<SPAN name="chap03"></SPAN>
<h3> Chapter III. </h3>
<h3> STAY IN MELBOURNE </h3>
<p>At last we are in Australia. Our feet feel strange as they tread upon
TERRA FIRMA, and our SEA-LEGS (to use a sailor's phrase) are not so
ready to leave us after a four months' service, as we should have
anticipated; but it matters little, for we are in the colonies, walking
with undignified, awkward gait, not on a fashionable promenade, but
upon a little wooden pier.</p>
<p>The first sounds that greet our ears are the noisy tones of some
watermen, who are loitering on the building of wooden logs and boards,
which we, as do the good people of Victoria, dignify with the
undeserved title of PIER. There they stand in their waterproof caps and
skins—tolerably idle and exceedingly independent—with one eye on
the look out for a fare, and the other cast longingly towards the open
doors of Liardet's public-house, which is built a few yards from the
landing-place, and alongside the main road to Melbourne.</p>
<p>"Ah, skipper! times isn't as they used to was," shouted one, addressing
the captain of one of the vessels then lying in the bay, who was rowing
himself to shore, with no other assistant or companion than a
sailor-boy. The captain, a well-built, fine-looking specimen of an
English seaman, merely laughed at this impromptu salutation.</p>
<p>"I say, skipper, I don't quite like that d——d stroke of yours."</p>
<p>No answer; but, as if completely deaf to these remarks, as well as the
insulting tone in which they were delivered, the "skipper" continued
giving his orders to his boy, and then leisurely ascended the steps. He
walked straight up to the waterman, who was lounging against the
railing.</p>
<p>"So, my fine fellow, you didn't quite admire that stroke of
mine. Now, I've another stroke that I think you'll admire still less,"
and with one blow he sent him reeling against the railing on the
opposite side.</p>
<p>The waterman slowly recovered his equilibrium, muttering, "that was a
safe dodge, as the gentleman knew he was the heaviest man of the two."</p>
<p>"Then never let your tongue say what your fist can't defend," was the
cool retort, as another blow sent him staggering to his original place,
amidst the unrestrained laughter of his companions, whilst the captain
unconcernedly walked into Liardet's, whither we also betook ourselves,
not a little surprised and amused by this our first introduction to
colonial customs and manners.</p>
<p>The fact is, the watermen regard the masters of the ships in the bay as
sworn enemies to their business; many are runaway sailors, and
therefore, I suppose, have a natural antipathy that way; added to
which, besides being no customers themselves, the "skippers," by the
loan of their boats, often save their friends from the exorbitant
charges these watermen levy.</p>
<p>Exorbitant they truly are. Not a boat would they put off for the
nearest ship in the bay for less than a pound, and before I quitted
those regions, two and three times that sum was often demanded for only
one passenger. We had just paid at the rate of only three shillings and
sixpence each, but this trifling charge was in consideration of the
large party—more than a dozen—who had left our ship in the same
boat together.</p>
<p>Meanwhile we have entered Liardet's EN ATTENDANT the Melbourne omnibus,
some of our number, too impatient to wait longer, had already started
on foot. We were shown into a clean, well-furnished sitting-room, with
mahogany dining-table and chairs, and a showy glass over the
mantelpicce. An English-looking barmaid entered. "Would the company
like some wine or spirits?" Some one ordered sherry, of which I only
remember that it was vile trash at eight shillings a bottle.</p>
<p>And now the cry of "Here's the bus," brought us quickly outside again,
where we found several new arrivals also waiting for it. I had hoped,
from the name, or rather misname, of the conveyance, to gladden my eyes
with the sight of something civilized. Alas, for my disappointment!
