The morning after my arrival in Ballarat I proceeded to survey the
town, I was certainly surprised at the fine streets, the large
buildings, and the number of people walking along the broad pathways.
Perhaps my surprise was magnified by the circumstance that nearly
fifteen months had passed since I had been in a large town; and, after
Majorca, Ballarat seemed to me like a capital. After wandering about
the streets for half an hour, I looked into the Court-house, where an
uninteresting case of drunkenness was being heard. I next went into
the adjoining large building, which I found to be the Public Library.
The commodious reading-room was amply supplied with books, magazines,
and newspapers; and here I amused myself for an hour in reading a new
book. Over the mantel-piece of the large room hangs an oil painting of
Prince Alfred, representing him and his "mates" after the visit they
had made to one of the Ballarat mines. This provision of excellent
reading-rooms--free and open to all--seems to me an admirable feature
of the Victorian towns. They are the best sort of supplement to the
common day-schools; and furnish a salutary refuge for all sober-minded
men, from the temptations of the grog-shops. But besides the Public
Library, there is also the Mechanics' Institute, in Sturt Street; a
fine building, provided also with a large library, and all the latest
English newspapers, free to strangers.

The features of the town that most struck me in the course of the day
were these. First, Sturt Street: a fine, broad street, at least three
chains wide. On each side are large handsome shops, and along the
middle of the road runs a broad strip of garden, with large trees and
well-kept beds of flowers. Sturt Street is on an incline; and at the
top of it runs Ledyard Street, at right angles, also a fine broad
street. It contains the principal banks, of which I counted nine, all
handsome stone buildings, the London Chartered, built on a foundation
of blue-stone, being perhaps the finest of them in an architectural
point of view. Close to it is the famous "Corner." What the Bourse is
in Paris, Wall Street in New York, and the Exchange in London--that is
the "Corner" at Ballarat. Under the verandah of the Unicorn Hotel, and
close to the Exchange Buildings, there is a continual swarm of
speculators, managers of companies, and mining men, standing about in
groups, very like so many circles of betting-men on a race-course.
Here all the mining swindles originate. Specimens of gold-bearing
quartz are shown, shares are bought and sold, new schemes are
ventilated, and old ones revived. Many fortunes have been lost and won
on that bit of pavement.

One man is reckoned as good as another in Ballarat. Even the cad of a
baker's boy has the chance of making "a pile," while the swell broker,
who dabbles in mines and reefs, may be beggared in a few days. As one
of the many instances of men growing suddenly rich by speculation
here, I may mention the following. A short time since, a cobbler at
Ballarat had a present made to him of twenty scrip in a company that
was looking so bad that the shares had become unsaleable. The cobbler
knew nothing of the mine, but he held the scrip. Not only so, but he
bought more at a shilling or two apiece, and he went on accumulating
them, until at the end of the year he had scraped together some two or
three hundred. At length he heard that gold had been struck. He went
to a bank, deposited his scrip certificates, and raised upon them all
the money he could borrow. He bought more shares. They trebled in
value. He held on. They trebled again. At last, when the gold was
being got almost by the bucket, and a great mania for the shares had
set in, the cobbler sold out at 250_l._ a share, and found himself a
rich man. The mine was, I think, the Sir William Don, one of the most
successful in Ballarat, now yielding a dividend of about 2_l._ per
share per month, or a return of about 500 per cent. on the paid-up
capital.

But to return to my description of Ballarat. The town lies in a valley
between two slopes, spreading up on both sides and over the summits.
Each summit is surmounted by a lofty tower, built by the Eastern and
Western Fire Brigades. These towers command a view of the whole place,
and are continually occupied by watchmen, who immediately give the
alarm on the outbreak of fire. The people here say that the Ballarat
Fire Brigade is the smartest in the southern hemisphere; though the
engines are all manned by volunteers. And a fire must be a serious
matter in Ballarat, where so many of the buildings--stores as well as
dwellings--are built entirely of wood. Many of the streets are even
paved with wood.

In the afternoon I ascended the western hill, from which I obtained a
fine bird's-eye view of the town. The large, broad streets, at right
angles to each other, looked well laid out, neat, and clean looking.
What seemed strangest of all was the lazy puffing of the engines over
the claims, throwing out their white jets of steam. But for the width
of the streets, and the cleanness of the place, one might almost have
taken Ballarat for a manufacturing town in Yorkshire, though they have
no flower gardens along the middle of their streets!

In the evening I went to the opera--for Ballarat has an opera! The
piece was 'Faust,' and was performed by Lyster and Smith's company
from Melbourne. The performers did their best, but I cannot say they
are very strong in opera yet at the Antipodes.

After thoroughly doing Ballarat, I set out on my return to Majorca.
There was the same jolting as before, but this time the coach did not
stick in the mud. On reaching Clunes, I resolved to walk straight to
Majorca across the plain, instead of going the roundabout way by the
road. But the straightest route is not always the shortest, as my
experience on this occasion proved. I had scarcely got fairly into the
plain before I found myself in the midst of a succession of
crab-holes. These are irregular depressions, about a yard or so apart,
formed by the washing up of the soil by eddies during floods, and now
the holes were all full of water. It was a difficult and tedious
process to work one's way through amongst them, for they seemed to
dovetail into one another, and often I had to make a considerable
dГ©tour to get round the worst of them. This crab-holey ground
continued for about four miles, after which I struck into the bush,
making for the ranges, and keeping Mount Greenock and Mount Glasgow
before me as landmarks. Not being a good bushman, I suspect I went
several miles out of my way. However, by dint of steady walking, I
contrived to do the sixteen miles in about four hours; but if I have
ever occasion to walk from Clunes again, I will take care to take the
roundabout road, and not to make the journey _en zigzag_ round
crab-holes and through the bush.

