The town of Tamworth is pleasantly situated at the foot of a bold chain of mountains and on the Peel River. The soil on the flats is very rich, and has been occupied and under cultivation for years; and on the border of the town is situate the famous Little Paradise garden, a most lovely and charming resort during the summer months, which is duly appreciated by the citizens and those visitors who may be staying in the town for a few weeks’ change.
Skirting the foot of the ranges, with the river flats on the right cut up into farms and paddocks of every size, and tending eastward and northward, with signs of cultivation and occupation on every hand, we at length reach the Moonbies, and commence in earnest our climb to the tablelands of New England.
Onwards and upwards, following the course of a romantic-looking stream, containing some beautiful pools of clear, sparkling water, at one of which, where an overshot dam had been constructed, we pull up for a few minutes to replenish our water supply. Then, still onwards and upwards, we at length reach the summit, the first station on the tableland being the Macdonald River, 208 miles from Newcastle, a splendid stream of water, cool and clear-looking, and enough to make a dweller in the back blocks suffering from drought turn green with envy.
As it is now nearly six o’clock and darkness is setting down over the land, my powers of observation are for the time restricted, and can merely discern that we are passing through rocky granite country of poor character, although where patches have been cleared and ring-barked, it shows decided improvement, on past Walcha Road, Kentucky and Uralla. At 7.40 p.m., we alight cold and hungry at Armidale, 260 miles, where tea is provided, and for a cold, cheerless, uncomfortable meal, the tea at Armidale “takes the cake.” As the air is piercingly cold no fire is visible in the dining-room, whilst the viands are neither tempting nor appetising, but the fifteen minutes allowed soon expire and away we go again, and still rising we cross Ben Lomond—the highest point of elevation on any railway in New South Wales, it being 4471 feet above the sea level—302 miles from Newcastle, about a quarter to ten. Coiled up in a corner of the carriage with my rug wrapped round me I make myself as comfortable as possible, fall fast asleep, and do not awake until we reach our destination at Tenterfield, the present terminus of the line, at five minutes past one in the morning, and bitterly cold we find it on stepping out of the carriage and making our way to the coach in waiting to convey us to Browne’s Hotel, where fortunately a good fire and a warm welcome await us, but we are not long before turning in, being anxious to obtain a few hours rest in a comfortable bed before resuming the journey. At 5 o’clock Wednesday morning we are roused up by a knock at the door and a voice saying, “Breakfast will be ready in a few minutes,” and shortly afterwards appear in the breakfast-room where a well cooked and appetising repast is quickly placed upon the table, to which we do ample justice, and a few minutes past six take our seats on the box of Cobb & Co.’s coach with luggage aboard, to compass the 13 or 14 miles of road between Tenterfield and Wallangarra on the border and the terminus of the Queensland line.
Our driver is “Old Larry,” a well known whip on the Northern roads, and quite a character in his way, so that we have a remarkably pleasant drive in the crisp mountain air, and being well wrapped up we defy the cold, for it is cold without a doubt, many of the little pools by the wayside being coated with ice, whilst the frost in the valleys is thick and heavy, and the air ten degrees colder than on the summit of the hills, where the beams of the rising sun are dispersing the mists and warming the atmosphere. The steam rises from the horses in the frosty air, but they are staunch and good, and about eight o’clock we cross the border, and shortly afterwards transfer ourselves and luggage from the coach to the train at the township of Wallangarra, on the Queensland side.
I am afraid this township has not a very bright future before it, the surrounding country being of remarkably poor quality and evidently incapable of maintaining anything like a large population, and I should fancy that the branch of the Royal Bank of Queensland established there can hardly pay expenses, whilst the hotelkeepers must have all their work cut out to make both ends meet. However, I wish them all sorts of good luck—for any man deserves it who would live in such an out-of-the-way hole.
Our train starts about half-past eight and is not long in running into Stanthorpe, formerly a very thriving town and the centre of a large and important tin-mining industry, but judging from what we saw during the few minutes the train stopped, I should say now that the principal residents are goats and Chinamen; in fact, the place seems almost handed over to the Chinkies, and I hear that the Chinese Commissioners on their overland journey to Brisbane had a high old time of it here with their countrymen during their short stay, being driven round to the principal mines in the vicinity, and being made much of generally, to say nothing of the wine consumed in their honor.
