<SPAN name="chap16"></SPAN>
<h3> Chapter XVI. </h3>
<h3> MELBOURNE AGAIN </h3>
<p>It was on Monday the 25th of October, that for the second time I
entered Melbourne. Not many weeks had elapsed since I had quitted it
for my adventurous trip to the diggings, yet in that short space of
time how many changes had taken place. The cloudy sky was exchanged for
a brilliant sunshine, the chilling air for a truly tropical heat, the
drizzling rain for clouds of thick cutting dust, sometimes as thick as
a London fog, which penetrated the most substantial veil, and made our
skins smart terribly. The streets too had undergone a wondrous
transformation. Collins Street looked quite bright and cheerful, and
was the fashionable promenade of those who had time or inclination for
lounging. Parties of diggers were constantly starting or arriving,
trips to St. Kilda and Brighton were daily taking place; and a coach
was advertised to run to the diggings! I cannot quite realize the
terrified passengers being driven through the Black Forest, but can
picture their horror when ordered to "bail up" by a party of Australian
Turpins.</p>
<p>In every window—milliners, baby-linen warehouses, &c., included—was
exhibited the usual advertisement of the gold buyer—namely, a heap of
gold in the centre, on one side a pile of sovereigns, on the other
bank-notes. The most significant advertisement was one I saw in a
window in Collins Street. In the middle was a skull perforated by a
bullet, which lay at a little distance as if coolly examining or
speculating on the mischief it had done. On one side of the skull was a
revolver, and on the other a quantity of nuggets. Above all, was the
emphatic inscription, "Beware in time." This rather
uncomfortable-looking tableau signified—in as speaking a manner as
symbols can—that the unfortunate skull had once belonged to some more
unfortunate lucky digger, who not having had the sense to sell his gold
to the proprietor of this attractive window had kept his nuggets in his
pocket, thereby tempting some robbers—significantly personified by the
revolver—to shoot him, and steal the gold. Nowhere could you turn your
eye without meeting "30,000 oz. wanted immediately; highest price
given;" "10,000 oz. want to consign per ——; extra price given to
immediate sellers," &c. Outwardly it seemed a city of gold, yet
hundreds were half perishing for want of food, with no place of shelter
beneath which to lay their heads. Many families of freshly-arrived
emigrants—wife, children, and all—slept out in the open air; infants
were born upon the wharves with no helping hand near to support the
wretched mother in her misery.</p>
<p>How greatly the last few weeks had enlarged Melbourne. Cities of tents
encompassed it on all sides; though, as I said before, the trifling
comfort of a canvas roof above them, was denied to the poorest
of the poor, unless a weekly tax were paid!</p>
<p>But I must return to ourselves. Our first business the next morning was
to find for our little Jessie some permanent home; for all our
movements were so uncertain—I myself, thinking of a return to the old
country—that it was considered advisable to obtain for her some better
friends than a set of volatile, though good-hearted young fellows—not
the most suitable protection for a young girl, even in so lax a place
as the colonies. We never thought of letting her return to England, for
there the life of a female, who has her own livelihood to earn, is one
of badly-paid labour, entailing constant privation, and often great
misery—if not worse. I have before said that William had relatives in
Melbourne, and to them we determined to entrust her. Mrs. R——- was a
kind-hearted and most exemplary woman; and having a very young family
of her own, was well pleased at such an acquisition as the thoughtful,
industrious little Jessie. Each of our party contributed a
small portion of their golden earnings to form a fund for a future day,
which I doubt not will be increased by our little friend's industry,
long before she needs it. Here let us leave her, trusting that her
future life may be as happy as her many excellent qualities deserve,
and hoping that her severest trials have already passed over her.</p>
<p>Our next care was to obtain our gold from the Escort-office; to do
which the receipts given in Bendigo had to be handed in, and after very
little delay the precious packets were restored to their respective
owners. The following is a facsimile of the tickets, printed on
parchment, attached to each parcel of which a duplicate, printed on
common paper, is given to the depositor:</p>
<P CLASS="letter">
BENDIGO CREEK.<br/>
No. 2772.<br/>
Date, 8th of October, 1852.<br/>
Name, Mr. A——.<br/>
Quantity, 60 oz. 10 dwts.<br/>
Consigned to, Self.<br/></p>
<p>The trifling charge for all this trouble and responsibility is sixpence
an ounce.</p>
<p>The business satisfactorily arranged, the next was to dispose of it.
