from where we had been bathing. The little burying ground possessed a new significance in our eyes after this incident. We found some beautiful sea-sh.e.l.ls during a delightful walk along the beach towards Swansea, and on our return called upon the gentleman who put us right for Falmouth on our arrival. He is a farmer from near Oxford, and had been here seven or eight years, finding it a terribly lonely place. Recently his nine children and his servants took the measles, and his wife being ill, he had to nurse them all. When they got well his wife sickened and died, leaving him with seven daughters and two sons, the eldest being only fourteen years old. The nearest doctor lived more than thirty miles away.

In order to get to Hobart Town, we had to retrace our steps some sixty miles, as there is only one road on this side of the island. We stayed a night at Avoca, a charming place, but the roads were a foot deep in dust.

Although the climate is so fine, and everything favours the growth of fruit, there is very little grown. It is alleged that fruit trees do not prosper, but I had ample evidence that the cause is to be found in the indifference or laziness of the people. Strolling in the neighbourhood of the village, we came upon a beautiful orchard, and were admiring the large, ripe plums, when a voice behind said, "Walk in, gentlemen, and help yourselves." The speaker was a hearty old man, who had lived here forty-six years. He came from Ledbury, and was much interested in hearing about Birmingham. He told us that the day before he left England he walked from Ledbury to Birmingham to see the Nelson statue in the Bull Ring.

The old man told us a snake story, which strikingly ill.u.s.trates the vitality of these reptiles. A short time previously he and his son went across a neighbouring mountain on horseback to visit one of their farms.

Going "single file" between the trees, the son, who was leading, suddenly called out to his father, "Look out, there's a snake," and at the same instant his horse started. The old gentleman got off, and finding it was a "carpet snake,"-one of the most venomous species-caught up a stick, and aimed a blow at it. The stick however was rotten, and broke without hurting the reptile, which now prepared to strike; but the old man managed to get his heel upon its head, and ground it into the earth; and having, as he thought, killed it, tied a piece of string around its middle, and bending a wattle tree down, attached the end of the string to one of the branches, and then released the tree. They thought no more of the matter until three days after, when two of his men, returning from his farm with a cart, were seen by their master dragging a snake behind the cart. He asked them where they caught it; they explained that while coming down the hill side, their attention was arrested by a snake in a tree clashing towards them, but unable to release itself. On examination, they found it was tied up! "So that after all," said the old man, "it was only scotched, not killed."

A fellow-traveller on the coach told us that he was coming from the tin mines near Mount Bischoff, and that for some months he and his partner had slept in hammocks slung from trees. One night, just as he was going to sleep, something dropped from the tree across his body. He took it in his hand, and finding it was a snake, he flung it from him, when it alighted on his companion. Luckily, both escaped unhurt. He also told me of the experience of a friend of his, a Government surveyor, who was frequently in the woods for weeks together, with one or two men. This gentleman slept in a hammock suspended from trees. The hammock was in reality a sack, hanging some feet from the ground, into which he got at night. One night he had retired as usual, and being very wearied, did not at once notice that there was independent movement at his feet. Very soon, however, he realised the fact that a snake had gone to bed before him, and was coiling itself round his legs. The gentleman quickly got out, unhurt, and soon killed the snake.

I also read in a colonial paper another account of a night adventure with a snake. A lady had retired to rest, and was fast asleep; the weather being very hot, one of her arms was outside the clothes, and during the night she was awakened by feeling something trying to force its way between her arm and her side; she quickly realised the situation, and without moving, tightly pressed her arm against her body and prevented the venomous reptile from getting between, when presently it glided over her shoulder and fell on the floor with a thud. She was soon out of bed at the other end, and calling for help and a light the snake was quickly despatched.

The doctor in this place has charge of a district sixty miles in diameter, and always expects his fees before leaving his house; but although he has so large a district, I question if he makes his fortune, for although acres are many, people are few, and the salubrity of the climate does not favour the medical profession.

The main road between Launceston and Hobart is struck at Willis's Corner, a few miles from Campbelltown-the princ.i.p.al town in the interior of the island. There is a station here on the main-line railway. The gauge of the line is thirty-nine inches, I think.

