CHAPTER VII. MELBOURNE--ADELAIDE.
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CHAPTER VII.
MELBOURNE--ADELAIDE.
IT was three o'clock in the morning of Tuesday, when we arrived alongside the wharf at the head of Hobson's Bay. I was anxious to land as soon after daylight as possible, but the men were all so fully employed in unshipping the immense cargo of oranges and lemons from Sydney, that I could not get one to take up my luggage (though I had it all close beside me); until at last, after waiting till ten o'clock, I hired a man to carry it to the railway station. The wharf is of an immense length, and the railway runs the whole distance along it, the luggage trucks come up close to the shipping, so that the cargo and baggage are hoisted straight up from the hold of the ship to the truck; but the passengers' station is at some little distance. There is a town here called Sandrich, from whence both passengers and luggage are sent free to Melbourne.
I here parted from my lady companion, whose luggage being in the hold, there seemed little chance of her getting it for some time to come, and my time was precious. In about a quarter of an hour I was turned out in the great city of Melbourne, not knowing where to go. No one of whom I had inquired had been able to recommend me to any particular boarding-house or hotel, though all said there were plenty of them. Putting myself, therefore, and my belongings, into a car, I trusted to the driver to take me to some respect-
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able house. He drove me up to the shabbiest-looking place I ever saw of the kind, whence a horrid-looking man emerged, and forthwith, without a word, began carrying in my luggage.
"Oh, but this won't do," I exclaimed, "you don't take ladies here?"
"Oh, yes, mum, the most respectable house in the town, I assure you, and we'll make you quite comfortable. Only just you come in, and don't you be afeard."
As all my things were now in, I entered, though with many misgivings, and the reality far exceeded my worst anticipations. I cannot write all the horrors of it, or the intense disgust I felt. I thought I had better not say much, or the people might be insolent; so, after remaining a few minutes, I quietly walked out, leaving all my things there, and went in quest of something better.
After much search and many disappointments, I at last found a resting-place at a large "Temperance Hotel and Boarding-House;" then, taking a car, returned to the original den, and got my luggage with less difficulty than I had expected. The man only said that he trusted to my honour to make him some compensation, so I gave him a couple of shillings, and he seemed satisfied. This settled, I went out to view the town, proceeded to the post-office, and to a shop, where I procured a portmanteau for the overland route (for which I paid a most outrageous price); ascertained that the same ship I had come in, the "City of Adelaide," was to go on to Adelaide on Thursday morning next, at ten o'clock. Resolved that I would go in her, for it seemed to me I should have seen enough of Melbourne in two days, if I made the most of them. Fortunately, the weather was quite fine, so after a one o'clock dinner, I ordered a car, and arranged with the man to take me to the Botanical and Zoological Gardens, wait for me there and bring me back--the distance being about two miles out. I had heard much of these gardens, but was rather
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disappointed. I should not have been so, probably, had I not seen those at Sydney; but these are greatly inferior to those. They exhibit very little taste in the laying out, and are not nearly so well kept; weedy beds, unraked soil lying in lumps, rough shaggy grass, uneven lumpy walks, or of loose sand, or gravel, for they are of all sorts (instead of the uniformly fine, smooth, hard walks at Sydney), seats comparatively few, common-looking, uncomfortable, and not placed with any regard to taste or effect; whereas at Sydney they look so inviting that you feel inclined to sit upon each one in turn.
There are no animals but a few monkeys, and but a poor collection of birds. There are two large cages placed down in a hollow, with a bridge road between them, and these are well contrived, being high enough to inclose trees growing inside them, so that the canaries and other small birds look very happy flying about and singing on the branches. Most of the other living creatures, however, are confined in small, roughly-made, unornamental wooden cages, and look anything but happy; the vultures look particularly miserable, cramped up in cases where they can scarcely spread their wings. They have here a finer hothouse than any I saw at Sydney, larger and handsomer, heated as it would seem from underground, for I observed, at a little distance from it, a chimney coming out of the earth, and a flight of steps leading down to some depth under the hothouse. In the centre of this building are growing banana-trees; for Melbourne, being several degrees further south than Sydney, has of course a cooler climate, and these trees do not therefore grow here in the open air. The roses were in flower, but I saw no camelias. These gardens are not very extensive, for I believe I saw every part of them in this one visit, though it was shorter than any of the three visits I paid to those at Sydney, where I did not explore the whole at last. I afterwards examined some more parts of the town, and secured my berth for Adelaide.