Among the other places about here that I have visited were Talbot,
about seven miles distant, and Avoca, about twenty. One of the
occasions of my going to Talbot was to attend a ball given there, and
another to attend a great fГЄte for the benefit of the Amherst
Hospital. Talbot gives its name to the county, though by no means the
largest town in it. The town is very neat and tidy, and contains some
good stone and brick buildings. It consists of one principal street,
with several little offshoots.

The ball was very like a ball at home, though a little more mixed. The
young ladies were some of them very pretty, and nicely dressed--some
in dresses "direct from London"--while a few of the elder ladies were
gorgeous but incongruous. One old lady, in a juvenile dress, wore an
enormous gold brooch, large enough to contain the portraits of several
families. I was astonished to learn the great distances that some of
the ladies and gentlemen had come to be present at the ball. Some had
driven through the bush twenty and even thirty miles; but distance is
thought nothing of here, especially when there is a chance of "meeting
company." The ball was given in the Odd Fellows' Hall, a large square
room. One end of it was partitioned off as a supper-room, and on the
partition was sewn up in large letters this couplet from 'Childe
Harold:'--

"No sleep till morn, when Youth and Pleasure meet,
To chase the glowing hours with flying feet."

And, to speak the truth, the young ladies, as well as the young
gentlemen present, did ample justice to the text. The dancing
continued until daybreak, and we drove back to Majorca as the sun was
rising; but remember it was summer time, in November, when the sun
rises very early.

One little event arose out of this ball which may serve to illustrate
the comparative freeness of up-country manners. A nice young lady,
with whom I danced, asked me if I would not like to be very great
friends with her. "Oh, yes! certainly." And great friends we became at
once. Perhaps she took pity on the stranger boy so far from home. She
asked if I was fond of riding. "Very fond." "Then I will come over to
Majorca, and call upon you, and we shall have a ride in the bush
together." And I was to be sure and have some sweets ready for her, as
she was very fond of them. I took this to be merely a little ball-room
chaff; but judge my surprise when, next afternoon, the young lady rode
up to the bank door and called on me to fulfil my promise,--which I
did, lollipops and all.

A great event in Talbot is the Annual FГЄte, held on the Prince of
Wales's birthday, which is observed as a public holiday in Victoria.
The fГЄte this year was held in aid of the funds of the Amherst
Hospital, a valuable local institution. At this affair the whole
population of the neighbourhood turned out. It began at midday with a
grand procession through the town. Let me endeavour to give you an
idea of the pageant. First came the well-mounted Clunes Lancers, in
their light blue and white uniforms, 150 strong, blue and white
pennons fluttering from their long lances. Then came lines of members
of Friendly Societies, in gay scarfs, accompanied by banners. Then a
good band of music. The Talbot 42nd Sectional Lancers next turn the
corner of the street, gorgeous in scarlet and white. Then comes
something comic--a Welsh lady and gentleman riding a pony barebacked.
These are followed by an Irish couple, also mounted. Then comes a
Highlandman, in a vehicle such as the Highlands never saw, discoursing
music from his bagpipes. A large open boat follows, mounted on a car;
it is filled with sailor-boys in blue and white. This boat is a model
of the 'Cerberus,' the turret-ship that Mr. Reed is building in
England for the defence of Port Phillip. A genuine old salt, with long
white hair, plays the part of admiral. In cocked hat, blue admiral's
coat, and white ducks, he waves his sword frantically, and gives the
word of command to repel boarders; all the while two little cannons in
the model are being constantly fired, reloaded, and fired again. This
noisy exhibition having passed, a trophy representing the Australian
chase appears. A huntsman, dressed in green, blowing his horn, stands
amidst some bushes, holding a handsome leash of hounds; dead kangaroos
and other Australian animals lie around him. Then follow more lancers.
After this comes a huge car, two stories high, with all sorts of odd
characters in it: a clown, with his "Here we are again!" playing
pranks on two sedate-looking Chinamen; a little fairy boy or girl,
flirting with a magician; dragons snapping; strange birds screeching;
three bears, one playing a violin, but the tune it plays is drowned by
the hubbub of noise and bands. A lady, of the time of Elizabeth,
gorgeous in ruffles, follows on horseback. Then knights in armour, one
of them with a stuffed 'possum snarling on the top of his helmet.
Another band. Then the solemn brethren of the Order of Druids, in
white gowns, bald heads, and grey beards. A company of sweeps comes
next, attended by an active Jack-in-the-Green. Now an Indian doctor
appears, smoking a long pipe in his chariot, drawn by a Brahmin bull.
Another band, and then the rear is brought up by more cavalry. There
were seven bands--good ones, too--in the procession, which took full
twenty minutes to pass the hotel, on the balcony of which I stood. I
have seen the London Lord Mayor's Show, but must confess the Talbot
procession beats it hollow.

