CHAPTER IV.
Road from Paramatta to Liverpool—Dismal appearance of the uncleared land—Liverpool—Arrival at Raby Farm—The opossum—Prisoners and free men—Advantage of being sentenced to an iron gang—London pickpockets converted into shepherds—Suggestion with regard to the convicts—Leave Raby—Mr. Jones’s farm—Cultivation of the vine—Sameness of the forest scenery in Australia—Lose our way—Journey resumed—Gloomy appearance of the Australian vegetation—The tea tree—Colonial farms—Emu-ford—Blue Mountain range—The Pilgrim Inn—View from Lapstone Hill—Variety of flowering shrubs—A beautiful garden—Road over the Blue Mountains—Picturesque prospects—A mountain station—Bleak air of the place—Our supper.
On the 13th of September, I proceeded from Paramatta to Raby farm, near the cow pastures, (distant twenty-one miles from Paramatta,) at that time the residence of my friend Mr. Dutton. The road from Paramatta to Liverpool was in excellent condition, but the land on each side was for the most part uncleared; and, being covered by dense forest trees, had a very sombre character. A few trees of the “green wattle,” (acacia decurrens,) profusely covered by golden blossoms, and occasionally a cleared verdant space, alone gave anything like animation to the scenery.
The uncleared land has a dismal appearance; the huge blue gum, stringy bark, box, and iron bark trees, (all of the Eucalyptus genus,) rose from the thick bush which surrounded their bases, to a great elevation. On arriving at the small village of “Liverpool,” after a ride of nine miles, but little cultivation appeared; the forest-trees and brush still kept their place, except that a few “runs” were becoming cleared. “Liverpool” is only a scattered village, containing some neat houses; the colonial hospital is a very splendid building; and the church, which has a tower and clock, is a small but neat brick building.
After passing this neat little village, several farms, with cleared and cultivated land about them, were seen, affording some relief to the dismal character of the Australian jungle. The “green wattle” trees, loaded with blossoms, were abundant, attracting numbers of beautiful insects. This species of acacia is valued as well for its beauty as for the utility of the bark in tanning. It is of rapid growth, but seldom survives more than four or five years.
I arrived at Raby at noon. This farm is the property of W. Riley, Esq.; it is a large and very valuable estate, principally used as a sheep-run; and there are several fine breeds of these very valuable animals. The estate also possesses several acres of arable land, and much more capable of cultivation for grain, &c. but not yet used for that purpose.
Here I had an opportunity of seeing the common opossum of this country, (phalangista vulpina,) one a young female, and the other an old male specimen,[37] (the “young feller” and “old feller” of the blacks.) When the aborigines observe marks of the animal’s claws upon the bark of a tree, they ascend and search in the hollows of the trunk, drag the creature from its place of concealment, (where it remains during the day, feeding at night,) and killing it, convert its carcase into a meal to satisfy their appetites; indeed, even when the blacks have been well fed by the settlers, they seldom refrain from ascending after an opossum, if they observe recent tracks of one on the trunk of a tree, which their keen vision soon enables them to do. The stomachs of these animals were distended with clover, grass, and the young leaves of the eucalypti trees. The odour which emanated from their bodies during dissection was of that camphorated kind which might be expected to proceed from their feeding on the foliage of those trees which are well known to possess that peculiar smell. The fur of the opossum is used at Sydney by the hat-manufacturers, and may be likewise valuable for other purposes; the natives spin it, in their rude manner, into small cord, from which they manufacture their bags called netbuls.[38]
The opinion which appears generally to prevail, that prisoners of the crown are placed in the colony in a better situation than free men, there is too much reason for regarding as correct. They are well-fed and clothed, take good care to be never overworked, and have an hospital, with the best attendance, when sick. An assigned servant or convict may be correctly defined as an individual who is well fed and clothed—insolent and indolent—and takes care that the little work he has to perform is badly done. When sick, which often proceeds from lying idle too long in the sun, he walks to the hospital; and, from the exertion, together with the thoughts of “bleeding, blistering, and physic,” he soon recovers, and returns to his master, to again undergo the fatigue of doing little or nothing. One of these characters applied for his ticket of leave, but soon returned, wishing again to be employed by his former master, if only for his food; at the same time observing, that he was better off before, in bondage, than he was now, partially free—so his fellow servants persuaded him to send the ticket back, and say, “it was all a mistake.”
