The run down Hobson’s Bay to Port Philip Heads takes about four hours, and just inside the mouth of the harbour are two little watering-places, much frequented by the citizens of Melbourne.
Presently we come to a curious feature in the water. The currents of the bay and those of the open sea meet, and produce at their junction the phenomenon locally known as “The Rip.” All at once, as the steamer comes out of the bay, we pass from smooth water into the regular waves of the sea; there is almost a wall between, and as the vessel passes through it a rushing sound is heard, the vessel instantly beginning to roll and pitch. In rough weather passing through “The Rip” is quite exciting, the water frequently rushing over the decks.
After a voyage of a little more than two days, we arrived outside the heads of Port Jackson or Sydney Harbour. Everyone has heard of the extreme beauty of this glorious harbour; indeed if the visitor stays a few days in the city he is likely to hear of it many times. The entrance is about a mile in width, between bold cliffs 250 feet in height. It has a coast line of more than 100 miles, and is full of beautiful creeks and bays, with their banks finely wooded to the water’s edge, and having numerous handsome villas picturesquely placed upon every point of vantage, the city being situated at the head of the bay. The old town of Sydney is very badly laid out, with narrow, crooked streets, while the pavements and roads are most execrable, and the drainage and water supply are as bad as they can well be. The public buildings, and the modern portion of the city, are very fine, the post-office in particular being a very handsome edifice, infinitely superior to the new post-office in Birmingham; but then the citizens of Sydney built their own, while the citizens of Birmingham were not consulted, and had to accept what the London architect was graciously pleased to bestow.
Next to the harbour, the public gardens of Sydney form its principal attraction. The Botanical Gardens are exceedingly fine, and contain a magnificent collection of almost every known tree that will stand the climate. A special feature is the Norfolk Island pine, which grows to a great height, perfectly straight, and with very regular branches. The gardens are finely situated on undulating ground, sloping down to the harbour, which is sufficiently deep 200 yards off to float men-of-war. From these gardens a fine view of the Governor’s house and of other parts of the city is obtained. There is also a beautiful view from the Observatory Hill, which the Sydney people are justly proud of, for it can scarcely be equalled in any other part of the world. The harbour, with its numerous islands, lies spread out before the eyes, while the greatest animation is given to the scene by the large number of little steamers, yachts, and sail-boats continually flitting about, for the youth of Sydney are truly British in their love of the water. While we were admiring this panorama one morning, an old gentleman, observing we were strangers, pointed out the various objects of interest. Presently one of our party observing a strange cloud in the hitherto cloudless sky, called the old man’s attention to it. At first he thought it was a bush fire away to the south, but in a minute he said, “Come on, we had better get under shelter, for it is a ‘southerly buster!’”
A “southerly buster” is one of the institutions of Sydney, and is a hurricane of wind: which comes up suddenly from the south, bringing clouds of dust from the brickfields lying on that side of the city. We had long been wishing to see a genuine example, and here it was with a vengeance. In less time than it takes to describe, the whole city and harbour were completely obscured by a tremendous cloud of dust, blown on at a great pace, roaring like a furnace, and carrying before it sticks, paper, and even small gravel, which strike with the force of hailstones. During the twenty minutes which the hurricane lasts umbrellas are perfectly useless, and every person and thing becomes completely covered with dust. Having experienced the “buster” once, we have no desire for a repetition.
Sydney is fortunate in possessing almost inexhaustible supplies of oysters, and the old gentleman referred to above told us they sometimes grew on trees! There is a tree called the Mangrove, which grows very plentifully on the banks of the Parramatta river; sometimes the water is very high for days together, and the oyster spawn gets fixed in the mud on the branches, and so they grow and are gathered in their season.
One of the most delightful excursions from Sydney is to the top of the Blue Mountains, where there are several villages and some exceedingly fine and interesting scenery. The summit of the mountains is about 3,500ft. above sea-level, and is seventy miles from Sydney, being reached by a picturesque zigzag railway. In the old convict days it was commonly supposed by the prisoners that China lay on the other side of the Blue Mountain range, and many of the wretched men lost their lives in the jungle in trying to escape to the celestial country; one party succeeded in getting to a considerable distance before the guard overtook them, and one of them was found to have in his possession an engraving of a compass, by which he expected to steer his way!
The railway from Sydney passes many charming villages and extensive orange groves, crossing the River Nepean by a handsome iron bridge.
Some of the hotels on the mountain are of a very primitive character. One of those in which we stayed was a single-storied building, with bed-rooms opening into the yard. The house was built of planks, and the partitions were not very thick. I found that the landlord was the brother of an English tradesman with whom I do business. They had not heard of one another for forty years, which was a suspicious circumstance, considering the history of the colony.
In the fireplace of our sitting room we found a “gin” set for rats, which during the night were quite lively. One morning we observed that our waiter seemed to be very anxious for us to finish our breakfast. Presently he asked if we had finished with the coffee-pot, saying that all the others had been sent to be mended, and as he had a rather particular couple in the next room, he did not like to take in the coffee in a tea-pot!