After the procession, we all adjourned to the race-course, where the
collection for the hospital was to be made. The admission was
eighteen-pence; a good sum for working people to give, yet everybody
was there. There was an amateur Richardson's show, a magician's tent,
Cheap John's merry-go-rounds, and all sorts of amusements to be had by
paying for them; and, above all, there was the bazaar, presided over
by the ladies of Talbot, who succeeded in selling a large quantity of
useless things at the usual exorbitant prices. There was also a large
dancing-platform roofed with canvas, which was very well frequented.
Most popular of all, perhaps, were the refreshment-bars, where the
publicans gave the liquor free, but charged the usual prices for the
good of the hospital fund; and the teetotallers, not to be outdone,
managed a very comfortable tea-room. In short, all the usual
expedients for raising money were cleverly resorted to, and the result
was that between 1400_l._ and 1500_l._ was added to the funds of the
hospital, about 500_l._ of which was taken at the ladies' bazaar.
Altogether, there were not less than 5000 people on the ground, though
I believe the newspapers gave a considerably higher number.

The Avoca races were not very different from races in England. Every
town hereabouts has its races, even Majorca. The Carrisbrook
race-course, about four miles from our town, is considered second to
none in the colony. Avoca, however, is a bigger place, and the races
there draw a much larger crowd. We drove the twenty miles thither by
road and bush-track. The ground was perfectly dry, for there had been
no rain for some time; and, as the wind was in our faces, it drove the
clouds of dust behind us. I found the town itself large and
well-built. What particularly struck me was the enormous width of the
main street,--at least three chains wide. The houses on either side of
the road were so remote from each other that they might have belonged
to different townships. I was told that the reason of this great width
of street was, that the Government had reserved this broad space of
ground, the main street of Avoca forming part of the road to Adelaide,
which may at some future time become a great and crowded highway. One
of the finest buildings in the town is a handsome hotel, built of
stone and brick, provided with a ball-room, billiard-rooms, and such
like. It is altogether the finest up-country place of the kind that I
have seen. Here we put up, and join the crowd of loungers under the
verandah. Young swells got up in high summer costume--cutaway coats,
white hats, and blue net veils--just as at Epsom on the Derby Day.
There are also others, heavy-looking colonials, who have come out
evidently to make a day of it, and are already freely imbibing cold
brandy and water. Traps and cars are passing up and down the street,
in quest of passengers for the race-course, about two miles from the
town.

There we find the same sort of entertainments provided for the public
as on like occasions at home. The course is about a mile and a half in
extent, with the ground well cleared. There is the saddling paddock,
in which the "knowing ones" take great interest; and there are the
usual booths for the sale of refreshments, and especially of drink. In
front of the Grand Stand the betting-men from Melbourne are pointed
out to me,--a sharp, rough-looking set they are, dressed in Tweed
suits and flash ties, wearing diamond rings. One of them, a
blear-eyed, tall, strong man, with bushy brown whiskers, bawling out
his "two to one" on such and such a horse--an ugly-looking
customer--was described to me as "the _second_ biggest blackguard in
Victoria; give him a wide berth." Another of the betting-men was
pointed out to me as having been a guard on the South-Eastern Railway
some ten years ago. I need not describe the races: they were like most
others. There were flat races and hurdle races. Six horses ran for the
District Plate. Four of them came in to the winning-post, running neck
and neck. The race was won by only a head.

My friend remained on the course until it was too late to return to
Majorca that night. As the moon did not rise until towards morning, we
were under the necessity of waiting until then, otherwise we might get
benighted in the bush. We tried to find a bed in the hotel, but in
vain. All the beds and sofas in Avoca were occupied. Even the billiard
tables were engaged for the night.

We set out on our return journey to Majorca just as the moon was
rising. She was only in her second quarter, and did not yet give light
enough to enable us to see the road very clearly, so that we went very
cautiously at first. While my companion drove, I snatched the
opportunity for a sleep. I nodded and dozed from time to time,
wakening up suddenly to find a large bright star blinking before my
eyes. The star sank lower and lower towards the horizon. The
green-gold rays of the morning sun rose up to meet it. The star
hovered between the pale growing light below and the dark blue sky
above. Then it melted away in the glow of sunrise. The half-moon still
cast our shadow on the dusty track. But not for long. The zone of
yellow light in the east grows rapidly larger and brighter. The
brilliant edge of the god of day tips the horizon; a burst of light
follows; and now the morning sun, day's harbinger, "comes dancing up
the east." The summits of the trees far away in the silent bush are
bathed in gold. The near trees, that looked so weird-like in the
moon's half light, are now decked in green. The chill of the night has
departed. It is already broad day. By the time we reach Amherst, eight
miles from Majorca, we are glad to shade ourselves from the blazing
sun. In an hour more we reach our destination, and after breakfast and
a bath, are ready to begin the day's duties.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 13: The population, in 1857, was 4971; in 1861, 21,104. It
is now nearly 50,000.]




CHAPTER XVII.

CONCLUSION OF MAJORCAN LIFE.

VICTORIAN LIFE ENGLISH--ARRIVAL OF THE HOME MAIL--NEWS OF THE
FRANCO-GERMAN WAR--THE GERMAN SETTLERS IN MAJORCA--THE SINGLE
FRENCHMAN--MAJORCAN PUBLIC TEAS--THE CHURCH--THE RANTERS--THE
TEETOTALLERS--THE COMMON SCHOOL--THE ROMAN CATHOLICS--COMMON SCHOOL
FГЉTE AND ENTERTAINMENT--THE MECHANICS' INSTITUTE--FUNERAL OF THE TOWN
CLERK--DEPARTURE FROM MAJORCA--THE COLONY OF VICTORIA.