There stood a long, tumble-to-pieces-looking waggon, not covered
in, with a plank down each side to sit upon, and a miserable narrow
plank it was. Into this vehicle were crammed a dozen people and an
innumerable host of portmanteaus, large and small, carpet-bags,
baskets, brown-paper parcels, bird-cage and inmate, &c., all of which,
as is generally the case, were packed in a manner the most calculated
to contribute the largest amount of inconvenience to the live portion
of the cargo. And to drag this grand affair into Melbourne were
harnessed thereto the most wretched-looking objects in the shape of
horses that I had ever beheld.</p>
<p>A slight roll tells us we are off.</p>
<p>"And is THIS the beautiful scenery of Australia?" was my first
melancholy reflection. Mud and swamp—swamp and mud—relieved here
and there by some few trees which looked as starved and miserable as
ourselves. The cattle we passed appeared in a wretched condition, and
the human beings on the road seemed all to belong to one family, so
truly Vandemonian was the cast of their countenances.</p>
<p>"The rainy season's not over," observed the driver, in an
apologetic tone. Our eyes and uneasy limbs most FEELINGLY corroborated
his statement, for as we moved along at a foot-pace, the rolling of the
omnibus, owing to the deep ruts and heavy soil, brought us into most
unpleasant contact with the various packages before-mentioned. On we
went towards Melbourne—now stopping for the unhappy horses to take
breath—then passing our pedestrian messmates, and now arriving at a
small specimen of a swamp; and whilst they (with trowsers tucked high
above the knee and boots well saturated) step, slide and tumble
manfully through it, we give a fearful roll to the left, ditto, ditto
to the right, then a regular stand-still, or perhaps, by way of
variety, are all but jolted over the animals' heads, till at length all
minor considerations of bumps and bruises are merged in the anxiety to
escape without broken bones.</p>
<p>"The Yarra," said the conductor. I looked straight ahead, and
innocently asked "Where?" for I could only discover a tract of marsh or
swamp, which I fancy must have resembled the fens of Lincolnshire, as
they were some years ago, before draining was introduced into
that county. Over Princes Bridge we now passed, up Swanston Street,
then into Great Bourke Street, and now we stand opposite the
Post-office—the appointed rendezvous with the walkers, who are there
awaiting us. Splashed, wet and tired, and also, I must confess, very
cross, right thankful was I to be carried over the dirty road and be
safely deposited beneath the wooden portico outside the Post-office.
Our ride to Melbourne cost us only half-a-crown a piece, and a shilling
for every parcel. The distance we had come was between two and three
miles.</p>
<p>The non-arrival of the mail-steamer left us now no other care save the
all-important one of procuring food and shelter. Scouts were
accordingly despatched to the best hotels; they returned with long
faces—"full." The second-rate, and in fact every respectable inn and
boarding or lodging-house were tried but with no better success. Here
and there a solitary bed could be obtained, but for our digging party
entire, which consisted of my brother, four shipmates, and myself, no
accommodation could be procured, and we wished, if possible, to
keep together. "It's a case," ejaculated one, casting his eyes to the
slight roof above us as if calculating what sort of night shelter it
would afford. At this moment the two last searchers approached, their
countenances not quite so woe-begone as before. "Well?" exclaimed we
all in chorus, as we surrounded them, too impatient to interrogate at
greater length. Thank Heavens! they had been successful! The
house-keeper of a surgeon, who with his wife had just gone up to Forest
Creek, would receive us to board and lodge for thirty shillings a week
each; but as the accommodation was of the indifferent order, it was not
as yet UNE AFFAIRE ARRANGEE. On farther inquiry, we found the
indifferent accommodation consisted in their being but one small
sleeping-room for the gentlemen, and myself to share the bed and
apartment of the temporary mistress. This was vastly superior to
gipsying in the dirty streets, so we lost no time in securing our new
berths, and ere very long, with appetites undiminished by these petty
anxieties, we did ample justice to the dinner which our really kind
hostess quickly placed before us.</p>
<p>The first night on shore after so long a voyage could scarcely
seem otherwise than strange, one missed the eternal rocking at which so
many grumble on board ship. Dogs (Melbourne is full of them) kept up an
incessant barking; revolvers were cracking in all directions until
daybreak, giving one a pleasant idea of the state of society; and last,
not least, of these annoyances was one unmentionable to ears polite,
which would alone have sufficed to drive sleep away from poor wearied
me. How I envied my companion, as accustomed to these disagreeables,
she slept soundly by my side; but morning at length dawned, and I fell
into a refreshing slumber.</p>
<p>The next few days were busy ones for all, though rather dismal to me,
as I was confined almost entirely within doors, owing to the awful
state of the streets; for in the colonies, at this season of the year,
one may go out prepared for fine weather, with blue sky above, and dry
under foot, and in less than an hour, should a COLONIAL shower come on,
be unable to cross some of the streets without a plank being placed
from the middle of the road to the pathway, or the alternative of
walking in water up to the knees.</p>
<p>This may seem a doleful and overdrawn picture of my first
colonial experience, but we had arrived at a time when the colony
presented its worst aspect to a stranger. The rainy season had been
unusually protracted this year, in fact it was not yet considered
entirely over, and the gold mines had completely upset everything and
everybody, and put a stop to all improvements about the town or
elsewhere.</p>
<p>Our party, on returning to the ship the day after our arrival,
witnessed the French-leave-taking of all her crew, who during the
absence of the captain, jumped overboard, and were quickly picked up
and landed by the various boats about. This desertion of the ships by
the sailors is an every-day occurrence; the diggings themselves, or the
large amount they could obtain for the run home from another master,
offer too many temptations. Consequently, our passengers had the
amusement of hauling up from the hold their different goods and
chattels; and so great was the confusion, that fully a week elapsed
before they were all got to shore. Meanwhile we were getting initiated
into colonial prices—money did indeed take to itself wings and fly
away. Fire-arms were at a premium; one instance will suffice—my
brother sold a six-barrelled revolver for which he had given
sixty shillings at Baker's, in Fleet Street, for sixteen pounds, and
the parting with it at that price was looked upon as a great favour.