The following anecdote may serve to illustrate the misery an iron gang occasions to spirit drinkers. A convict was once weighed by his comrades, and the weight at that time marked with chalk upon the barn door. A short time after this took place, he was sentenced for an offence to an iron gang for six weeks. After the term of his punishment had expired, and he returned to his master, he was observed to be in a stouter and more robust condition than before; his comrades again weighed him, to see what he had gained in flesh, if not in any moral benefit, by his punishment; when it was ascertained he had gained twenty pounds. As this man had, when on the farm, been continually toping, and as, when with the iron gang, he had no opportunity of continuing his potations, that circumstance may have occasioned his increased good health and condition. This may be a hint, therefore, to send all the sick whose illness may arise principally from habitual drunkenness, instead of an hospital, to an iron gang for a short period.
The London pickpockets are considered to make the best shepherds in the colony, as it suits their naturally idle habits; the industrious labourer cannot endure the very wearisome and lazy employment of looking after sheep; the petty larcener soon gets attached to his woolly charges, and the sheep, no doubt, by a natural instinct, to him; and thus the animals are tended with some degree of care; but the regular workman, detesting the occupation, (unless incapacitated from a more active employment, by age or accident,) seldom takes any interest in the valuable property entrusted to his care; the former are, therefore, to be preferred. The shepherds, when tending their flocks in the pasturage, wile away their leisure time by manufacturing coarse but durable straw hats.
There is, no doubt, much truth in the remark I have heard in the colony, that some of the lower orders contrive to get government servants assigned to them, ostensibly for the purpose of cultivating the soil, but in reality to assist in plundering. This may also be inferred from the very limited means they can otherwise have for procuring a livelihood. As a veil to such practices, and to lull any suspicion that might be created, they dig, and plant a few potatoes and other vegetables, in a small spot of ground, laid out near their bark residence, as a garden; and the crown prisoners are procured ostensibly to assist in cultivating this “bit of earth;” and thus the vegetable garden affords a cloak to many crimes.
Convicts ought (if by transportation any punishment is intended) to be sent, according to the nature of their crimes, to the whole of our colonies, whether in the East and West Indies, coast of Africa, &c. &c. solely for the purpose of being employed upon the public works, and free emigration to be encouraged to Australia, Cape, &c. on a very extended scale. The influence of the emancipist class of the New South Wales population is great, and they are also possessed of great wealth. As wealth is one degree of power, they must be regarded both as an influential and powerful body. There is also that system adopted, which is much to be regretted. I allude to no distinction being made between those banished for trivial offences, and those who have committed deeper crimes. Many atrocious characters are assigned to persons of the highest respectability, well clothed and fed; and from them often have I witnessed most unbounded insolence: so that a stranger would imagine the master to be under obligations to the servant, and would be astonished when told that the servant was a convicted felon.
On the 17th of September, I left Raby, in company with Mr. Henry O’Brien, for the Yas country, intending to visit several parts of the Bathurst district by the way. Our mode of travelling was on horseback. We passed “Fleurs,” (formerly Baily Park,) the property of R. Jones, Esq.: it is a neat farm, with extensive sheep runs; and several suitable spots of land were in progress of being laid out as vineyards. The vine having now become an object of cultivation over most parts of the colony, and the prolific bearing of fruit[39] in a very short period of time after the cuttings have been planted evidently proves that the Australian soil is extremely suitable for its cultivation.
From the sameness of the forest scenery in this colony it is difficult even for one endowed with a large development of locality in his cranium to regain the right path, on making a deviation, in however slight a degree, from it. As we, for a short time, were in this predicament, it afforded a practical instance of what I had only heard before, as sometimes occurring: we, consequently, did not arrive at “Erskine Park” the residence of Mr. Campbell, until two P.M., who received us in the kindest manner: this was an agreeable farm, and the view from the mount near the house was extensive and beautiful.
After a short rest and refreshment, we resumed our journey, passed a neat farm, belonging to the Reverend Mr. Marsden, and, coming upon the western road, crossed it, and, taking a bush path for a distance of probably four or five miles, passed the cottage and extensive farm belonging to Captain P. P. King, R. N., and, two or three miles further, arrived at a gate, which had near it a board requesting persons passing to “shut the gate, and oblige John Harris.” This, after having attained with our horses the other side of the gate, we acceded to, and, passing “Shute Park,” the property of Dr. Harris, we arrived, late in the evening, at Clydesdale, the farm of Mr. Tompson, where we remained for the night, heartily tired, after a sultry ride across the country of thirty-five miles.
