Kennedy's colonial travel : a narrative of a four years' tour through Australia, New Zealand, Canada, &c.

Preface

It was my good fortune during 1872-76 to accompany my father on a professional tour, singing the Songs of Scotland round the world. Ours was a family-party, consisting of my father, mother, two sisters, two brothers, "Cousin Tom'' (business agent), and myself We travelled minutely through the Colonies, visiting nearly every town and village in Australia, New Zealand, and Canada. From time to time, during a period of three years, I sent Notes of our Colonial Travel " to the Edinburgh papers — the Daily Review and the North British Advertiser and Ladies^ Journal. These articles, with some alterations and many additions, are here reprinted.

DAVID KENNEDY, Junior.

8 St Andrew's Terrace, Newington, Edinburgh, October 1876.

Contents

CHAP. PAGE

I. Arriving at Port Phillip — Description of Melbourne, , i II. Ballarat — Down a Gold Mine — Geelong — A Hot-wind

III. Sandhurst — Echuca — Buying Coach and Horses — A

Chapter 1. Arriving At Port Phillip — Description Of Melbourne

About dawn on a Sunday in June 1872, we sighted Cape Otway, the mountainous promontory of the Victorian coast, after a protracted voyage of ninety-three days from Glasgow, in the chpper ship " Ben Ledi." Our passage, though long, had not been more eventful than commonly befalls the Australian voyager. We caught the usual albatross, and killed the customary shark; had the inevitable glimpse of dreamy Madeira, and crossed the Line with grog and ceremony ; had, as a matter of course, a quick run from the Cape of Good Hope, and latterly were doomed to the baffling winds that generally overtake a vessel when within sight of its longexpected destination.

After leaving the timbered ranges of Cape Otway, which loomed sombrely through the morning mists, the land gradually lost its majesty, passing by easy transition from mountain to hill, and from hill to knoll, until near Port Phillip it degenerated into a decidedly pancakey coast, flat and uninteresting. Soon we were pleasantly surprised by the arrival of the pilot, a dapper, trim-whiskered man, who began his reign of office by ignoring the captain, and anathematising in a gentlemanly manner every block, pulley, and brace within the limits of the ship. With singular foresight, he had brought one newspaper with him, and we doubt if ever that journal was so popular before or since, or that so many persons ever tried to read off one copy as on that occasion. Becoming disgusted with the meagreness of the news, the popular voice turned on the pilot, who seemed to be bursting (as far as it might be thought fit and proper for him to burst) with some weighty communication, and I am happy

A to state that twelve well-balanced minds went to rest that night with the sublime consciousness of knowing the name of the horse that won the Derby.

The Heads which form the entrance to Port Phillip Bay are about two miles apart, though when approached from the sea the channel appears much narrower, owing to the points of land considerably overlapping each other. On the western shore stands the neat-looking township of QueensclifF, and principal piloting station of the bay, which we passed in the twilight, just as the great rip " or inflowing tide swept along with the noise and rush of a distant avalanche, bearing the ship onwards at fully six knots an hour. As the current subsided into a gentle ripple, there came tolling over the water the Sabbath evening bell from the Queenscliff Church, which was answered by the hollow roar of the anchor-chain as we came to our moorings for the night in Port Phillip Bay.

Early next morning, after a ceremonious visit from the health officer, we tacked up the bay against a strong head wind, making very slight progress, and exhausting what little patience we had remaining. As we proceeded towards Melbourne the scenery became more interesting, the eye being delighted with large plantations sloping down to the shore, and dotted with very desirable mansions, the country houses of the great city merchants and the budding aristocracy of Victoria. Half-way up the eastern shore rose a lofty and commanding bluff, clothed with gum-trees to the very summit, and bearing the name of Arthur's Seat, but with no resemblance to its Scottish namesake save in point of height ; while to the extreme westward appeared dimly the mountain of You Yangs, which stands near the shores of Corio Bay, and is distant a few miles from the town of Geelong.

Towards evening we arrived near Hobson's Bay, where the pilot again determined to anchor out all night, much to the annoyance of all on board, to whom the twinkling lights on shore had a very tantalizing appearance. Early next morning, we were laboriously making headway against the gale which was still blowing in our teeth. On the right shore appeared the beautiful suburbs of Brighton and St Kilda, the favourite watering-places of the metropolis — a collection of elegant villas, graceful churches, and fine hotels ; while at the head of the bay stood Melbourne, its towers and spires showing but dimly through the great cloud of dust that overhung the city. On the left, easily distinguished by its shipping and busy stir, lay the port of William stown, our desired haven, which we were not destined to reach, however, till late in the afternoon.

