From Australia to Tasmania.--The River Tamar.--Bird
Life.--City of Launceston.--Aborigines of the
Island.--Tattooing.--Van Diemen's Land.--A Beautiful
Country.--Rich Mines.--Mount Bischoff.--Down in a Gold Mine.
--From Launceston to Hobart.--Rural Aspects.--Capital of
Tasmania.--Street Scenes.--A Former Penal Depot.--Mount
Wellington.--Personal Beauty.--An Unbecoming Fashion.
From Adelaide and Perth let us turn our steps toward another of this
group of British colonies in the South Sea. To reach Tasmania one takes
a coasting steamer at Melbourne, passing down the river Yarra-Yarra, the
muddiest of water-ways, until Bass Strait is reached, across which the
course is due south for a hundred and twenty miles. This is a reach of
ocean-travel which for boisterousness and discomfort can be said to
rival the English Channel. As the coast of Tasmania is approached, a
tall light-house, one hundred and forty feet in height, first attracts
the attention,--designating the mouth of the Tamar River. The land
formed a lee for the steamer as we approached it, giving us smooth water
at last, whereupon the strained muscles of the body gradually relaxed,
and it was delightful to be once more upon an even keel. At sea the
human body is constantly struggling in the vain effort to preserve its
equilibrium. During our short but tumultuous voyage across Bass Strait
our steamer was often surrounded by a great variety of sea-birds,--among
which were the Cape-pigeon, the stormy petrel, and the gannet, which
last is the largest of ocean birds next to the albatross. On drawing
still nearer to the shore flocks of pelicans were observed upon the
rocks, and that most awkward of birds, the penguin, was seen in idle
groups. The penguin is a good swimmer, but his apologetic wings are not
intended for flying. As these birds stand upright, they always suggest
the unpleasant idea of men with arms amputated above the elbows.
The winding Tamar with its tree-covered islands, green headlands, and
bold background of undulating hills affords a varied and beautiful
picture. Beyond the nearest range of hills was seen a second and much
higher series, whose tops were covered with snow. Our passage of the
Strait had been partly made in the night, and as we entered the mouth of
the river the sun rose, turning these frosty peaks into sparkling
crowns. The rise and fall of the tide in the Tamar is quite remarkable,
being characterized by a difference of some fourteen feet.
It is singular that no enthusiastic traveller has written of the great
beauty of this river of Tasmania, which deserves the highest
appreciation for its natural loveliness and interesting variety of
scenery. True, it has the disadvantage of extreme tides, which at one
hour of the day expand it into broad, lake-like proportions, and at
another reduce it to a narrow, intricate channel, disfigured by
unsightly mud-banks and half-submerged ledges; but nevertheless, for a
large portion of the twenty-four hours it is a scene of diversified
beauty. Even when the receding tide has left so much of rock and soil
uncovered, one is rendered picturesque by varied birdlife, and the other
by large reaches of bright-green sea-vegetation. Here and there isolated
houses dot the shore, surrounded by well-cultivated fields,--not
temporary cabins, such as prevail through the inland districts of
Australia, but neat and permanent structures, consisting of comfortable
dwellings and large barns, with other appropriate buildings. These barns
signify the necessity in Tasmania of affording a shelter in winter for
domestic animals, while at the north we had not seen such a structure in
the entire country from Brisbane to Adelaide.
We pass up the Tamar River through its winding channel for a distance of
forty miles before coming in sight of the harbor and town of Launceston.
The many tall, smoking chimney-shafts which meet the eye indicate that
the town is busy smelting ores dug from the contiguous mineral hills and
valleys. Approaching it in the same manner in which we first came to
Parametta, at the head of river navigation, it was natural to compare
the aspect of that drowsy though picturesque place with this vigorous,
wide-awake community. Launceston is no Sleepy Hollow, but is a pleasant
and thrifty little city, slightly addicted to earthquakes and their
attendant inconveniencies. The place is named for a town in Cornwall,
England, and the Tamar from a river of the same name also in that
country. At our hotel numerous cracks in the walls and ceilings were
silent but significant tokens of what might be expected to occur at
almost any moment; but it was observed that the residents do not give
this subject a second thought.
