LETTER X.
Government House, Perth,
13th October 1883.
I am obliged to scribble very fast to get any of my English letters ready for to-day’s mail. But I must make time to tell you what a famous drive we had in from New Norcia the day before yesterday. I believe it has never been done before on wheels, all in one day; and we took exactly eleven hours to travel 85 miles. There were three relays of horses, and the van was much lighter, because all the cases of tinned provisions, and the soda water, and fresh water for tea, etc., had gradually been consumed. The good fathers tried, however, to make up the weight by all the good things they heaped on us; and I am sure, you and all your schoolfellows would have liked to have “looted” that van ten minutes after our start!
The road was very pretty, and nothing could have been more delightful than the early rattling drive through the forest, taking us to the top of Bindoon Hill by sunrise. It is not much of a hill after all; but in this flat country it is considered quite a precipitous and danger-place. Just at the bottom a very shallow little stream crosses the road, only enough to wet the horses’ hoofs; but even that amount of running water was a welcome and novel sight. The road was fairly good all the way, and we trotted along at a fine pace, halting at noon, for exactly one hour of rest and luncheon. Then in and on again with a fresh third team, and in two hours and a half we rattled and jingled up to our own door, triumphant but somewhat jaded, and weary as well as dusty. The poor orderly had collapsed at Guildford, for his horse refused with much good sense and firmness to pass its stable-door.
Monsieur Puppy was very glad to see me, and so were the other parrots and pets of all sorts and kinds. You shall hear about them some other day.
Cullum, near Newcastle, 31st October.
I have not been able to write much lately, for you see we are again on our travels, and moving about every day is bad for my letters! Whilst we were in Perth (only ten days) we were very gay as well as very busy; and among other festivities I gave away the prizes at some capital athletic sports. It was a lovely afternoon, and the sports were held on a green and pretty spot, almost close to the water’s edge. You would have enjoyed seeing the young men and boys run and jump even more than I did. It was also amusing to watch a flock of large pelicans which sat on the water, gravely looking on at the sports from a safe distance. I wonder what they thought of the shouting and applause? Every now and then a great bird rose heavily up and slowly sailed away; evidently his nerves could not stand the noise.
We had not had time to get rid of our sunburn before we started again, on the 23d, for York. The first 10 or 12 miles was by rail to the pretty and large village of Guildford, nestled amongst its fields and vineyards. We could not stop there this time, but we had often been there before, and it was barely nine o’clock, on a perfect morning, before we were rolling away from the railway station in the old familiar van. This time we did not need to take water or provisions with us; but then our best clothes had to be carried, for we were going into highly civilised regions, instead of rumbling over the dear desolate old sand-plains. So the van looked just as much of a Noah’s ark, or rather a parcel’s delivery cart on a large scale, as ever.
Eastward from Perth I have been looking, ever since I arrived last June, on a certain blue range of rather low hills—the only rising ground to be seen except the Bluff, called Mount Eliza, which is the final headland of a low range outside Perth. These higher hills lie between Perth and York, so that morning we had to cross them, and a very pretty drive it turned out to be. A good road and an easy incline made it pleasant travelling, and the glimpses of the wide plains below us all in their spring green were really charming. The only adventure you would like to hear of is that I nearly sat down on a snake! The road ahead, from where we stopped to lunch, looked so shady and pretty that we all strolled on, leaving orders for the van to follow. But it did not catch us up very soon, and we sat down to wait for it. Just as I was going to seat myself on a log, which had on a sort of loose greatcoat of thick bark, some one said, “Take care, that is the very place for a snake;” so I tapped the bark with my parasol, and out darted a small but active snake, who had hidden himself between the tree and the bark. There are lots of snakes about in the summer, they say, and this is a dangerous time, because they are just beginning to wake up and feel lively after their short winter’s sleep. We also passed several iguanas basking in the sunshine—hideous rugged lizards, a foot or more long—frightful to look at, but perfectly harmless, and a favourite native delicacy. They declare it tastes exactly like chicken.
A couple of miles out of York we were met by a great number of ladies and gentlemen, who escorted us back to the arches and welcomes of that pretty little town. I must say I feel dreadfully ashamed of the untidy, dusty figure I generally present on these public entries. The gentlemen manage much better, for, by taking off an overcoat, and producing a tall hat from a box under the seat, they fill me with envy by their suddenly full-dressed and respectable appearance. In spite of all my efforts I always feel more or less dishevelled, and cannot arrange for a fresh toilette in this rapid manner, though I do my best with a dust-cloak and a veil.