The first person to come on board, regardless of Custom-house laws, was an enterprising butcher, who diligently sought the captain's ear for the privilege of serving the ship with meat while in port, and who, on the arrival of Her Majesty's officers up one side of the vessel, disappeared over the other with an agility that bespoke long practice. The deck soon swarmed with boatmen, hotel touters, luggage porters, and friends of the passengers, all in a state of bustle and excitement. An ungentlemanly character departed with our luggage in one direction, while our friends took us in another, the whole of us falling latterly into the clutches of a zealous boatman, who was determined to have us at all hazards — the rest of the sailing craft, by a singular fatality, being very dangerous and untrustworthy as compared with his, which would take the whole party over to Sandridge for a sum at that moment too contemptible to be spoken of in the presence of gentlemen. After a short sail we landed at this suburb one minute before the starting-time of the train to Melbourne. Being full of the traditions of the old country, we made a frantic dash, clearing the Customs in an unusual and unconstitutional manner, and arriving a minute past the time. The guard was authoritative and fuming, so we entered the train with meekness, and an expression of sorrow in our coat-tails. After sitting patiently for about five minutes, we look out and see, by the lamplight, the guard picking his teeth consecutively and holding a lively iete-a-tete with a female friend. We watch him, with an evil twinkle in our eye suggestive of a letter to the papers, and have just got the first sentence graphically constructed, when the train starts ofi", and we find ourselves in a very lumbering and boxy railway carriage, seemingly without any springs, which we are happy to quit when we reach the Melbourne station. But first impressions are, like printers' first proofs, not to be trusted, and liable to subsequent correction.

We drove ofi" from the station in an Albert car, a two-wheeled vehicle with glazed leather sides and top, and with a swinging jolt that is anything but pleasant to the unaccustomed — arriving at one of the principal hotels, a substantial building just like any similar establishment in the old country, with the usual blaze of light at the entrance, the same resplendent shirt-front and black suit ready to usher you in, and the ever-present street arab helping you to alight.

Kennedy s Colonial Travel.

After disposing of a sumptuous meal — a combination of breakfast, dinner, and supper — we strolled out to have a moonlight peep at Melbourne, inaugurating our walk by purchasing at a fruit shop a magnificent pine-apple for sixpence. Bourke Street, the principal business thoroughfare of the city, was filled with a busy crowd of people promenading before gaily-lighted shops and gas-flaring stands — the housewife with her basket, intent on purchases ; the native Australian youth or cornstalk;" the Chinaman with his stereotyped face; lounging fellows with big beards and tall slouched hats; Frenchman and German; English, Scotch, and Irish — all blending in one common throng. After walking for about half-an-hour amid this lively scene, we turned into Collins Street, the afternoon promenade of the fashion and beauty of Melbourne, but found it almost deserted, the only persons visible being some stray individuals sauntering to their club, and bank clerks hurrying home after their day's business, the comparative silence of the street being occasionally broken by the sad notes of a wandering minstrel playing his flageolet before one of the fashionable hotels.

Melbourne, viewed simply as a speedy aggregation of bricks, mortar, and population, is an astonishing city. Receiving, like San Francisco, its great vitality from the discovery of gold, it has sprung up, mushroom-like, within the memory of this generation. Melbourne has now a population, including the suburbs, of 200,000 — a fourth of the inhabitants of the colony of Victoria. The city rises on the north bank of the Yarra Yarra River. This little stream is sweet and sylvan in and about Melbourne ; but further down, between the city and the bay, its waters are laden with the noisome stinks of chemical works and tanneries. It has a very tortuous course, and takes eight miles to go from Melbourne to the bay, which, as the crow flies, is scarcely a third of that distance. Viewed from an eminence, the river bears a strong resemblance to a liquid cork-screw. The principal streets of the city are one mile long, 100 feet wide, and run at right angles to each other. Elizabeth Street divides the city into east and west, and lies in the valley formed by the two hills upon which Melbourne is situated. The drainage of the city is open, a stream of water running down each side of the street, with small wooden bridges at frequent intervals for the convenience of foot-passengers. Nearly every house, shop, and public building has its verandah, which slopes down over the pavement, and forms a grateful protection from the heavy rains in winter, and the scorching sun