At Mount Victoria, the highest village on the mountain, there are good State schools, to which the children come for twenty-five miles round from the villages along the railway. Both schools and railways in New South Wales belong to the State, and the schoolchildren are allowed to ride free by all trains. Even the goods trains have carriages attached for the use of the children, and the school hours are arranged to enable them to take advantage of the trains. Mount Victoria is a beautiful village, where many of the wealthy citizens of Sydney have charming residences. It has quite an alpine appearance with its wooden houses and tree-clad hills. In the neighbourhood are many delightful places, to which excursions are made; one of the most interesting is to a waterfall called “Govett’s Leap.” The road is a very rough one, and goes through the forest, in which are numbers of large ant-hills more than 5ft. in height, and formed of clay, which has become so hard that a stick makes no impression upon them. The entrances for the little creatures are very narrow cracks, too narrow for any of their enemies to get through. Sometimes, however, a creature called the “iguana” manages to make its way inside, when he always clears the entire colony out.
After a few miles’ drive along an almost level road, we come suddenly upon the edge of a precipice nearly 1,000 feet deep, down which the stream falls forming the waterfall. The “leap” is about 500 feet, and almost all the water becomes spray before it reaches the bottom, its appearance reminding us of the Staubbach Falls at Lauterbrunnen.
From the precipice a fine view is obtained for many miles round. The country is broken up into deep ravines or wide gullies, stretching as far as the eye can reach, and all wooded, while, except the little waterfall, not a drop of water is to be seen.
On the other side of Mount Victoria, towards Bathurst, is another curious zigzag railway, at the foot of which is the village of Lithgow, the seat of iron and coal industries. At present the works are of a very primitive character, but I have no doubt that at no distant date they will assume important proportions.
Outside our hotel door the landlord kept his talking parrot, which was always saying to the passers-by, “a bucket of beer, a bucket of beer.” There was a retired missionary staying at the hotel with his wife, and one day the old lady told me that she thought they might have taught the poor thing something “more Christian.”
One evening some drovers from Bathurst camped for the night near to the hotel; they put their cattle into a field, and having taken their tents from the packhorses, soon made themselves comfortable round their camp-fires, the whole scene being very picturesque and gipsy-like.
This used to be the old coach-road before the railway was opened, and many a coach has been stopped and robbed by gangs of escaped convicts called bushrangers. People were easily frightened in those days. A woman coming out of a cottage at night has been known to stop a coach, and snapping the spring of an old candlestick has ordered the passengers to “bail up” and to throw the mail-bags out, which being done under terror of the supposed pistol, she commanded them to drive on; the coachman of course supposing there was a gang of ruffians lying in wait.
Bushrangers are not yet a thing of the past, for while we were in Sydney four were sentenced to death for the murder of a policeman, who was one of a party sent in pursuit of the gang.
Hard by our hotel is a solitary graveyard, where lie the bodies of many convicts who died while confined in a neighbouring stockade in the old transportation days. A more desolate and melancholy place it would be impossible to imagine. Some of the public-houses have queer mottoes on their sign boards. We observed three not far apart having these inscriptions: “Labour in Vain,” “The Leisure Hour,” “The Rag and Famish.” A favourite drink amongst the people is sarsaparilla, which is generally mentioned on the sign along with the beer.
There are two kinds of birds in the woods about Mount Victoria which make a great noise at night; one is called the “Great Goat Sucker,” and continually cries “more pork, more pork”; while the other, called the “Laughing Jackass,” or the great kingfisher, makes night hideous by its insane laughter; in the day-time, however, it performs a very useful service, in waging perpetual war against the snakes.
The ants in Australia are rather formidable creatures. Some of them are more than an inch in length, and one kind, called the “bull-dog,” is very fierce, and will attack anything; he can run backwards or forwards with equal facility, and never turns his back to the foe. Their hills are very large, and a slight tap brings numbers of them out at once, and unless you want to be well punished, you had better leave them quickly, for their bite is something to be remembered. One morning while on a walk we observed two boys “prodding” an ant-hill; but by the time we had come up to them we found them otherwise engaged, for the “bulldogs” had got up their clothes and were causing the boys to jump about as though they were “possessed;” occasionally they would pause and rub their legs with great devotion; and altogether it was apparent they felt their position keenly. As we passed them they gave us a ghastly smile, and I think they will let “sleeping bull-dogs lie” in the future.
During one of my visits to Sydney the political situation was this:—Two questions were before the Parliament and country—viz., an Amended Education Act, and an Excise Act, by which latter it was proposed to put a tax upon colonial beer.
“It happens that a vacancy has occurred in an important constituency, and as these questions are greatly agitating the whole country, the election is looked forward to with great interest as being a sort of test of the public sentiment. The Government candidate of course supports the two measures above referred to, while the opposition candidate is adverse to both, the latter being the largest brewer in the Colony, (which of course accounts for his opposing the excise duty on beer) and, what is not unusual in the case of brewers, he is a decided Churchman, and supporter of what he calls ‘religious education.’ The whole strength of the clergy, publicans, bishops, loafers, avowed atheists, Roman Catholic archbishop, priests, and Irish is most heartily with the Church-loving, beer-brewing candidate, who is socially much liked, and very strong. His opponent is supported by the whole Liberal party, by large numbers of the Churchmen, and by a few Catholics. The Amended Education Act simply provides that whereas at present State aid is given to denominational schools it shall now be withdrawn. The Bible is not read in the schools, but the lesson books of the Irish National Schools are used. Facilities are offered to the various denominations to give religious instruction to the children in the State schools. The bishop and clergy of the Church of England and the Roman Catholic priests unite heartily with the beer interest (as usual), the proposal to tax the beer coming in very opportunely to enlist the sympathies and votes of the idle, drunken, venal, and dissolute portion of the community. The bishop takes an opportunity of stating publicly how much he is in favour of temperance, and his clergy follow suit; the Catholic clergy do the same, and in the evenings clergy of both religious denominations appear at public meetings in support of the brewer! The publicans and their followers are relieved from saying anything about the tax on beer by the existence of the education question, which they heartily oppose, thus avoiding the subject in which they have a selfish interest; so it comes to this—Bible says to beer, ‘I’ll support you, although it is rather inconvenient, for am I not pledged to temperance?’ Beer says to Bible, ‘I’ll support you with all the strength of my lungs, rendered all the noisier by copious draughts of untaxed beer; beer and Bible, Bible and beer for ever!’