Some was converted into money, and sold for 69s. an ounce; and the
remainder was consigned to England, where, being very pure and above
standard, it realized 4 pounds an ounce. A great difference that!</p>
<p>We next paid Richard a visit, who, though surprised was well pleased to
see us again. He declared his resolution of returning to England as
soon as possible. Our party fixed their journey to the Ovens to take
place in three weeks. William determined to remain in town, which I
think showed wisdom on his part as his health was not equal to roughing
it in the bush; and this was a much more formidable trip than the last,
on account of length, and being much less frequented.</p>
<p>Meanwhile we enjoyed the fine weather, and our present companionship,
as much as possible, while taking little trips here, there, and
everywhere. The one I most enjoyed was a sail in the Bay. The
captain of the vessel in which we left England, was still detained in
Port Philip for want of hands—the case of hundreds—and offered to give
us a sail, and a dinner on board afterwards. We soon made up a large
party, and enjoyed it exceedingly. The day was lovely. We walked down
to Liardet's Beach, a distance of nearly three miles, and were soon
calmly skimming over the waters. We passed St. Kilda and Brighton, and
gained an excellent view of the innumerable vessels then lying useless
and half-deserted in the Bay.</p>
<p>It was a sad though a pretty sight. There were fine East Indiamen,
emigrant ships, American clippers, steamers, traders—foreign and
English—whalers, &c., waiting there only through want of seamen.</p>
<p>In the cool of the evening our gallant host rowed us back to the beach.
Since our first landing, tents and stores had been erected in great
numbers, and Little Adelaide was grown wonderfully. I think I have
never mentioned the quantity of frogs that abound in Australia.
This particular evening I remarked them more than usual, and without
the least exaggeration their croaking resembled a number of mills in
motion. I know nothing to which I can more appropriately liken the
noise that resounded along the swampy portions of the road, from the
beach to Melbourne.</p>
<p>Much has been said of the climate of Australia, and many are the
conflicting statements thereon. The following table contains all the
information—personal and otherwise—which I have been enabled to
collect.</p>
<p>JANUARY AND FEBRUARY.—Generally the hottest months; average of the
thermometer, 78 in the shade; thunder-storms and COLONIAL showers of
rain occasionally visit us.</p>
<p>MARCH.—Fine genial weather; average temperature, 73 in the shade.</p>
<p>APRIL.—Weather more uncertain; mosquitos depart; average temperature,
70 in the shade:</p>
<p>MAY.—Fine, till towards the latter part of the month, when sometimes
the rainy season commences; average temperature in the shade, 64.</p>
<p>JUNE.—Rainy, and much cooler; temperature at an average of 58 in the
shade.</p>
<p>JULY.—Coldest month in the year; midwinter in the colonies; average
temperature, 53. Ice and snow may be seen inland.</p>
<p>AUGUST.—Very rainy. Average temperature, 58 in the shade.</p>
<p>SEPTEMBER.—Windy stormy month; weather getting warmer. Average
temperature, 63 in the shade.</p>
<p>OCTOBER—The presence of the mosquito, a sure proof that the weather is
permanently warm. Average temperature in the shade, 66.</p>
<p>NOVEMBER AND DECEMBER.—Tropically warm. Locusts, mosquitos, and
unnumbered creeping things swarm both in bush and town. Towards the end
of December the creeks commence to dry up, and the earth looks parched
for want of rain. No yule-log needed on Christmas Day. Thermometer as
high as 97 in the shade; average 75.</p>
<p>The principal trees in Australia are the gum, stringy bark, manna tree,
wild cherry (so called), iron bark, shea oak, peppermint,
acacia, and the mimosa, which last, however, should more properly be
called a shrub. These and others, like the Indian malelucas, are
remarkable for the Cajeput oil contained in their leaves, and in the
gums which exude from their sterns, and in this point of view alone,
considering their boundless number, their value can hardly be over
estimated. The gum of some of the acacias will bear comparison with
gum-arabic. Their bark and timber are likewise useful, and when the
gold fever has subsided, will become valuable as exports.</p>
<p>Wild flowers there are in abundance, and some exquisite specimens of
ferns. For the benefit of those better skilled in botany than myself, I
give the following list of Dr. Muller's indigenous plants of Victoria.