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The streets of Melbourne all run parallel, a wide and a narrow alternately, called by the same name, with "Great" and "Little" to distinguish them, and all crossed in the same manner by other parallel greats and littles. The centre street, running north and south, is called Elizabeth Street; all those that cross it slope down on both sides towards it, and are by it divided into east and west, this or that street. Collins Street, east and west, forms the centre the other way, and these two streets are said to contain the most fashionable shops.
On each side of all the streets run broad streams of water, and at each corner of every street wooden footpaths are thrown over these streams. My car-driver told me that this was the superabundant water flowing from baths, horse-troughs, etc., that there are no underground sewers; but there is a proposal now to make some, and do away with these streams. The lake "Yan Yean," which is at some miles' distance from the city, supplies Melbourne with an abundance of excellent water; the river (the "Yarra") is but little used for this purpose. There are some very handsome public buildings, banks, churches, and of course chapels of every denomination. The shops appear to be good, but the houses are built without the least regard to uniformity; and as you look down the long vistas, and see the buildings of every possible irregularity of height, form, etc., you cannot help feeling that they have an untidy, scrambling appearance. There is a great sameness in the streets, being all alike, or at least with only the variety of alternate wide and narrow; the wind and dust rush along them as through so many funnels. There are no squares or open spaces in the town. It is said to be a very charitable place, and to possess many excellent institutions.
The streets are well paved, but the roads are sandy, and in rainy weather, I am told, excessively muddy. The country around is flat, with a range of hills in the distance; that part through which the railway runs, to the port, bears evidence of being frequently under
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water. Raised and railed paths, like long narrow bridges, intersect it in various directions.
The Yarra is rather a small river, with two bridges over it, at one side of the town, and two or three more beyond. Most of the private houses are out of the town.
Two railways run in different directions, and a large omnibus-like machine, drawn by five, or sometimes six, horses, appears to be in much request. This is one of "Cobb's coaches;" they are to be seen everywhere, in some form or other, all over Australia and New Zealand. There are also innumerable two-wheeled cars, all alike, with two seats, back to back, holding five people besides the driver--two on the seat with him, and three behind, with a head to put up if needed; the fares are written on the step behind. These cars have superseded omnibuses, and are used in the same way; that is, when you are going along in one that you have hired for yourself, any one who thinks you are going the way that they want to go, hails the man to stop and take them up, such passengers paying sixpence a mile only. A single person has to pay 2s. 6d. a mile, or 4s. if out of town. I found them rather rickety and jerky, and had always to hold fast by a strap provided for that purpose.
Wednesday. --I think I have done Melbourne very thoroughly. The weather being so fine, I have been able to make the most of my time, and have seen a wonderful number of places and things. This morning, after early completing my repacking, and sending off everything I could spare to go by ship to London, keeping only my new portmanteau for the overland route, and my car being in waiting soon after ten, I drove off first to the Royal Park, about two miles from the town--a very pleasant place for a drive, with plenty of apparently very old gum-trees, nearly all of the red kind. I don't think they are taller than we have them in Canterbury, though ours are so very much younger; but the trunks are thicker and ragged, and the branches
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more spreading and straggling, and the foliage much thinner.
A part of this park is set apart for the Acclimatization Society, and here I alighted, and entered. There is a good and interesting collection of birds and beasts, and generally well accommodated. The different kinds of deer, the buffaloes, and some others, have quite little parks of their own, enclosed for their separate use. The greatest defect here is that in many cases the names of the animals are not put on their cages. I asked the names of some curious animals from a man who was cleaning their cage out, and he told me they were the native cat; they are more like very large rats, curiously marked with round white spots, about the size of sixpences, all over their backs. The native bear is a remarkable, and rather pretty little animal, and looked at first sight something like a large owl, nestled up in its tree. The collection does not take very long to inspect, some of the enclosures being so large, and taking up so much of the space. It is all nicely planted. I saw some more of my favourite Carolina ducks here; but the poor things looked miserable, and could not show off their beautiful plumage at all, being four of them in a small cage, with only a round tub of water sunk in the ground for them, so that they could drink, but not swim. Those at Sydney had abundance of space to sail about and show themselves off to advantage, and were not in a cage, but an enclosure.