Campbelltown is a straggling place, with streets enough laid out for a city, but with only few houses, and it is not likely many more will be built, as the railway is expected to take away its trade, which depends mainly upon the coach traffic. The streets are about one hundred and twenty feet wide, which is greatly in excess of all requirements, and causes the traffic to run in ruts, instead of being distributed over the roadway, giving a desolate appearance to the whole place. As a rule, the Tasmanian roads are very good, having been made in the old days by convict labour, but you must not venture to mention the word "convict;"

the people all speak of these public works as having been executed by Government. Having had so much done for them by the Government, the Tasmanian people are lacking in energy, and are much too p.r.o.ne to rely upon outside help; and yet when Melbourne people come over to invest capital in mines and other industries, the cry is that the strangers are taking all the money out of the country. As I have said, the farms are of a great size, but the number of men engaged are but few. The farmers have two great enemies-the thistle and the rabbit. It is said the former was introduced into the colonies by a patriotic Scotchman, to remind him of his bonnie Scotland, the rabbit being introduced for the purpose of sport; but, like our old friend the sparrow, they have so increased as to be the cause of serious loss, and are the subjects of special legislation. Some landowners spend many thousands of pounds in putting walls around their estates to keep the rabbits out.

From Campbelltown to Hobart is seventy-six miles, and we rode the whole distance in a single day. The country is very beautiful, and towards the end of the journey we had fine mountain and river scenery. The Derwent is a splendid river, running through a lovely country, sometimes through rich pasture lands and hop gardens, and at other times between high precipices and rugged country.

Mount Wellington is a remarkably fine mountain of 4,000 feet in height, and is topped with snow for a considerable portion of the winter.

[Picture: Summit of Mount Wellington]

Villages are very scarce on the road, and shops few, so the inhabitants get most of their requirements from hawkers, who visit all parts of the island with horses and vans, carrying all kinds of goods. We pa.s.sed several with their wares spread out on the ground. Our coachman told us rather a good story of two of these "merchants," as they are usually called. These men travelled the road together as partners, having a standing agreement between them that only one should get drunk at a time, so that they were not unfrequently seen riding, one of them as drunk as a lord or a fiddler, while the other was perfectly sober, but merry. One day, however, they broke the rule, and both got drunk together, letting their horse go just as it liked. Unhappily, as they were turning a corner in the road, a coach came bowling along and ran into them, breaking their van and many of their bones, besides spoiling most of their stock-in-trade. The coachman could not tell us if the accident had the effect of making the men teetotallers.

[Picture: View in the Public Gardens, Hobart]

Hobart (as Hobart Town is now called) is most beautifully situated, with extensive public gardens, charmingly laid out, and having the advantage of an abundance of water from the River Derwent. The Governor's house is admirably placed, commanding extensive views of river and mountain scenery. The citizens are exceedingly hospitable, and we were not long at the hotel before we were visited by a gentleman who informed us he had entered our names on the books of the princ.i.p.al club, and also invited us to a grand representation of "Martha." There are many charming excursions in the neighbourhood of Hobart. One of the most beautiful is to New Norfolk, about two and a half hours' steam up the Derwent river.

As we approach New Norfolk the river gets very narrow, and we pa.s.s through a part called "h.e.l.l Gates," having steep lofty cliffs on one side, and a beautiful tongue of land with trees and lovely green gra.s.s on the other. The name I thought particularly ill chosen.

The village of New Norfolk is prettily situated among the hills, with the lovely Derwent.w.a.ter at its feet. Its princ.i.p.al industry is the growing of hops. We went into the gardens, and saw the people busily picking the hops, which were very fine.

Another beautiful excursion is to Fern Tree Valley, a lovely spot with a fine avenue of tree ferns, and with many immense gum trees in the surrounding woods.

There being no steamer to Sydney or Melbourne for a week, we drove over the road to Launceston, 120 miles distant. Soon after leaving Hobart we crossed the River Jordan, pa.s.sed through Jericho, near to Jerusalem, stopping at Bagdad for breakfast.

Although February had just gone, the weather was still intensely hot.

The harvest was nearly over, and the wheat looked beautiful. I saw some eight feet high, and a person told me he had frequently seen it grow as high as ten feet. Lunching at Melton Mowbray, we came on to Oatlands, driving the last few miles by moonlight, the night being very cool.

