GOVERNMENT BORE, NEAR MUNDARING
The train that carried us back passed through miles and miles of everlasting flowers. The ground on each side was covered with a carpet of them. Acres first of white, then of pink, blue, yellow and purple, charm the eye, and the kangaroo paw, standing up in its vivid hues of crimson and green, added a still further charm to the scene. On we went through the country robed in its spring garb of beauty, until we came to Smith’s Mill, named after Frederick Smith, a young gentleman explorer in 1836, who died of exhaustion at this place after having shown courage and endurance of hardship worthy of his cousin, Florence Nightingale. Here I left the train in order to visit the Darling Nurseries, which, although it is only seven years since they were first planted, are remarkable for luxuriance. The trees, with their loads of fruit, were weighed down with their own excellence. Thousands of citron-trees, 50,000 apple-trees, peaches and nectarines in enormous quantities, plums, pears and prunes in profusion, persimmons and other Japanese fruits were to be seen; and as for the flowers, the scent of them was almost overpowering. The roses were especially fine; all possible sorts seemed to be growing here. The foliage of the English and Canadian elm-trees and poplars formed a pleasing contrast to the forest vegetation around. It is only a few minutes’ walk from the station to this charming place, which is but 16 miles from Perth; and any one wanting a change from the city should take an afternoon and visit it.
Five miles from Mr. Hawter’s nursery garden is the Haughton Vineyard, now owned by the Mundaring Wine Company. The vines grow at an altitude of 1000 feet above the sea-level. The wine is delicious. There is a notable grape growing there called “Tarbinet Sauvignon,” from which is produced the celebrated Lafitte claret. Mundaring seems to be a congenial home to the vine, and its productive powers are of a high order.
Another charming place to see, 28 miles from Perth, is Kelmscott, nestling in its bed of flowers. Everything looked delightful on the morning that I went there. Nature never appeared more beautiful; it seemed cruel to pluck the flowers from their beds and crush the sweet grass with the horse’s hoofs. I felt almost like Mr. Ruskin, who was such a passionate defender of nature that he would never pluck a flower. Two miles from Kelmscott is another sweet little village called Armadale. I put up at the picturesque inn and enjoyed a few days’ quiet rest among the beautiful surroundings. The orchards, gardens, and vineyards here are so many that it would take a whole book to describe them. Sir Arthur Stepney and Mr. Jull own the largest properties, and have recently equipped a vinery. Only a few years ago immense jarrah and cool white and red gum trees stood in undisputed possession. Now fruits of all kinds are growing in luxuriance. Oranges, lemons, and sub-tropical fruits seem to flourish especially well. So do flowers; blue lechenaultias, coral creeper, heaths of all colours, heliotrope, primroses, pink, and yellow blossoms nestle in the grass. Lovely bouquets can be made from the delicate grey smoke-flower and the pink immortelles, and will last a long time without water. Six miles farther on we came to Jarrahdale. As its name imports, this is the home of the jarrah-tree, and there are large timber mills called the Jarrahdale Jarrah Mills, owned by a London company with a capital of £300,000. This company have the advantage of the fine harbour of Rockingham, where large ships call to convey the timber to all parts of the world. There are five mills on this property. I stayed at the town one night, and attended a concert got up by the employées, which was quite enjoyable, many of them being really good singers and dancers. There is a nice hall, built, of course, with the handsome jarrah-wood, which polishes so beautifully that it looks like mahogany. It never shrinks or warps, so that for a dancing-floor it cannot be excelled. There has been a great demand from South Africa for this wood, which is almost impervious to the ravages of time. Piles that have been driven into the River Swan at the Causeway, and others into the sea at Fremantle, have been taken up after 57 years and found to be uninjured, having resisted the attacks of the sea worm. This wood is one of the best for building purposes, for it resists the white ant and is the least inflammable kind known; yet when burning it throws out immense heat and makes splendid charcoal. There are many charcoal-burners about who are making a good living. Iron bolts and nails driven into the jarrah do not loosen from rust, and there is no doubt the jarrah is the principal tree of the colony. It has come triumphantly through several severe tests, and is now in great demand all over the world. The Golden West does not depend on her mines alone, but, as Mr. Zeb Lane said last year, “Make no mistake about it, the jarrah of Western Australia will yet pave the streets of many of the leading cities of the world.” The late Mr. Ednie Brown, Conservator of Forests, told me that there were 20,000,000 acres of timbered land in Western Australia valued by an expert at £124,000,000. At present there are 50 sawmills in the colony, employing over 4000 men, and still the demand is much greater than the supply, so that there is a great opening for more capitalists.
