GLENGARRY IN GIPPSLAND.

Jack Shay was not sorry to leave the Old Port. The nocturnal feast made to celebrate the repulse of the blackfellows could not conceal the state of famine which prevailed, and he was pleased to remember that he had brought plenty of flour, tea, and sugar as far as the Thomson river. Davy had no saddle, but John Campbell lent him one for the journey, and also sold him shot and powder on credit. So early in the morning the two men took a "tightener" of roast eggs, and commenced their journey on McMillan's track, each man carrying his double-barrelled gun, ready loaded, in his hand. By this time the sight of a gun was a sufficient warning to the blackfellows to keep at a safe distance; the discharge of the nine-pounder had proved to them that the white man possessed mysterious powers of mischief, and it was a long time before they could recover courage enough to approach within view of the camp at the Old Port. On the second day of their journey Davy and Shay arrived at the Thomson, and found the mob of cattle and the men all safe. They built a hut, erected a stockyard, and roughly fixed the boundaries of the station by blazed trees, the bank of the river, and other natural marks.

There were three brothers Imlay in the Twofold Bay district--John, Alexander, and George--the latter residing at the Bay, where he received stores from Sydney, and shipped return cargoes of station produce and fat cattle for Hobarton. Two stations on the mountains were managed by the other two brothers, and their brand was III., usually called "the Bible brand." When the station on the Thomson was put in working order, the Imlays exchanged it for one owned by P. P. King, which was situated between their two stations in the Monaro district. The Gippsland station was named Fulham, and was managed by John King. Jack Shay returned to the mountains, and Davy to the Old Port.

Soon afterwards the steamer 'Corsair' arrived from Melbourne, bringing many passengers, one of whom was John Reeve, who took up a station at Snake Ridge, and purchased the block of land known as Reeve's Survey. The new settlers also brought a number of horses, and Norman McLeod had twenty bullocks on board. The steamer could not reach the port, and brought-to abreast of the Midge Channel. The cattle and horses were slung and put into the water, four at a time, and swam to land, but all the bullocks disappeared soon afterwards and fled to the mountains.

Next the brig 'Bruthen' arrived from Sydney, chartered by the Highland chief Macdonnell, of Glengarry. In the days of King William III. a sum of 20,000 pounds was voted for the purpose of purchasing the allegiance of the Glengarry of that day, and of that of several other powerful chiefs. On taking the oath of loyalty to the new dynasty, they were to receive not more than 2,000 pounds each; or, if they preferred dignity to cash, they could have any title of nobility they pleased below that of earl. Most of them took the oath and the cash. It is not recorded that any chief preferred a title, but the Macdonnell of 1842 was Lord Glengarry to all the new settlers in Gippsland. His father, Colonel Alexander Ronaldson Macdonnell, was the last genuine specimen of a Highland chief, and he was the Fergus McIvor of Walter Scott's "Waverley." He always wore the dress of his ancestors, and kept sentinels posted at his doors. He perished in the year 1828, while attempting to escape from a steamer which had gone ashore. His estate was heavily encumbered, and his son was compelled to sell it to the Marquis of Huntly. In 1840 it was sold to the Earl of Dudley for 91,000 pounds, and in 1860 to Edward Ellice for 120,000 pounds.

The landless young chief resolved to transfer his broken fortunes to Australia. He brought with him a number of men and women, chiefly Highlanders, who were landed by Davy in his whaleboat. For this service Glengarry gave a cheque on a Sydney bank for five pounds, which was entrusted to Captain Gaunson of the schooner 'Coquette' to purchase groceries. On arriving in Sydney the Gaunsons went on a pleasure excursion about the harbour, the 'Coquette' was capsized in a squall, one or two of the family perished, and Davy's cheque went down with the vessel. But when the schooner was raised and the water pumped out, the cheque was found, and the groceries on the next voyage arrived safely at the Old Port.

Glengarry's head man and manager of the enterprise was a poor gentleman from Tipperary named Dancer, and his chief stockman was Sandy Fraser.

By the regulations then in force in New South Wales, Glengarry was entitled, for a fee of 10 pounds per annum, to hold under a depasturing license an area of twenty square miles, on which he might place 500 head of cattle or 4,000 sheep. He selected a site for his head station and residence on the banks of the Tarra. The house was built, huts and stockyards were erected, 500 dairy cows were bought at 10 pounds each, and the business of dairy farming commenced.

But the young chief and his men were unused to the management of a station in the new country; they had everything to learn, and at a ruinous cost.

A number of young men bailed up the cows each morning, and put on the leg ropes; then they sat on the top rails of the stockyard fence and waited while the maids drew the milk. Dancer superintended the labours of the men and the milkmaids. He sat in his office in a corner of the stockyard, entering in his books the number of cattle milked, and examining the state of their brands, which were daubed on the hides with paint and brush. Some cheese was made, but it was not of much account, and all the milk and butter were consumed on the station.