At Oatlands is a large gaol, where in old times a number of England's sons were confined, many of them having been sent there for political "offences," which in our happier times have conducted the best of Englishmen to the Council Board at Windsor. The gaol is now almost untenanted. In pa.s.sing along we saw the ruins of many of the miserable old barracks, where the convicts used to live. Everything looks half finished, and I have scarcely seen one window blind furnished with cords for winding; they roll them up and pin them, consequently the blind is full of pin holes. We stopped a night at the best hotel in Campbelltown, a really well-appointed house; but on trying to open the front door, the k.n.o.b came off in my hand! We greatly enjoyed our three weeks' stay in Tasmania; in many respects it is more interesting than the mainland, while the climate is much more agreeable to Englishmen. A pleasant pa.s.sage of twenty hours brought us to Melbourne again, and the weather being still very hot, we decided to go on to Sydney by steamer.

[Picture: Our Waiter at Campbelltown]

CHAPTER V.

The run down Hobson's Bay to Port Philip Heads takes about four hours, and just inside the mouth of the harbour are two little watering-places, much frequented by the citizens of Melbourne.

Presently we come to a curious feature in the water. The currents of the bay and those of the open sea meet, and produce at their junction the phenomenon locally known as "The Rip." All at once, as the steamer comes out of the bay, we pa.s.s from smooth water into the regular waves of the sea; there is almost a wall between, and as the vessel pa.s.ses through it a rushing sound is heard, the vessel instantly beginning to roll and pitch. In rough weather pa.s.sing through "The Rip" is quite exciting, the water frequently rushing over the decks.

[Picture: Sydney Harbour]

After a voyage of a little more than two days, we arrived outside the heads of Port Jackson or Sydney Harbour. Everyone has heard of the extreme beauty of this glorious harbour; indeed if the visitor stays a few days in the city he is likely to hear of it many times. The entrance is about a mile in width, between bold cliffs 250 feet in height. It has a coast line of more than 100 miles, and is full of beautiful creeks and bays, with their banks finely wooded to the water's edge, and having numerous handsome villas picturesquely placed upon every point of vantage, the city being situated at the head of the bay. The old town of Sydney is very badly laid out, with narrow, crooked streets, while the pavements and roads are most execrable, and the drainage and water supply are as bad as they can well be. The public buildings, and the modern portion of the city, are very fine, the post-office in particular being a very handsome edifice, infinitely superior to the new post-office in Birmingham; but then the citizens of Sydney built their own, while the citizens of Birmingham were not consulted, and had to accept what the London architect was graciously pleased to bestow.

Next to the harbour, the public gardens of Sydney form its princ.i.p.al attraction. The Botanical Gardens are exceedingly fine, and contain a magnificent collection of almost every known tree that will stand the climate. A special feature is the Norfolk Island pine, which grows to a great height, perfectly straight, and with very regular branches. The gardens are finely situated on undulating ground, sloping down to the harbour, which is sufficiently deep 200 yards off to float men-of-war.

From these gardens a fine view of the Governor's house and of other parts of the city is obtained. There is also a beautiful view from the Observatory Hill, which the Sydney people are justly proud of, for it can scarcely be equalled in any other part of the world. The harbour, with its numerous islands, lies spread out before the eyes, while the greatest animation is given to the scene by the large number of little steamers, yachts, and sail-boats continually flitting about, for the youth of Sydney are truly British in their love of the water. While we were admiring this panorama one morning, an old gentleman, observing we were strangers, pointed out the various objects of interest. Presently one of our party observing a strange cloud in the hitherto cloudless sky, called the old man's attention to it. At first he thought it was a bush fire away to the south, but in a minute he said, "Come on, we had better get under shelter, for it is a 'southerly buster!'"

A "southerly buster" is one of the inst.i.tutions of Sydney, and is a hurricane of wind: which comes up suddenly from the south, bringing clouds of dust from the brickfields lying on that side of the city. We had long been wishing to see a genuine example, and here it was with a vengeance. In less time than it takes to describe, the whole city and harbour were completely obscured by a tremendous cloud of dust, blown on at a great pace, roaring like a furnace, and carrying before it sticks, paper, and even small gravel, which strike with the force of hailstones.

During the twenty minutes which the hurricane lasts umbrellas are perfectly useless, and every person and thing becomes completely covered with dust. Having experienced the "buster" once, we have no desire for a repet.i.tion.

Sydney is fortunate in possessing almost inexhaustible supplies of oysters, and the old gentleman referred to above told us they sometimes grew on trees! There is a tree called the Mangrove, which grows very plentifully on the banks of the Parramatta river; sometimes the water is very high for days together, and the oyster sp.a.w.n gets fixed in the mud on the branches, and so they grow and are gathered in their season.