Correaochrolenca and Phebalium Asteriscophorum, both with the medical
properties of the Bucco-bush, Eurybia Rhodochaeta, E. Rugosa, E.
Adenophylla, E. Asterotristia, Sambucus, Gaudichaudiana, Prostanthera
Hirsuta, Pimelea axiflora (powerful Surrogat of the Mezerion
shrub), Bossidea decumbcus, Asterotristia asperifolia, Patersonia
aspera, Grevilliea repens, Dallachiana, &c.</p>
<p>The geranium, fuschia, rhododendrum, and almost all varieties of the
Cacti have been taken to the colonies, and flourish well in the open
air all the year round, growing much more luxuriantly than in England.</p>
<p>The vineyards must some day form a considerable source of employment
and profit to the colonists. The wine made in Australia is very good.
The vines are cultivated in the same manner as in France. In the
neighbourhood of Sydney, oranges and peaches are grown out in the open
air. Apples and other fruits flourish well in Van Diemen's Land. All
these fruits are not indigenous to Australia. The only articles of food
natural there, are the kangaroos, emus, opossums, and other denizens of
the forest, a few snakes, some roots, and a worm, about the length and
thickness of a finger, which is abundant in all parts of the colony,
and is taken out of the cavities, or from under the bark, of the trees.
It is a great favourite with the blacks, as it can be procured
when no other food is attainable.</p>
<p>I have before made mention of the bush and scrub; there is a great
dissimilarity between the two. The former resembles a forest, with none
or very little underwood. The scrub, on the contrary, is always
underwood, of from six to twenty feet high, and only here and there a
few trees are seen. To be lost in either bush or scrub is a common
thing. If on horseback the best way is to give the rein to your
four-footed companion, and instinct will most probably enable him to
extricate you. If on foot, ascend, if possible, a rise of ground, and
notice any FALL in the country; here, most likely, is a creek, and once
beside that, you are pretty sure of coming to a station. If this fails,
you must just bush it for the night, and resume your search next
morning, trusting to an occasional "coo-ey" to help you out of your
difficulty.</p>
<p>The scenery of Australia partakes of all characters. Sometimes miles of
swamp reminds one of the Lincolnshire fens; at other times it assumes
quite a park-like appearance, though the effect is greatly
injured by the want of freshness about the foliage, which always looks
of a dirty, dingy green. The native trees in Australia never shed their
leaves, never have that exquisite young tint which makes an English
spring in the country so delicious. Their faded look always reminded me
of those unfortunate trees imprisoned for so many months beneath the
Crystal Palace.</p>
<p>The mountains in Australia are high and bold in outline, and the
snow-capped Alps on the boundaries of New South Wales are not unlike
their European namesakes, the highest tops are from six to seven
thousand feet above the level of the sea. The country round Ballarat is
more in the North American style, and when the creek is full, it is a
fine sight, greatly resembling, I have beard, one of the smaller rivers
in Canada; in fact, the scenery round Ballarat is said to approach more
to Upper Canada than any in the colony. The rocks, although not high,
are in places very bold and romantic, and in the wet season there are
several water-falls in the neighbourhood.</p>
<p>Eels are very plentiful in Victoria, and are peculiar to this district,
being seldom, if ever, found in any other part of the known continent.
