LETTER VI.
Dongarra, 4th October.
There is so much to write about that I must begin my letter at once from here, where we are most comfortably housed, and from whence we make our final start to-morrow morning.
The drive of yesterday and the day before was delightful; we went about 40 miles each day. The first night we slept at a capital hotel, in order to have time for a banquet to your father, given by the farmers and settlers of the district, and where a sort of little agricultural show was also to be held, to which we went. The name of that place was Hampton, and an early but heavy shower of rain made our start next morning delightful, so fresh and fragrant was the air, besides laying the dust. The roads, so far, have been very good, and the open country looks green and pretty, with low hills making a dark blue edge to the horizon. The wattle bushes were all covered with their yellow tufts of bloom, and a network of white clematis seemed to spread over every clump. There were, besides this gold and silver colouring, great patches of pink, or else what looks like a giant field of ox-eyed daisies. But they are not daisies at all, only large everlastings. We are accustomed to think of everlastings as stupid little dusty buttons, hardly worthy of the name of flowers at all. So it was quite a surprise to see acres upon acres covered with these large lovely and brilliant blossoms, which are yet everlastings, and will live for months. It is a long time before they fade and get powdery, which is all that happens to them in the way of perishing.
We drove in a sort of procession of little carriages, which got along much better than big ones would have done, and allowed of the horses being constantly changed. First came the Governor and his private secretary, driven by the Member for the district, and with two mounted orderlies, following close behind. Then I was very happy in the next carriage, because my charming driver—the Resident Magistrate—knew every leaf and flower, and could tell me their names, and all about the birds. This carriage of ours was simply a mass of nosegays. They were piled up in front till we appeared to have an apron of flowers over our knees. Then came two more vehicles, one with the Inspector of Police, who had charge of us, and another gentleman, and the last held the servants. So you see we made quite a grand procession.
At each little hamlet along the road, wherever even two or three houses stood, the people who lived in them had either built an arch across the road, or sometimes they just tied the trees at their gate together, and decorated them with flowers and flags. Kind words and “Welcomes” waved from every cottage door. You can’t think how bright and pretty it all looked, or how cordial was the greeting everywhere. At one little “township”—village you would call it—the school children had been drawn up under a pretty arch, and they sang the National Anthem very sweetly, your father pausing in his carriage beneath the span of flowers to listen. He then drove on, amid tremendous cheering, and when my little phaeton passed under, what do you think happened? A string was pulled and a shower of tiny nosegays, artfully concealed at the top of the arch, tumbled down right into the carriage, nearly smothering me! The children clapped their hands, and shouted with glee at my astonishment! Even the horses gave a jump at this sudden rain of flowers, and for a long time after bits of bouquets remained sticking all over their harness.
One of the prettiest things, however, happened at a very desolate part of the road. A little cottage stood all by itself, a short way back in a field, and the grown-up people belonging to it must have locked it up, and gone off to make holiday at the next township; for no one was to be seen except some nice little children, who had been left behind, apparently in charge of the eldest, a small personage of about eight years old. These little people had determined to give a greeting of their very own to the Governor. So the biggest of them had taken a stick, and traced a huge “Welcome” in large and wobbly letters in the sand, right across the road. The rest had picked the everlastings near, and had thickly filled in the hollows, so as to make an immense pink word for papa to drive across. And after all they seemed much too timid to come forward and be thanked and petted, but stood huddled together with their backs turned to us at their little gate, shyly glancing over their shoulders to make sure the Governor’s carriage had crossed their flower-greeting. I thought it was very pretty of them, and father was greatly touched and pleased.
Farms lie all along the road between Geraldton and Dongarra, and the young wheat looked green and nice after the heavy spring showers.
Dongarra itself is quite a biggish place, and stands a little back from the sea, at the mouth of the Irwin river. It is very prettily placed, and the approach looked charming under arches of bush flowers which spanned the road every few yards, until we drove up to the Mechanics’ Institute, where a splendid arch had been built, and the modest little building itself was literally hidden by flowers and ferns. There we all got out, and Pater received and answered the usual addresses, and the school children sang really charmingly, and it was all very gay and pleasant. As I told you before, you must remember that all this kindness to your father means, and all the addresses begin and end with, expressions of devoted loyalty to our Queen; and it is just feeling that is what every arch and flower and motto signifies, which makes the charm of it all. It is so nice to see the trouble the people must have taken all along the road, and how they vie with each other in expressions of attachment to our Sovereign.
A few miles out of Dongarra, an immense cavalcade of gentlemen-farmers on horseback came out to meet the Governor; they first greeted him warmly, and then surrounded his carriage and escorted him back into Dongarra.
We are making the most of our rest and comfort here, in this delightful house, for to-morrow morning early we begin our real, rough, long, overland journey. The great Van has arrived from Perth to take us on,—a much diminished party,—and I hear nothing but questions as to whether the harness, whipple-trees, axles, etc., are all right, for a break-down would be a “terrible business”; the van looks stout enough, however, to bear any amount of jolting, and resembles a large scarlet tray with seats across, and mounted upon huge strong wheels. There are some 200 miles still between us and Perth. They do not look much, perhaps, on the map, but it is a good distance, I assure you; and we have met the usual fate of adventurous travellers, in being much and warmly dissuaded from starting at all.
It will be time to set off directly; but I must first tell you that I have been standing in the road for the last hour watching the packing or rather loading of the van, before the four horses are put in. It has been an anxious business for those responsible, and many have been the consultations over the distributions of the load. Gun-cases have been stowed away, wraps and pillows, our modest luggage, a box of soda water, and a basket of tinned provisions and biscuits, to eke out our wayside inn fare. At the last moment a dangling hat-box, very battered and broken, was hung on to the back, containing a livery-hat. It looked so ridiculous, and I feel sure its next neighbour, a kettle, will soon pommel it into bits. Then there are spare whipple-trees, ropes, halters, buckets, nose-bags, blankets, and all sorts of queer, but necessary, odds and ends. We look exactly like the Swiss family Robinson, even to the extraordinary hats and veils we have all mounted as shelter from the sun and flies. How you would enjoy it, and Louis will never cease regretting that he has been left at school in Perth. We part here from all our kind escort of friends, who return to Geraldton, and we only take on one small carriage beside the van and one orderly. Your father is going to ride, attended by some gentlemen, this first day’s stage, because it is a short one, just a little over 30 miles, and he wants to see some outlying farms, etc., of importance. So now I must shut up my writing-case, and say good-bye to my charming hostess, and kiss her sweet little children, who have been hanging about me ever since I arrived yesterday, to hear stories about all of you, when you were their age. I am afraid these stories have generally been thrilling accounts of your scrapes and monkey-tricks!
Fancy my nearly forgetting to tell you that yesterday afternoon, directly after luncheon, we all started (as if we had not had enough driving!) to go down to the little harbour, at the mouth of the Irwin river, 3 or 4 miles off. Pater wanted to see the jetty, and we all went too, children and all. There were a great many people assembled, and father made a thorough inspection of the little place, and heard what was needed in the way of harbour works, and so forth. Then when we came back all the school children were sent for, and we gave them a famous scramble for sugar-plums in the garden. There were such myriads of large fierce-looking black ants swarming all over the paths, that I was dreadfully afraid of the little bare legs getting nipped; but I was assured that these big ants are always much too busy building and storing their food to go out of their way to bite. The children’s legs did not seem to be in the least danger. Now we are really off; the Governor must have started, for I hear the blacksmith’s anvil firing off a salute, and there are anxious inquiries as to where I can possibly be.
Coming! coming!