Granite rocks and boulders are the principal features of interest as we steam along, but a few miles out of Stanthorpe the line follows the course of a lovely looking valley for some distance, giving us some charming views of mountain scenery from our coign of vantage, we having secured a very comfortable compartment right at the rear of the train, having a platform on which we can stand and view the surroundings and have a smoke in peace and comfort whilst viewing the line of rails disappear in our rear. The country shortly afterwards begins to improve, and as we near Warwick some grand agricultural land dotted here and there with farms comes into view, the train presently coming to a standstill at what will shortly be the main station, on the eastern side of the town. A goods shed has already been completed and the station buildings now in course of erection will bear favorable comparison with anything of their kind along the line, being built in a most substantial manner of a very superior kind of freestone, which I was informed was obtained at a quarry about twelve miles distant to the eastward, where there is an inexhaustible supply. After a few minutes’ delay we steam slowly across the Condamine River over a substantial bridge, and following a bend of the river to the westward, pull up at the present main station where twenty minutes is allowed for dinner, and a right good meal is served about half-past twelve, to which we do full justice, our five o’clock breakfast at Tenterfield having vanished into the mists of the past by this time—the viands being plentiful, the cookery excellent, and the country girl who waits upon us very attentive, the charge also being moderate—two shillings—and for the life of me I cannot understand the difference in the tariff on the overland journey between Melbourne and Brisbane. At Seymour, in Victoria, they give you a splendid tea for eighteen-pence, but for one early breakfast at Albury, and for any other meal on the New South Wales lines nothing less than half-a-crown is charged, so that protected Victoria will certainly compare favorably with freetrade New South Wales in that respect, whilst Queensland strikes a balance between the two, and gives you as good a meal as either of them for two shillings. However, the bell rings and again we take our scats shortly to commence our journey over the far-famed Darling Downs, as soon after leaving Warwick the panorama opens out and some magnificent stretches of country meet the eye on every side, the view being enchanting in the extreme, more especially as we are favoured with exceptionally fine weather, whilst the temperature is becoming decidedly warmer, making travelling far more pleasant than it was during the cold hours of the night and early morning coming through New England. Grand agricultural country this, as well as pastoral, farms being thickly dotted over the landscape, whilst splendid stacks of hay, visible at various stations, speaks well for the forethought of those who, having doubtless learnt a few severe lessons during our seasons of drought, have made preparations for the future. Passing Allora, a thickly populated farming district, with signs of cultivation visible on every hand, we pass over some splendid rolling downs divided into paddocks, and evidently forming a portion of the famous Clifton Estate, in which we discern some grand specimens of pure Devon and grade cattle, whose condition speaks volumes for the richness of the pasture, the water supply evidently being obtained from wells, with pumps worked by means of windmills of the solid-wheel type, numbers of which can be seen at work as we pass along, with cattle grouped around the troughs and tanks in their vicinity, whilst the prospect extends almost as far as the eye can reach.
A splendid hare is handed to the guard at one of the Clifton crossings, and we shortly afterwards pull up at Clifton Station, where the passing of the train appears to be the event of the day in the eyes of a few bushmen congregated under the verandah of the Clifton Arms; whilst the horses hitched here and there show that the arrival of the mail is evidently of some importance to the settlers resident in the vicinity.
The country continues of the same splendid description past King’s Creek and Cambooya, where the south-western traffic, via Leyburn, Inglewood, and Goondiwindi, joins the railway line, and where a splendid reserve is available for the carriers on that road. Still on, through grand farming country, passing under the road leading to Toowoomba through Drayton, past one or two small platforms and we pull up for a few minutes at Gowrie Junction to refresh our engine. Here the main western line from Mitchell, Roma, Yeulba, and Dalby, junctions with the Warwick and Stanthorpe line; and another eight miles, through farms, orchards, and gardens, with soil of the real Toowoomba color, brings us to the capital of the Darling Downs. We run out on a substantial trestle-bridge, and by means of a triangular section of railway back into the station, so that we have a clear run outwards when resuming our journey to Brisbane.