We have left Australia proper far behind, but the Bass Strait which
separates that country from Tasmania is evidently of comparatively
modern formation. The similarity of the vegetation, minerals, fauna, and
flora of the two countries shows that this island must at some time in
the long-past ages have been connected with the mainland. And yet the
aborigines of Tasmania were a race quite distinct from those of
Australia,--so different, indeed, as only to resemble them in color.
They were a well-formed, athletic people, with brilliant eyes, curly
hair, flat noses, and elaborately tattooed bodies. This ingenious and
barbaric ornamentation of the body, practised by isolated savage races,
seems to have been universal among the inhabitants of the Pacific
Islands, though the great distances which separate them, as well as the
lack of all ordinary means of intercommunication, would lead to the
belief that they could not have borrowed the idea from one another. We
are also reminded that singularly enough the rite of circumcision has
been found to exist among some of the most completely isolated tribes of
the Pacific, which causes the ethnologist to exclaim in wonder whence
these savages could have got the idea. The isolation of the Samoans is
so complete that one is half inclined to believe their own tradition
that they originally sprang from the sea; and yet this people are even
more elaborately tattooed than the natives of the Feejee Islands.
The Tasmanian aborigines "wore no clothing whatever when first
discovered, leaving even those parts of the person exposed which an
innate sense of decency causes most savages to conceal. They hunted the
kangaroo with spears, and brought down birds with a heavy whirling
stick," says an old chronicler; but whether he means by "a heavy
whirling stick" to indicate the boomerang, we cannot say. If these
savages possessed that ingenious instrument, it would show that they
must have been more or less intimate with the Australian aborigines, who
doubtless invented it. They are said to have been low in the scale of
barbarism; but they were not stupid, lighting fires by the friction of
two pieces of dry wood, and roasting their fowls, fish, and prisoners of
war before eating them. They were openly addicted to cannibalism to the
very last, until association with the whites gradually ended this
barbarism. They however secretly practised infanticide until formally
interfered with by the laws of the white invaders.
So late as sixty years ago there were three or four thousand of these
people still in existence in Tasmania, but to-day not one soul is living
to represent the race; civilization to them has indeed proved to be an
active agent of destruction. They were bold and independent, prompt to
resent an injury, but very poorly provided with the means of avenging
themselves. Their weapons were mere toys when compared with the
fire-arms of the whites. The war constantly waged between the two races
was most unequal, and ended only in the extermination of the natives.
These savages had to deal largely with escaped prisoners and
ex-convicts, who were hardly less savage, thinking no more of shooting a
black man than they would of shooting a kangaroo; and it is affirmed
that this class of whites banded together and hunted the aborigines as
they would wild beasts. No wonder that the natives retaliated in kind,
and that when they found an unprotected family of whites they savagely
destroyed women and children, and burned down their homes. Thus mutual
destruction went on, the whites being annually reinforced by numbers
from across the sea, and the barbaric natives dwindling rapidly away.
When the country cast off the disgrace of being a penal colony, the name
it bore was very judiciously changed from Van Diemen's Land to that of
Tasmania, in honor of its first discoverer, Abel Janssen Tasman, the
famous Dutch navigator of the seventeenth century. We should perhaps
qualify the words "first discoverer." Tasman was the first accredited
discoverer, but he was less entitled to impart his name to this
beautiful island than were others. Captain Cook, with characteristic
zeal and sagacity, explored, surveyed, and described it, whereas Tasman
scarcely more than sighted it. However, any name was preferable to that
of Van Diemen's Land, which had become the synonym for a penal station,
and with which is associated the memory of some of the most outrageous
and murderous acts of cruelty for which a civilized government was ever
responsible.