One of the most delightful excursions from Sydney is to the top of the Blue Mountains, where there are several villages and some exceedingly fine and interesting scenery. The summit of the mountains is about 3,500ft. above sea-level, and is seventy miles from Sydney, being reached by a picturesque zigzag railway. In the old convict days it was commonly supposed by the prisoners that China lay on the other side of the Blue Mountain range, and many of the wretched men lost their lives in the jungle in trying to escape to the celestial country; one party succeeded in getting to a considerable distance before the guard overtook them, and one of them was found to have in his possession an engraving of a compa.s.s, by which he expected to steer his way!

The railway from Sydney pa.s.ses many charming villages and extensive orange groves, crossing the River Nepean by a handsome iron bridge.

Some of the hotels on the mountain are of a very primitive character.

One of those in which we stayed was a single-storied building, with bed-rooms opening into the yard. The house was built of planks, and the part.i.tions were not very thick. I found that the landlord was the brother of an English tradesman with whom I do business. They had not heard of one another for forty years, which was a suspicious circ.u.mstance, considering the history of the colony.

[Picture: Cottage at Mount Victoria]

In the fireplace of our sitting room we found a "gin" set for rats, which during the night were quite lively. One morning we observed that our waiter seemed to be very anxious for us to finish our breakfast.

Presently he asked if we had finished with the coffee-pot, saying that all the others had been sent to be mended, and as he had a rather particular couple in the next room, he did not like to take in the coffee in a tea-pot!

At Mount Victoria, the highest village on the mountain, there are good State schools, to which the children come for twenty-five miles round from the villages along the railway. Both schools and railways in New South Wales belong to the State, and the schoolchildren are allowed to ride free by all trains. Even the goods trains have carriages attached for the use of the children, and the school hours are arranged to enable them to take advantage of the trains. Mount Victoria is a beautiful village, where many of the wealthy citizens of Sydney have charming residences. It has quite an alpine appearance with its wooden houses and tree-clad hills. In the neighbourhood are many delightful places, to which excursions are made; one of the most interesting is to a waterfall called "Govett's Leap." The road is a very rough one, and goes through the forest, in which are numbers of large ant-hills more than 5ft. in height, and formed of clay, which has become so hard that a stick makes no impression upon them. The entrances for the little creatures are very narrow cracks, too narrow for any of their enemies to get through.

Sometimes, however, a creature called the "iguana" manages to make its way inside, when he always clears the entire colony out.

[Picture: The Weatherboard Falls]

After a few miles' drive along an almost level road, we come suddenly upon the edge of a precipice nearly 1,000 feet deep, down which the stream falls forming the waterfall. The "leap" is about 500 feet, and almost all the water becomes spray before it reaches the bottom, its appearance reminding us of the Staubbach Falls at Lauterbrunnen.

From the precipice a fine view is obtained for many miles round. The country is broken up into deep ravines or wide gullies, stretching as far as the eye can reach, and all wooded, while, except the little waterfall, not a drop of water is to be seen.

On the other side of Mount Victoria, towards Bathurst, is another curious zigzag railway, at the foot of which is the village of Lithgow, the seat of iron and coal industries. At present the works are of a very primitive character, but I have no doubt that at no distant date they will a.s.sume important proportions.

[Picture: Descent to Hartley Vale]

Outside our hotel door the landlord kept his talking parrot, which was always saying to the pa.s.sers-by, "a bucket of beer, a bucket of beer."

There was a retired missionary staying at the hotel with his wife, and one day the old lady told me that she thought they might have taught the poor thing something "more Christian."

One evening some drovers from Bathurst camped for the night near to the hotel; they put their cattle into a field, and having taken their tents from the packhorses, soon made themselves comfortable round their camp-fires, the whole scene being very picturesque and gipsy-like.

This used to be the old coach-road before the railway was opened, and many a coach has been stopped and robbed by gangs of escaped convicts called bushrangers. People were easily frightened in those days. A woman coming out of a cottage at night has been known to stop a coach, and snapping the spring of an old candlestick has ordered the pa.s.sengers to "bail up" and to throw the mail-bags out, which being done under terror of the supposed pistol, she commanded them to drive on; the coachman of course supposing there was a gang of ruffians lying in wait.

Bushrangers are not yet a thing of the past, for while we were in Sydney four were sentenced to death for the murder of a policeman, who was one of a party sent in pursuit of the gang.