Melbourne.

in summer. The sky-line of the streets is not generally of the most uniform nature ; and this is the first thing that strikes the stranger as at all peculiar. He finds spacious and lofty warehouses standing side by side with one-storied workshops ; grand stone buildings hobnobbing with low wooden shanties ; and stately-looking churches in close proximity to timber yards, tinsmiths' shops, and small public-houses. All these incongruities, however, are fast disappearing, the temporary wooden buildings being weeded out by degrees, and substantial structures erected in their stead.

Collins Street is the most regularly built of the thoroughfares of Melbourne! The west end of it contains the principal hotels, banks, and insurance offices ; the eastern portion being devoted to the residences of clergymen, doctors, and musical professors. At the intersection of Russel and Collins Streets stands the monument erected to Burke and Wills, the famous explorers of the Australian continent. It consists of two large bronze figures of the travellers, mounted on a pedestal of the same material, round the base of which appear four bas-reliefs illustrating the various episodes in the ill-fated expedition to the interior — an expedition which started from Melbourne in i860 with great eclat and flourish of trumpets, but which ended in the death of Burke and his companion amid the wilds of the desert. Near this monument is the Independent Church, a large showy building of variegated brick, with a massive spire and belfry. Over the way, in strong contrast to it, stood at this time the Presbyterian Church, a plain and unpretentious structure. It did not seem, however, to have exactly suited Presbyterian wants, as it has since been demolished, and a larger and more costly place of worship erected. The site is one of the finest in all Melbourne, and the lofty tapering spire forms a noble feature in the sky-line. Further down Collins Street is the new Town Hall, a stately edifice built in a mixed classical style, with a lofty tower on the south-western extremity, and two broad flights of steps leading up to the principal entrance. The great hall has a large seating capacity, and is most sumptuously decorated. A spacious balcony runs round the entire building, while over the commodious orchestra has been erected a huge and highly-ornamented organ.

In Bourke Street are situated the principal markets and places of amusement. Here are the temples of the drama — the Theatre Royal and the Prince of Wales' Opera House. Here too is the Eastern Market, or " Paddy's Market," as it is

Kemiedys Colonial Travel.

familiarly called, where are displayed fruits and flowers of everjr kind, and the finest possible vegetables. The cauliflowers of Melbourne, in size and flavour, are truly remarkable, and would open the eyes of a Cockney housewife. In Bourke Street the miscellaneous business of the city is transacted, with a strange jumble of nationalities, as shown by the business signs and placards over the doors and windows. Messrs Levi and Abraham will be happy to sell you all descriptions of cigars,, pipes, and tobacco ; Sprachen and Herz can supply unlimited varieties of fancy goods and colonial-made jewellery; Moosoo, Adolphus, & Co. possess an excellent stock of furniture and "French polish and Ah Ching Ah Wing & Chum Foo haveon hand a large assortment of tea, opium, and Chinese curiosities.

Bourke Street is also the centre of a line of omnibuses, which convey you to any part of the city for threepence. They are conducted on a very economic principle, the driver having control over the back door by a long leather strap, and the passengers poking their fare through a little hole in the front. These vehicles are supplemented by a multitude of omnibus cabs, plying at the same rates, and forming no inconsiderable item in the street traffic, which is principally made up of these conveyances and a miscellaneous collection of buggies, railway carts, produce vans, and country coaches. One must not forget, however, the irrepressible butcher boy, who rushes on horseback through this heavy stream of traffic with all the vagaries of a comet amidst the solar system, — the snorting steed dashing up the street with a life-and-death appearance, its eyes flashing and its tail streaming ; while all the interest involved is perhaps a paltry beefsteak or a solitary leg of mutton.