“The Roman Catholic clergy anathematise Protestants of all kinds and classes, including the Church of England, but the latter joins hands with the Roman Catholics and the beer party to gain its ends, the said ends being the same with both Churches—viz., the triumph of priestly rule and domination.”
The answer of the constituency, applauded throughout the length and breadth of the land, was to return the Liberal candidate by a majority of two to one.
In reference to this election the Sydney Morning Herald said—“Many of the advocates for the extension and maintenance of the denominational schools lay great stress upon the doctrine that it is not just to deny denominational schools to those who prefer them—that if any citizen pays the education tax he ought to have the sort of education provided for his child that he most desires, and that it is a wrong-doing to his conscience if this claim is not regarded. It is certainly somewhat singular that the few advocates of this line of argument are to be found in the ranks of the two great churches, which, having been national churches, have, to say the least, not distinguished themselves by defending the rights of conscience. In England the march of religious liberty has done much to undo Church-inspired legislation against those outside the pale of the Church; and that being achieved it sounds strangely to hear the ‘conscience’ argument against a uniform treatment of all citizens proceed from a quarter which has not been the home of the rights of conscience.”
A Bullock Team on the Blue Mountains
Before leaving Sydney it may be well to describe an overland ride I made from Sydney to Melbourne viâ Wagga Wagga and Albury, at a time previous to the completion of the through railway.
Leaving Sydney by the Pullman train at six in the evening, Wagga Wagga is reached about ten next morning: During the night we ascended 2,200ft. A large extent of the country is cleared, and, being New Year’s Day, it was rather strange to our English eyes to see the wheat cut and stacked, and harvesting operations going on.
The country through which our track passes is famous for its sheep runs and for the high quality of the wool produced in it. Here and there in the bush are occasional labourers’ cottages, wretched, uncomfortable looking buildings, constructed of rough planks covered with bark. The children we saw had a very uncared-for look.
Wagga Wagga (pronounced Wogga Wogga) covers a large extent of ground, but at present the number of houses is few, most of them, however, being well built. From this place we hired a buggy and pair of horses to take us to Albury, a distance of some seventy to eighty miles, the charge for which, including the services of a smart, bright boy as driver, was £7. Immediately on leaving Wagga we got into the “bush” country, and during the afternoon passed some large stock “stations.” The land appears to be much more fertile than in the neighbourhood of Sydney, with greater depth of soil. We put up for the night at Jerra Jerra, a place consisting of two or three wood shanties, one of them being the hotel, and left at 6.30 next morning, taking breakfast at a somewhat larger group of wood huts called Germanton. Every driver through the “bush” makes his own track among the trees, and ours was no exception to the rule; he made long detours at intervals, only coming out into the regular road when a creek had to be crossed. We saw many pairs of large magpies, and some other birds which the driver informed us build large mud nests. Then the Great Ants, too, are very numerous, so that one dare not sit down anywhere to rest. The flies are also a great pest, and as my companion said, “won’t take a hint,” requiring to be toppled over before they will move. At about seven a.m. we passed the Royal Mail bowling along amongst the trees, our driver quickly making a fresh track to avoid the fearful dust which it raised. The coach is a big lumbering machine, painted flaring red, and drawn by six horses. It is licensed to carry sixty-five passengers, who can only be got on to it by being packed like herrings in a barrel. The weather being so hot and the dust so great, it must be terrible to be cooped up in it with fat people and thin smokers and others. The coaches are hung upon enormous leather “springs,” and they need them, for the road is so rough, and the coachmen are so daring, that the bumping and thumping are terrific. Each coach is fitted with four large reflector lamps, three in front and one behind.
While baiting the horses I had a chat with a farm labourer, who, like a great many of the immigrants with whom I have spoken, was sighing for old England again. He told me the ordinary farm labourer’s wages here are 12s. to 15s. a week with board, and that 20s. a week is considered exceptionally good, while the great heat, dust, and reptiles are so troublesome that most of the labourers wish they were well out of it. This man told me his little terrier was killed by a snake a day or two before; the poor creature swelled up and died in great agony in ten minutes after being bitten; its death, however, was speedily avenged, his master killing the snake shortly afterwards. The landlady said she was in great terror of the snakes, which were very numerous. Near the run was a large log, and it was well known that a big black snake had taken up his abode there, for he was frequently seen to come out. In the winter season the reptile would very soon have been despatched by the same process adopted by the Chinaman when he wanted “roast pig,” but this being summer, to fire the log meant to cause a general conflagration in the bush.
The power of endurance of Australian post-horses is something wonderful; yesterday we travelled more than thirty-five miles after one o’clock, over a rough bush road, or rather no road at all, bumping up and down in a way that must be very trying to the poor animals, as the “path” is never certain; and to-day we had to go nearly fifty miles more, the heat being intense, and the track covered with dust nearly a foot thick.