I next drove to the Cemetery. This is most beautiful, very extensive, some of the monuments extremely handsome, and exquisitely tasteful; the grounds laid out in many parts as flower-gardens, many of the graves being also little gardens in themselves, nicely kept, and prettily enclosed with ornamental iron railings. It is a "general cemetery," different portions being allotted to different denominations--Roman Catholics, Jews, Presbyterians, etc.; but no division more marked than paths between them: a far better plan this surely than
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the separated and exclusive cemeteries of most places. The Church of England has decidedly the most elaborate and handsome monuments here. I could not go over the whole of it; but the highest and grandest monument is that to the memory of Sir C. Hotham, a former governor. It is a beautiful column of polished porphyry, standing on a handsome pedestal of polished white marble, with groups of white marble figures at the top, and the whole surmounted by a cross. There are others also nearly as handsome as this. Of the smaller monuments, the one that most took my fancy was a pedestal, on the top of which lies a lovely figure of a young child playing with a flower, all quite small, the figure not more than nine or ten inches long. The only inscription was, "Our little Arthur." On a little tablet in the same enclosure were the names of three children--Arthur, Edith, and Ethel; no surnames, but simply the dates of birth and death to each, showing that not one of them lived above a year. There is something very affecting in this simple and elegant record, without a comment or superfluous word, without even the name of the bereaved parents. The whole is in the purest white marble.
I saw a huge block of white stone lying in one part, which is about to be fashioned into a monument to the lost Australian explorers--Burke and Wells. This stone was brought from a quarry at some distance, on a truck constructed for the purpose, drawn by thirty or forty horses (as I was told); the truck sank frequently so deep, even in the metalled roads, that it was not without the greatest difficulty it was at last got to the cemetery. 1 It was with much reluctance that I forced myself away from this lovely and holy spot; but having at length done so, I proceeded next to the University and Museum, the collection being at present divided, but all is to be transferred to the latter building when ready for it.
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The stuffing and attitudes of the birds and animals here are more natural and lifelike than any I have ever seen in any part of the world. The birds especially look so perfectly at ease and so happy, you can scarcely believe they are not alive. The collection altogether is one of almost endless variety and excellence. Here, too, I met, for the first time, a group of gorillas, male, female, and child, the first being the largest, they say, that has ever yet been obtained, or even seen. He measures six feet nine inches from head to heel, but as he is stooping down, holding his child by the hand, he does not look so tall. The right arm is held up, and from the end of that hand to the foot is nine feet. They are dreadfully human, and the expression of the faces rather pleasant and good-humoured. The stuffing and attitudes are wonderfully good, nothing stiff or shrivelled, but perfectly life-like. Their skeletons are also there opposite to them. There are models of all kinds of machinery used in mining operations, and the whole process exhibited, with many other interesting things.
Lastly, I drove to the Library, a handsome and large collection of books, which, of course, I had no time to look at, so passed on to the picture-gallery, and then down to the sculpture-room, all very good, and well worth seeing. The buildings of all the places I have named are of handsome stone, or brick with stone fronts.
Home just in time for dinner, and then walked out in search of the English cathedral, but could not succeed in finding it. I was told it was rather an insignificant affair, and I may have passed it without suspecting what it was. There is a very handsome Roman Catholic cathedral, and the Wesleyans have not been content with one handsome church-like building and steeple, but have another with two steeples. Observing two very fine church buildings, both with spires, standing opposite to each other, I inquired which was the English one. "Neither; one is a Presbyterian, the other a Primitive chapel." A dingy-looking, dark, grey stone building with
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a tower was pointed out to me as the English church. I could obtain no photographs, and had to take some lithographs, which were very dear. I think things here seem to be generally dear, even postage; I had to pay fourpence for a stamp to Geelong, only 100 miles off; twopence more would take a letter to England!