The chief building in Bourke Street is the General Post- Office, which, though smaller and less ornamental than the Town Hall, is yet a commodious and imposing pile. Like the latter building, it is surmounted with a large tower, from which the progress of the English mail is signalled to the citizens every month by means of flags. The departure of the mail is always an occasion of great excitement at the Post-Office. Half an hour before the closing time you see a stream of people trickling in with their letters, and leisurely depositing them in the large windows. At a quarter to ten there is a growing anxiety to jostle, while at five minutes to the hour there is a decided rush — office boys running with bundles of despatches, and anxious persons feverishly clutching their " home " letters. The cry^

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is " still they come," when Borne ! goes the first stroke of ten, and round the corner fly procrastinating individuals in cabs ; while many tumble nervously out of omnibuses, and rush to join the gathering throng. Bome ! the crowd tightens up, the Stamp Office is besieged, and a maelstrom of packages is discharged into the box. Bim, bome ! the portico is now crowded with people hustling, pushing, and squeezing in at all corners, frantically waving newspapers and bundles of letters, and working themselves fiercely to the window, where some individuals have inextricably wedged themselves in. Bim, bome ! the last stroke of ten, and down goes the shutter with* an unmistakable bang.

During our three months' stay in Melbourne, we frequently visited the Chinese quarter in Little Bourke Street, where the Celestials, with excusable clannishness, have gathered themselves together. Their shops and houses form a large portion of this thoroughfare. The buildings are all after the European manner, but the interior be^rs strong evidences of Chinese occupation. At nearly every door you see John " lounging and smoking with the listlessness characteristic of the race, or grinning feebly at you as you pass. Numbers of his countrymen are lolling about inside, playing at the national lottery of "fan-tan," or holding a desultory conversation with a stray customer, who sips out of a small cup the tea invariably placed on the counter of all Chinese shops, but which being pure and unsweetened is not very palatable to the European. One cannot fail to observe the very diversified business done in the Chinese quarter; for among other buildings we can easily see the gambling saloon, with its group of avaricious speculators, and its windowful of lucky and other papers ; the tea warehouse, crowded to the door with chests and boxes ; the opium shop, with its noxious drugs and vacant-eyed customers ; and the lottery shop, presided over by a priestly hoary-haired Chinaman — all these establishments doing an apparently good business. Now and then, however, the gambling haunts are invaded by the police, and at these times it is no uncommon thing to see a gang of handcuffed Chinamen, to the number of twenty or thirty, escorted by constables to the Police Court, where, amidst a crowd of sympathising friends, the Celestials pay their fines, or more frequently endure their imprisonments. The lower order of Chinamen gain a livelihood as pedlars or itinerant merchants, having their goods slung on both ends of a long bamboo, by means of which they are able to carry on their shoulder great weights without much apparent exertion. They are invariably to be seen at the back-doors of houses, chatting with the servant-girls, and trying to dispose of their wares at a good profit. Many of them act as chiffonniers, and scrape a subsistence out of dust-heaps and rubbish — the Chinaman being proverbial for making a living where a European would starve.

One evening we went to the Chinese theatre — a temporary exhibition, held in a booth erected at the head of Little Bourke Street. The tent was surrounded by a noisy crowd of street arabs and loafers, who were eaves-dropping through the rents of the canvas, and yelling out their general opinion of the performance. Paying our shilling we entered, and saw an audience of eighty or ninety Chinamen. We took our stand beside one of them, asking him to explain the " plot ; " but he declined the task, as he had left China when he was only " one moon old." The stage was like an inverted proscenium — the foot-lights " being placed about twelve inches above the heads of the actors, who raised their faces towards the lamps when any strong emotion had to be exhibited. Behind the performers, at the back of the stage, sat the orchestra, numbering two, who played Celestial airs on a monotonous gong and a wearisome onestringed fiddle. The entrance of any great character was the occasion of a furious burst of sound, which subsided when he commenced to speak, but was immediately resumed upon the conclusion of a sentence. No special scenery graced the stage, the dramatis personce appearing from behind two tapestried curtains. The drama was relieved by an incident assuredly not in the programme. A shower of missiles, thrown by the rabble outside, came flying through the roof of the tent, and alighted on the heads of an emperor and chief mandarin, who were instantly escorted from the stage amid the shrill jabbering of the audience, the play methodically proceeding as before. Imagine the effect upon an English audience of seeing their favourite Hamlet or popular Macbeth carried off at the wings dangerously wounded by bricks hurled in at the skylights !