The reader will observe, from what I have above written, that life in
Victoria is very much like life in England. There are the same people,
the same callings, the same pleasures and pursuits, and, as some would
say, the same follies and vices. There are the same religious bodies,
the same political movements, the same social agencies--Teetotal
Societies, Mechanics' Institutes, Friendly Societies, and such like.
Indeed, Victoria is only another England, with a difference, at the
Antipodes. The character, the habits of life, and tone of thought of
the people, are essentially English.

You have only to see the interest with which the arrival of every mail
from England is watched, to recognise the strength of the tie that
continues to unite the people of the colony with those of the Old
Country. A flag is hoisted over the Melbourne Post Office to announce
its coming, and soon the news is flashed by telegraph all over the
colony. Every local post-office is eagerly besieged by the expecters
of letters and newspapers. Speaking for myself, my most exciting day
in the month was that on which my home letters arrived; and I wrote at
intervals all through the month against the departure of the outgoing
mail.

The excitement throughout the colony became intense when the news
arrived from England of the defeat of the French before Metz. The
first news came by the 'Point de Galle,' and then, six days later,
intelligence was received _viГў_ San Francisco, of the disaster at
Sedan. Crowds besieged the office of the local paper at Talbot when
the mail was telegraphed; and the doors had to be shut to keep them
out until the telegram could be set up in type and struck off. At
first the news was not believed, it was so extraordinary and
unexpected; but the Germans in the town accepted it at once as true,
and began their rejoicings forthwith. The Irish at Talbot were also
very much excited, and wished to have a fight, but they did not
exactly know with whom.

There are considerable numbers of Germans settled throughout the
colony, and they are a very useful and industrious class of settlers.
They are for the most part sober and hard-working men. I must also add
that they minister in no small degree to the public amusement. At
Maryborough they give very good concerts. Here, the only band in the
town is furnished by the German settlers, and being a very good one,
it is in request on all public occasions. The greater number of the
Germans live at MacCullum's Creek, about a mile distant, where they
have recently opened a Verein or Club, celebrating the event, as
usual, by a dance. It was a very gay affair. The frantic Deutschers
and their Fraus danced like mad things--Tyrolese waltzes and
old-fashioned quadrilles. There was a great deal of singing in praise
of Vaterland and Freundschaft, with no end of "Hochs!" They kept it
up, I was told, until broad daylight, dispersing about eight o'clock
in the morning.

The Germans also give an annual picnic, which is a great event in the
place. There is a procession in the morning, headed by their band and
the German tri-colour flag. In the afternoon there are sports; and in
the evening continuous dancing in a large marquee. One of the chief
sports of the afternoon is "Shooting at the Eagle" with a cross-bow,
and trying to knock off the crown or sceptre from the effigy of a
bird, crowned with an eagle and holding a sceptre, stuck up on the top
of a high pole. The crown or the sceptre represents a high prize, and
each feather struck off represents a prize of some value or other.

The French have only one representative in the town. As I soon got to
know everybody in the place, dropping in upon them in their houses,
and chatting with them about the last news from home, I also made the
acquaintance of the Frenchman. He had last come from Buenos Ayres,
accompanied by Madame. Of course the news about the defeat of the
French army was all false--merely a vile _canard_. We shall soon know
all. I confess I like this French couple very much. Their little house
is always so trim and neat. Fresh-plucked flowers are usually set out
on the mantel-piece, on the arrangement and decoration of which Madame
evidently prides herself. Good taste is so cheap and so pleasant a
thing, that I wish it were possible for these French people to
inoculate their neighbours with a little of it. But rough plenty seems
to be sufficient for the Anglo-Saxon.

I must tell you of a few more of the doings of the place, to show how
very much life here resembles life in England. The place is of course
newer, the aggregation of society is more recent, life is more rough
and ready, more free and easy, and that is nearly all the difference.
The people have brought with them from the old country their habits of
industry, their taste for holidays, their religious spirit, their
desire for education, their love of home life.

Public Teas are an institution in Majorca, as at home. There being but
little provision for the maintenance of religious worship, there is a
constant whipping up for money; and tea-meetings are usually resorted
to for the purpose of stimulating the flagging energies of the people.
Speakers from a distance are advertised, provisions and hot water are
provided in abundance; and after a gorge of tea and buns, speeches are
fired off, and the hat goes round.

We had a great disappointment on one occasion, when the Archdeacon of
Castlemaine was advertised to preach a sermon in aid of our church
fund, and preside at the subsequent tea-meeting. Posters were stuck
up; great preparatory arrangements were made; but the Archdeacon did
not come. Some hitch must have occurred. But we had our tea
nevertheless.

The Ranters also are great at tea-meetings, but still greater at
revival meetings. Matthew Burnett, "the great Yorkshire evangelist,"
came to our town to rouse us from our apathy, and he certainly
contrived to work up many people, especially women, to a high pitch of
excitement. The meetings being held in the evenings, and continued far
into the nights, the howling, shouting, and groaning were by no means
agreeable noises to such sinners in their immediate neighbourhood as
slept lightly,--of whom I was one.

