheme would be
carried out. Arrangements were made accordingly, the farewell calls were
made in the time prescribed by social rules, and the steamer started at
noon on the appointed day. She carried the party across Bass's Strait
during the night, and on the next morning they were at the entrance of
the Tamar River, on their way to Launceston, forty miles up the stream,
and two hundred and sixty-seven from Melbourne.
Frank wondered why the name of the island was changed from Van Dieman's
Land to Tasmania. He received the following explanation:
"It was discovered by the Dutch navigator Abel Jans Tasman, in 1642, and
by him was named Van Dieman's Land, in honor of the then governor of the
Dutch East Indies. Tasman was in love with the Governor's daughter,
Maria, and gave her name to one of the smaller islands. Van Dieman's
Land was first permanently occupied in 1803, when the British Government
established a convict-station there, and soon followed it by other
convict-stations. It was a penal colony from its settlement until 1853,
when transportation was discontinued; during this half century many
thousands of convicts were sent there, and the name of Van Dieman's Land
was inseparably connected with the horrors of the system of English
deportation and the crimes which led to it.
"Consequently many of the colonists sought a change of name for their
country; and on the first of January, 1856, it was made, in reply to an
address of the Legislative Council, in which it was represented that the
'letters patent of the bishop were for the diocese of Tasmania, that the
colonists used the title generally, and it was preferred to Van Dieman's
Land by the colonists and by this council.' It is to be hoped that the
history of transportation will eventually be as much a thing of the past
as is the former name of this beautiful island."
Our friends found the scenery of the Tamar interesting; and as the
steamer slowly stemmed the current, they were treated to a constantly
changing and never wearying panorama. The island is the smallest of the
Australian colonies; it is about the size of Scotland, and resembles it
in being full of fine scenery. It is a land of mountains, lakes, and
rivers; its climate is a little warmer than that of England, and a
little more dry, and everything that grows in the British Islands will
grow in Tasmania. The banks of the Tamar reminded our friends of those
of the Thames, save that they were not as well peopled, and the mountain
ranges which formed the background on either side were lofty and
picturesque.
As the vessel neared her destination, Frank and Fred were informed that
they were at the head of the Tamar, or would be when they reached
Launceston. "The North Esk and the South Esk," said their informant,
"come together at Launceston, and their union forms the Tamar. The North
Esk comes tumbling down from a rocky region, while the South Esk flows
through a rich agricultural district closely resembling some of the best
farming country of England."
And so they found it when on the following day they made an excursion
into the region under consideration. The resemblance to England was
heightened by the hedges that separated the fields from one another, and
were a most agreeable change from the rail and wire fences to which they
had become accustomed during their travels in Australia. The soil
appeared to be of unusual fertility, and they readily accepted the
statement of one of the residents that Tasmania was the garden of the
world. "Everything that grows in England grows here," said he, "and
grows better. The fruits are larger and of finer flavor; the yield of
grain is more to the acre; and as to quality, there is nothing that can
surpass that of our products. Our great drawbacks are distance from
markets, the high price of labor, and the lack of suitable means for
bringing the products of the farms to the seaports. We could supply the
whole of Victoria with jam made from our fruits; but as she grows fruit
herself, she has a protective tariff that practically excludes us."
[Illustration: THE PEACH HARVEST.]
They found Launceston a pretty little city of about seventeen thousand
inhabitants, and picturesquely situated. It has the usual public
buildings and parks, and in its vicinity are several show places, which
they visited in the afternoon. In a carriage they went to Corra Linn,
six miles from Launceston, where the North Esk pairs through a gateway
of basaltic rock, and dashes over a bed of bowlders that break the water
into a mass of foam; then it changes suddenly into a quiet stream which
reflects the rocks and foliage bending over it; then changes again into
tumbling rapids, and afterwards becomes the calm stream that unites with
the South Esk to form the Tamar.
[Illustration: COTTAGE IN THE SUBURBS Of LAUNCESTON.]
"After Corra Linn," said Frank, "we saw the Cataract Gorge and the Punch
Bowl, which are favorite places of resort of the citizens, and are
certainly very pretty and interesting. Then we walked in the Town Park,
and saw the Garden Crescent, which is a popular recreation ground and
much frequented. In the evening we had an interesting conversation with
a gentleman whom we met at the hotel, or rather on the steamer which
brought us from Melbourne. We asked to be permitted to take notes of
what he said; he readily consented, and here it is as Fred and I jotted
it down:
"'We have about one hundred and thirty thousand inhabitants in the
island, which is divided into eighteen counties, and these are again
subdivided into parishes, for administrative purposes. We have
self-government on the same general plan as the other Australian
colonies, and have been self-governing since 1856. Our climate is
remarkable for its mildness, being removed from the extremes of heat and
cold; the summers are never unpleasantly hot, and woollen clothing may
be worn throughout the year; while the winters are not severe enough,
even in the table-lands of the interior, to stop work in the fields.