The Temperance Hotel, however, I found to be moderate in its charges, and a very quiet, respectable place. It is on a very large scale, and evidently doing a most flourishing business; the landlord is said to have made a large fortune, and to be the owner of many houses. I may here observe that wherever in my travels I have had to do with members of the Temperance Societies, I have found them to be thoroughly trustworthy and honest in their dealings, and I have found the workmen of that class to be, as far as I have had experience of them, uniformly industrious, intelligent, expert in their calling, and satisfactory people to employ in every way; added to this the fact that (shunning, as they do, the gulf which swallows up the profits of the public-house-frequenting workmen) they can scarcely fail to prosper, and find themselves in comfortable circumstances, causes them to be cheerful, civil, and reasonable in all their transactions. Melbourne, which was nothing before the gold fields' discovery, has certainly made wonderfully rapid progress, and it is difficult in walking through the great city, and contemplating its numerous fine buildings, to realize the fact that until the year 1836 not a stone of it all was there.
Thursday, June 22. --Off in the "City of Adelaide" at ten o'clock this morning, but not fairly out of the vast bay till past one, though we were doing twelve knots an hour. At the head of the bay, whence we started, there is a large town situated on one side of it, while all around on the other sides I observed numbers of small detached towns or villages. We stopped for a few minutes to put two passengers ashore at a small town with a fort, and cannons, near the entrance of the bay; the captain told me it was a watering-place much
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frequented in summer-time. On the opposite side, i. e., on the left hand as we went out, is the quarantine ground, on which are built five large detached barracks for ship passengers, who may be landed there from unhealthy ships.
The entrance of Hobson's Bay, though wide, is rather shallow, the sea green, turbid, and foaming, and we passed through large beds of weed. A light-ship, and. several large white buoys (looking at a distance like small sailing vessels), indicate the safe passage to be taken. Further out are lighthouses, one of which stands on a natural breakwater, stretching out, with the waves dashing over it, and another is built right out in the sea. There was a rough sea outside, and the spray dashing over our deck, though our bulwarks are very high; much wind also, but a beautiful day notwithstanding. We have 500 miles to go to Adelaide; we have no passengers but myself and one man on board.
Friday. --Very tempestuous and a strong head wind, but we hope to reach Adelaide some time to-morrow notwithstanding. The stewardess is a weak, nervous woman, and suffers from rheumatics, so that she wants to have the cabin boxed up night and day without a breath of air. Poor thing! she is much to be felt for; she has been terribly afflicted, and gone through some dreadful scenes; she has related her story to me, which I shall write down, and append to my journal. Very distant low land visible all day on our right.
Saturday. --The steamer hove-to for a couple of hours in the night, the weather being so rough, and at the same time so thick that the lighthouse could not be seen, and it was unsafe to proceed. In the morning we passed Kangaroo Island, which is about 95 miles long, and rather barren-looking; only two small white houses to be seen, besides that belonging to the lighthouse. Also a neat little church and steeple; there are said to be not above a hundred inhabitants on the island. The weather still so thick that we could see but little. On our left there seemed to be a considerable extent of very
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low, sandy land, with a range of hills beyond. At about three in the afternoon we entered the mouth of a river, called St. Vincent's Gulf, with the trees and shrubs, principally mangroves, growing, as it appeared, in the water, but the captain informed me that all this part was land overflowed, in consequence of the rough weather and strong westerly winds outside; that he was very glad to see it, for that generally there was not sufficient depth of water for a large vessel to get up to the wharf, which now we should be able to do. We were delayed for some time at the entrance to the river, waiting for the pilot and custom-house officer to come on board. The course for entrance is carefully marked, out with stakes and numerous buoys, and forms a complete curve, so that over the low point of land we saw several ships and brigs which we had passed, and which had not yet entered, sailing, apparently, in the opposite direction, with the land between them and ourselves. The effect was very pretty.
The wharf is rather a poor affair, but the people of Adelaide deserve great credit, for there was no natural harbour there, and they have cleared it out, let the water in, and made banks with the sand and mud taken out. We had to be moored alongside another large steamer already there, and it was long before any contrivance was made by which any one but sailors, or good scramblers and jumpers could get on shore, or any luggage be landed. Thus we lost the train which should have taken us on to Adelaide, and had to wait for the next and last train. There is nothing to be remarked on in the port town, beyond the fact that the land on which it stands has all been made and artificially raised, having been formerly swamp and water. Such is the persevering energy of the colonists, that what Nature denies them they at once set about accomplishing for themselves. Here, without either harbour, or land for their port town, they have hollowed out the one and raised the other with perfect success.