Our driver, a mere lad of thirteen years, drove on with the greatest confidence, never having missed the way once, though there were no direction posts, and we did not come across a person or house once in ten miles, and were amongst the trees all the time. Towards evening the horses got rather tired, and so did poor “Tommy,” the driver, who at times had a quiet “weep” to himself, but at last we reached Albury, and found our Melbourne friend awaiting us at the hotel.
For hours before, we had in view a fine range of hills, enclosing a large extent of country, including the valley along which the River Murray runs. Here we got the blue, purple, and roseate tints on the mountains to perfection, and as the sun was going down just as we entered the town I thought I had rarely seen a more delightful picture.
There is a thriving, well-to-do look about the place which is very enlivening, the houses being well built, with wide verandahs projecting from two storeys, the streets straight and wide, and planted on both sides with acacias, poplars, and several varieties of pines, the whole forming a veritable little paradise.
This being the great centre of the wine-growing industry we were desirous of visiting the vineyards and seeing the capacious cellars which are formed in the hills, and for which the district is somewhat celebrated, but our friend, being very anxious to get back to Melbourne, assured us there was “nothing to see here,” and told us to wait till we got into Victoria, and so hurried us off.
We left Albury at 5.30 on the following morning, driving across the Murray to the railway station at Wodonga, the first town on the Victorian side, as Albury is the last on the New South Wales side, and the contrast between the two is great indeed—just the difference between prosperity and decay. New South Wales, with its Free Trade policy, is fitly represented by bright and shining Albury, while Victoria may well read a lesson from the decay and ruin into which Wodonga has fallen. I could not help thinking that a dozen such contrasts along the frontiers of the two States would do more than anything to settle the fate of Protection. Even the omnibus driver was full of the subject, pointing out to us as we rode along the difference between the two places.
The railway ride to Melbourne occupies eight hours, although the distance is only about 180 miles. On the way we passed through Euroa, the town which was “stuck up,” i.e., plundered, by the notorious Kelly and his gang. There were only four of these fellows in the gang, but such was the terror they inspired that they were able to rob a whole town in broad daylight, while a train was passing through the station close by the bank from which they took a considerable amount of cash. Having done this, they next ordered all the people into carts, and drove them some miles out of the town, ordering them not to stir for four hours under pain of death. Having secured their booty the scoundrels rode off, and for two years succeeded in eluding the vigilance of the police, although the Government offered a reward of £8,000 for their capture, alive or dead.
Before leaving the subject of the Australian Colonies a few observations on the state of the labour market, and upon the social condition of the people, may be interesting.
In most of the Australian colonies Free Trade practically prevails, the exception being Victoria. In this colony the system of Protection is to be found in its most pronounced form, almost every imported article of manufacture being the subject of a heavy duty.
The avowed object of this system is to encourage immigration by offering a premium upon the manufacture of every article in considerable demand in the Colony. I do not know how far this object has been attained as concerns immigration, but it is an admitted fact, and one which is causing Victorian politicians much anxiety, that the colony fails to retain its population. One result about which there can be no question is that this fiscal policy is concentrating the population about the large towns, the city of Melbourne presenting the appearance of the chief town of an old and populous State. A ride in any direction into the country, however, soon discloses the real nakedness of the land as regards inhabitants, the fact being that a very small proportion of the immigrants ever get beyond the towns. An obvious consequence is that the natural resources of the country are greatly neglected, and the evil of this state of things will be apprehended when it is seen that the manufacturing population is increasing in a vastly greater ratio than the constituency upon which its trade depends. Under such conditions the dangers of the situation are seriously augmented when depression of trade occurs. Such a state of things arose before the building of the late Exhibition in Melbourne. The building trade and the mechanical industries in the city being in a stagnant state, large numbers of people found themselves out of employment, their attitude causing the Government some anxiety. The Exhibition was decided upon in the hope that its erection would provide employment until trade should revive. I asked one of the Commissioners of the Exhibition what would happen if trade did not revive on the completion of the building? He replied, “Oh, they shall take it down again, for it will be useless after the Exhibition is over.” Surely a notable instance of the dog subsisting by eating its own tail.
A natural result of all this is to produce in the minds of the working classes a feeling that the Legislature ought to secure to them a constant supply of work at high rates of wages, altogether leaving out of consideration the inevitable effect of such a course in checking demand. Naturally, each class expects to receive the benefit of this policy, and it is not surprising that the example of the manufacturers in demanding Protection should be followed, and even bettered, by the working men.
A curious example of this occurred when I was in Australia. The streets of Melbourne, being very wide and long, are peculiarly well adapted for the introduction of tramways. A Bill was introduced into the House authorising the construction of an experimental line, but it had to be abandoned in consequence of the determined opposition of the cab drivers, the majority of whom own the vehicles which they drive. These men argued, naturally enough, that as manufacturing trades were protected against foreigners, their business also should be protected against competition in the only form in which it could arise. Doubtless this resistance will eventually be overcome, but not without leaving a sense of injustice.
While each class seeks to have the benefit of Protection for its own manufactures, it also seeks to obtain the benefits of Free Trade for the raw material and smaller accessories used in their production. At the time I am referring to, a Tariff Revision Commission was in session, and representatives of the various manufacturing trades were examined with the view of ascertaining whether any changes were desirable. In almost every case extensive additions to the duty were demanded, eliciting from some of the members of the Commission a reminder that on previous occasions the representatives of protected industries declared they only required the tax to be levied for a limited time in order to enable them to establish their business.
The Protectionist newspapers used every means to stir up the various trades to avail themselves of the opportunity the Commission afforded of making fresh claims.