The whole island has now a population of about one hundred and thirty
thousand, and a total area of over twenty-four thousand square miles,
being really as much a part of Australia as Ceylon is of India, and
sustaining the same relative geographical position. As Ceylon is called
the pearl of the continent it so nearly adjoins, so Tasmania may justly
be called the jewel of Australia. The climate is so equable and healthy
that it bears the name among the Australians of the Eden of the
Colonies. Its size is not quite that of Ireland, one hundred and seventy
miles long by a hundred and sixty in width. There are no extremes of
heat and cold, the winter mean being 47 deg. Fahrenheit, and that of summer
65 deg. Lying so much nearer the Antarctic Circle it is of course cooler
than the continent, but the influence of its sea surroundings renders
its climate more equable. For many years it has formed a popular summer
resort for the citizens of Sydney and Melbourne, as well as of other
portions of the mainland. It may be the result of a local prejudice, but
it is universally admitted that its native-born women are remarkable for
personal beauty: we mean those born here of European parents.
The general aspect of the country is that of being occupied by thrifty
farmers of advanced ideas, such as carry on their calling
understandingly, much more like well-populated America than like
Australia. Our native fruits--apples, peaches, pears, and the
like--thrive here in such abundance as to form a prominent item in the
exports, besides promoting a large and profitable industry in the
packing of preserved fruits, which are in universal use in Australia and
New Zealand. These canned fruits have an excellent and well-deserved
reputation, there being an extensive demand for them on shipboard. Here
also we saw enormous trees, with a circumference of eighty feet near the
ground and a height of three hundred and fifty feet. Fern-trees, with
their graceful palm-like formation, are frequently seen thirty feet in
height. The country is well wooded, and traversed by pleasant
watercourses; is singularly fertile, and rich in good harbors,
especially upon the eastern coast. In short its hills, forests, and
plains afford a pleasing variety of scenery, while its rich pastures
invite the stock-breeder to reap a goodly harvest in the easiest and
most profitable manner. The familiar description which occurs in
Deuteronomy seems to apply exactly to this favored island: "For the Lord
thy God bringeth thee into a good land; a land of brooks of water, of
fountains and depths that spring out of valleys and hills; a land of
wheat and barley, and vines and fig-trees, and pomegranates; a land of
oil-olive and honey; a land wherein thou shalt eat bread without
scarceness,--thou shalt not lack anything in it; a land whose stones are
iron, and out of whose hills thou mayest dig brass."
Tasmania is already largely occupied for the purpose of sheep-runs and
wool-raising, and is studded with lovely homesteads carefully fenced in,
the grounds being covered with fruit and ornamental trees. There seemed
to us scarcely an acre of waste land to be seen in passing through the
country upon travelled routes. The roads in many districts are lined
with thrifty hedges symmetrically trimmed, consisting sometimes of the
brilliant yellow gorse, and often of the double, stocky species of
geranium in scarlet bloom. This species, which is not particularly
fragrant, grows almost like a wild scrub here, requiring little or no
cultivation; the more it is trimmed down the more stocky it becomes,
until a hedge of it is quite impenetrable.
The interior of Tasmania develops into a mountain range of from two to
five thousand feet in height, while its valleys and plains give support
and ample pasturage to two million five hundred thousand sheep, not to
enumerate the large herds of horned cattle which also abound. The wool
produced upon the island has long been a favorite in the market on
account of its uniformity and general excellence, always commanding the
best prices. In and about the mountain ranges, gold, tin, silver,
copper, and coal abound, so that the land teems with undeveloped mineral
wealth, besides being full of beautiful lakes and fertile valleys.
Tasmania indeed might well be the Elysium depicted by Hesiod and Pindar,
the Island of the Blest in the far Western Ocean. As a whole it pleased
us greatly. The women were handsome, the children bright-eyed and
rosy-cheeked, the men dignified and intelligent. The dwellings were neat
and substantial, the grounds and gardens trim and picturesque. The walls
were ivy-grown, and the fields divided by hedges. Prosperity and good
taste were observable everywhere, presenting a succession of landscapes
like those of populous New England. The roads are equal to the best
European highways, having been built at great expense by convict labor,
winding through fields that recall, as we have said, the finest of
American rural scenery, presenting at the same time scarcely a shade of
newness. The people who have built such complete cottage homes here have
surely done so with the intention of staying. The very sunshine seemed
more golden, the trees more green and graceful, and the skies clearer
and bluer than on the continent left behind. Indeed, Tasmania might be a
big slice detached from England and drifted into the South Sea. The
rural scenery of Kent or Surrey is not more charming, while the thrifty
hop-fields here heighten the general resemblance. Gold-mining, though
followed to a certain extent in Tasmania, has not seemed to demoralize
the people, and is really a secondary occupation to others that pay
better both in a moral and a pecuniary sense.