The handsomest building I saw here was the Union
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Bank of Australia. After waiting an hour and a quarter for the train, we--myself and the other passenger--were joined by our captain, and we all travelled together, a distance of nine miles, to the city of Adelaide--the actual city, and. not the ship. It was quite dark, but I could see by the scattered lights at the intermediate stations that there were small towns at each. The captain told me that the whole road lay between wheat-fields on both sides, and I could see the dim forms of many trees as we passed, which he said were gums.
Arrived at the end of our journey, and ascending a broad flight of stairs from the platform to the street, we entered a car, and all drove to a hotel which had been recommended to me before I left Christchurch, and where the captain being also well known, he introduced me at the private door of the establishment, and, disappearing with his companion, left me to my quiet rooms; and extremely comfortable, handsome, and convenient they are, which I suppose I owe to his special introduction, and to the fact of there being no other lady in the house at present--ladies do not travel here in the stormy season unless they are obliged--so that I have some of the best accommodation in the house. The bed-room is more English and luxurious than anything I have met with since I began my wanderings from Christchurch. After a comfortable tea and warm bath, I retired well contented to a good bed.
Sunday. --Made inquiry about English churches; learnt that St. Paul's was the nearest. "Where is St. Paul's?" "Oh, just in ----- Street." "But I don't know ---- Street." "Just out of ---- Square." "And where is ---- Square?" People always direct you as if you knew the town as well as themselves, forgetting that if you did you would not ask them. "Oh, just round here, and you can't mistake it." So round here I went, and there was the square sure enough; but three churches at once greeted my view, two with spires on the right, and one with two turrets on the left. "Pray, which of these is St. Paul's church?" I asked of a
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passer-by. "None of them; these are the Roman Catholic, the Scotch, and the Congregational chapels." Having now been directed on to St. Paul's, I came upon a largish building, standing rather back from the street, so that it could not be much seen until you were opposite to it. It is built of various coloured rough stones and red bricks, an unfinished place, with neither tower, steeple, nor bells at present, whatever it may be intended to have. Inside, it is of plain, unornamented stone, or plastered to look like stone; a plain wooden roof, of good height in the centre, and with two lower aisles. Where the chancel should be, the end is boarded part of the way up with rough, unsightly planks of various lengths, and higher up a piece of canvas flapping about full of long rents and tatters. Although unfinished, common decency might have suggested some better substitute for a wall than this. The plain, little uncovered font at the entrance had in it some dusty yellow water, looking as if it had not been changed for a month at least. A harmonium and a few voices gave sounds from behind a curtain in the corner. I was shown into an uncomfortable narrow seat up against a side wall, without even a hassock in it. A young deacon read the service (substituting no prayer for the omitted absolution), and preached. The whole was an uncomfortable, untidy affair. The surplices were hung up behind a scanty curtain near one of the entrance doors, blowing about in full display for the public edification.
How I envy the Dissenters their handsome, creditable places of worship in all these colonies, or rather how I wish we had more of their prompt and ready zeal. I have been inquiring again, and am told there are two or three churches further off, so hope to explore for another this evening. Walked about after church, and was much pleased with what I saw of the town, quite a contrast to the stiff, chess-board pattern of Melbourne. This is a very pretty, countrified, and rather foreign-looking place, with pleasant squares and open spaces nicely planted; some streets very wide, and
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with rows of trees on each side, which are mostly young and railed round. There are some handsome stone buildings, apparently lately erected, the several banks being among the best, and some very substantial ones in course of completion. Of these the magnificent town-hall, nearly finished, stands conspicuous.
The shops and houses in the streets generally are low, and built of brick or wood. There is a peculiarly cheerful look about the place. The town is divided into two parts, called North and South Adelaide, by a narrow river, called, I believe, the Torrens, with a handsome bridge over it, a continuation of King William Street, which is a very fine and broad one, wider, I think, than any in Sydney or Melbourne. Rundle Street is a very long one, and is considered the chief street of the town. Most of the private houses are in North Adelaide.
The town is supplied with water from a reservoir, artificially constructed in the hills.