Burnett was at the same time the great star of the Teetotallers, who
held him in much esteem. He was a man of a rough sort of eloquence,
probably the best suited for the sort of people whom he came to
address and sought to reclaim; for fine tools are useless for doing
rough work. Another very good speaker at their meetings was known as
Yankee Bill, whose homely appeals were often very striking, and even
affecting in a degree. At intervals they sang hymns, and sang them
very well. They thus cultivated some taste for music. They also kept
people for the time being out of their favourite "publics." Like many
teetotallers, however, they were very intolerant of non-teetotallers.
Some even went so far as to say that one must be a teetotaller to get
to heaven. Yet, notwithstanding all their exaggerations, the
teetotallers do much good; and their rough appeals often penetrate
hearts and heads that would be impervious to gentler and finer
influences.

Let me not forget to mention the public entertainments got up for the
benefit of the common school of the town. The existing schools being
found too small for the large number of children who attend, it was
proposed to erect another wing for the purposes of an infant school.
With this object, active efforts were made to raise subscriptions; the
understanding being that the Government gives a pound for every pound
collected in the district.

The difficulties in managing these common schools seem to be
considerable, where members of different religious persuasions sit on
the Managing Committee. At Majorca the principal difficulty seemed to
be with the Roman Catholics; and it was said that their priest had
threatened to refuse absolution to such parents as allowed their
children to attend the common school. Whatever truth there might be in
this story, it is certain that about thirty-six children _were_
withdrawn, and instead of continuing to receive the elements of a good
education, they were entrusted to the care of an old man quite
incompetent for the office, but who was of the right faith.

I was enlisted as a collector for the school fund, and went round
soliciting subscriptions; but I found it up-hill work. My district lay
in the suburbs, and I was by no means successful. A good many of
those I called upon were Ranters; and I suspect that the last
sensation preacher had carried off what otherwise might have fallen to
my share. I was tolerably successful with the diggers working at their
claims. At least they always gave me a civil answer. One of them said,
"Well, if our washing turns out well on Saturday, you shall have five
shillings." And the washing must have turned out well, for on Saturday
evening the digger honestly brought me the sum he had named.

Further to help the fund, a fГЄte was held in the open air, and an
entertainment was given by amateurs in the Prince of Wales's
Theatre,--for our little town also boasts of its theatre. The fГЄte was
held on Easter Monday, which was kept as a holiday; and it commenced
with a grand procession of Odd Fellows, Foresters, German Verein,
Rechabites, and other clubs, all in their Sunday clothes, and many of
them wearing very gorgeous scarfs. The German band headed the
procession, which proceeded towards the paddock at MacCullum's Creek
used on such festive occasions. There all the contrivances usually
adopted for extracting money from the pockets of the visitors were in
full operation. There was a bazaar, in which all manner of useless
things were offered for sale; together with raffles, bowls, croquet,
dancing, shooting at the eagle, tilting at the ring, and all sorts of
sports; a small sum being paid on entry. I took up with a forlorn Aunt
Sally, standing idle without customers, and by dint of sedulous
efforts, contrived to gather about a pound in an hour and a half. All
did their best. And thus a pleasant day was spent, and a good round
sum of money was collected for the fund.

The grand miscellaneous entertainment was also a complete success. The
theatre was filled with a highly-respectable audience, including many
gaily-dressed ladies, and all the belles of Majorca and the
neighbourhood. Indeed I wondered where they could all come from. The
performances excited the greater interest, as the whole of them were
by amateurs, well known in the place. The songs went off well; and
several of them were encored. After the concert, the seats were
cleared away, and the entertainment wound up with the usual dance. And
thus did we each endeavour to do our share of pleasant labour for the
benefit of the common school.

The reading-room of the Mechanics' Institute is always a source of
entertainment when nothing else offers. The room is small but
convenient, and it contains a fair collection of books. The Telegraph
Office, the Post Office, Council Chamber, and Mechanics' Institute,
all occupy one building,--not a very extensive one,--being only a
one-storied wooden erection. One of the chief attractions of the
reading-room is a collection of Colonial papers, with 'Punch,' 'The
Illustrated News,' and the 'Irish Nation.' On Saturday nights, when
the diggers wash up and come into town, the room is always well filled
with readers. The members of the Committee are also very active in
getting up entertainments and popular readings; and, in short, the
Mechanics' Institute may be regarded as one of the most civilising
institutions in the place.

But my time in Majorca was drawing to an end. One of the last public
events in which I took part was attending the funeral of our town
clerk, the first funeral I have ever had occasion to be present at. A
long procession followed his remains to the cemetery. Almost all the
men in the township attended, for the deceased was highly respected.
The service was very solemn, held under the bright, clear, blue
Australian sky. Poor old man! I knew him well. I had seen him so short
a time ago in the hospital, where, three hours before he died, he gave
me his blessing. He was then lying flushed, and in great pain. All
that is over now. "Dust to dust, and ashes to ashes." The earth
sounded as it fell upon his coffin; and now the good man sleeps in
peace, leaving a blessed memory behind him.