Old writers on Australia have stated that eels are unknown in this part
of the world, which, since this colony has been settled in, has been
found to be erroneous, as the Barwin, the Yarra Yarra, and their
tributaries abound with them, some weighing five or six pounds. A few
days after our return from the diggings, we breakfasted off a dish of
stewed eels, caught by a friend; the smallest weighed about a pound and
a half, the largest about three pounds. They were caught three miles
from Melbourne, in the Salt Water Creek.</p>
<p>A small kind of fish like the lamprey, another similar to the gudgeon,
and also one (of rather a larger kind—the size of the roach) called
here "white herrings," but not at all resembling that fish, are found.
Pike are also very numerous. Crabs and lobsters are not known here, but
in the salt creeks near the sea we have craw-fish.</p>
<p>Of course, parrots, cockatoos and "sich-like," abound in the
bush, to the horror of the small gardeners and cultivators, as what
they do not eat they ruin by destroying the young shoots.</p>
<p>Kangaroos are extremely numerous in the scrub. They are the size of a
large greyhound, and of a mouse colour. The natives call them
"kanguru." The tail is of great strength. There are several varieties
of them. The largest is the Great Kangaroo, of a greyish-brown colour,
generally four or five feet high and the tail three. Some kangaroos are
nearly white, others resemble the hare in colour. Pugs, or young
kangaroos, are plentiful about the marshy grounds; so are also the
opossum and kangaroo rat. The latter is not a rat, properly speaking,
but approaches the squirrel tribe. It is a lilliputian kangaroo, the
size of our native wood squirrel and larger, only grey or reddish-grey.
It can leap six or eight feet easily, and is excellent eating. The
native dog is of all colours; it has the head and brush of a fox, with
the body a legs of a dog. It is a cowardly animal, and will run away
from you like mad. It is a great enemy of the kangaroo rat, and
a torment to the squatter, for a native dog has a great PENCHANT for
mutton and will kill thirty or forty sheep in the course of an hour.</p>
<p>A species of mocking-bird which inhabits the bush is a ludicrous
creature. It imitates everything, and makes many a camping party
imagine there is a man near them, when they hear its whistle or hearty
laugh. This bird is nicknamed the "Jackass," and its loud "ha! ha! ha!"
is heard every morning at dawn echoing through the woods and serving
the purpose of a "boots" by calling the sleepy traveller in good time
to get his breakfast and pursue his journey. The bats here are very
large.</p>
<p>Insects, fleas, &c., are as plentiful as it is possible to be, and the
ants, of which there are several kinds, are a perfect nuisance. The
largest are called by the old colonists, "bull-dogs," and formidable
creatures they are—luckily not very common, about an inch and a half
long, black, or rusty-black, with a red tail. They bite like a
little crab. Ants of an inch long are quite common. They do not—like the
English ones—run scared away at the sight of a human being—not a
bit of it; Australian ants have more PLUCK, and will turn and face you.
Nay, more, should you RETREAT, they will run after you with all the
impudence imaginable. Often when my organ of destructiveness has
tempted me slightly to disturb with the end of my parasol one of the
many ant-hills on the way from Melbourne to Richmond, I have been
obliged, as soon as they discovered the perpetrator of the attack, to
take to my heels and run away as if for my life.</p>
<p>Centipedes and triantelopes (colonial, for tarantula) are very common,
and though not exactly fatal, are very dangerous if not attended to.
The deaf adder is the most formidable "varmint" in Australia. There are
two varieties; it is generally about two feet long. The bite is fatal.