Seeing a very pretty church and spire nearly opposite to my window in an adjoining street, I went to inspect, and found it was Presbyterian. Started off this evening in search of Trinity church, which my waitress told me was considered the best here, and that the bishop often preached there. 2 Found it quite at the end of the town, down a street that cannot, I should think, be less than a mile and a half long. A most unpretending-looking little church, built, as far as I could judge in the darkness, of rough stones and brick, with a stumpy little tower over the entrance, and a man just within the doorway pulling the rope that pulled the one bell in most primitive style; plainest of the plain, whitewashed inside; a little transept with a small gallery at each end, and a third gallery over the entrance, for the organ and singers; three little rings of flickering gas flames hung from the rather low roof to light the whole concern (excepting two lights in the organ-loft); the interior fitted up with pews and doors, the first time I
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have seen such things on this side of the world; and the font was placed at the wrong end, just opposite the altar rails. Up to the last minute before the service commenced, a large party of boys, apparently a school, were laughing and talking with perfectly unrestrained loudness in the church, as if in an ill-ordered schoolroom. At length the rope ceased to be pulled, the uproar ceased also, and in walked the bishop and the dean; the latter read the service, and at the end of the Psalms came a long and thoroughly uninteresting voluntary on the organ, while we all sat still and reflected, I suppose, for it certainly was not calculated to inspire devotion. I, for one, was trying to remember how long it was since I had heard such a thing done before, certainly not since the days of my childhood. At the end of the prayers the dean pronounced these words, "I give notice that the sacrament of the Lord's Supper will be administered in this church next Sunday; the monthly collection will now be made." Immediately after which simple announcement the plates came round, while the organ poured forth "Eve's Lamentation" in dreary style; which two operations being completed, the dean resumed, "I wish also to give notice, that on Thursday evening next, being St. Peter's day, there will be an ordination service held in this church; the service to commence at seven o'clock. Let us again sing to the praise and glory," etc. All this kind of thing to Christchurch ears, used to the proprieties of St. Michael's, etc., sounded rather odd. The bishop then ascended the pulpit; his sermon was plain and simple as the church itself, but unlike it in being very long. I did not get back to my hotel till nearly half-past nine, though service commenced at half-past six.
The streets are not lighted, save by the public and eating-houses; but it was a lovely starlight night, and a new moon.
Monday. --Walked over some more of the town in the morning, and did a little shopping. In the afternoon ordered a car for a country drive. There are some
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Hansom cabs here; but the usual kind are a small van upon two wheels, open only in front and back. If filled they might possibly be tolerably steady; but with only one inside they jerk, and toss, and shake one most unmercifully.
I found that the prettiest drive within practicable distance (for the time I had to spare) was to "Paradise"; and so for that locality I started, and had to pass through a considerable purgatory before attaining it. On the road thither we passed through a village called Painem (or Paynem, perhaps--I did not see it written), but certainly the sound of the name was most appropriate for passengers passing it in such an instrument of torture as the vehicle I was in.
Paradise is a village at the foot, or "commencement of the 'ills' as my driver expressed it; but it seemed to me that, though it was a level road all the way there, I had passed quite "'ills" enough in reaching it. We did not therefore go quite up to the place, for the road became very rugged, and the horse was a terrible stumbler, frequently coming on his knees and nose, and but that I grasped frantically at the straps, curtains, cushions, man, anything I could possibly clutch, I should several times have gone head foremost over the wretched animal's back. So we turned and came home another way, by Norwood, Kensington, etc. --far more rational names.
The roads are very pretty. Plenty of red gum-trees (very old); country-seats, far back in park-like grounds, with gentleman-like gate-entrances, most of them belonging to rich townsmen and tradesmen; gardens, vineyards, etc. Adelaide is on a plain, which extends also round it; but at the distance of three to five miles it is enclosed on all sides, save that bounded by the sea, with beautifully-shaped hills, the valleys between which are thickly wooded, and abound in fine gardens and vineyards. The higher parts also are dotted with trees, patches of grass, and extensive vineyards, which at this season look brown amid the surrounding
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green. The grass is of the brightest and prettiest green imaginable now in winter; but in summer, I am told, is burnt up completely, and not a particle of green remains in it. There had been a little rain lately, which had freshened it up; but they say they are having a very bad winter, scarcely any rain, sheep dying on the stations for want of food. The wheat that is just springing up ought to be now high above ground, and much thicker. It is feared the crops will be quite destroyed, and there have been prayers for rain in the churches. The grapes, in their season, are sold twelve pounds for eightpence or sixpence, and are, indeed, so abundant, that in many places they are left to dry up on the vines. The wine made from them may be bought at from 2s. to 6s. per gallon; yet on board the steamers they charge 2s. 6d. a pint bottle for a very inferior sort of this colonial wine.