The great deficiency of animation in the Australian vegetation, except when in flower, casts a gloom over, rather than exhilarates the mind of the traveller, producing none of those mental delights which the liveliness of the vegetable kingdom, combined with picturesque scenery, excites in other countries. As the traveller journeys through the Australian forests, there is a sameness, which creates a degree of melancholy feeling, excepting when the Angophora lanceolata, or apple-tree[40] of the colonists is seen, when its more verdant foliage and elegant growth imparts some degree of animation and beauty, particularly when contrasted with the other forest trees about it. When we came upon a cultivated spot, where the young wheat was springing up, together with the lucerne fields, it formed a smiling feature in the landscape, and a most agreeable relief from the sameness of the bush of New South Wales.
The Melaleuca, or tea-tree, was very abundant in some parts of the forests, attaining the elevation of thirty-five to forty feet, and a diameter of nearly two feet: the bark is nearly as smooth as velvet, and, like most of the Australian trees, is deciduous: the wood is stated to be very durable, and, the leaves being formerly used as a substitute for tea, it still retains the name of “Tea-tree” among the colonists. There is sometimes much difficulty experienced, when travelling through the wild Australian country, in finding the habitation to which the traveller may be proceeding; for, until he may be close upon it, or a patch of cultivation peeping through a small opening in the dense forest directs him to the farm, as the cultivated land is usually near the house, or, at all events, no great distance from it, he may wander very far from his destined resting place even after having been close to it without its being visible. The remainder of the estate is used as “runs” for sheep or cattle; but in this country (Cumberland) there are but few sheep-runs, as the proprietors of the estates have, for the most part, “runs” from seventy to two hundred miles inland, where the sheep have better pasturage, and there is more facility for washing the fleeces, during the shearing season. About Clydesdale farm, as well as other estates in the vicinity of this part of the country called the “South Creek,” there are patches of a fine red clay soil, which has been found very productive when laid out as vineyards.
On the following morning we left Clydesdale, retraced our path, came upon the western road, and, continuing our journey, passed Penrith, and arrived at Emu Ford, close to which a very handsome and well-furnished inn has recently been erected. Having crossed the Ford (a part of the Nepean river) in a punt, we were on the Emu plains. The appearance of these fertile plains, situated at the base of the commencement of the Blue Mountain range, was very beautiful. The weather had been stormy and showery, but, at this time, the squall having passed away, the sun shone with brightness upon the green fields on and about the Nepean river; and the neat houses, scattered profusely about this charming spot, produced a very pleasing landscape.
At this part of our journey, we were joined by Mr. Edward Cox, of Mulgoa, who, travelling partly in the same direction as ourselves, had agreed to accompany us. We ascended “Lapstone Hill,” where the road commenced over the extensive Blue Mountain range, and soon after arrived, in a heavy rain squall, at the Pilgrim Inn, where we enjoyed, from the bleakness of the weather, a blazing wood fire and an excellent dinner. The view from Lapstone Hill, on gaining its summit, was very splendid: a large extent of country appeared from this elevated site: the Nepean river was seen winding its course through lands rich for pasturage, as well as in the cultivation of grain. During the harvest season, the prospect must be much increased both in richness and beauty. The situation of Windsor was pointed out; but a haze being over the distant village, the houses were not distinguishable. Regent Ville, the beautiful residence and farm of Sir John Jamieson, was included in the view.
About this place there was a great variety of flowering shrubs, among which the Dianella cærulea, and a variety or species with white flowers, were abundant; but the season (particularly on this bleak range) was not yet sufficiently advanced for Flora to distribute all her beauties, without the bright sun to enliven them. The rapidly advancing summer will, however, soon strew the earth with a thicker carpeting of floral beauties, which the earlier spring about Sydney had already brought forth in such an infinite profusion. It is difficult to eradicate from our minds early impressions; thus we find those who have been accustomed to regard plants from foreign climes, nursed in the conservatories at home, with a certain degree of veneration, even here still retain their former feelings towards them; until by a residence in a country where they constantly meet the eye, and from their profusion, become annoying weeds, early impressions pass away, and they are regarded as valueless because common. Thus we may say it is with mankind, both in a civilized and savage state of society; most things are estimated for their rarity.