Imagine boots, and they very second-rate ones, at four pounds a pair.
One of our between-deck passengers who had speculated with a small
capital of forty pounds in boots and cutlery, told me afterwards that
he had disposed of them the same evening he had landed, at a net profit
of ninety pounds—no trifling addition to a poor man's purse. Labour
was at a very high price, carpenters, boot and shoemakers, tailors,
wheelwrights, joiners, smiths, glaziers, and, in fact, all useful
trades, were earning from twenty to thirty shillings a day—the very
men working on the roads could get eleven shillings PER DIEM, and, many
a gentleman in this disarranged state of affairs, was glad to fling old
habits aside and turn his hand to whatever came readiest. I knew one in
particular, whose brother is at this moment serving as colonel in the
army in India, a man more fitted for a gay London life than a residence
in the colonies. The diggings were too dirty and uncivilized for his
taste, his capital was quickly dwindling away beneath the
expenses of the comfortable life he led at one of the best hotels in
town, so he turned to what as a boy he had learnt for amusement, and
obtained an addition to his income of more than four hundred pounds a
year as house carpenter. In the morning you might see him trudging off
to his work, and before night might meet him at some ball or soiree
among the elite of Melbourne.</p>
<p>I shall not attempt an elaborate description of the town of Melbourne,
or its neighbouring villages. A subject so often and well discussed
might almost be omitted altogether. The town is very well laid out; the
streets (which are all straight, running parallel with and across one
another) are very wide, but are incomplete, not lighted, and many are
unpaved. Owing to the want of lamps, few, except when full moon, dare
stir out after dark. Some of the shops are very fair; but the goods all
partake too largely of the flash order, for the purpose of suiting the
tastes of successful diggers, their wives and families; it is ludicrous
to see them in the shops—men who, before the gold-mines were
discovered, toiled hard for their daily bread, taking off half-a-dozen
thick gold rings from their fingers, and trying to pull on to
their rough, well-hardened hands the best white kids, to be worn at
some wedding party; whilst the wife, proud of the novel ornament,
descants on the folly of hiding them beneath such useless articles as
gloves.</p>
<p>The two principal streets are Collins Street and Elizabeth Street. The
former runs east and west, the latter crossing it in the centre.
Melbourne is built on two hills, and the view from the top of Collins
Street East, is very striking on a fine day when well filled with
passengers and vehicles. Down the eye passes till it reaches Elizabeth
Street at the foot; then up again, and the moving mass seems like so
many tiny black specks in the distance, and the country beyond looks
but a little piece of green. A great deal of confusion arises from the
want of their names being painted on the corners of the streets: to a
stranger, this is particularly inconvenient, the more so, as being
straight, they appear all alike on first acquaintance. The confusion is
also increased by the same title, with slight variation, being applied
to so many, as, for instance, Collins Street East; Collins Street West;
Little Collins Street East; Little Collins Street West, &c. &c.
Churches and chapels for all sects and denominations meet the eye; but
the Established Church has, of all, the worst provision for its
members, only two small churches being as yet completed; and Sunday
after Sunday do numbers return from St. Peter's, unable to obtain even
standing room beneath the porch. For the gay, there are two circuses
and one theatre, where the "ladies" who frequent it smoke short
tobacco-pipes in the boxes and dress-circle.</p>
<p>The country round is very pretty, particularly Richmond and
Collingwood; the latter will, I expect, soon become part of Melbourne
itself. It is situated at the fashionable—that is, EAST—end of
Melbourne, and the buildings of the city and this suburban village are
making rapid strides towards each other. Of Richmond, I may remark that
it does possess a "Star and Garter," though a very different affair to
its namesake at the antipodes, being only a small public-house. On the
shores of the bay, at nice driving distances, are Brighton and St.