I should have mentioned that at the commencement of my drive I stopped, and went into some botanical gardens, which I found to be very tastefully laid out, and certainly the most made of them. They are nearly, though not quite, as well kept as those at Sydney; but Nature has not given such a situation for them here as there. They have many prettily-designed hothouses, and well stocked. I saw some aloes in flower here, different to any I had observed elsewhere; thick, spiral clumps of rich, red, and some orange-coloured flowers, on short stems. There was a collection of birds and animals, some of the savage kind--a tiger, etc.; but most of them being closely curled up and asleep, and having no names over them, I could not well see what they were. There are fancy ponds and fountains, and altogether it is very nice and pretty.
I had no time to visit the Museum, Institute, Collegiate School, etc., for the captain has sent to tell me what train I must go by to-morrow morning to rejoin the steamer and start for King George's Sound. I am very glad not to have missed seeing this very pretty town and most lovely country; it will leave a very
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pleasant impression on my mind. The people I have found, to be particularly civil and obliging, and charges of all kinds wonderfully moderate for the colonies. This thriving settlement, I was told, was only twenty-eight years old.
Tuesday. --On board the "City of Adelaide" steamer again. We had not expected to be able to get off from the wharf, for there is often not sufficient depth of water for ships to stay there, 3 so that they have to go out of the river, and round to another part of the coast, to take in the mails and passengers. Had we been forced to do so upon this occasion, we should not have been able to get off at all at present, as the wind would have been too strong inland, and dead against us. I had now an opportunity of seeing the country through which the railway passes, by daylight. The fields are large and neatly railed round, many of them planted round with trees, and some have small plantations of trees, also railed in. The wheat in some places was just showing above the rich red-brown soil; in others it was well up, and of a beautiful fresh green. From the last station but one (Alberton) to the port, the country is all sand, water, and mud; all has been under the sea not long ago. The wharf extends about half a mile round the harbour, but there is no jetty or pier. On our way out of the gulf, while at full speed, we had to stop suddenly, in order to avoid running down a small steamer that crossed our course just under our bows. If our engines had not been stopped, and the helm put "hard over" we must have cut her right in two. It gave me a great fright, for it seemed at one time as if nothing could save her. It was a most shameful risk for them to run, and they had also passengers on board. Our captain was naturally very angry about it; he says he never saw a more narrow escape, and in broad daylight too! Adieu to comfort in the ladies' cabin, I fear, for there is a lady come on board with a baby, and both
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ill. Here she is, at full length on one sofa, her clothes and various property thrown upon two others, and the stewardess, with the screaming baby, on the fourth. The only chair is put in front of the sick baby as a security, so I am reduced to my portmanteau for a seat.
We are out of the gulf now, and in the full, long roll of the sea, which I think much more agreeable than the short, jerky waves of shallow waters. It is dark, rainy, and very cold on deck, and the cabin without a breath of air, stuffy and horrible. We have 1040 miles to go before we reach King George's Sound; and if all goes well, and the wind not too much against us, the captain says we may be in on Sunday morning.
Wednesday. --Now I know what was meant by all the prognostications I have heard of an "unpleasant passage" at this time of year. A dreadful night and day we have had, in a heavy gale. I managed somehow to get dressed this morning and up the stairs, at the top of which I held on with all my strength, and looked out at the tremendous sea. To go on the deck was impossible, for besides that I could not have stood for a moment in the violent pitching and tossing, it was all in a pond, from the waves constantly breaking over, and the spray in one thick, continuous, horizontally driving shower. I stayed about an hour clinging on to my place of comparative shelter, and then, my strength quite exhausted by the exertion, came down again. The cabin is all flooded, and even some of the berths are wet, for the water makes its way through the skylight, portholes, panelings, etc.; I suppose nothing could resist such bangs of the waves as come thundering up against us. I was the only passenger at breakfast, my only companions being the first and second mate and chief engineer, for the captain remained above. One pale vision of a man slid in for a few moments, but when next I looked it had vanished, and did not reappear at dinner, but two others did, who, after making a few desperate plunges at their soup plates, also vanished. The lady, I am happy to find, has a husband on board, and having
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joined him, baby and all, in another cabin last night, has not of course been able to leave her berth to-day: the poor baby's shrieks in the distance sometimes resound above winds, waves, engines, screws, and everything else; I feel much for it, but am uncommonly glad it is in another cabin.