At this time the blacks had quite recovered from the fright occasioned by the discharge of the nine-pounder gun, and were again often seen from the huts at the Old Port. Donald Macalister was sent by his uncle, Lachlan Macalister, of Nuntin, to make arrangements for shipping some cattle and sheep. The day before their arrival Donald saw some blacks at a distance in the scrub, and without any provocation fired at them with an old Tower musket, charged with shot. The next day the drovers and shepherds arrived with the stock, and drove them over Glengarry's bridge to a place between the Tarra and Albert rivers, called the Coal Hole, afterwards occupied by Parson Bean. there was no yard there, and the animals would require watching at night; so Donald decided to send them back to Glengarry's yards. Then he and the drovers and shepherds would have a pleasant time; there would be songs and whisky, the piper would play, and the men and maids would dance. The arrangement suited everybody. The drovers started back with the cattle, Donald helped the shepherds to gather the sheep, and put them on the way, and then he rode after the cattle. The track led him past a grove of dense ti-tree, on the land now known as the Brewery Paddock, and about a hundred yards ahead a single blackfellow came out of the grove, and began capering about and waving a waddy. Donald pulled up his horse and looked at the black. He had a pair of pistols in the holsters of his saddle, but he did not draw them: there was no danger from a blackfellow a hundred yards off. But there was another behind him and much nearer, who came silently out of the ti-tree and thrust a spear through Donald's neck. The horse galloped away towards Glengarry's bridge.

When the drovers saw the riderless horse, they supposed that Macalister had been accidentally thrown, and they sent Friday to look for him. He found him dead. The blacks had done their work quickly. They had stripped Donald of everything but his trousers and boots, had mutilated him in their usual fashion, and had disappeared. A messenger was sent to old Macalister, and the young man was buried on the bank of the river near McClure's grave. The new cemetery now contained three graves, the second being that of Tinker Ned, who shot himself accidentally when pulling out his gun from beneath a tarpaulin.

Lachlan Macalister had had a long experience in dealing with blackfellows and bushrangers; he had been a captain in the army, and an officer of the border police. The murder of his nephew gave him both a professional and a family interest in chastising the criminals, and he soon organised a party to look for them. It was, of course, impossible to identify any blackfellow concerned in the outrage, and therefore atonement must be made by the tribe. The blacks were found encamped near a waterhole at Gammon Creek, and those who were shot were thrown into it, to the number, it was said, of about sixty, men, women, and children; but this was probably an exaggeration. At any rate, the black who capered about to attract young Macalister's attention escaped, and he often afterwards described and imitated the part he took in what he evidently considered a glorious act of revenge. The gun used by old Macalister was a double-barrelled Purdy, a beautiful and reliable weapon, which in its time had done great execution.

The dairy business at Greenmount was carried on at a continual loss, and Glengarry resolved to return to Scotland. He sold his cows and their increase to Thacker and Mason, of Sydney, for twenty-seven shillings and sixpence per head; his house was bought by John Campbell. On the eve of his departure for Sydney in the schooner 'Coquette' (Captain Gaunson), a farewell dinner was given by the Highlanders at the Old Port, and Long Mason, who had come from Sydney to take delivery of the cows on behalf of Thacker and Mason, was one of the guests. But there was more of gloom than of gaiety around the festive board. All wished well to the young chief, but the very best of his friends could think of nothing cheerful to say to him. His enterprise had been a complete failure; the family tree of Clanranald the Dauntless had refused to take root in a strange land the glory had gone from it for ever, and there was nothing to celebrate in song or story.

Other men from the Highlands failed to win the smiles of fortune in Gippsland. At home, notwithstanding their tribal feuds, they held their own for two thousand years against the Roman and Saxon, the Dane and the Norman. Only one hundred and fifty years ago (it seems now almost incredible) they nearly scared the Hanoverian dynasty from the throne of England, and even yet, though scattered throughout the British Empire, they are neither a fallen nor a falling race.

Glengarry returned to his tent early, and then the buying and selling of the five hundred cows became the subject of conversation; the whisky circulated, and Long Mason observed that unfriendly looks began to be directed towards himself. He was an Englishman, a Southron, and it was a foul shame and dishonour that such as he should pay a Highland chief only twenty-seven shillings and sixpence for beasts that had cost ten pounds each. That was not the way in the good old days when the hardy men of the north descended from the mountains with broadsword and shield, lifted the cattle of the Saxon, and drove them to their homes in the glens.

The fervid temper of the Gael grew hotter at the thought of the rank injustice which had been done, and it was decided that Long Mason should be drowned in the inlet. He protested against the decision with vigour, and apparently with reason. He said:

"I did not buy the cattle at all. Glengarry sold them to Thacker and my brother in Sydney, and I only came over to take delivery of them. What wrong have I done?"

But the reasoning of the prosaic Englishman was thrown to the winds:

"Ye've done everything wrong. Ye should hae gin ten pund sterling apiece for the coos, and not twenty-sen and saxpence. It's a pity yer brither, and Thacker, and MacFarlane are no here the nicht, and we'd droon them, too."

Four strong men, shouting in Gaelic the war-cry of Sheriffmuir, "Revenge, revenge, revenge to-day, mourning to-morrow!" seized the long limbs of the unfortunate Mason, and in spite of his struggles bore him towards the beach. The water near the margin was shallow, so they waded in until it was deep enough for their purpose. There was a piercing cry, "Help! murder! murder!" John Campbell heard it, but it was not safe for a Campbell to stand between a Macdonnell and his revenge. However, Captain Davy and Pateley Jim came out of their huts to see what was the matter, and they waded after the Highlanders. Each seized a man by the collar and downhauled. There was a sudden whirlpool, a splashing and a spluttering, as all the five men went under and drank the brine.

"I think," said Pateley, "that will cool 'em a bit," and it did.