Kilda. Two or three fall-to-pieces bathing-machines are at present the
only stock in trade of these watering-places; still, should some
would-be fashionables among my readers desire to emigrate, it may
gratify them to learn that they need not forego the pleasure of
visiting Brighton in the season.</p>
<p>When I first arrived, as the weather was still very cold and wet, my
greatest source of discomfort arose from the want of coal-fires, and
the draughts, which are innumerable, owing to the slight manner in
which the houses are run up; in some the front entrance opens direct
into the sitting-rooms, very unpleasant, and entirely precluding the
"not at home" to an unwelcome visitor. Wood fires have at best but a
cheerless look, and I often longed for the bright blaze and merry
fireside of an English home. Firewood is sold at the rate of fifty
shillings for a good-sized barrow-full.</p>
<p>The colonists (I here speak of the old-established ones) are naturally
very hospitable, and disposed to receive strangers with great kindness;
but the present ferment has made them forget everything in the glitter
of their own mines, and all comfort is laid aside; money is the idol,
and making it is the one mania which absorbs every other thought.</p>
<p>The walking inhabitants are of themselves a study: glance into
the streets—all nations, classes, and costumes are represented there.
Chinamen, with pigtails and loose trowsers; Aborigines, with a solitary
blanket flung over them; Vandemonian pickpockets, with cunning eyes and
light fingers—all, in truth, from the successful digger in his blue
serge shirt, and with green veil still hanging round his wide-awake, to
the fashionably-attired, newly-arrived "gent" from London, who stares
around him in amazement and disgust. You may see, and hear too, some
thoroughly colonial scenes in the streets. Once, in the middle of the
day, when passing up Elizabeth Street, I heard the unmistakeable sound
of a mob behind, and as it was gaining upon me, I turned into the
enclosed ground in front of the Roman Catholic cathedral, to keep out
of the way of the crowd. A man had been taken up for horse-stealing and
a rare ruffianly set of both sexes were following the prisoner and the
two policemen who had him in charge. "If but six of ye were of my
mind," shouted one, "it's this moment you'd release him." The crowd
took the hint, and to it they set with right good will, yelling,
swearing, and pushing, with awful violence. The owner of the
stolen horse got up a counter demonstration, and every few yards, the
procession was delayed by a trial of strength between the two parties.
Ultimately the police conquered; but this is not always the case, and
often lives are lost and limbs broken in the struggle, so weak is the
force maintained by the colonial government for the preservation of
order.</p>
<p>Another day, when passing the Post-office, a regular tropical shower of
rain came on rather suddenly, and I hastened up to the platform for
shelter. As I stood there, looking out into Great Bourke Street, a man
and, I suppose, his wife passed by. He had a letter in his hand for the
post; but as the pathway to the receiving-box looked very muddy, he
made his companion take it to the box, whilst he himself, from beneath
his umbrella, complacently watched her getting wet through. "Colonial
politeness," thought I, as the happy couple walked on.</p>
<p>Sometimes a jovial wedding-party comes dashing through the streets;
there they go, the bridegroom with one arm round his lady's waist, the
other raising a champagne-bottle to his lips; the gay vehicles
that follow contain company even more unrestrained, and from them
noisier demonstrations of merriment may be heard. These diggers'
weddings are all the rage, and bridal veils, white kid gloves, and,
above all, orange blossoms are generally most difficult to procure at
any price.</p>
<p>At times, you may see men, half-mad, throwing sovereigns, like
halfpence, out of their pockets into the streets; and I once saw a
digger, who was looking over a large quantity of bank-notes,
deliberately tear to pieces and trample in the mud under his feet every
soiled or ragged one he came to, swearing all the time at the
gold-brokers for "giving him dirty paper money for pure Alexander gold;
he wouldn't carry dirt in his pocket; not he; thank God! he'd plenty to
tear up and spend too."</p>
<p>Melbourne is very full of Jews; on a Saturday, some of the streets are
half closed. There are only two pawnbrokers in the town.</p>
<p>The most thriving trade there, is keeping an hotel or public-house,
which always have a lamp before their doors. These at night serve as a
beacon to the stranger to keep as far from them as possible,
they being, with few exceptions, the resort, after dark, of the most
ruffianly characters.</p>
<HR ALIGN="center" WIDTH="60%">
<p>On the 2nd of September, the long-expected mail steamer arrived, and
two days after we procured our letters from the Post-office. I may here
remark, that the want of proper management in this department is the
greatest cause of inconvenience to fresh arrivals, and to the
inhabitants of Melbourne generally. There is but ONE SMALL WINDOW,
whence letters directed to lie at the office are given out; and as the
ships from England daily discharged their living cargoes into