Snow covers the tops of the mountains in winter, but rarely falls on the
lowlands; and when it does come it doesn't stay long.
"We love England, and have named most of our counties after those of the
old country; and in religion we are English. Out of our whole population
more than half are adherents of the English Church; then come the
Catholics with 30,000, Methodists 10,000, Church of Scotland 9000, and
Independents 5000. Other religions are not numerous in their following,
but we have a good deal of variety, as we have Mohammedans and Pagans in
addition to Israelites and several smaller sects of Christians. We are a
law-abiding people generally; and when you remember that the country was
for so long the receptacle of convicts, you will admit that our
proportion of crime is very small.
[Illustration: AN OLD SETTLER.]
"'The people of Australia sometimes call us Van Demonians in derision;
but we don't mind it, though we would like to have the name of Van
Dieman's Land forgotten, as it has so many unpleasant associations. But
however glad we are that we ceased to be a convict colony, there is no
getting over the fact that the most prosperous days of the island were
when transportation was in existence.'
[Illustration: AT BAY IN THE BUSH.]
"Doctor Bronson asked him to explain this, which he did.
"'The prosperity,' he continued, 'was due to several causes. In the
first place, the Government sent its convicts here, and it maintained a
large military and police force to take care of them. This meant an
expenditure of money; the annual outlay of the Government in Tasmania
was £350,000, and of course we lost this when transportation stopped.
Then, too, the free colonists that came out here received grants of
land, and also assignments of convicts to work the land, the size of the
grants being proportioned to the number of convicts that a colonist
would receive.
"'It was a good thing for the squatter, and he was not slow to take
advantage of it. It was like negro slavery, with the addition that the
slaves cost nothing to the owner. If a man died, the squatter could get
another for nothing; if a man ran away, he was generally recaptured at
once if he did not starve in the bush; and if he misbehaved himself in
any way, the squatter sent him to the nearest magistrate to be flogged.'
"'Were the squatters not allowed to administer punishment?' queried
Doctor Bronson.
"'No, they were not,' was the reply; 'but the magistrate usually applied
the lash without taking the trouble to inquire into the case. It was no
uncommon thing for a convict employed on a squatter's station to be sent
with a note to the magistrate, in which the latter was requested to give
the man two or three dozen lashes, as the case might be. He received
them and was sent home; if he ran away, either before or after the
flogging, notice was given at once, and the police were speedily after
him. In the bush he could easily elude the police, but the necessity for
food generally drove him to surrender or led to his capture. No one was
allowed to give food to a runaway; and as the general safety depended on
the suppression of bush-ranging, no one was inclined to do so.'
"'But didn't men sometimes make their escape and live in the bush?'
[Illustration: A CAMP IN THE BUSH.]
"'Only in a few instances. One runaway managed to hide himself for seven
years, building a hut and raising a few vegetables in a spot where he
was not discovered. He kept a goat and a few sheep, and came
occasionally in the night to the nearest station to steal a few articles
that he needed. But at length the solitude was too much for him, and he
came to the very station that he had plundered, and gave himself up. The
squatter's wife was alone with her children when the man appeared, with
his hair long and tangled, a few sheepskins stitched together for his
clothing, and his whole appearance denoting destitution and despair.'
"'What was done with him?'
"'The squatter was a gentleman of influence; he realized that the
convict could easily have murdered his wife and children, and in
gratitude for his forbearance he became interested in the man's case,
and obtained his pardon. The man afterwards became a prosperous farmer,
and led a strictly honest life.
"'Not only were the convicts valuable as servants or laborers for the
squatters and employers generally,' continued the gentleman, 'but they
were also useful for the public works that are needed in a new country.
There is a fine wagon-road from Launceston to Hobart, one hundred and
twenty miles, which was built by gangs of convicts working under
overseers and guards. There isn't a better road in Europe than this; and
the same may be said of other roads that were built by convict labor in
the early days of the colony. Before the railway was built, the
stage-coaches used to run through from one place to the other in
thirteen hours, or at the rate of nine miles an hour.
"'When you reach Hobart, the capital of Tasmania, you will find a
handsome town of twenty thousand inhabitants, with good streets and
substantial buildings, the Government House being one of the best
belonging to a British colony anywhere. Hobart was largely built by
convict labor; and so, you see, we have many things to remind us that
transportation was not by any means a detriment to the country.'"