During our journey through the city we came frequently into contact with the Melbourne cabmen, who are even more original and worthy of notice than their brethren in the old country. Most of them are waifs from the diggings, unsuccessful during the great alluvial rushes, or, if successful, at least unfortunate in not keeping a judicious hold of their savings. They have adopted this line of business as an instantaneous means of

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livelihood, and some have got the length of comparative independence, possessing their own horse and vehicle, with a few pounds to their credit at the bank. In outward appearance the Melbourne cabman is a respectable fellow. On entering his cab or Albert car, you are soon put at your ease, as he talks with you in a familiar and friendly manner that is quite assuring.

*'Ah! you admire them houses, do you, sir? — well, what would you think of seeing that all trees, sir — all bush, nothing but tents — that's what I saw when I came out here twenty years ago this very month. I left the missus an' young folks at home, an' sailed for the diggings in '52 — yes, sir, an' I made some thousands of pounds up at Ballarat. I wouldn't like to tell you how much I made — indeed, I wouldn't. I took the gold out in bucketfuls — didn't sift the gold from the dirt ; that was too much trouble, sir. I took the dirt from the gold. Yes, I built a hotel up there, and the two rooms of it were crammed from week's end to week's end. My word ! the coin 1 put away then ! But I was a fool in those days, sir. I was too free, too generous, too openrhearted — spent all my earnings among my chums. I took to the drink, sir, bad ; an' the money went as fast as it came. Then I lost the run of my luck, an' had to sell out an' come down to Melbourne a cab-driving. You'll be wondering, sir, at seeing me holding the reins, but a chap's got to be humble in this world sometimes, you know. It's my own horse an' cab, sir ; all my own property ; but it don't make up for the good old times, the jolly old times. Get off at this corner, sir ? — all right, sir — threepence, sir — goodday, sir."

And away he goes in his Albert car, a vehicle which we shall recollect for some time by reason of an accident that occurred one evening while we were driving down Bourke Street. We had reached a very steep portion of the road, which was slippery owing to recent rains, when the horse, after a few preliminary stumbles, fell to the ground, the shafts flying into fragments and the front-seat passengers- rolling out over the unfortunate animal ; while a number of lady-passengers had to be taken down by a ladder from the back part of the vehicle amidst the sympathies of the large crowd which had gathered round.

One of the greatest treats we enjoyed was in visiting the beautiful parks and reserves set apart for the benefit and recreation of the citizens. The Botanical and Fitzroy Gardens are the two principal resorts, the former containing an extensive variety of tropical and British plants, growing side by side in lO the open air ; and the latter, which costs the Government jQ\2oo per year, laid out in beautiful walks, and ornamented with a large number of classical statues, that meet you unexpectedly at every turn. The Treasury Gardens, occupying a beautiful slope at the back of the Government buildings, cost ;^50o annually, the original sum expended being ^3000, which included the deposit of 10,000 loads of soil. There are also the Flagstaff, Horticultural, and Friendly Society's Gardens the Acclimatisation Society's Gardens, the South Park, and the Military Reserve — all distributed equally over the town, and open free to visitors daily. The grounds of the Melbourne Cemetery are also a favourite resort on Sunday afternoons, and are well worthy of a stranger's visit, if only to see the Jewish and Chinese divisions, which are full of interest. The principal tombstone in the cemetery is that erected to Burke and Wills, — a striking contrast to their elegant monument in Collins Street, as it consists solely of an immense mass of uncut granite, symbolical of the great unfinished work of their lives.

Melbourne is a city popularly supposed to be wholly given over to Wool and Gold. But material prosperity does not shut out a due recognition of the Arts and Sciences. There is a fine University, with a grant of 000 every year from Government. There is also a Public Library in Swanston Street — a noble building containing 80,000 volumes. It consists of one long,, spacious, and well-lighted chamber surrounded by numerous recesses. You sit down, look over the catalogue, and then pick out your book from the surrounding shelves. The library is free, and open from ten in the morning to ten at night. Any one can make use of it. No matter how poor or shabbily dressed a man may be, he can come in as boldly as any student or professor. The workmen from the adjoining shops and factories make good use of the fibrary during meal-hours. While on the subject of reading, I may state that the Press is well represented in Melbourne, there being three daily papers, one evening journal, several "weeklies," a Melbourne JPunch, two illustrated papers, and numerous class-periodicals.