Melbourne, the crowd round this inefficient delivering-place rendered
getting one's letters the work, not of hours, but days. Newspapers,
particularly pictorial ones, have, it would appear, a remarkable
facility for being lost EN ROUTE. Several numbers of the "Illustrated
London News" had been sent me, and, although the letters posted with
them arrived in safety, the papers themselves never made their
appearance. I did hear that, when addressed to an uncolonial name, and
with no grander direction than the Post-office itself, the
clerks are apt to apropriate them—this is, perhaps, only a wee bit of
Melbourne scandal.</p>
<p>The arrival of our letters from England left nothing now to detain us,
and made us all anxious to commence our trip to the diggings, although
the roads were in an awful condition. Still we would delay no longer,
and the bustle of preparation began. Stores of flour, tea, and sugar,
tents and canvas, camp-ovens, cooking utensils, tin plates and
pannikins, opossum rugs and blankets, drays, carts and horses, cradles,
&c. &c., had to be looked at, bought and paid for.</p>
<p>On board ship, my brother had joined himself to a party of four young
men, who had decided to give the diggings a trial. Four other of our
shipmates had also joined themselves into a digging-party, and when
they heard of our intended departure, proposed travelling up together
and separating on our arrival. This was settled, and a proposal made
that between the two sets they should raise funds to purchase a dray
and horses, and make a speculation in flour, tea, &c., on which an
immense profit was being made at the diggings. It would also
afford the convenience of taking up tents, cradles, and other articles
impossible to carry up without. The dray cost one hundred pounds, and
the two strong cart-horses ninety and one hundred pounds respectively.
This, with the goods themselves, and a few sundries in the shape of
harness and cords, made only a venture of about fifty pounds a-piece.
While these arrangements were rapidly progressing, a few other parties
wished to join ours for safety on the road, which was agreed to, and
the day fixed upon for the departure was the 7th of September. Every
one, except myself, was to walk, and we furthermore determined to "camp
out" as much as possible, and thus avoid the vicinity of the inns and
halting-places on the way, which are frequently the lurking-places of
thieves and bushrangers.</p>
<HR ALIGN="center" WIDTH="60%">
<p>On the Sunday previous to the day on which our journey was to commence,
I had a little adventure, which pleased me at the time, though, but for
the sequel, not worth mentioning here. I had walked with my brother and
a friend to St. Peter's Church; but we were a few minutes behind
time, and therefore could find no unoccupied seat. Thus disappointed,
we strolled over Princes Bridge on to the other side of the Yarra.
Between the bridge and the beach, on the south side of the river, is a
little city of tents, called Little Adelaide. They were inhabited by a
number of families, that the rumour of the Victoria gold-mines had
induced to leave South Australia, and whose finances were unequal to
the high prices in Melbourne.</p>
<p>Government levies a tax of five shillings a week on each tent, built
upon land as wild and barren as the bleakest common in England. We did
not wander this morning towards Little Adelaide; but followed the Yarra
in its winding course inland, in the direction of the Botanical
Gardens.</p>
<p>Upon a gentle rise beside the river, not far enough away from Melbourne
to be inconvenient, but yet sufficiently removed from its mud and
noise, were pitched two tents, evidently new, with crimson paint still
gay upon the round nobs of the centre posts, and looking altogether
more in trim for a gala day in Merry England than a trip to the
diggings. The sun was high above our heads, and the day
intensely hot; so much so, that I could not resist the temptation of
tapping at the canvas door to ask for a draught of water. A gentleman
obeyed the summons, and on learning the occasion of this unceremonious
visit, politely accommodated me with a camp-stool and some delicious
fresh milk—in Melbourne almost a luxury. Whilst I was imbibing this
with no little relish, my friends were entering into conversation with
our new acquaintance. The tents belonged to a party just arrived by the
steamer from England, with everything complete for the diggings, to
which they meant to proceed in another week, and where I had the
pleasure of meeting them again, though under different and very
peculiar circumstances. The tent which I had invaded was inhabited by
two, the elder of whom, a powerfully-built man of thirty, formed a
strong contrast to his companion, a delicate-looking youth, whose
apparent age could not have exceeded sixteen years.</p>
<p>After a short rest, we returned to Melbourne, well pleased with our
little adventure.</p>
<p>The next day was hardly long enough for our numerous preparations, and
it was late before we retired to rest. Six was the hour
appointed for the next morning's breakfast. Excited with anticipating
the adventures to commence on the morrow, no wonder that my dreams
should all be GOLDEN ones.</p>
<br/><br/><br/>
<div style="break-after:column;"></div><br />