I recollect, when at the Cape, riding to Constantia; on the road, flowers gay and magnificent in colour, were passed, and I thought there would be no termination either to their number or variety. On arriving at that little paradise of nectar, an invitation was given me to view the garden. I accepted it with pleasure, thinking that many rare specimens of the Cape Flora would now be laid before me; but such an expectation, was not, however, to be realized. The beautiful and fragrant rose, the simple pink, or the brilliantly coloured carnation, the sweet scented scabious, the mignonette, and the Digitalis purpurea, or Foxglove, (which latter having flowered for the first time in that country was held in very high estimation,) as well as many of the hybrid productions so abundant in Europe, were alone prized here; the others, so much admired by the stranger, were regarded only as weeds. All this, however, thought I, on reflection, is perfectly natural; here, our plants are rare, and theirs, worthless to them, are new to us, and, consequently, nursed with care in the green-houses at home. But a lady just arrived from England at the Cape, could hardly be persuaded that she might gather the flowers seen growing in such profusion and beauty around, and which she was accustomed to regard as exotics at home.
The inns in the Australian colony are neat and elegant, well supplied, and charges very moderate. We left the “Pilgrim Inn” about three o’clock, P.M., and proceeded on our journey through an excellent road over the Blue Mountains, which is formed upon a dividing ridge of this mountainous range; on each side thick forests, deep romantic glens, occasionally enlivened by beautiful flowering shrubs, formed the landscape scenery around us. After passing a great number of “forest oaks,” (Casuarina torulosa,) whose dark green filiform foliage had a peculiar appearance, and “turpentine trees,”[41] (Tristania albicans,) which lined the sides of the road, and extended into the interior of the forest, intermingled with other trees and shrubs, we reached “Springwood,” at which place a corporal’s guard was stationed, principally for the purpose of escorting prisoners attached to the iron gangs from one station to another.
As we made the gradual ascent of this mountainous but excellent road, the scenery began to develope itself, until the prospect before us had assumed a romantic and in a high degree picturesque appearance: there was a distant view of the Appin, Windsor, and other districts, like a sea of country in the distance; near us were wild deep-wooded glens, to the bottom of which the eye could not reach. On another side were mountains heaped on mountains of various forms, and for the most part densely wooded, all combining to form a landscape of a grand and impressive character. There was, however, a deficiency of water in the view, an element which adds so much to the natural beauties of all landscape scenery; by its presence the picturesque as well as fertile appearance of the country would have been much increased. The atmosphere upon this elevated range was colder and bleaker than we had experienced on the low land; it seemed as if we had been removed to another climate, and the wind, which blew fresh, was so piercingly cold, as the sunset approached, as to render our warm cloaks of much service.
As we advanced on our journey, by the continued gradual ascent, the cold increased; even the shrubs had a stunted and miserable appearance, which gave a desolate aspect to the country about us, indicating a great difference of climate in this spot in comparison with the lower part of the range from whence we had departed only a few hours before. The sunset brought a still keener air, and with joy we hailed the bridge and habitations of a station called the “Weather-boarded Hut,” our place of rest for the night, and a termination to our journey of thirty-six miles this day. On hearing the tramping of our horses, the door of a neat little inn (which now supplied the place of a rude bark hut) was opened for the travellers, and a blazing fire cheered us by its appearance in this desolate-looking spot.
It was not long before we were happy to find ourselves seated in the warm room, and busy preparations making for our supper, for which we were prepared, as we found that “the keen air is a marvellous provoker of appetites;” and as, when seated snugly within this dwelling, we heard the cold wintry blast, which in this elevated region is felt through the greater part of the year, passing in gusts, we congratulated ourselves on the contrast we experienced in our present comfortable situation. The “Weather-boarded hut” is a military station for a serjeant’s guard, placed to escort prisoners of road and iron gangs, as they are removed from one station to another. It was formerly very unhealthy for the troops, occasioned by the bad construction of their habitations, and the bleakness of situation; but since more commodious dwellings have been erected, fully capable of resisting the severity of the weather, it has become more healthy.
We enjoyed a plentiful supper of tea, toast, bacon, eggs, &c., but there was no milk; the excellent reason given for its absence being the death of the cow a few days previous, not that I was surprised at the animal’s death, but only how any living creature could subsist even for a few days in such a place. When we asked our attendant why he did not get another cow, he replied, “Because it would not survive long!” No wonder, thought I; for where in this desolate place could sufficient provender be found for the unfortunate beast to sustain life?
After seeing our horses fed, and placed in a warm and comfortable stable, with a good bed for the night, (for in the stables at the colonial inns, horses require as much to be looked after when travelling as at home, for ostlers are in this country much of the same species, or perhaps a worse genus, having similar peculating habits,) we retired to our beds, and slept soundly, in spite of the strong gusts of wind which swept furiously by our little dwelling.