       *       *       *       *       *

I was now under orders for home! My health was completely
re-established. I might have remained, and perhaps succeeded in the
colony. As it was, I carried with me the best wishes of my employers.
But I had no desire to pursue the career of bank-clerk further. I was
learning but little, and had my own proper business to pursue. So I
made arrangements for leaving Australia. Enough money had been
remitted me from England, to enable me to return direct by first-class
ship, leaving me free to choose my own route. As I might never have
another opportunity of seeing that great new country the United States
of America, the question occurred, whether I might not be able to
proceed up the Pacific to San Francisco, _viГў_ Honolulu, and cross
America by the Atlantic and Pacific Railway. On inquiry, I found it
would be practicable, but not by first-class. So I resolved to rough
it a little, and proceed by that route second class, for which purpose
my funds would be sufficient. I accordingly took my final leave of
Majorca early in December--just as summer was reaching its height; and
after spending three more pleasant weeks with my hospitable and kind
friends in Melbourne, took my passage in the steamer for Sydney, and
set sail the day after Christmas.

       *       *       *       *       *

On looking over what I have above written about my life in Victoria, I
feel how utterly inadequate it is to give the reader an idea of the
country as a whole. All that I have done has merely been to write down
my first impressions, unpremeditatedly and faithfully, of what I saw,
and what I felt and did while there. Such a short residence in the
colony, and such a limited experience as mine was, could not have
enabled me--no matter what my faculty of observation, which is but
moderate--to convey any adequate idea of the magnitude of the colony
or its resources. To pretend to write an account of Victoria and
Victorian life from the little I saw, were as absurd as it would be
for a native-born Victorian, sixteen years old, to come over to
England, live two years in a small country town, and then write a book
of his travels, headed "England." And yet this is the way in which the
Victorians complain, and with justice, that they are treated by
English writers. Some eminent man arrives in the colony, spends a few
weeks in it, perhaps rushes through it by railway, and hastens home to
publish some contemptuous account of the people whom he does not
really know, or some hasty if not fallacious description of the
country which he has not really seen. I am sure that, however crude my
description may be, Victorians will not be offended with what I have
said of themselves and their noble colony; for, small though the
sphere of my observation was, they will see that I have written merely
to the extent of my knowledge, and have related, as faithfully as I
was able, the circumstances that came within the range of my own
admittedly limited, but actual experience of colonial life.

[Illustration: SYDNEY, PORT JACKSON.]




CHAPTER XVIII.

ROUND TO SYDNEY.

LAST CHRISTMAS IN AUSTRALIA--START BY STEAMER FOR SYDNEY--THE 'GREAT
BRITAIN'--CHEAP TRIPS TO QUEENSCLIFFE--ROUGH WEATHER AT SEA--MR. AND
MRS. C. MATHEWS--BOTANY BAY--OUTER SOUTH HEAD--PORT JACKSON--SYDNEY
COVE--DESCRIPTION OF SYDNEY--GOVERNMENT HOUSE AND DOMAIN--GREAT FUTURE
EMPIRE OF THE SOUTH.


I spent my last Australian Christmas with my kind entertainers in
Melbourne. Christmas scarcely looks like Christmas with the
thermometer at 90В° in the shade. But there is the same roast beef and
plum-pudding nevertheless, reminding one of home. The immense
garnishing of strawberries, however, now in season--though extremely
agreeable--reminds us that Christmas at the Antipodes must necessarily
differ in many respects from Christmas in England.

The morning after Christmas Day saw me on board the steamer
'Raugatira,' advertised to start for Sydney at eleven. Casting off
from our moorings at the Sandridge pier, the ship got gradually under
weigh; and, waving my last adieu to friends on shore, I was again at
sea.

We steamed close alongside the 'Great Britain'--which has for some
time been the crack ship between Australia and England. She had just
arrived from Liverpool with a great freight of goods and passengers,
and was lying at her moorings--a splendid ship. As we steamed out into
Hobson's Bay, Melbourne rose up across the flats, and loomed large in
the distance. All the summits seemed covered with houses--the towers
of the fine Roman Catholic Cathedral, standing on the top of a hill to
the right, being the last building to be seen distinctly from the bay.

In about two hours we were at Queenscliffe, inside the Heads--at
present the fashionable watering place of Melbourne. Several excursion
steamers had preceded us, taking down great numbers of passengers, to
enjoy Boxing Day by the sea-side. The place looked very pretty indeed
from our ship's deck. Some of the passengers, who had taken places for
Sydney, were landed here, fearing lest the sea should be found too
rough outside the Heads.

There had been very little wind when we left Sandridge, and the waters
of Port Phillip were comparatively smooth. But as we proceeded, the
wind began to rise, and our weather-wise friends feared lest they
should have to encounter a gale outside. We were now in sight of the
white line of breakers running across the Heads. There was still a
short distance of smooth water before us; but that was soon passed;
and then our ship dashed her prow into the waves and had to fight her
way as for very life against the heavy sea that rolled in through
Bass's Straits from the South Pacific.

The only distinguished passengers on board are Mr. and Mrs. Charles
Mathews, who have been "starring" it in Victoria to some purpose. A
few nights ago, Mr. Mathews took his leave in a characteristic speech,
partly humorous and partly serious; but the enthusiastic audience
laughed and cheered him all the way through; and it was rather comic
to read the newspaper report of next morning, and to find that the
actor's passages of the softest pathos had been received with "roars
of laughter."