Long Mason was a university man, educated for the church, but before his ordination to the priesthood he had many other adventures and misfortunes. After being nearly drowned by the Highlanders he was placed in charge of Woodside station by his elder brother; he tried to mitigate the miseries of solitude with drink, but he did so too much and was turned adrift. He then made his way to New Zealand, and fought as a common soldier through the Heki war. Captain Patterson, of the schooner 'Eagle', met him at a New Zealand port. He was wearing a long, ragged old coat, such as soldiers wore, was out of employment, and in a state of starvation. The captain took pity on him, brought him back to Port Albert, and he became a shepherd on a station near Bairnsdale. While he was fighting the Maoris his brother had gone home, and had sent to Sydney money to pay his passage to England. But he could not be found, and the money was returned to London. At length Captain Bentley found out where he was, took him to Sydney, gave him an outfit, and paid his passage to England. Long Mason, honest man that he was, sent back the passage money, was ordained priest, obtained a living near London, and roamed no more.

He had a younger brother named Leonard Mason, who lived with Coady Buckley at Prospect, near the Ninety-Mile, and became a good bushman. In 1844 Leonard took up a station in North Gippsland adjoining the McLeod's run, but the Highlanders tried to drive him away by taking his cattle a long distance to a pound which had been established at Stratford. The McLeods and their men were too many for Leonard. He went to Melbourne to try if the law or the Government would give him any redress, but he could obtain no satisfaction. The continued impounding of his cattle meant ruin to him, and when he returned to Gippsland he found his hut burned down and his cattle gone on the way to the pound. He took a double-barrelled gun and went after them. He found them at Providence Ponds, which was a stopping place for drovers. Next morning he rose early, went to the stockyard with his gun, and waited till McDougall, who was manager for the McLeods, came out with his stockmen. When they approached the yard he said:

"I shall shoot the first man who touches those rails to take my cattle out."

McDougall laughed, and ordered one of his men to take down the slip-rails, but the man hesitated; he did not like the looks of Mason. Then McDougall dismounted from his horse and went to the slip-rails, but as soon as he touched them Mason shot him.

Coady Buckley spared neither trouble nor expense in obtaining the best counsel for Mason's defence at the trial in Melbourne. He was found guilty of manslaughter and sentenced to nine years' imprisonment, but after a time was released on the condition of leaving Victoria, and when last heard of was a drover beyond the Murray.

After the departure of Glengarry, Dancer could find no profitable employment in Gippsland, and lived in a state of indigence. At last he borrowed sufficient money on a promissory note to pay his passage to Ireland. In Tipperary he became a baronet and a sheriff, and lived to a good old age.

WANTED, A CATTLE MARKET.

It seemed incredible to the first settlers in North Gippsland that their new Punjaub, the land of the five rivers, which emptied their waters into immense lakes, should communicate with the sea by no channel suitable for ships, and an expedition was organised to endeavour to find an outlet. McMillan had two boats at his station at Bushy Park, but he had no sails, so he engaged Davy as sailmaker and chief navigator on the intended voyage. The two men rode together from the Old Port up the track over Tom's Cap, and shot two pigeons by the way, which was fortunate, for when they arrived at Kilmany Park William Pearson was absent, and his men were found to be living under a discipline so strict that his stock-keeper, Jimmy Rentoul, had no meat, and dared not kill any without orders; so McMillan and Davy fried the pigeons, and ate one each for supper. Next morning they shot some ducks for breakfast, and then proceeded on their journey. They called at Mewburn Park, arrived at Bushy Park (McMillan's own station), and Davy began making the sails the same evening. Next morning he crossed the river in a canoe, made out of a hollow log, to Boisdale, Lachlan Macalister's station, and went to the milking yard. The management was similar to that of Dancer at Greenmount. Eleven men and women were milking about one hundred and fifty cows, superintended by nine Highlanders, who were sitting on the toprails discoursing in Gaelic. One of them was Jock Macdonald, who was over eighteen stone in weight, too heavy for any ordinary horse to carry; the rest were Macalisters, Gillies, and Thomsons. The stockmen were convicts, and they lived with the Highlanders in a big building like the barracks for soldiers. Every man seemed to do just what he liked, to kill what he liked, and to eat what he liked, and it was astonishing to see so little discipline on a station owned by a gentleman who had seen service both in the army and in the border police.

The blacks were at this time very troublesome about the new stations. They began to be fond of beef, and in order to get it they drove fat cattle into the morasses and speared them. This proceeding produced strained relations between the two races, and the only effectual remedy was the gun. But many of the settlers had scruples about shooting blackfellows except in self-defence, and it could hardly be called self-defence to shoot one or more of the natives because a beast had been speared by some person or persons unknown. John Campbell, at Glencoe, tried a dog, a savage deerhound, which he trained to chase the human game. This dog acquired great skill in seizing a blackfellow by the heel, throwing him, and worrying him until Campbell came up on his horse. When the dog had thus expelled the natives from Glencoe, Campbell agreed to lend him to little Curlewis for three months in order to clear Holey Plains Station. Curlewis paid ten heifers for the loan of the dog, and Campbell himself went to give him a start in the hunt, as the animal would not own any other man as master. But the blacks soon learned that Campbell and his dog had left Glencoe unprotected, and the second night after his departure they boldly entered the potato patch near his hut, and bandicooted the whole of his potatoes.

When the sails were made, the two boats were provisioned with tea, sugar, flour, and a keg of whisky; the meat was carried in the shape of two live sheep, to be killed when required. The party consisted of eight men, and each man was armed with a double-barrelled gun. McMillan, McLennan, Loughnan, and Davy went in one boat, and in the other boat were William Pearson, John Reeve, Captain Orr, and Sheridan, who was manager for Raymond at Stratford. Sheridan was a musical man, and took his flute with him. When everything was ready they dropped down the river to Lake Wellington, and took note of the soundings during the whole of the voyage as they went along. Wherever they approached either shore, they saw natives or found traces of them. Every beach was strewn with the feathers of the ducks, swans, and other birds they had killed, and it was difficult to find sufficient dead wood near the water to make a fire, the blacks having used so much of it at their numerous camping places.