The deaf adder never moves unless it is touched, hence its name. I do
not think it has the power of twisting or twirling, like the
ordinary snake or adder and it is very slow in its movements. There are
several species of snakes, some of them are extremely venomous and grow
to a large size, as long as ten feet. The black snake is the most
venomous of any; its bite is fatal within a few hours.</p>
<p>But let us leave these wilder subjects and return to Melbourne.</p>
<p>The state of society in the town had not much improved during my
absence. On the public road from Melbourne to St. Kilda, fifteen men
were robbed in one afternoon, and tied to trees within sight of one
another. In Melbourne itself the same want of security prevailed, and
concerts, lectures, &c., were always advertised to take place when
there was a full moon, the only nights any one, unarmed, dared venture,
out after dusk. The following extract from the "Argus," gives a fair
specimen of Melbourne order.</p>
<p>"We are led to these remarks (referring to a tirade against the
Government) by an occurrence that took place last week in Queen Street,
the whole detail of which is peculiarly illustrative of the
very creditable state of things, to which, under the happy auspices of
a La Trobe dynasty, we are rapidly descending.</p>
<p>"A ruffian robs a man in a public-house, in broad daylight. He is
pursued by a constable and taken. On the way to the watchhouse a mob
collects, the police are attacked, pistols are pointed, bludgeons and
axe-handles are brought out of the adjacent houses (all still in broad
daylight, and in a busy street), and distributed amongst the crowd,
loud cries inciting attack are heard, a scuffle ensues, the police are
beaten, the prisoner is rescued, the crowd separates, and a man is left
dead upon the ground. The body is taken into a public-house, an inquest
is held, the deceased is recognized as a drunkard, the jury is assured
that a POST-MORTEM examination is quite unnecessary; and the man is
buried, after a verdict is brought in of 'Died by the visitation of
God;' the said visitation of God having, in this instance, assumed the
somewhat peculiar form of a fractured skull!"</p>
<p>This is a true picture of Melbourne; but whether the "Argus" is
justified in reproaching the "La Trobe dynasty" with it, is quite
another matter.</p>
<p>In pages like these, anything resembling an argument on the
"transportation question," would be sadly out of place. To avoid
thinking or hearing it was impossible, for during my second stay in
Melbourne, it was a never-failing subject of conversation. In Victoria
(which is only forty-eight hours' journey from Van Diemen's Land), I
have seen the bad results of the mingling of so many transports and
ticket-of-leave men among the free population. On the other hand, I
have heard from many and good authorities, of the substantial benefits
conferred on Sydney and New South Wales by convict labour. It is
difficult to reconcile these two statements, and it is an apple of
discord in the colonies.</p>
<p>Whilst in Victoria, I met with a great variety of emigrants, and I was
much struck by the great success that seems to have attended on almost
all of those who came out under the auspices of Mrs. Chisholm. No one
in England can fully appreciate the benefits her unwearied
exertions have conferred upon the colonies. I have met many of the
matrons of her ships, and not only do they themselves seem to have made
their way in the world, but the young females who were under their care
during the voyage appear to have done equally well. Perhaps one way of
accounting for this, is the fact that a great many of those going out
by the Chisholm Society are from Scotland, the inhabitants of which
country are peculiarly fortunate in the colonies, their industry,
frugality, and "canniness" being the very qualities to make a fortune
there. "Sydney Herbert's needlewomen" bear but a bad name; and the
worst recommendation a young girl applying for a situation can give, is
to say she came out in that manner—not because the colonists look down
on any one coming out by the assistance of others, but because it is
imagined her female associates on the voyage cannot have been such as
to improve her morality, even if she were good for anything before.</p>
<p>Much is said and written in England about the scarcity of
females in Australia, and the many good offers awaiting the acceptance
of those who have the courage to travel so far. But the colonial
bachelors, who are so ready to get married, and so very easy in their
choice of a wife, are generally those the least calculated, in spite of
their wealth, to make a respectable girl happy; whilst the better class
of squatters and diggers—if they do not return home to get married,
which is often the case—are not satisfied with any one, however pretty,
for a wife, unless her manners are cultivated and her principles
correct.</p>
