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 façades, 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.
CHAPTER XII.
Lake District of Tasmania.—Mount Wellington.—Kangaroos.—The Big Trees.—A Serenade.—The Albatross.—Marksmanship at Sea.—Dust of the Ocean.—A Storm.—Franklin's Proposition.—A Feathered Captive.—Bluff Oysters.—Most Southerly Hotel in the World.—Invercargill.—Historical Matters.—Geographical.—The Climate of New Zealand.—Colonial Hospitality.