The gins had an ingenious system of capturing the ducks. They moved along under water, leaving nothing but their nostrils visible above the surface, and they were thus able to approach the unsuspecting birds. As opportunity offered they seized them by the legs, drew them quickly under water, and held them until they were drowned. When they had secured as many as they could hold in one hand they returned to land.

One of the explorers always kept guard while the others slept, the first watch of each night being assigned to Davy, who baked the damper for the next day. One of the sheep was killed soon after the voyage commenced; and the duty of taking ashore, tethering, and guarding the other sheep at each landing place was taken in turn by Pearson and Loughnan. At the lower end of the lakes the water was found to be brackish, so they went ashore at several places to look for fresh water. They landed on a flat at Reeve's River, and Davy found an old well of the natives, but it required cleaning out, so he went back to the boat for a spade. It was Loughnan's turn that day to tether the sheep on some grassy spot, and to look after it; the animal by this time had become quite a pet, and was called Jimmy. On coming near the boats Davy looked about for Jimmy, but could not see him and asked Loughnan where he was.

"Oh, he is all right," said Loughnan, "I did not tether him, but he is over there eating the reeds."

"Then he's gone," replied Davy.

Every man became seriously alarmed and ran down to the reeds, for Jimmy carried their whole supply of meat. They found his tracks at the edge of the water, and followed them to the foot of a high bluff, which they ascended, calling as they went repeatedly for Jimmy. They looked in every direction, scanning especially the tops of the reeds to see if Jimmy was moving amongst them, but they could see no sign of the sheep that was lost. The view of land and river, mountain and sea, was very beautiful, but they were too full of sorrow for Jimmy to enjoy it. On going away they agreed to call the bluff Jimmy's point, but other voyagers came afterwards who knew nothing of Jimmy, and they named it Kalimna, The Beautiful. Near the shore a number of sandpipers were shot, and stewed for dinner in the large iron pot which was half full of mutton fat. Then the party pulled down to the entrance of the lakes at Reeve's River, went ashore, and camped for the night.

Next day they found an outlet to the ocean, and sounded it as they went along, finding six feet of water on the bar at low tide. But the channel proved afterwards to be a shifting one; the strong current round Cape Howe, and the southerly gales, often filled it with sand, and it was not until many years had passed, and much money had been expended, that a permanent entrance was formed. In the meantime all the trade of Gippsland was carried on first through the Old Port, and then through the new Port Albert. For ten years all vessels were piloted without buoy or beacon; in one year one hundred and forty having been entered inwards and outwards.

The party now started on the return voyage. In going up the lakes a number of blacks were observed on the port beach, and the boats were pulled towards the land until they grounded, and some of the men went ashore. The natives were standing behind a small sand hummock calling out to the visitors. One of them had lost an eye, and another looked somewhat like a white man browned with the sun and weather, but only the upper part of his body could be seen above the sand. One of the men on shore said, "Look at that white-fellow." That was the origin of the rumour which was soon spread through the country that the blacks had a white woman living with them, the result being that for a long time the blackfellows were hunted and harassed continually by parties of armed men. When the natives behind the sand hummock saw that the white men had no arms, they began to approach them without their spears. Sheridan took up his flute, and they ran back to the scrub, but after he had played a while they came nearer again and listened to the music.

After pulling two or three miles, another party of natives was seen running along the sands, and the explorers went ashore again at a point of land where seven or eight men had appeared, but not one was now visible. Davy climbed up a honeysuckle tree, and then he could see them hiding in the scrub. Several of them were seized and held by the white men, who gave them some sugar and then let them go.

The boats then sailed away with a nice easterly breeze, and in McLennan's Straits hundreds of blackfellows were seen up in the trees shouting and shaking their spears; but the boats were kept away in mid-stream, out of reach of the weapons.

That night the camp was made at Boney Point, near the mouth of the River Avon; the name was given to it on account of the large quantity of human bones found there. No watch was kept, as it was believed that all the blacks had been left behind in McLennan's Straits. There was still some whisky left in the keg; and, before going to sleep, Orr, Loughnan, and Sheridan sang and drank alternately until the vessel was empty. At daylight they pulled up the Avon and landed at Clydebank, which was at that time one of Macalister's stations, but afterwards belonged to Thomson and Cunningham. After breakfast they walked to Raymond's station at Stratford, and then to McMillan's at Bushy Park.

The cattle brought over the mountains into Gippsland soon grew fat, and the first settlers sold some of them to other men who came to search for runs; but the local demand was soon supplied. In two years and a half all the best land was occupied. An intending settler, who had driven a herd of cattle seven hundred miles, had some bitter complaints to make about the country in June, 1843. He said: "The whole length of Gippsland, from the bore of the mountains in which the road comes, is 110 miles, and the breadth about fifteen miles, the whole area 1650 square miles, one-third of which is useless through scrub and morass, which leaves only 1,100 square miles come-at-able at all, and nearly a third of this is useless. On this 1,100 square miles of land there are 45,000 sheep, 1,500 cattle, and 300 horses. Other herds of cattle and about 2,000 sheep are expected daily. The blacks are continuing their outrages, robbing huts and gardens and slaughtering cattle wholesale, Messrs. Pearson and Cunningham being the latest sufferers by the cannibals. Sheep shearing is nearly completed, after paying a most exorbitant price to the shearers.* The wool is much lighter than in any other part of the colony, and the skins much thicker than in hotter climates;" and lastly, "A collection has been made for the support of a minister." But the minister was not supported long, and he had to shake the dust of Gippsland off his feet. From Dan to Beersheba--from the bore in the mountains to the shores of Corner Inlet, all was barren to this disappointed drover.