The poor hapless, helpless stewardess has been lying down with a blanket over her head the greater part of the day, and when anything rouses her she begins her lamentations about the ship, the weather, voyage, and season of the year, declaring vehemently that she never will be induced to take this voyage again at this time of the year; knows other stewardesses who have left their ships rather than do it. She says there are two feet of water in the stewards' pantry, makes no attempt at wiping up any of the water here, but occasionally, as the flood washes from side to side, looks round, and in a despairing tone utters, "Oh, dear, dear, dear!"
Besides all this, she puts on most terribly ominous expressions of countenance, and prophecies that there is "wilder weather still at hand," that she can tell by her feelings that "something ugly" is coming, as she has had many years' experience of the sea. Thinking it possible she might be right, I questioned the first mate at dinner time, but he said he thought the worst was over. Unfortunately the wind is against us all the time, so that we have not even the consolation of thinking we are getting on fast. We had a laughable scene at tea-time this evening: the captain, who had not appeared below all day, came down, and seated himself at the table, saying, "Well, I must have a mutton chop, for I have eaten nothing at all to-day." But as he was about to put a fork into one, half the dishes flew off the table, the lamp glass leapt off the lamp and alighted amid the plates; a gentleman on the other side, who tried to save it from going further, began uttering piercing shrieks, having burnt his fingers with the hot glass; every one, of course, in a roar of laughter. When the confusion began to subside, the captain, looking about, asked in a
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woful tone, "are all the mutton chops gone?" "They are all down here, sir," said the steward, pointing to the floor at the opposite side of the saloon. "Oh, well, where's the cold fowl gone to?" This (which had previously been carved up) was found, after some search, buried beneath the slices of bread which had flown out of a neighbouring plate, and entirely covered it from view. A gentleman who had just been helped to something, found, on looking at his plate again, instead of what had been thereon, a pile of biscuits, and peevishly exclaimed in a weak, sick voice, "Here, steward, I don't want all these biscuits." Many other similar absurdities helped to keep us very merry under our misfortunes. The captain asked me this evening, "Do you keep a journal?" "Yes." "I thought so." "Why?" "Oh, something told me so. Have you put down that we carried away our foretopsail yard last night? because we did." "No, I did not know it; thank you."
Thursday. --The gale has subsided, but there is still a terrible swell. It has been as cold to-day on deck as I ever remember to have felt it. Our soaked cabin carpet having been taken away, the wet oil-cloth is as slippery as ice, and very dangerous. The stewardess says if she were to attempt to do anything, she should break her limbs; she will not take the unfortunate baby (which I cannot say I personally regret), lest she should fall and break its neck and her own too. However, as the day wore on, things mended, and if we could have had our skylight open, the cabin might have been made comfortable again; but this could not be, as they were all day getting up coal from the hold, and the black dust from it was blowing in showers all over the deck.
This evening the other lady passenger appeared in the cabin, and she was showing me some photographs, when she surprised me by asking, "Did I not see you at Trinity Church last Sunday evening? Do you recognize this likeness?--my father, the dean." What a gift some people have for observing and remembering others!
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How odd, that in all the congregation she should have seen and remembered, me.
On Friday and Saturday we had alternations of rough and smooth weather, but the sunset on Saturday evening was glorious; without a cloud in the sky, the ball of fire went down, as it were, into the sea, and as soon as it was set, there appeared at some height above a row of bright, fiery beads (like smaller suns), which after a time, united into one golden line. But lovely as it was, my attention was partly taken off from it, for no sooner had the dazzling light of the sun departed, than there appeared in dark relief against the burnished horizon a-head of us, the first sight of the distant land. We had not seen land since the day we left Adelaide; the appearance of it was as three peaks of mountains or rocks, and as we were going very fast, these increased in distinctness and in number to about six or seven before it became dark (and twilight here is very short). It was a beautiful sight, and above us at the same time was a blue, cloudless sky and bright moon. We expect to be in the Sound in the course of the night, if the weather remains clear.