It so happens that most of the materials used for newspaper printing are admitted duty free. The Argus, the leading journal in Victoria, and a consistent advocate of Free Trade, took this opportunity of suggesting that the proprietors of the Protectionist journals should prove the sincerity of their expressed opinions by appearing before the Commission and demanding the imposition of a tax upon newspaper materials in the interests of “native industry.” Of course the suggestion was not adopted, perhaps for this reason, also suggested by the Argus, that the struggle for existence was already sufficiently severe.
The operative printers also demanded of the Commission that printed books should be more heavily taxed, one of their delegates remarking that “there was sufficient talent in Victoria to produce their own books,” while a manufacturer, with great candour, asked for a little increase upon his special productions on the plea that his profit was not “quite enough!”
If profits are not enough prices are certainly sufficiently high, as the following instance will abundantly show. At the close of 1882 one hundred locomotives were required by the Government of Victoria, and although the needs of the country were most urgent—complaints of the inefficiency of the service coming in from all sides—the Protectionist party in the House demanded that the whole number should be made in the Colony, although there was only one firm who could undertake their manufacture, and that firm was unable to deliver the first engine under a period of ten months, and in addition to this, the total price demanded for the contract was £66,000 more than the engines could have been procured for without delay in England. It is admitted that the locomotives made in the Colony are much inferior to those imported, while in addition to the excess in first cost, the expense of maintaining the colonial engines is vastly greater. I was assured by competent authorities on the railways that the colonial engines are frequently under repair, and that their life is much shorter than that of their English rivals. The same evil principle is applied to the purchase of the miscellaneous stores supplied to the railways, thereby greatly enhancing the cost of working. Instances might be multiplied of the mischievous effects of a vicious fiscal policy in a young and undeveloped Colony. It is notorious that the great want of the Colonies is a larger population, and the Government in various ways—notably by making grants in aid of immigration—offer inducements to bring this result about. The manufacturers also require a larger field for their productions; but the working-class element is jealous of this very increase lest it should subject labour to competition, unmindful of the fact that there is ample room for an infinitely larger population.
Neither the agricultural nor the mining industries of the Colony are protected. As regards the former, public opinion would not permit the taxation of food; whilst, in the latter case, the minerals raised are, for the most part, exported, there being scarcely any demand for them in the Colony. But, while these industries receive no benefit from the fiscal policy of the Colony, they are heavily taxed in support of the revenue, for not only are all the machinery and materials used in their development subject to more than 25 per cent. import duty, but the cost of labour is greatly enhanced by the high wages, which become necessary when the purchasing power of money is diminished by Protection. Every year witnesses a considerable expansion of the industries in question; and every year the cry becomes louder against the injustice and inequality of a system which places the natural resources of the country under so great a disadvantage. In consequence of the urgency of these complaints there is now some prospect of a reduction of the duty on agricultural and mining machinery.
I have met with men who were always ready to descant upon the advantages of Protection, but who, almost in the same breath, have told me they have never hesitated to evade the laws when they could do so to advantage, or even to break them when it suited their convenience and they could do so without much risk, justifying their conduct by saying that it was “quite right to cheat the Government when they could, because the Government were always ready to cheat them.” In order to circumvent the practices of such men as these, the Legislature has been compelled to institute a complicated system of accounts in connection with the importation of goods, harassing in the last degree to those who have been accustomed to do business in a country where trade is unshackled.
In spite of the boasted advantages of Protection, it is evident that some manufacturers are not happy under it, as is shown by the fact of my having some time ago received from an important manufacturing firm in Victoria an application for my business agency in the Colony. In their application, the firm stated that the workpeople in the Colony were so very independent and so uncertain that they (the firm in question) would rather at any time sell imported articles at a smaller profit than manufacture them in their own works.
I have stated that the avowed objects of Protection were the attraction of a larger population and the fostering of “native industry.” Now, with these very objects in view, the public men of New South Wales have from the first adopted and persisted in a policy diametrically opposed to that which has for years past been in force in the neighbouring Colony of Victoria. If the principles of Protection be sound, we should expect to find in the Free Trade Colony of New South Wales a state of things even much worse than I have shown to exist in Victoria. But what do we find? A constantly increasing population; abundance of employment; a vast and continually expanding railway system; shipping considerably greater than that of the Port of London one hundred years ago; an import and export trade greater than that of Great Britain at the same period; in short, every evidence of great and enduring prosperity.
As in America, “where acres are many and men are few,” the manufacture of agricultural machinery has been brought to greater perfection than in almost any other country, so in Australia the same conditions have developed a flourishing manufacture of special machinery used in mining—one of the staple industries of the country. A demand for this improved machinery has recently sprung up in other countries, a considerable order having been received from India by an Australian firm while I was there.
In Sydney—not in spite of, but because of, Free Trade—the largest manufacturing concern in the Australian Colonies has grown up. The founders of this large business had the sagacity at the outset to recognise that there were certain articles which must of necessity be better and more cheaply made in the Colony than they could be imported. They put down steam saw-mills for supplying planking, which before had been imported; they next proceeded to make such articles as window-sashes, doors, frames, etc., for house-building, choosing such as could be manufactured almost entirely by machinery, which they obtained from England and America. By such natural means, and altogether free from legislative interference, they have built up the enormous business known as Hudson Brothers, Limited, railway rolling-stock manufacturers. It is clear that with the most improved machinery, purchased in the cheapest markets and imported duty free, and having inexhaustible supplies of native timber, not only cheaper but much better adapted to the climate than that hitherto imported, the opening for a perfectly legitimate business presented itself; in fact, they created a genuine “native industry.” But Messrs. Hudson, recognising, as already pointed out, that other countries have also special advantages for the production of certain articles, wisely abstain from attempting a hopeless competition. For this reason they import such portions of the rolling-stock as wheels, axles, springs, carriage-furniture, etc.
