The Rev. John Youl, formerly a missionary at Tahiti, was the chaplain of Port Dalrymple. His labors were divided between George Town and Launceston, and until his arrival no clergyman had ever visited the northern districts of the island.[133] In 1819, he made a tour, and baptised sixty-seven children, and married forty-one couple; many of whom were recognised as such before his interposition.[134] He was accustomed to call his congregation together by the sound of an iron barrel, which was swung to a post, and struck by a mallet; or he announced his arrival by walking through the settlement in his canonical dress.
Launceston was destitute of a clerical resident until 1824, when Mr. Youl returned with the establishment from George Town. The people were sometimes weeks without a service, and three years without a clergyman. Shortly after, during a visit of the governor, the church was crowded; an event said to be unparalleled in the history of Launceston. The church was a wooden building of small dimensions: sometimes occupied as a court, sometimes as a temporary sleeping place for prisoners; sometimes as a stable.[135]
The disposition of Mr. Youl was amiable, and his professional reputation unblemished: placed in a station of little promise, he cultivated the minds and affections of the young, and discountenanced vices he could not extirpate.
The first Roman catholic priest established at Hobart Town, was the Rev. Peter Connolly. Less polished than his protestant friend, Mr. Knopwood, he was not less genial in his temper: the pastor of a people drawn chiefly from the Irish peasantry, he well understood their character. He received a grant from the crown, and erected a humble chapel and dwelling-house; which he ascribed partly to the charity, and partly the penance of his flock. He used a common brush to sprinkle them with holy water, and spoke of their faults without much softness or reserve. Occasionally an execution required his services at Launceston, otherwise a place long overlooked by the priesthood.[136]
The return of the Sabbath was unattended in the country with a religious welcome. Many employed their time in hunting: the more scrupulous in visits, and the profane in labor or intemperance. A gentleman, now distinguished among the wesleyans, was found by his neighbour ploughing by the road side on Sunday morning: both himself and his men had forgotten the day. Yet at the houses of all, a minister of religion, of any name, met a cheerful entertainment and a willing audience. Whether that the presence of an intelligent stranger is itself a grateful interruption to rural solitude, or that the miseries resulting from sin were too apparent for dispute, the utility of religion was never openly questioned; and it is certain, that few people were less inclined to reject the instructions, or to affront the ministers of religion.
FOOTNOTES:
[121] Collins, vol. i. p. 498.
[122] Life of John Mason Good.
[123] Holt, vol. ii. p. 97.
[124] Bigge's Report, p. 104.