As we have shown, Launceston is situated at the head of navigation on
the Tamar River, where the town nestles in the lap of a valley
surrounded by hills. The population numbers about twelve thousand. It is
regularly laid out in broad streets lighted by gas, and has a good
water-supply brought from St. Patrick's River fifteen miles east of the
city. There are numerous substantial public buildings of brick and
stone, and everything bears a thorough business aspect indicating great
prosperity. There is a Public Library containing over ten thousand
volumes, and there are also five or six well-appointed schools of the
several grades. The Town Hall is a very fine and substantial building of
dressed stone, and several large brick buildings for business purposes
were observed to be in course of erection. The city is not without its
Botanical Garden, embracing twelve or fifteen acres of land near the
centre of the town. The walks and drives in and about the neighborhood
are quite attractive. The North and South Elk rivers rise on different
sides of Ben Lomond, and after flowing through some romantic plains and
gorges, they join each other at Launceston. This sky-reaching mountain
is worthy of its Scotch counterpart; between it and Launceston is some
of the finest river and mountain scenery in all Tasmania. Ben Lomond is
the chief object in the landscape wherever one drives or walks in this
part of the island.
One of the first places of interest in this vicinity to which the
attention of the visitor is invited, is a locality reached by a drive of
four or five miles from Launceston called Cora Linn, which is notable
for its romantic scenery. It consists of a deep gorge, through which the
North Elk River rushes noisily, forming seething cascades and dashing
waterfalls of a grand character. To reach this spot one passes through
the pretty village of St. Leonard, where there is a neat little Wesleyan
chapel and plenty of handsome villas most home-like in aspect.
The winter is here like that of Nice and Mentone, while the summer is
much like that of New England, though not subject to such extremes. One
sees many bronze-winged pigeons here, a very fine domestic bird, blazing
with color under the sun's rays.
Of all the vast mineral wealth of Tasmania, the most thoroughly
developed enterprise is that of the Mount Bischoff tin mine, which is
situated about one hundred and fifty miles from Launceston. It is
accessible from the city either by land or water. The land-route passes
through a highly interesting district, diversified by river and mountain
scenery, pleasant homesteads, cultivated fields, and some of the largest
sheep-runs on the island. The quartz or tin-bearing rock of this mine
may be said to form the entire hill to the height of three hundred
feet,--Mount Bischoff itself being three thousand feet above sea-level.
Several shafts have been sunk to a depth of a hundred feet each, showing
that the metallic deposit reaches to that depth with a "breast" (as
miners term it) as broad as the hill itself. The deposit is therefore
practically inexhaustible, and of such value that it has already greatly
enriched its stockholders. The tin is shipped direct to England in the
form of "pigs," and the demand from that country seems to absorb the
entire product of this mine. The price for tin ore is said to be as
uniform as that for gold. The company's pay-roll at the mine averages
twenty thousand dollars a month, the men receiving from two dollars a
day upwards, none, however, exceeding two dollars and a half as
day-laborers.
This mountain of tin, for that is really what it is, has been tunnelled
through its greatest dimension, showing it to be equally rich in all
parts. It is a busy place, but so well organized in every department
that there is no confusion, each man working intelligently and to the
best advantage. We were told by the superintendent that the shares of
this mine originally cost five dollars each; to-day they are selling for
three hundred dollars per share, and not always to be had at that price.
They are almost wholly owned in this neighborhood, and on them the
owners receive monthly dividends. We were told of other tin mines in
this island, but Mount Bischoff is _the_ tin mine of Tasmania.