[*Footnote *In the season of 1844 the average price per 100 for sheep-shearing was 8s.; the highest price asked, 8s. 6d.]

And the squatters, in order to keep a foothold in the country, had to seek markets for their stock over the sea. The first to export cattle was James McFarlane of Heyfield. He chartered the schooner 'Waterwitch' for 100 pounds a month for six months, and found her in everything. She arrived on March 2nd, 1842, but could not come up to the Port being too sharp in the bottom, and drawing (when loaded with cattle) thirteen feet six inches, so she lay down at the Oyster Beds. McFarlane borrowed the square punt from the 'Clonmel' wreckers, a weak stockyard of tea tree was erected, and the punt was moored alongside. A block was made fast to the bottom of the punt, and a rope rove through it to a bullock's head, and the men hauled on the rope. Sometimes a beast would not jump, and had to be levered and bundled into the punt neck and crop. Then the men got into a boat, and reached over to make the rope fast from the head of the bullock to one of the eyebolts which were fixed round the punt, and even then the bullock would sometimes go overboard. It took a week to load twenty fat bullocks and twenty cows with their calves. The schooner set sail for New Zealand on April 2nd, 1842, and at Port Nicholson the bullocks were sold for fifteen and the cows for twelve pounds each, cash. The 'Waterwitch' returned to Port Albert on April 29th, and took in another cargo of breeding cattle, which had to be sold on bills, the cash at Port Nicholson being exhausted. McFarlane next sought for a market at Hobarton, which was then supplied with beef from Twofold Bay. Forty bullocks were put on board the 'Waterwitch' in five days, and in forty-eight hours they were offered for sale in Hobarton, and fetched fourteen pounds ten shillings a head--all but one, a snail-horned brute, which was very wild. When he landed, a number of soldiers were at drill in the paddock, and he charged the redcoats at once. They prepared to receive cavalry, but he broke through the ranks, scattered the citizens the whole length of Liverpool Street, and reached the open country. Guisden, the auctioneer, sold the chance of him for eleven pounds.

At this time, nobody in Hobarton had heard of such a place as Gippsland; but the fat cattle, which were far superior to those imported from Twofold Bay, soon made the new territory well known, and many enterprising men of various characters found their way to it from the island.

McFarlane sent over another cargo of forty bullocks, thirty-seven of which averaged fourteen pounds; one was lost, and two belonging to Macalister, heavy weights, were sold for forty pounds ten shillings.

McMillan took over the 'Waterwitch' for the next trip, and also chartered the schooners 'Industry' and 'Scotia', which were the first vessels brought up to the shipping place at Port Albert on August, 3rd, 1842. Each of these vessels took two cargoes to Hobarton, which sold well, and then Macalister chartered the brig 'Pateena', which would hold sixty bullocks. The 'Clonmel' punt was now dispensed with; the cattle were roped, put in the water, and made to swim between the vessel and a boat. A piece of small ratline was fixed to the slings, with the handlead made fast to it so that it would sink. The mate had the slings, and a man in the boat held the other end of the line, and with it he hauled the slings under the bullocks, which were then made fast, and the animal was hoisted up. In this way forty bullocks were shipped in three hours.

Oysters were obtained in great abundance at Clonmel, Snake Island, and in other parts of the inlets, and the cattle vessels, after receiving their loading, took bags of oysters on board for sale at Hobarton. In June, 1843, the cutter 'Lucy' took 700 dozen to Melbourne, and in July another 700 dozen. In August the 'Mary Jane' took 500 dozen, and the cutter 'Domain' 400 dozen. The oyster beds were soon destroyed, and when in course of a few years I was appointed inspector of fisheries at Port Albert I could never find a single dozen oysters to inspect, although I was informed that a certain reverend poacher near the Caledonian Canal could obtain a bucket full of them when so disposed.

Gippsland enjoyed one year of prosperity, followed by seven years of adversity. The price of stock declined so rapidly that in April, 1843, the very best beasts only realized 6 pounds per head, and soon afterwards it was estimated that there were in New South Wales 50,000 fat bullocks which nobody would buy. Moreover, the government was grievously in want of money, and in addition to the fees for depasturing licenses, exacted half-yearly assessments on the unsaleable flocks and herds. But the law exacted payment on live cattle only, so the squatters in their dire distress resolved to kill their stock and boil them, the hides and the resulting tallow being of some value. The Hentys, in the Portland district, commenced boiling their sheep in January, 1844, and on every station in New South Wales the paddocks still called the "boiling down" were devoted to the destruction of sheep and cattle and to the production of tallow. It was found that one hundred average sheep would yield one ton of tallow, and ten average bullocks also one ton, the price in London ranging from 35 pounds to 42 pounds per ton. By this device of boiling-down some of the pioneers were enabled to retain their runs until the discovery of gold.