Mr. Mathews seems to be one of the most perennially juvenile of men.
When he came on board at Sandridge, he looked as frisky and larky as a
boy. He skipped up and down the deck, and took an interest in
everything. This lasted so long as the water was smooth. When he came
in sight of the broken water at the Heads, I fancy his spirit
barometer went down a little. But when the ship began to put her nose
into the waves freely, a total change seemed to pass over him. I very
soon saw his retreating skirts. For the next three days--three long,
rough, wave-tossing days--very little was seen of him, and when he at
length did make his appearance on deck, alas! he seemed no longer the
brisk and juvenile passenger that had come on board at Sandridge only
a few days before.

Indeed, it was a very rough and "dirty" passage. The passengers were
mostly prostrate during the whole of the voyage. The sea was rolling
in from the east in great billows, which our little boat breasted
gallantly; but it was tossed about like a cork, inclining at all sorts
of angles by turns. It was not much that I could see of the coast,
though at some places it is bold, at others beautiful. We passed very
near to it at Ram Head and Cape Howe--a grand promontory forming the
south-west point of Australia.

On the third day from Melbourne, about daybreak, I found we were
steaming close along shore, under dark brown cliffs, not very high,
topped with verdure. The wind had gone down, but the boat was pitching
in the heavy sea as much as ever. The waves were breaking with fury
and noise along the beach under the cliffs. At 9 A.M. we passed Botany
Bay--the first part of New South Wales sighted by Captain Cook just a
hundred years ago. It was here that he first landed, and erected a
mound of stones and a flag to commemorate the event.[14] Banks and
Solander, who were with him, found the land covered with new and
beautiful flowers, and hence the name which was given it, of "Botany
Bay"--afterwards a name of terror, associated only with crime and
convict life.

We steamed across the entrance to the bay, until we were close under
the cliffs of the outer South Head, guarding the entrance to Port
Jackson. The white Macquarie lighthouse on the summit of the Head is
seen plainly at a great distance. Steaming on, we were soon under the
inner South Head, and at the entrance to the famous harbour, said to
be the finest in the world.

The opening into Port Jackson is comparatively narrow,--so much so,
that when Captain Cook first sailed past it, he considered it to be
merely a boat entrance, and did not examine it. While he was at
breakfast, the look-out man at the mast-head--a man named
Jackson--reported that he saw the entrance to what seemed a good
anchorage; and so the captain, half in derision, named it "Port
Jackson." The Heads seemed to me only about four hundred feet apart
from each other, the North Head somewhat overlapping the South. The
rocks appear to have broken off abruptly, and stand up perpendicularly
over against each other, about three hundred feet high, leaving a
chasm or passage between them which forms the entrance to Port
Jackson. When the Pacific rolls in full force against the Heads, the
waves break with great violence on the cliffs, and the spray is flung
right over the lighthouse on the South Head. Now that the sea has gone
somewhat down, the waves are not so furious, and yet the dash of the
spray half-way up the perpendicular cliffs is a grand sight.

Once inside the Heads, the water becomes almost perfectly calm; the
scenery suddenly changes; the cliffs subside into a prettily-wooded
country, undulating and sloping gently to the water's edge.
Immediately within the entrance, on the south side, is a pretty little
village--the pilot station in Watson's Bay. After a few minutes' more
steaming, the ship rounds a corner, the open sea is quite shut out
from view, and neither Heads nor pilot station are to be seen.

My attention is next drawn to a charming view on the north shore--a
delicious little inlet, beautifully wooded, and surrounded by a
background of hills, rising gradually to their highest height behind
the centre of the little bay. There, right in amongst the bright green
trees, I observe a gem of a house, with a broad terrace in front, and
steps leading down to the clear blue water. A few minutes more, and we
have lost sight of the charming nook, having rounded the headland of
the inlet--a rocky promontory covered with ferns and mosses.

But our attention is soon absorbed by other beauties of the scene.
Before us lies a lovely island prettily wooded, with some three or
four fine mansions and their green lawns sloping down to the water's
edge; while on the left, the hills are constantly varying in aspect as
we steam along. At length, some seven miles up Port Jackson, the
spires and towers and buildings of Sydney come into sight; at first
Wooloomooloo, and then in ten minutes more, on rounding another point,
we find ourselves in Sydney Cove, alongside the wharf. Here we are in
the midst of an amphitheatre of beauty,--a wooded island opposite
covered with villas and cottages; with headlands, coves and bays, and
beautiful undulations of lovely country as far as the eye can reach.
Altogether, I think Port Jackson is one of the most charming pieces of
water and landscape that I have ever seen.

After our three days tossing at sea, I was, however, glad to be on
shore again; so, having seen my boxes safely deposited in the
Californian baggage depГґt, I proceeded into the town and secured
apartments for the few days I was to remain in Sydney.

From what I have already said of the approach to the landing, it will
be inferred that the natural situation of Sydney is very fine. It
stands upon a ridge of sandstone rock, which runs down into the bay in
numerous ridges or spines of land or rock, between which lie the
natural harbours of the place; and these are so deep, that vessels of
almost any burden may load and unload at the projecting wharves. Thus
Sydney possesses a very large extent of deep water frontage, and its
wharfage and warehouse accommodation is capable of enlargement to
almost any extent. Of the natural harbours formed by the projecting
spines of rock into the deep water, the most important are
Wooloomooloo Bay, Farm Cove, Sydney Cove, and Darling Harbour.