A view from the summit of Mount Bischoff across the wild forest and
densely-covered hills is a picture to be long remembered. The query
suggested itself, Is it possible that this immense wild tract of
country, these miles upon miles of seemingly impenetrable forest, will
ever be cleared and dotted with the homes of settlers? Being in the
heart of a rich mineral district, where not tin alone but gold also is
found, doubtless it is destined, in the near future, to have a similar
experience to that which transformed Ballarat and Sandhurst from deserts
into cities.
A trip to the Beaconsfield gold mine, which is situated some thirty
miles from Launceston, will well repay the traveller from other lands.
The town of Beaconsfield ranks next to those of Hobart and Launceston in
importance, and has a rapidly increasing population. It is of quite
recent establishment, and owes its rise solely to the discovery of the
attractive metal within that district.
The Tasmanian mine, so called, is considered one of the most valuable
and prolific on the island, possessing also a very perfect "plant" in
machinery and the usual appliances for quartz mining. Before descending
the main shaft of the mine one must assume suitable clothing, as mud and
water are to be encountered in extraordinary quantities. The great
difficulty to be overcome in working nearly all of these subterranean
mines is the profuse influx of water, often involving the necessity for
a steam-pumping apparatus of immense power, which must be worked night
and day in order to keep the various sections of the mine sufficiently
dry for working. Armed with candles, we descended two hundred feet by
the "lift" to the first level, or drift, forming a passage just high
enough and wide enough for a man to swing a pick in, but as wet as a
river, one being often over shoes in water and mud. From the far end of
this passage we got now and then a breath of fresh air, which seemed to
come down a ventilating shaft. A few dismal-looking laborers were seen
chipping off the rock amid the misty shadows caused by the fitful light.
What a place to work in day after day,--and all for gold,
"saint-seducing gold"! After a short exploration on this level, we
descended still another two hundred feet, penetrating a second drift
almost identical with the first in size and general character. Here some
Chinamen were engaged with picks, drills, and shovels,--dark, mysterious
figures, who seemed to glare at us from out the uncertain rays of light
as though they were brooding over some fancied wrong, for which they
would gladly avenge themselves then and there. The quartz rock which
they break away from the walls of the drift is all the time being
hoisted to the surface of the mine to be crushed and passed through
various processes to extract the precious metal. The next gallery was
still two hundred feet lower down the shaft,--that is, six hundred feet
from the surface. Here, after passing through the same experiences as
above, we mildly but firmly declined to go any farther into the bowels
of the earth simply for the sake of saying that we had done so, since
there was really nothing to be seen essentially different from what had
already been examined. It was no slight relief to get once more to the
surface, and to see the light of day. On looking about us and
reflecting on the network of galleries we had threaded far below this
upper earth, there was seen a quarter of a mile away, on the other side
of the lagoon, the ventilating shaft which gave air to the mine.
The name of another successful mine in this immediate vicinity is the
Florence Nightingale mine, very similar to the Tasmanian, and therefore
requiring no description. The gold-workings are mostly of the quartz,
though there are some paying alluvial diggings along the banks of
running streams, where it would seem as though some Midas had bathed,
and filled the sand with scales of gold,--places the sight of which at
once recalled that far-away river Pactolus of the Lydian country.
Many fortunes are staked and lost in the sinking of these deep shafts,
where the indications have been so promising at the surface, but which
not being thoroughly understood have led to operations ending in great
disappointment. As a rule, however, the miners have become sufficiently
experienced to work unerringly; and when a quartz-bearing vein has once
been discovered, they can follow its course, or strike it at various
levels, almost with certainty.
The trip from Launceston to Hobart, a distance of one hundred and twenty
miles more or less, takes us into the centre of the island,--the
direction being from north to south through lovely glades, over broad
plains, across rushing streams, and around the base of abrupt mountains.