The squatters were assisted in their endeavours to diminish the numbers of their live stock by their neighbours, both black and white. It is absurd to blame the aborigines for killing sheep and cattle. You might as well say it is immoral for a cat to catch mice. Hunting was their living; the land and every animal thereon was theirs; and after we had conferred on them, as usual, the names of savages and cannibals, they were still human beings; they were our neighbours, to be treated with mercy; and to seize their lands by force and to kill them was robbery and murder. The State is a mere abstraction, has neither body nor soul, and an abstraction cannot be sent either to heaven or hell. But each individual man will be rewarded according to his works, which will follow him. Because the State erected a flag on a bluff overlooking the sea, Sandy McBean was not justified in shooting every blackfellow or gin he met with on his run, as I know he did on the testimony of an eye-witness. This is the age of whitewash. There is scarcely a villain of note on whose character a new coat has not been laboriously daubed by somebody, and then we are asked to take a new view of it. It does not matter very much now, but I should prefer to whitewash the aboriginals.

J. P. Fawkner wrote: "The military were not long here before the Melbourne district was stained with the blood of the aborigines, yet I can safely say that in the year in which there was neither governor, magistrate, soldier, nor policemen, not one black was shot or killed in the Melbourne district, except amongst or by the blacks themselves. Can as much be said of any year since? I think not."

In the year 1844 Mr. Latrobe was required to send to the Council in Sydney a return of all blacks and whites killed in the Port Phillip district since its first settlement. He said forty whites had been killed by the blacks, and one hundred and thirteen blacks had been reported as killed by the whites; but he added, "the return must not be looked upon as correct with respect to the number of aborigines killed." The reason is plain. When a white man murdered a few blacks it was not likely that he would put his neck into the hangman's noose by making a formal report of his exploit to Mr. Latrobe. All the surviving blackfellow could say was: "Quamby dead --long time--white-fellow--plenty--shoot 'em."

He related in eight words the decline and fall of his race more truly than the white man could do it in eight volumes.

It is not so easy a task to justify the white men who assisted the squatters to diminish the numbers of their stock. They were principally convicts who had served their sentences, or part of them, in the island, and had come over to Gippsland in cattle vessels. Some of them lived honestly, about one hundred of them disappeared when the Commissioner of Crown Lands arrived with his black and white police, and a few of the most enterprising spirits adopted the calling of cattle stealers, for which business they found special facilities in the two special surveys.

TWO SPECIAL SURVEYS.

A notice dated March 4th, 1841, was gazetted in Sydney to the following effect:

"Any Holder of a Land Receipt to the extent of not less than five thousand one hundred and twenty acres may, if he think fit, demand a special survey of any land not hereinafter excepted, within the district of Port Philip, whether such Land Receipt be obtained in the manner pointed out in the 'Government Gazette' of the 21st January last, or granted by the Land and Emigration Commissioners in London.

"Not more than one mile of frontage to any river, watercourse, or lake to be allowed to every four square miles of area; the other boundaries to be straight lines running north and south, east and west.

"No land to be taken up within five miles of the towns of Melbourne, Geelong, Williamstown, or Portland.

"The right of opening roads through any part of the land to be reserved for the Crown, but no other reservation whatever to be inserted in the Deeds of Grant."

The Port Albert Company took up land, under the above conditions, between the Albert and Tarra rivers. It was in Orr's name, and is still known as Orr's Special Survey. A surveyor was appointed to mark and plan the boundaries; he delegated the work to another surveyor. Next a re-survey was made, then a sub-divisional survey, and then other surveys went on for fifty years, with ever-varying results. It is now a well-established fact that Orr's Special Survey is subject to an alternate expansion and contraction of area, which from time to time vitiates the labour of every surveyor, and has caused much professional animosity. Old men with one foot in the grave, in this year 1895, are still accusing each other of embezzling acres of it; the devil of Discord, and Mercury the god of thieves, encamped upon it; the Port Albert Company fell into its Slough of Despond, which in the Court of Equity was known as "Kemmis v. Orr," and there all the members perished.

Mr. John Reeve had a land receipt, and wanted land. After he had taken up the station known as Snake Ridge he looked about for a good Special Survey. He engaged Davy and his whaleboat for a cruise in Port Albert waters and McMillan, Sheridan, and Loughnan were of the party. They went up the narrow channel called the Caledonian Canal, examined the bluffs, shores, and islands of Shallow Inlet, and at night encamped on St. Margaret's Island. When shelter was required, Davy usually put up the mainsail of his boat for a tent; but that night was so fine and warm that it was decided to avoid the trouble of bringing the sail ashore and putting it up. After supper the men lay around the fire, and one by one fell asleep; but about midnight heavy rain began to fall, the sail was brought ashore, and they all crept under it to keep themselves as dry as possible.

The next morning was fair. On leaving the port it had been the intention of the party to return the same evening, and the boat was victualled for one day only. There was now nothing for breakfast but a little tea and sugar and a piece of damper: no flesh, fish, or fowl. Davy was anxious to entertain his passengers to the best of his ability, especially Mr. Reeve, who, though not of delicate health, was a gentleman of refined tastes, and liked to have his meals prepared and served in the best style. Fresh water was of the first necessity, and, after so much rain, should have been plentiful, but not a spoonful could anywhere be found: the soil of the island was sandy, and all the rain had soaked into it and disappeared. The damper having been exposed to the weather was saturated with water. There was in the boat a large three-legged iron pot, half filled with fat, a hard and compact dainty not liable to be spilled or wasted, and in it had been stewed many a savoury meal of sandpipers, parrots, rats, and quail. This pot had been fortunately left upright and uncoveredduring the night, and the abundant rain had filled it with fresh water. Davy, with the intuition of artistic genius, at once saw the means of producing a repast fit for the gods. He poured the water which covered the fat from the iron pot into the kettle, which he placed on the fire for the purpose of making tea. He cut the sodden damper into substantial slices, put them into the pot, and cooked them in the fat over the fire. When well done they tasted like fried bread, and gave entire satisfaction; Mr. Reeve observing, when the feast was finished, that he had never in all his life eaten a better breakfast.