The free importation of mining and agricultural machinery into New South Wales has given these industries such a stimulus that they have been more generally developed throughout that Colony than those of Victoria, causing a continuous and increasing demand for labour. The immigration into New South Wales is greatly in excess of that into Victoria; and, in addition to this, large numbers of artisans and others are continually crossing the border from the latter into the former Colony. In 1880, forty-five thousand persons arrived in New South Wales from other than Australian ports, and it is not too much to say that there is ample room for four times their number every year.
Until a few years since the great shipping companies had their repairing yards and shops in Victoria, but the extremely high cost of everything required by them compelled them at last to remove their establishments to her Free Trade neighbour, thereby effecting a very considerable saving. The same causes have doubtless been influential in securing to New South Wales the remarkable development of its shipping interests during the last generation.
So little is known in England of what our friends in the Colonies are doing, that probably many will be startled to learn that whereas in 1782 the total imports and exports of Great Britain amounted in value to about £23,850,000, in New South Wales, in 1881, the value was £27,650,000.
During the last thirty years the shipping annually arriving in Sydney has increased from 90 vessels, with a tonnage of 48,776, to 1,389 vessels, with a tonnage of 973,425; and the clearances in the same period increased from 47 vessels, with a tonnage of 24,081, to 1,322 vessels, with a tonnage of 941,895.
During the last ten years, too, the population of New South Wales has increased 53 per cent., while that of Victoria has only increased 18 per cent., and while the excess of immigration over emigration in the former Colony has quadrupled, it has been almost stationary in the latter.
During the same period the Customs revenue in Victoria, notwithstanding the high tariff, has remained almost stationary; while in New South Wales, with a low tariff and smaller population, it has increased nearly one-half. The imports, too, have increased 80 per cent., against 17 per cent. in Victoria, and the exports 94 per cent. against 28 per cent.
These figures, taken from official papers in 1882, have never been dealt with by Victorian Protectionists, but are full of meaning to all those whom vested interests have not made blind. While it is true that Australia presents, and will continue to present, a great field for the surplus population of older countries, it is, in my opinion, a mistake to suppose that the upper grades of English artisans improve their position much by going there. Wages are higher it is true, and eight hours make up a day’s work; animal food also is cheaper, but almost everything else is dearer than in England—house-rents, indeed, enormously so. An artisan who in Birmingham would be well housed for 5s. to 6s. a week would have to pay £1 for much inferior accommodation; this remark applies generally in Australia, the principal cause being the great lack of artisans in the building trade. Many too, may consider the higher wages and shorter hours of labour as not too great a compensation for the exhaustion induced by the heat and dust of the climate and the annoyance from insect life. But for unskilled labour and for skilled agricultural labour there can be only one opinion,—viz., that the Colonies present a field where sobriety and industry are certain to bring a reward such as is altogether unattainable at home.
The education of the people is admirably provided for by the Legislature, every district being well supplied with first-rate schools, while the means of intercommunication by rail, post, and telegraph are superior to those of any country in the world, when the smallness of the population and the immense distances to be covered are taken into consideration.
In Australia, especially in the southern Colonies, there is happily no native question to absorb the attention of the people and to upset the calculations of financiers, consequently the colonists are able to devote all their energy to opening up the natural resources of the country. At the present time many millions of money are set aside for the construction of new railways and for the supply and storage of water, and when these are completed vast areas of agricultural land will be opened sufficient to accommodate all the spare population of England for many years to come.
If “Young Australia,” like his cousin in America, has an unbounded confidence in the future of his country, he has even more in himself, as is well illustrated by the following story told me by an old resident. In one of the cities a number of young men had established a Debating Society, which met every Wednesday evening in a room in a narrow street. On the other side of the street was a church where service was held at the same time. The weather being hot the windows of both buildings were usually open, and the important deliberations of the young men were much interrupted by the preaching and singing in the church. With a delightful unconsciousness of what in slang phrase is called “cheek,” they instructed their secretary to write to the minister of the church, requesting him to hold his service upon some other evening of the week!
The people of Australia are possessed of vast energy and great intelligence: and, having unlimited and well-grounded faith in their capacity to conquer the many difficulties which lie before them, they determined that their future career shall do no discredit to the great country from which they have sprung, and of whose history they are so proud.
The Duck-Billed Platypus (Ornithorhyncus paradoxus)
We left Sydney in the first week in April, and although we had greatly enjoyed the beautiful scenery of its fine harbour and the neighbouring Blue Mountains, and had experienced the greatest kindness and hospitality on every side, we were not sorry to depart.
In the first place, we were homeward-bound, and I had recovered the health, in search of which I had left home and friends, and the weather had been so oppressively hot and the dust so troublesome, that we were glad of the prospect of the abatement of the one and the total disappearance of the other.
For ten months the Colony had had no rain, and in the neighbourhood of Sydney trees were dying by hundreds, and gardens which had been carefully tended for fifteen or twenty years were nearly spoiled. The outlook for agriculturists was dark indeed, very indifferent hay was selling for £10 a ton, and the cattle were perishing for want of water. I saw a statement in the paper that one farmer had already lost 45,000 sheep, and if the drought lasted a few weeks longer he would lose 50,000 more. The most inveterate grumbler at the moisture of the English climate would, if here in Sydney, soon arrive at the conclusion that six months’ rain is to be preferred to ten months’ drought and dust under a scorching sun.