The narrow-gauge railroad which connects the two cities is owned and
operated by a private company, whose charge for carrying a passenger
over the short distance named is six dollars. The cars are so poorly
constructed, so narrow, and so meanly upholstered, as to appear like
worn-out omnibuses built forty years ago. To add to the traveller's
discomfort, the road-bed is as bad as it can be and not derail the cars
constantly. One fellow-traveller suggested that there should be printed
upon each passenger's ticket the condition that the holder would be
expected to walk round all the sharp curves, and to help push the train
up the steep grades. The engine seemed to be of that minimum capacity
which always left a doubt upon the mind whether it would not give out
altogether at the next up grade. In short, this railroad is a disgrace
to Tasmania. Travellers, however, must learn not only to carry ample
change of clothing with them, but also an ever ready stock of patience
and forbearance,--better currency with which to insure comfort than even
silver and gold.
It was mid-winter in Tasmania, and yet ploughing, sowing, and harrowing
were going on at the same time along the route,--an agricultural anomaly
rather puzzling to a stranger. The road passes through many pleasant
though small villages. Ben Lomond, with its white crest, overlooks the
scene for many miles after leaving Launceston. This grand mountain is in
the north of the island what Mount Wellington is in the south,--the
pride of the residents who live beneath its shadow. It is prolific in
mineral deposits, including gold and coal; but at the present time
mining operations are only prosecuted for the purpose of producing a
domestic supply of the latter article.
About thirty miles from Launceston the traveller arrives at
Campbelltown, which is the centre of a pastoral district. The place lies
embosomed in hills, the highest point being Mount Campbell,--an
elevation rising twenty-three hundred feet above sea-level. Next the
town of Ross is passed,--a pretty little village, beautified by
ornamental trees, and having a long arched stone bridge and lovely rural
surroundings. Tunbridge, which follows, is half-way between the two
cities, and seemed to be a very thrifty settlement. This, as we were
told, was the nearest point to what is known as the Lake District of
Tasmania, where a series of large and permanent deposits of water, lying
three thousand feet above the average inhabited portions of the island,
form a centre of considerable interest. It is proposed to tap these
lakes in the best engineering style, for the purpose of irrigating
hundreds of square miles of soil,--the country here, as upon the
mainland, being subject to occasional droughts.
As we proceeded southward the picturesqueness of the scenery increased,
now winding through valleys or creeping over mountain passes. Wherever
the valleys widen into plains there are seen numberless rural homes,
substantial and attractive, surrounded by fertile fields, cultivated
gardens, and large fruit-orchards,--the latter leafless at this season,
though the general foliage of the country is evergreen. Thrifty gorse
hedges are prominent everywhere, blazing with yellow blossoms which
lighted up and warmed the landscape like sunshine. Oatlands, Jericho,
and Melton Mowbry follow one another,--each a thriving town graced with
substantial buildings, often constructed of white freestone wrought from
neighboring quarries. All the way the tall mountain ranges are in full
sight, with patches of snow here and there high up on their sides. At
the town of Brighton the river Derwent is first seen not far away,
shining under the sun's rays like silver; after which Hobart is soon
reached, and we are relieved from the imprisonment of the uncomfortable
cars.
Hobart was so named by Colonel Collins, its founder, in 1804, in honor
of Lord Hobart, who was then Secretary of State for the Colonies. It is
surrounded by hills and mountains on all sides except where the Derwent
opens into lake form, making a deep and well-sheltered harbor, whence it
leads the way into the Southern Ocean. Among the lofty hills in this
vicinity Mount Wellington towers grandly forty-two hundred feet above
the others, so close to the city on the northwest side as to seem almost
within rifle-range. The shape of the town is square, built upon a
succession of low hills, being very much in this respect like Sydney. It
has broad streets intersecting one another at right angles, lined with
handsome well-stocked stores serving an active and enterprising
population of thirty thousand or more. Of these shops, two or three
spacious and elegant bookstores deserve special mention, being such as
would do credit to any American or European city. Their shelves and
counters were found to contain a remarkably full assortment of both
modern and classic literature. There must be many cultured and
intelligent people here to afford sufficient support to such admirable
establishments.