<p>To wander through Melbourne and its environs, no one would imagine that
females were as one to four of the male population; for bonnets and
parasols everywhere outnumber the wide-awakes. This is occasioned by
the absence of so many of the "lords of creation" in pursuit of what
they value—many of them, at least—more than all the women in the
world—nuggets. The wives thus left in town to deplore their husbands'
infatuation, are termed "grass-widows"—a mining expression.</p>
<p>And now two out of the three weeks of our party's stay in Melbourne has
expired, during which time a change (purely personal) had made my
brother's protection no longer needed by me. MY wedding-trip was to be
to England, and the marriage was to take place, and myself and CARO
SPOSO to leave Australia before my brother departed for the Ovens
diggings. The 'C——,' a fine East Indiaman, then lying in the bay, was
bound for London. We were to be on board by the 12th of November.</p>
<p>This of course gave me plenty to do, and my last morning but one in
Melbourne was dedicated to that favourite feminine occupation—which,
however, I detest—I mean, shopping. This being accomplished to my great
dissatisfaction—for all I bought could have been obtained, of a better
description, for half the price in England—I was preparing to return
home by way of Collins Street, when my name in familiar accents made me
suddenly pause. I instantly recognised the lady who addressed me as one
of the English governesses in a "finishing" school where three years of
my girlhood were passed. Julia ——— was a great favourite among
us; no one could have done otherwise than admire the ability and
good-humour with which she fulfilled her many arduous duties. Perhaps,
of all miserable positions for a well-educated and refined young person
to be placed in, that of "little girls' teacher" in a lady's school is
the worst.</p>
<p>Her subsequent history I learnt as we walked together to my present
abode.</p>
<p>Her mother had had a cousin in Sydney, who being old and unmarried,
wrote to her, promising to settle all his property, which was
considered large, upon her daughter and herself, his only living
relatives, provided they came out to the colonies to live with him
until his death. A sum of money to defray the expenses of the voyage
was enclosed. This piece of unexpected good news was received with
pleasure, and the invitation gladly accepted. They sailed for Sydney.
On arriving there, they found that some speculation, in which he was
greatly involved, had failed; and the old man had taken the loss so
greatly to heart, that he died only five months after having
dispatched the letter to his English relatives.</p>
<p>Poor Julia was placed in a most painful position. In England she had
scarcely been able to support her invalid mother by her own exertions,
but in a strange country and without friends these difficulties seemed
increased. Her first act was to look over the advertizing columns of
the papers, and her eye caught sight of one which seemed exactly to
suit her. It was, "Wanted, a governess to take the entire charge of a
little girl, the daughter of a widower, and also an elderly lady, to
superintend the domestic arrangements of the same family during the
continual absence of the master at another station." Julia wrote
immediately, and was accepted. In the occasional visits that her
pupil's father paid to his little girl, he could not fail to be struck
by the sweet disposition and many other good qualities of her
governess, and it ended by his making her his wife. I felt at liberty
to congratulate her, for she looked the picture of happiness. I saw her
again next day, when she showed me the advertisement which had
been the means of such a change in her circumstances.</p>
<p>The day before my departure was a painful one, so many farewells to be
taken of dear friends whom I should never meet again.</p>
<p>On Friday, the 15th of November, my brother and all our party, Richard
and Jessie included, accompanied us to the pier at Williamstown, to
which we were conveyed by a steamer. For this we paid five shillings
a-piece, and the same for each separate box or parcel, and twelve
shillings to a man for carting our luggage down to the Melbourne wharf,
a distance of not a mile.</p>
<p>On landing at the pier, how greatly was I astonished to meet Harriette
and her husband. Her modest desires were gratified, and they had
realized sufficient capital at the diggings to enable them to settle
most comfortably near Adelaide. In hurried words she told me this, for
their boat was already alongside the pier waiting to take them to their
ship. Hardly had they departed than a boat arrived from our
vessel to convey us to it. Sad adieux were spoken, and we were rowed
away.</p>
<p>That evening a pilot came on board, anchors were weighed, we left the
bay, and I saw Melbourne no more.</p>
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