Some friends accompanied us on board our steamer, and observing that the sky had become overcast with every prospect of a heavy downpour, I endeavoured to persuade them to return to shore, but they said the sky often looked overcast but soon became clear again, and that there would be no rain; still I was not comfortable, and presently induced them to go. Half-an-hour afterwards our time was up, the ship’s gun was fired, and down came the rain in such torrents as made me very apprehensive for the safety of my friends, lest their boat should be swamped. On arriving at New York I found a letter from them informing me that the rain filled the boat so fast that it was with some difficulty they could keep it afloat.
Our vessel was an exceedingly fine one, and was on her first voyage. Her length was 400ft. and she was 40ft. wide across the saloon. The appointments seemed to be all very good, although it soon appeared that she was insufficiently supplied with stewards, the consequence being that the meals were badly served. Everything, however, was done according to rule, and it was curious to see the order in which the various dishes were brought in. The chief steward rang a bell once, and the stewards marched into the saloon in single file, dishes in hand; two rings, right wheel; three times, place dishes on the table; and at the fourth ringing of the bell, remove covers and march out with them. It looked like a pantomime, and caused us considerable merriment. The head steward was a negro, and it was curious to note how he lorded it over the white stewards.
A rough passage of four days brought us to the entrance of Auckland harbour. The previous day it was very stormy, and an albatross which had been following us for some time, frequently flying across the ship between the masts, at length either flew, or was blown, against one of the masts, and fell dead upon the deck.
In approaching the town of Auckland a number of islands of curious shape, surmounted with rocks bearing the appearance of castles are passed. Auckland looks well from the harbour, which is a very fine one; behind the town a mountain rises to a considerable altitude, greatly adding to the picturesqueness of the view.
Our ship was the largest that had ever been in the harbour, and we expected soon to have a number of boats plying for hire, but none appeared until half our limited time had expired, and consequently very few passengers went ashore. We took a quantity of coal on board, the quality of which was very bad, giving off volumes of the densest smoke. It is much inferior to the New South Wales coal, which in its turn is not equal to English.
For the first ten days the Pacific greatly belied its name, being in a state of great commotion the whole time; indeed, most of the way to San Francisco the roll was very considerable. As we neared Kandavu, in the Fiji Islands, the dreaded coral reefs began to come in sight. Some of them stretch out for fifteen miles from the land, and are known to approaching vessels by the white crests of the long lines of breakers. Navigation is very dangerous, and the harbour of Kandavu is a very difficult one to make. Just before entering we passed within fifty feet of the masts of a sunken ship; but, having brought a native pilot from Sydney, we got inside safely. The harbour is exceedingly beautiful. For some distance from the water on each side the ground is covered with cocoa-nut and bread-fruit trees, large ferns, and a great variety of bright green foliage, while beyond is a range of hills of beautiful shapes and well wooded.
It being Sunday only two or three boats made their appearance, the missionaries not permitting the natives to come out to trade or to gratify their curiosity on that day. Knowing this we were not a little amazed to receive a visit presently from the missionaries themselves, who were rowed by eight very intelligent natives, having no clothing worthy of mention. Some of our party taxed the missionaries with their lack of consistency, and were answered that they came “by invitation.” The natives have fine open faces, with good foreheads, bright and restless eyes. They are of a dark chocolate or liver colour. Their hair is very abundant, but they spoil it by putting quicklime upon it, turning it to a dirty reddish brown. Their vivacity is astonishing. They laugh and chatter in a ceaseless chorus, but their language is not musical. One old fellow was particularly voluble; he was in a boat, and was giving instructions to his crew in a fearfully loud voice, which sounded like the slipping of a ship’s cable through the hawser-hole.
It was great fun to watch the children diving for money. If you threw a sixpence into the water they would go after it and catch it before it had gone down many feet, quickly reappearing to ask—like Oliver Twist—for more, and with a grin, disclosing teeth which made us envy them.
Some of our fellow-passengers went ashore, and were much charmed with all they saw. The little children very much delighted them by coming up and putting their hands into those of their visitors, leading them off to show them the bread-fruit and banana trees.
Just as daylight was going our gun was fired, and with our pilot on board we steamed out of the harbour, having the pilot’s boat in tow, manned with as merry a crew as ever rowed a boat. The captain was very anxious to get clear of the reefs before dusk, and so went at a pretty good speed, and although the pilot-boat was half out of the water, and was constantly being swamped, the crew laughed and shrieked with delight, shouting and making curious noises like Christy Minstrels.
Presently they commenced a song, one old fellow beating time with an oar—but we preferred the shrieking. Soon the pilot clambered down the ship’s side, and after giving him three cheers we set off at full speed.
There are many sharks in these waters, but it is said they are not fond of the dark skins. Whether that is so or not I do not know, but certainly both boys and men disregard the presence of these monsters in diving for money.
The day after leaving Kandavu we passed through a beautiful group of islands surrounded with coral reefs. We passed so close to two of these islands that we were able to see the cocoa-nut trees quite distinctly, the bright green vegetation rising just above the pure white surf, and the whole surrounded by the glorious purple and azure of the ocean. While passing one of the islands we saw a huge waterspout burst, and were glad our ship was well out of it.