A start was made for the port, but the wind came dead ahead, and the men had to pull the whole way across the inlet, through the Caledonian Canal, and as far as Long Point. There they went ashore for a rest, and Mr. Reeve asked Davy if he could find the mouth of the Tarra River. Davy said he had never been there, but he had no doubt that he could find it, as he had seen the river when he was duck-shooting. It was then high water, and the wind still blowing strongly from the west, so a reef was taken in the lug, and the boat ran right into the Tarra as far as the site of the present court-house. There the party landed, and after looking at the country Mr. Reeve decided to take up his special survey there. It was partly open forest, but it contained, also, a considerable area of rich flats covered with luxuriant tea tree and myrtle scrub, which in course of time became mingled with imported blackberry bushes, whins, sweetbriar, and thistles. Any quantity of labour might be spent on it with advantage to the owner, so the following advertisement appeared in the public journals:

TO CAPITALISTS AND THE INDUSTRIOUS LABOURING CLASS.

GIPPSLAND--PORT ALBERT.

An accurate plan of Mr. Reeve's Special Survey of Tarra Vale having been completed, notice is hereby given that farms of various sizes are now open for sale or lease. The proprietor chiefly desires the establishment of a Respectable Tenantry, and will let these farms at the moderate rent of one bushel of wheat per acre. The estate consists of 5,120 acres of rich alluvial flats; no part of the estate is more than two miles from the freshwater stream of Tarra. Many families already occupy purchased allotments in the immediate vicinity of the landing place and Tarra Ville. There is a licensed hotel, good stores and various tradesmen, likewise dray roads from Maneroo and Port Philip. Apply to F. Taylor, Tarra Ville, or John Brown, Melbourne.

There were several doubtful statements in this notice, but, as the law says, "Buyer, beware."

Joshua Dayton was not a capitalist, but he belonged to the Industrious Labouring Class, and he offered himself, and was accepted as a Respectable Tenant, at the rental of a bushel of wheat to the acre. He was a thief on principle, but simple Mr. Taylor, of Tarraville, put his trust in him, because it would be necessary to fence and improve the land in order to produce the bushel of wheat. The fee simple, at any rate, would be safe with Mr. Reeve; but we live and learn--learn that there are men ingenious enough to steal even the fee simple, and transmit it by will to their innocent children.

The farm comprised a beautiful and rich bend of the Tarra, forming a spacious peninsula. Joshua erected a fence across the isthmus, leaving the rest of his land open to the trespass of cattle, which were, therefore, liable to be driven away. But he did not drive them away; he impounded them within his bend, and at his leisure selected the fattest for slaughter, thus living literally on the fat of the land. He formed his boiling-down establishment in a retired glade, surrounded with tea-tree, tall and dense, far from the prying eyes and busy haunts of men. His hut stood on a gentle rise above the highest flood mark, and in close proximity to the slip rails, which were jealously guarded by his Cerberus, Neddy, a needy immigrant of a plastic nature, whose mind succumbed under the strong logic of his employer.

Neddy had so far led an honest life, and did not fall into habits of thievery without some feelings of compunction. When Joshua first drove cattle into the bend, he did not tell Neddy that he had stolen them. Oh, no! He said:

"Here are a few beasts I have had running about for some time, and I think I'll kill one or two of the fattest and make tallow of them. Beef is worth next to nothing, and we must make a living somehow. And I know you would like a little fresh beef, Neddy; a change of diet is good for the health."

But Neddy was not so much of a fool as to be able to shut his eyes to the nature of the boiling-down business. The brands were too various, and Joshua claimed them all. Neddy said one night:

"Don't you think, Joshua, this game of yours is rather dangerous? Why, it's nothing better than cattle stealing; and I've heern folks say at one time it was a hanging matter. You may be found out some day by an unlucky chance, and then what will you do?"

"You mustn't call it cattle stealing, Neddy; that doesn't sound well," said Joshua. "I call it back pay for work and labour done. I have good reasons for it. I was sent out for stealing a horse, which I never did steal; I only bought it cheap for a couple of pounds. They sent me to the island, and I worked seven years for a settler for nothing. Now I put it to you, Neddy, as an honest and sensible man, Am I to get no pay for that seven years' work? And how am I to get it if I don't take it myself? The Government will give me no pay; they'd give me another seven years if they could. But you see, there are no peelers here, no beaks, and no blooming courts, so I intend to make hay while the sun shines, which means tallow in these times. All these settlers gets as much work out of Government men as they can get for nothing, and if you says two words to 'em they'll have you flogged. So while I does my seven years I says nothing, but I thinks, and I makes up my mind to have it out of 'em when my time comes. And I say it's fair and honest to get your back wages the best way you can. These settlers are all tarred with the same brush; they make poor coves like us work for 'em, and flog us like bullocks, and then they pretend they are honest men. I say be blowed to such honesty."

"But if you are caught, Joshua, what then?"

"Well, we must be careful. I don't think they'll catch me in a hurry. You see, I does my business quick: cuts out the brand and burns it first thing, and always turns out beasts I don't want directly."

Other men followed the example of Joshua, so that between troubles with the black men, troubles with the white men, and the want of a market for his stock, the settler's days were full of anxiety and misery. And, in addition, the Government in Sydney was threatening him with a roaming taxgatherer under the name of a Commissioner of Crown Lands, to whom was entrusted the power of increasing or diminishing assessments at his own will and pleasure. The settler therefore bowed down before the lordly tax-gatherer, and entertained him in his hut with all available hospitality, with welcome on his lips, smiles on his face, and hatred in his heart.