On this occasion, however, these personal fears were entirely swallowed up in great anxiety about the behaviour of the horses. The team for the last stage was a very spirited one, and it became so excited by the other horses galloping alongside, besides the cheering and the waving of fluttering banners and pennons, that by the time we reached the centre arch, and they caught sight of the Volunteers, the leaders had evidently made up their minds that the only safe place was inside the carriage; so they swerved suddenly round, and the next thing I saw was a horse’s head just at my feet, as I sat in the high tray. However, they were soon turned round and securely held, whilst the ladder was fixed and we descended, with what grace and dignity we could manage, from our perches. I am afraid you would laugh very much if you could see me climbing in and out of that van. Everybody near seems rather anxious for my safety, so I suppose it looks as perilous as it feels. And as the ladder has gradually got very much bent by the sudden onward starts of the horses, whilst it was still in position, the danger and awkwardness increases every journey.
I did not see how pretty York was until next day, when we managed to find time to go up to the top of the highest of the low hills which form the cup or hollow in which it nestles. Large fields of fine wheat and oats and barley, made immensely big and beautiful green patches in every direction; the houses also looked picturesque and comfortable, and nearly all of them had gardens round them. The house where we were most kindly taken in, and most hospitably entertained, seemed specially pretty, and more like a large Swiss châlet, as we looked down on it from our little pinnacle.
The weather remained lovely, though rather warmer than when we were last on our travels, and I enjoyed the long excursions to the small outlying townships or large stations which made up part of the programme of each day. You see the main object of these visits to the different parts of this huge colony is, that your father may make himself acquainted with the country, so that when questions of railways or harbours, or any other kind of improvement, come before him, he may know what sort of place they are talking or writing about. And, as I told you before, all the Queen’s far-away subjects take the only way they have of showing their love and loyalty, and so make Her representative’s visit to their little towns one constant scene of welcome and entertainment. This is all very nice, and quite as it should be, but the long, rapid drives through this fine air make me so sleepy! And just when I want to tumble into bed, and go off to sleep like a dormouse, poor old Mater often has to put on a smart gown and her best cap and go to a ball! Luckily I wake up after a little, and manage to enjoy myself nearly as much as your father does, but I envy him for never looking tired or sleepy.
There were lots of balls and banquets and parties of all sorts at York, and so there are here, but we are a long way off—12 miles—from the pretty little township of Newcastle, staying at a charming country-house, where everything is very English and comfortable. The road between York and Newcastle is the prettiest I have yet seen, and one part of it, through a forest by the side of a river, was really lovely. The two little towns only lie about 35 miles apart, and we stopped to lunch at a nice village—one day to be probably a place of great importance—called Northam, where we hungry travellers were splendidly fed and comforted, and sent on our way, through many arches, rejoicing.
The land of this part of the country, called the Eastern Districts, is capital, and it is fairly thickly settled with prosperous-looking farms. I don’t think I have seen any curious animals to tell you about because, naturally, the noise the lumbering old van makes scares the creatures away, all except a stolid iguana, whom we now and then pass asleep on the sunny road, and who sometimes allows himself to be driven over sooner than move. Occasionally a kangaroo or two dart across the path, or a snake, basking in the sunshine, wriggles away under the nearest bush. I have caught sight occasionally of a little animal, something like a squirrel, scurrying up a tree, but it was only a large opossum rat. A flash of brilliant green, like a wet jewel, means a covey of startled paroquets; but the handsomest birds I have seen are the hawks, which are so large that they look more like falcons or eagles. There are some flowers, though nothing like the wondrous growth of the sand-plains, and we pass lots of ferns and orchids.
The strangest animal (or is it a reptile, I wonder?) hereabouts is what the natives call a York Devil. It is quite ugly enough for its name, but seems peaceable and harmless enough. It must possess something of the nature of a chameleon, for it changes its colour gradually to match the stone or gravel or wood on which it finds itself. It is about the size of the palm of a man’s hand, with a queer, rugged, knobby body, and four short feet like a lizard’s; its long neck and spiky head give it a weird and uncanny look. I cannot say it is very lively, nor did I perceive that it ate anything. I kept one, tethered by its leg to the tap of a water-barrel in the garden, for some days; but as I was told that they invariably die, and die slowly after months of starvation, I could not be happy until I had taken it to its favourite rocks, and let it loose. I suspect it lives on small flies and things it cannot get, except on a wild hillside, for it is always found among rocks and in a desolate spot. I should have liked to keep one, but it seemed too cruel to starve an inoffensive creature to death merely because it looked odd. I could not hear that, in spite of their aggressive name, the poor little York devils ever did the least harm to any one, nor are there very many of them.
Our pleasant stay here is just over. To-morrow we are to drive early into Newcastle, for all sorts of festivities in the daytime—an agricultural show, a bazaar, and a banquet—winding up with a ball at night, and then we have to start early next morning, for a rapid drive into Perth. So it is settled that we sleep at a friend’s house in Newcastle to-morrow, to save the horses the extra 12 miles before they begin their journey.