From the waterside, the houses, ranged in streets, rise like so many
terraces up to the crown of the ridges,--the main streets occupying
the crests and flanks of two or three of the highest. One of these,
George Street, is a remarkably fine street, about two miles long,
containing many handsome buildings.

My first knowledge of Sydney was acquired in a stroll up George
Street. We noticed the original old market-place, bearing the date of
1793; a quaint building, with queer old-fashioned domes, all
shingle-roofed. A little further on, we came to a large building in
course of erection--the new Town Hall, built of a yellowish sort of
stone. Near it is the English Cathedral--a large and elegant
structure. Further on, is the new Roman Catholic Cathedral,--the
original cathedral in Hyde Park having been burnt down some time ago.

Altogether, Sydney has a much older look than Melbourne. It has grown
up at longer intervals, and does not look so spic and span new. The
streets are much narrower and more irregular--older-fashioned, and
more English in appearance--occasioned, doubtless, by its slower
growth and its more hilly situation. But it would also appear as if
there were not the same go-ahead spirit in Sydney that so
pre-eminently characterises her sister city. Instead of the
splendidly broad, well-paved, and well-watered streets of Melbourne,
here they are narrow, ill-paved, and dirty. Such a thing as the
miserable wooden hut which serves for a post-office would not be
allowed to exist for a day at Melbourne. It is the original office,
and has never been altered or improved since it was first put up. I
must, however, acknowledge that a new post-office is in course of
erection; but it shows the want of public spirit in the place that the
old shanty should have been allowed to stand so long.

The railway terminus, at the end of George Street, is equally
discreditable. It is, without exception, the shabbiest, dirtiest shed
of the kind I have ever seen. They certainly need a little of the
Victorian spirit in Sydney. The Melbourne people, with such a site for
a city, would soon have made it one of the most beautiful places in
the world. As it is, nothing can surpass its superb situation; the
view over the harbour from some of the higher streets being
unequalled,--the numerous ships lying still, as if asleep on the calm
waters of the bay beneath, whilst the rocky promontories all round it,
clothed with verdure, are dotted with the villas and country mansions
of the Sydney merchants.

One of the busiest parts of Sydney is down by the quays, where a great
deal of shipping business is carried on. There are dry docks, patent
slips, and one floating dock; though floating docks are of minor
importance here, where the depth of water along shore is so great, and
the rise and fall of the tide is so small. Indeed, Sydney Harbour may
be regarded as one immense floating dock. The Australasian Steam
Navigation Company have large ship-building and repairing premises at
Pyrmont, which give employment to a large number of hands. Certainly,
the commanding position of Sydney, and the fact of its being the chief
port of a great agricultural and pastoral country in the interior,
hold out the promise of great prosperity for it in the future.

Every visitor to Sydney of course makes a point of seeing the
Government House and the Domain, for it is one of the principal sights
of the place. The Government buildings and park occupy the
double-headed promontory situated between Wooloomooloo Bay and Sydney
Cove. The Government House is a handsome and spacious castellated
building, in every way worthy of the colony; the views from some parts
of the grounds being of almost unparalleled beauty. There are nearly
four miles of drives in the park, through alternate cleared and wooded
grounds,--sometimes opening upon cheerful views of the splendid
harbour, then skirting the rocky shores, or retreating inland amidst
shadowy groves and grassy dells. The grounds are open to the public,
and the entrances being close upon the town and suburbs, this public
park of Sydney is one that for convenience and beauty, perhaps no
capital in the world surpasses.

The Botanical Gardens are situated in what is called the outer Domain.
We enter the grounds under a long avenue of acacias and sycamores,
growing so close together as to afford a complete shade from the
noonday heat. At the end of the avenue, we came upon a splendid
specimen of the Norfolk Island pine, said to be the largest and finest
tree out of the island itself. After resting for a time under its
delicious shade, we strolled on through other paths overhung with all
sorts of flowering plants; then, passing through an opening in the
wall, a glorious prospect of the bay suddenly spread out before us.
The turf was green down to the water's edge, and interspersed with
nicely-kept flower beds, with here and there a pretty clump of trees.

Down by the water side is a broad esplanade--the most charming of
promenades--running all round the beautiful little bay which it
encloses. Tropical and European shrubs grow in profusion on all sides;
an English rose-tree in full bloom growing alongside a bamboo; while,
at another place, a banana throws its shadow over a blooming bunch of
sweet pea, and a bell-flowered plant overhangs a Michaelmas daisy. A
fine view of the harbour and shipping is obtained from a part of the
grounds where Lady Macquarie's chair--a hollow place in a rock--is
situated;--itself worth coming a long way to see. Turning up the
gardens again, we come upon a monkey-house, an aviary, and--what
interested me more than all--an enclosed lawn in which were numerous
specimens of the kangaroo tribe, from the "Old Boomer" standing six
feet high, down to the Rock kangaroo not much bigger than a hare. We
hung about, watching the antics of the monkeys and the leapings of the
kangaroos until it was time to take our departure.

The country inland, lying to the south of Sydney, is by no means
picturesque. Much of it consists of sandy scrub, and it is by no means
fertile, except in the valleys. But nothing can surpass the beauty of
the shores of the bay as far up as Paramatta, about twenty miles
inland. The richest land of the colony lies well into the interior,
but the time at my disposal was too short to enable me to do more than
visit the capital, with which the passing stranger cannot fail to be
greatly pleased.