In pages like these, anything resembling an argument on the "transportation question," would be sadly out of place. To avoid thinking or hearing it was impossible, for during my second stay in Melbourne, it was a never-failing subject of conversation. In Victoria (which is only forty-eight hours' journey from Van Diemen's Land), I have seen the bad results of the mingling of so many transports and ticket-of-leave men among the free population. On the other hand, I have heard from many and good authorities, of the substantial benefits conferred on Sydney and New South Wales by convict labour. It is difficult to reconcile these two statements, and it is an apple of discord in the colonies.
Whilst in Victoria, I met with a great variety of emigrants, and I was much struck by the great success that seems to have attended on almost all of those who came out under the auspices of Mrs. Chisholm. No one in England can fully appreciate the benefits her unwearied exertions have conferred upon the colonies. I have met many of the matrons of her ships, and not only do they themselves seem to have made their way in the world, but the young females who were under their care during the voyage appear to have done equally well. Perhaps one way of accounting for this, is the fact that a great many of those going out by the Chisholm Society are from Scotland, the inhabitants of which country are peculiarly fortunate in the colonies, their industry, frugality, and "canniness" being the very qualities to make a fortune there. "Sydney Herbert's needlewomen" bear but a bad name; and the worst recommendation a young girl applying for a situation can give, is to say she came out in that manner—not because the colonists look down on any one coming out by the assistance of others, but because it is imagined her female associates on the voyage cannot have been such as to improve her morality, even if she were good for anything before.
Much is said and written in England about the scarcity of females in Australia, and the many good offers awaiting the acceptance of those who have the courage to travel so far. But the colonial bachelors, who are so ready to get married, and so very easy in their choice of a wife, are generally those the least calculated, in spite of their wealth, to make a respectable girl happy; whilst the better class of squatters and diggers—if they do not return home to get married, which is often the case—are not satisfied with any one, however pretty, for a wife, unless her manners are cultivated and her principles correct.
To wander through Melbourne and its environs, no one would imagine that females were as one to four of the male population; for bonnets and parasols everywhere outnumber the wide-awakes. This is occasioned by the absence of so many of the "lords of creation" in pursuit of what they value—many of them, at least—more than all the women in the world—nuggets. The wives thus left in town to deplore their husbands' infatuation, are termed "grass-widows"—a mining expression.
And now two out of the three weeks of our party's stay in Melbourne has expired, during which time a change (purely personal) had made my brother's protection no longer needed by me. MY wedding-trip was to be to England, and the marriage was to take place, and myself and CARO SPOSO to leave Australia before my brother departed for the Ovens diggings. The 'C——,' a fine East Indiaman, then lying in the bay, was bound for London. We were to be on board by the 12th of November.
This of course gave me plenty to do, and my last morning but one in Melbourne was dedicated to that favourite feminine occupation—which, however, I detest—I mean, shopping. This being accomplished to my great dissatisfaction—for all I bought could have been obtained, of a better description, for half the price in England—I was preparing to return home by way of Collins Street, when my name in familiar accents made me suddenly pause. I instantly recognised the lady who addressed me as one of the English governesses in a "finishing" school where three years of my girlhood were passed. Julia ——— was a great favourite among us; no one could have done otherwise than admire the ability and good-humour with which she fulfilled her many arduous duties. Perhaps, of all miserable positions for a well-educated and refined young person to be placed in, that of "little girls' teacher" in a lady's school is the worst.
Her subsequent history I learnt as we walked together to my present abode.
Her mother had had a cousin in Sydney, who being old and unmarried, wrote to her, promising to settle all his property, which was considered large, upon her daughter and herself, his only living relatives, provided they came out to the colonies to live with him until his death. A sum of money to defray the expenses of the voyage was enclosed. This piece of unexpected good news was received with pleasure, and the invitation gladly accepted. They sailed for Sydney. On arriving there, they found that some speculation, in which he was greatly involved, had failed; and the old man had taken the loss so greatly to heart, that he died only five months after having dispatched the letter to his English relatives.
Poor Julia was placed in a most painful position. In England she had scarcely been able to support her invalid mother by her own exertions, but in a strange country and without friends these difficulties seemed increased. Her first act was to look over the advertizing columns of the papers, and her eye caught sight of one which seemed exactly to suit her. It was, "Wanted, a governess to take the entire charge of a little girl, the daughter of a widower, and also an elderly lady, to superintend the domestic arrangements of the same family during the continual absence of the master at another station." Julia wrote immediately, and was accepted. In the occasional visits that her pupil's father paid to his little girl, he could not fail to be struck by the sweet disposition and many other good qualities of her governess, and it ended by his making her his wife. I felt at liberty to congratulate her, for she looked the picture of happiness. I saw her again next day, when she showed me the advertisement which had been the means of such a change in her circumstances.
The day before my departure was a painful one, so many farewells to be taken of dear friends whom I should never meet again.