Whitby Falls Lunatic Asylum is near Jarrahdale, and the poor souls who inhabit it must, I am sure, find there a real haven of rest. The asylum nestles in a sweet valley at the foot of the Darling Range, and the hills make a grand background. Gardens, large fields and paddocks, with cattle feeding, stretch all round, and close by is a magnificent orchard. Five miles farther on are the famous Serpentine Falls, whose glittering cascades falling among the big rocks and boulders, nearly covered with scented foliage, then bubbling and rippling down the valley in joyous frolic among the sweet flowers and ferns, form an idyllic picture. By many this spot is called the “garden of the colony,” and certainly the luxuriant ferns and flowers seemed to grow more beautiful at every step. The blackboy and red gum trees grew more thickly than in any place I have seen, and where those trees flourish everything seems to grow with extra luxuriance. The blackboy is a most peculiar-looking grass tree, with a rough thick stem and a crown of thick heavy dark green grass, looking at a distance, especially in the twilight, like a real blackboy. The gum from the tree is eagerly eaten by the natives and cattle. It also exudes a resin from the stem, which is used for pitch in thatching the native houses, or Mia-Mias, as well as for other purposes; these trees burn brilliantly. The falls come rapidly down from the Darling Range in picturesque cascades, falling over the crystalline rocks into pools below, thence into the river. Twenty-six miles farther on is Pinjarrah. To see this quiet little place now, one would not imagine that years ago it was the scene of an immense native rising; that the soldiers and mounted police had followed the aborigines for miles, and that here the climax came, and hundreds of natives fell. Things are changed since those days of bloodshed, and the few aborigines left do not seem to bear any ill-will to the white fellow. An old native said to me: “I like white fellow; he take all my land, but he make my house, and my big railway, grow big corn, big potatoes; black fellow do nothing, white fellow know everything, so white fellow do what he like—you give me sixpence?” The black fellow always finishes up any conversation with that request. Pinjarrah is on the Murray river, and the centre of a large agricultural district, where plenty of splendid land is available for the selector. Some economists say that population is pressing on the earth’s productive powers, and that by-and-by there will be a dearth of animal food; yet before mankind is starved out he can become vegetarian, as meat diet is expensive compared with a vegetable one. It is said that twenty acres of land are necessary to feed one man on meat, while the same land under vegetable crops would support a great number. One acre of wheat will support 42 people; one of oats, 84; of potatoes and rice, 176; so let us not despair while the rich land is still wailing for cultivation. Cabbages flourish exceedingly at Pinjarrah, and the climate and soil are well adapted for English fruits. There is quite a thriving village, with good buildings and private houses. From this place I took a drive of 14 miles through rich fruit-growing country to the charming seaside town of Mandurah. Pears, peaches and nectarines loaded the trees, and there is a fine fruit-preserving factory, as well as several factories for preserving fish. The Brighton Hotel is very comfortable, and you can get a vast amount of pleasure at this charming resort. Boating, fishing and shooting can be indulged in to your heart’s content. I had a right merry time; several people I knew were staying there, and I became quite an expert at fishing. Across the ferry from the hotel is the Murray estuary, which is really teeming with fish. The goldfields people patronise Mandurah largely, and many huge catches of fish have been chronicled by them on their return to the fields from their holiday. Very large kingfish are frequently caught with hand-lines. Almost any kind of line will do; it is amusing to see the greedy things snapping at anything you put on the hook. I saw one caught that measured 5 feet in length and weighed 38 lb. Black bream weighing 4 lb. are a common catch. Hosts of crabs are about, making the fishing more exciting than ever. At one time I thought fishing the slowest amusement in the world, but after this experience at Mandurah I am convinced that there is some fascination in it after all. In two days a visitor caught 17 dozen whiting, bream and mullet. The mullet is a delicious fish, more like salmon than anything. Some English people staying at the hotel said it was quite equal to the English salmon. As you may imagine, plenty of well-cooked fish is always supplied at table, and any one requiring a quiet and enjoyable rest from city troubles cannot do better than visit Mandurah, where, in addition to the splendid fishing, other sports can be indulged in, since plenty of good duck, teal and snipe shooting is to be got at the lakes 5 miles out.