We passed the model farm of Mr. Stanbury and came to Mr. Piesse’s splendid and most interesting mill: all the very newest machinery for turning the ripe corn into flour is here. I thought of our ancestors crushing wheat between stones, and watched the beautiful white stuff coming down the huge cylinders, automatically filling the corn sacks and coming to a dead stop when full, with no assistance from the human hand, while the man who had placed the sack on the cylinder stood by sewing up with twine the last one filled. The click came to notify that a bag was full; it was taken off, and another put on to go through the same process. Tons of refuse from the wheat were being thrown out, and on my asking what was done with it, Mr. Piesse said that it was given to the pigs. This splendid mill was built in 1891, but, in consequence of the rush to goldfields which broke out in 1893, lay idle for nearly two years, all the produce being wanted for chaff, which could not be cut quick enough for the demand.
A great deal of land-clearing is going on in the different selections, and it is interesting to see the forest devil or tree-puller at work. This operates by means of a chain placed round the tree and a lever worked by a man; in about 15 minutes a great tree will come up root and branch, and fall never to rise again.
Ready for Cross-cutting, Denmark Mills
Resuming my journey next morning, I once more sped on by train through the flower-scented country, passing Wagin, Narrogin, famous for oranges; Pingelly, and Beverley (all rich agricultural country). Here we partook of a very good repast, this being the place where many Perth passengers break the journey when going to Albany, or vice versâ; then, after a further run of 20 miles, we stopped at the pretty little town of York, on the banks of the Avon river. It nestles in a valley almost surrounded by green hills, and as I walked across the bridge, built of jarrah-wood, that spans the pretty river, I thought I had never seen a more pastoral or a prettier place. The town is in two parts, one each side of the Avon, which is crossed by three bridges. The pale yellow fields of corn, the pretty houses on the hillsides, the beautiful cattle grazing, and the fruit growing in profusion in the various gardens and orchards, make a charming picture. Quantities of sandal-wood grow close to the town, and constitute a valuable industry; the jam-wood also thrives well, and the scent of it makes one imagine oneself in the vicinity of a raspberry-jam factory. The headquarters of Parker’s Eucalyptus Distillery are here. The distillery is at Dangin, about 40 miles off, where the beautiful fruits that grow at York are preserved by the same firm, and are quite tempting to look at and exquisite to taste. Farming is very advanced in York. I was shown some wheat from a farm, a portion of a crop that yielded 32 bushels per acre. The farmers employ the very latest improvements in machinery, and say that, though expensive at first, they find these cheaper in the end, the expense of working the land being greatly reduced by using the newest strippers, &c. It speaks well for the productive capacity of the district that 24,000 bushels of splendid wheat were waiting, at the Empire Milling Company’s storehouse, to be turned into flour.
Driving from York to Greenhills, through the Avon valley, I passed Mr. Jesse Scott’s magnificent farm. Imagine a cornfield, or, I should say, a succession of cornfields, of 450 acres, on some parts of which the oats had attained the height of 7 feet. These portions of the fields would yield 60 bushels to the acre, and the whole 450 acres would average 35 bushels per acre. It was, indeed, a magnificent sight. On other parts of Mr. Scott’s property rye, buffalo, and prairie grass were making great progress, while 12 acres were planted with vines.
YORK