The fees and fines collected by the Commissioners all over New South Wales had fallen off in one year to the extent of sixty-five per cent; more revenue was therefore required, and was it not just that those who occupied Crown lands should support the dignity of the Crown? Then the blacks had to be protected, or otherwise dealt with. They could not pay taxes, as the Crown had already appropriated all they were worth, viz., their country. But they were made amenable to British law; and in that celebrated case, "Regina v. Jacky Jacky," it was solemnly decided by the judge that the aborigines were subjects of the Queen, and that judge went to church on the Sabbath and said his prayers in his robes of office, wig and all.

Jacky Jacky was charged with aiding and abetting Long Bill to murder little Tommy. He said:

"Another one blackfellow killed him, baal me shoot him."

The court received his statement as equivalent to a plea of "Not guilty."

Witness Billy, an aboriginal, said:

"I was born about twenty miles from Sydney. If I don't tell stories, I shall go to Heaven; if I do, I shall go down below. I don't say any prayers. It is the best place to go up to Heaven. I learnt about heaven and hell about three years ago at Yass plains when driving a team there. Can't say what's in that book; can't read. If I go below, I shall be burned with fire."

Billy was sworn, and said:

"I knew Jacky Jacky and Cosgrove, the bullock driver. I know Fyans Ford. I know Manifolds. I went from Fyans Ford with Cosgrove, a drove of cattle, and a dray for Manifolds. I knew Little Tommy at Port Fairy. He is dead. I saw him dying. When driving the team, I fell in with a lot of blacks. They asked me what black boy Tommy was; told them my brother. They kept following us two miles and a half. Jacky Jacky said; 'Billy, I must kill that black boy in spite of you.'"

Jacky Jacky said sharply, "Borack."

"Jacky Jacky, who was the king, got on the dray, and Little Tommy got down; a blackfellow threw a spear at him, and hit him in the side; the king also threw a spear, and wounded him; a lot of blacks also speared him. Long Bill came up and shot him with a ball. Jacky Jacky said to Cosgrove: 'Plenty gammon; I must kill that black boy.' Little Tommy belonged to the Port Fairy tribe, which had always been fighting with Jacky Jacky's tribe."

"It's all gammon," said Jacky Jacky, "borack me, its another blackfellow."

"Jacky Jacky, when with the dray, spoke his own language which I did not understand. I was not a friend of Little Tommy. I was not afraid of the Port Fairy tribe. I am sometimes friend with Jacky Jacky's tribe. If I met him at Yass I can't say whether I should spear him or not; they would kill him at the Goulburn River if he went there. Blackfellow not let man live who committed murder."

Are the aboriginals amenable to British law? Question argued by learned counsel, Messrs. Stawell and Barry.

His Honor the Resident Judge said: "The aboriginals are amenable to British law, and it is a mercy to them to be under that control, instead of being left to seek vengeance in the death of each other; it is a mercy to them to be under the protection of British law, instead of slaughtering each other."

Jacky Jacky was found guilty of "aiding and abetting." The principals in the murder were not prosecuted, probably could not be found. Before leaving the court, he turned to the judge and said, "You hang me this time?"

He only knew two maxims of British law applicable to his race, and these he had learned by experience. One maxim was "Shoot 'em" and the other was "Hang him."

There is abundant evidence to prove that an aboriginal legal maxim was, "The stranger is an enemy, kill him." It was for that reason Jacky Jacky killed Little Tommy, who was a stranger, belonging to the hostile Port Fairy tribe.

Joshua and Neddy carried on the boiling down business successfully for some time, regularly shipping tallow to Melbourne in casks, until some busybody began to insinuate that their tallow was contraband. Then Joshua took to carrying goods up the country, and Neddy took to drink. He died at the first party given by Mother Murden at her celebrated hostelry.

There were at this time about two hundred men, women, and children scattered about the neighbourhood of New Leith (afterwards called Port Albert), the Old Port, the New Alberton and Tarra Vale. Alberton, by the way, was gazetted as a township before the "village" of St. Kilda was founded. There were no licenses issued for the various houses of entertainment, vulgarly called "sly grog shops." There was no church, no school, no minister, and no music, until Mother Murden imported some. It was hidden in the recesses of a barrel organ; and, in order to introduce the new instrument to the notice of her patrons and friends, Mother Murden posted on her premises a manuscript invitation to a grand ball. She was anxious that everything should be carried out in the best style, and that the festive time should commence at least without intoxication. She therefore had one drunken man carried into the "dead room," another to an outside shed. Neddy, the third, had become one of her best customers, and therefore she treated him kindly. He was unsteady on his legs, and she piloted him with her own hands to the front door, expecting that he would find a place for himself somewhere or other. She gave him a gentle shove, said "Good night, Neddy," and closed the door. She then cleared a space for the dancers in her largest room, placed the barrel-organ on a small table in one corner, and made her toilet.

The guests began to arrive, and Mother Murden received them in her best gown at the front door. Neddy was lying across the threshold.

"It's only Neddy," she said apologetically; "he has been taking a little nobbler, and it always runs to his head. He'll be all right by-and-by. Come in my dears, and take your things off. You'll find a looking-glass in the room behind the bar."

The gentlemen stepped over Neddy, politely gave their hands to the ladies, and helped them over the human obstacle.

When everything was ready, Mother Murden sat down by the barrel-organ, took hold of the handle, and addressed her guests:

"Now boys, choose your girls."