We were privileged one night to hear a debate in the Legislative Assembly, a most ample hall, well seated and excellently lighted. The stranger's gallery was filled mostly, as far as we could tell, with working men, who were no doubt interested in the re-arrangement of tariffs, the matter under discussion. Some folks think the heavy dues on the Victorian ports are suicidal,

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II and that the colony is being ruined ; others uphold that Protection is nursing the young and feeble industries of the country. The arguments pro and con would not be very interesting to the general reader, and are similar to those that can be heard in all countries where free-trade is not the law of the land. It would seem that protection is necessary for the growth of a new colony, and the only difficulty is in determining the point at which the tariffs can be dispensed with, when the defences can be thrown away, and the community is able to meet the full tide of the world's commerce. The wordy fight in the Assembly waxed loud and long. One or two offensive personal remarks were made, but apologised for, while the Speaker's voice occasionally rolled through the building with a call of" Order, order.'' Two friends of ours, who had recently been elected to Parliament, and could now write M. L. A. after their names, made telling speeches. Assurance was given us afterwards that this was a stirring debate.

Nominally there are no poorhouses or workhouses in Melbourne. But there are kindred institutions. There is a Benevolent Asylum and an Orphan Asylum. Two important buildings are the Melbourne and Alfred Hospitals, — the latter a beautiful structure on the St Kilda Road, commemorating the visit of the Duke of Edinburgh to the Australian colonies. The Blind Asylum is another important institution, where the inmates, in addition to useful trades, are taught vocal and instrumental music, which the committee have utilised to the raising of their funds by the occasional giving of concerts in the Town Hall. Of equal interest is the Deaf and Dumb Institution, where the scholars are taught by an elaborate system of signs grafted on their usual alphabet. This is a decided improvement ; for while there is animation and expressiveness in the gestures, there is increased quickness in the conversation. As might be supposed, the faculty of the pupils for mimicry is very great, and the superintendent cultivates their pantomimic ability for their mutual amusement. Historical tableaux are sometimes got up for the gratification of visitors, the scholars being chosen according to their real or fancied resemblance to Biblical or other characters. We were not favoured upon our visit with any special exhibition, the superintendent lamenting that he could not show us the spectacle of" Abraham offering up Isaac for though Isaac was still in the institution, yet Abraham had gone to Tasmania to see his friends.

One day we visited the great penal establishment at Pentridge, a few miles from Melbourne. This famous prison or " Stockade," to which we were kindly invited by the Presbyterian chaplain, contained 600 convicts. Inside we found the prisoners alphabetically arranged, A, B, and C dividing them into various stages of wickedness. In one yard we saw a company of convicts being searched seriatim^ each individual in turn throwing up his hands in quite a formal manner, the examination itself being of necessity very ceremonious and cursory ; and in another, a number of prisoners were building a high wall, which task must have gone somewhat against their feelings. One of the workmen happened to jostle us in passing, and we were agreeably surprised to hear that he was one of the most notorious Victorian bushrangers, one who had kept whole districts in mortal terror for months on end. Some other worthies were also pointed out who were loaded with various degrees of infamy, and looked cool, unconcerned, and utterly commonplace. We were next shown over a series of workshops, where the usual everyday trades were being pursued. In one room a party of thirty men were making boots and shoes, laughing and talking as merrily to each other as if they expected the leaving-off bell to sound next minute, and were hoping to spend a pleasant evening with their friends at the theatre. These men were guilty principally of forgery and embezzlement, and had finely-formed heads, with uniformly intelligent faces. In an adjoining workshop some more men of a similar class were busy upon soldiers' uniforms and clothing of all kinds, the materials being handed to them by the foreman through a heavily-grated window. Our guide now took us to have a peep at the cells, telling us, however, that our view of the Stockade would be somewhat limited, as the whole of the establishment was in a dreadful state of anxiety and nervousness, owing to the attempt of one of the prisoners the previous afternoon to murder the Inspector-General, who was severely wounded. While passing through the first corridor, we heard a combined noise of scuffling and yells, and casting a sidelong glance at an open cell door we saw the murderous prisoner struggling in the arms of two warders. Hurriedly passing on, we came to the centre hall of the building, from which radiated long rows of cells. The prisoners seemed rather well cared for ; not a few of the cells were supplied with books, and some of them had their walls painted a delicate green for the comfort of inmates with weak eyes. Before leaving this department, we