Many fine public buildings were observed, with elaborate facades, nearly
all built of light freestone; while quite a number of handsome edifices,
both for public and private use, were noticed as in course of
construction of the same material. Churches, banks, insurance offices,
and the like, all in this bright cheerful stone, give not only an
imposing aspect to the thoroughfares of the city, but one always
pleasing whether viewed under cloud-shadows or in the rays of the sun.
And yet Hobart has hardly outlived the curse of the penal associations
which clustered about its birth. Thirty or forty years ago the British
Government expended here five thousand dollars per day in support of
jails and military barracks. The last convict ship from England
discharged her cargo at Hobart in 1851, since which year the system has
gradually disappeared. The loss of a large, profitable, and regular
business incidental to a penal depot, however objectionable in some of
its associations, gave the place a check from which it has taken a
series of years to recover; but its far more legitimate and agreeable
growth is now one in which the citizens may and do take a commendable
and natural pride. The past history of the place, so characterized by
official cruelties, brutalities, and crimes, will not bear recall or
exposure to the light of day. What Cayenne was to France, Hobart was to
England; namely, the convict's purgatory, where order was maintained
only by the lash, the halter, and the bullet; where official murder
formed a part of the daily routine. What a broad contrast exists between
that picture of the past and the surroundings of the present; between
the penal life that reigned here in 1840, and the healthy, contented
existence characterizing the Hobart in which the author is writing these
notes!
The view from Mount Wellington is justly famed for its varied and
comprehensive character. The city with its gracefully undulating
conformation, lying at the visitor's feet, is framed by a three-quarter
circle of tree-covered hills, relieved by the river Derwent, which
conducts the eye seaward by its bright, sparkling, and winding stream.
Turning to the view inland, there lies beneath a beautiful blue sky,
just touched here and there by fleecy clouds, a fair and lovely land
diversified by rivers, lakes, forests, villages, and towns,--some of the
latter in the valleys, some on the open plains, some perched on the
mountain-sides, and all together forming a most fascinating,
far-reaching picture of the fairest section of Australasia.
Hobart also has its Botanical Garden, covering an area of over twenty
acres near the centre of the town. It is filled with ornamental trees,
flowers, and fruit-trees from every part of the world, the sweet-scented
shrubs rendering the dewy morning atmosphere fragrant even in
mid-winter. Geraniums, cacti, tiger-lilies, and many creeping plants
were flowering as though in a tropical climate, not at all abashed by
the snow-caps upon some of the mountain ranges in sight. This garden
slopes down in beautiful form to the waters of the harbor, and is washed
by the blue Derwent. The city is supplied with good drinking-water from
a copious, never-failing crystal spring, situated half-way up Mount
Wellington. The street scenes have the usual local color; like those of
Launceston, they embrace the typical miner, with his rude kit upon his
shoulder, consisting of a huge canvas-bag, a shovel and pick. The
professional chimney-sweep, with blackened face and hands begrimed, whom
we lost sight of years ago in Boston and London, is seen here pursuing
his vocation. Market-men have the same singular mode of delivering
purchases to their customers as we noted elsewhere, and are seen
constantly galloping upon little wiry horses, bearing upon their arms
large well-filled baskets. Women with scores of slaughtered rabbits cry
them for sale at sixpence a pair, besides which they realize a bounty
for killing the pests. Let us not forget to mention the lovely,
rosy-cheeked children and handsome maidens met at every few steps going
to or coming from school, with their glowing promise of health and
beauty.
It is remarkable how certain communities are characterized by handsome
girls and boys, together with lovely children, while another locality,
either far away or near at hand, is notable for the almost painful
plainness of its rising generation. Such experiences are sure to force
themselves upon the notice of the traveller in foreign lands, personal
beauty being oftenest encountered where least expected, and usually
under such circumstances as to be the more impressive. The same
inclination to cut the hair short like that of boys, which we had
noticed among women single and married still farther north, prevails
here to even a greater extent. Though it was so common, it nevertheless
repeatedly suggested their late possible recovery from some serious and
depleting fever.