Soon after leaving the Fiji Islands the crew were put through fire-brigade practice. The bell was rung continuously, the whistles blown, and the crew and stewards rushed to the fire-engines, and got out the buckets and hose, and soon began playing over the ship, while the first officer superintended the getting out and lowering of the boats. As very few persons were warned of what was going to be done, there was naturally great excitement amongst the passengers, one lady fainting in the saloon, thinking the ship was really on fire. I was not impressed with the smartness or efficiency of either officers or crew, and was devoutly thankful that there was no need for their services; and yet I often wondered there were no fires, there being so many kerosene lamps all over the ship, to say nothing of the immense kitchen fires, where twice in one morning I saw a regular burst of flame through an unskilful cook overturning the fat in the absence of his chief.
In going from England to Australia, and returning via the Pacific, and across America, one day is gained, and in order to keep our calendar right we had to “drop a day,” or when we arrived at Liverpool we should be a day in advance of our home friends. This is done by having two days of the same name and date in one week. It appears rather curious but is plain enough, for our general course since leaving home was eastward, and continued so until we reached home. Now, as in going east, four minutes to each degree are gained (the reverse in going west), it follows that in the 360 degrees into which the earth’s circumference is divided, a total gain of 360 × 4 = 1,440 minutes, or 24 hours is made.
Our doctor was somewhat of a curiosity. One evening he told me that one of the passengers, who was suffering from an ailment of the eyes, had declined his further services, preferring to pay one of the passengers who was a medical man. He assured me he had no feeling about it, he was quite above that sort of thing. “Our profession,” he said, “is one in which we should always practice the virtue of charity in accordance with the teaching of Christ, whose follower I trust I am.” But observing that during the conversation he frequently swore, I gave him a hint about it. “Ah,” said he, “you remind me of my little wife at home; whenever I swear or consign any one to a warm place, she puts her finger up and says, ‘Ah, don’t do that, you know you don’t mean it,’ which of course is perfectly true, so there is no harm in it.” One of our doctors was re-named a “compound-conceited-cuss-of-a-colonial-cockatoo-quack-of-a-doctor.” He believed in the Australian “spread eagle”—in the cockatoo, that is—and had visions of a time when England would be a “foreign” country. But he was labouring under the impression that there were eight millions of people in the Australian colonies, whereas there were not more than 2½ millions of white, black, yellow, and brown.
Life on shipboard is not more free from little personal difficulties than on land: one of our colonial friends daily raised the susceptibilities of his neighbours at the dinner table by emptying a favourite dish of fruit into his pocket for home consumption; while just before reaching Honolulu it was rumoured there was to be a duel as soon as we arrived at the island. One of the English travellers had an objectionable habit of turning the fruit over with his fingers at dessert, and picking out the best. A colonial gentleman frequently rebuked him mildly for his breach of good manners, telling him he should “touch and take”; and so it resulted in a quarrel which it was said “blood alone can quell.” It is satisfactory, however, to know that the deadly encounter did not come off.
Being told by the Captain that we might expect to land at Honolulu at 6 p.m., the four o’clock dinner table was comparatively deserted, most of the passengers preferring to reserve themselves for what the Yankees call a “good square meal” on shore. We arrived off the entrance to the harbour in good time, and made the usual signals for a pilot, but with no result. After sunset, guns and rockets were fired, but no pilot appearing, the Captain decided to run in without one. In consequence of the delay it was ten o’clock before we landed, when we found the islanders were en fête, and were informed that on such occasions the pilots decline to go out for vessels. Just as we were about to land, one of our passengers, in the darkness, fell overboard, but being a good swimmer and a strong, fearless man, he managed to get aboard again, with no worse result than a wetting. This gentleman had the reputation of being somewhat of a sceptic, and that afternoon I had been discussing with him the subject of a future state. When he was safe on deck again I reminded him of our conversation, and asked what his thoughts were when under the water in such a perilous situation. He replied, “I will tell you exactly what I did think. When I fell overboard I had three shillings in my hand, and my first thought when under water was as to their safety; so, before doing anything else, I safely deposited them in my pocket, and then proceeded to ‘go aloft.’” On landing we found ourselves amongst a motley throng, whose faces, however, were too dark to be seen, the majority dressed in light coloured raiment, and all laughing, shouting, jabbering and shrieking in a ten times more lively manner than a mob of gay Neapolitans on the arrival of a train at Naples. We found the hotel about a mile from the landing place, and very much enjoyed the walk along the wide unpaved streets, lined with houses of various shapes and sizes, many with gardens around them. Myriads of fire-flies lit up the darkness, and the air was laden with the perfume of tropical flowers. On arriving at the hotel, we found it to be a spacious, well-lighted building, with lofty reception rooms, through which we wandered in quest of waiters to whom to give our orders for supper, but no servant could we find, neither could we get any response to the bells, which were vigorously rung by a hungry crowd. We made our way to the office, and were there informed that we could get nothing to eat till next morning, as the servants had “gone home,” and nothing was served after nine o’clock. It was in vain we declared we were starving; the only reply was that we could get what we liked to drink at the bar. A Yankee standing by, pitying our plight, said it was quite true we could get nothing that night, but told us how we could be the first to be served in the morning. He recommended us to order our breakfast at the office before leaving, and to pay for it there and then, and to be at the hotel again before seven o’clock next morning. This we did, and then returned to the vessel, where we also were too late to obtain anything to eat. In the morning we were early at the hotel (buying some delicious strawberries on the way), and proceeding to the breakfast room, were informed we could not obtain admission until seven o’clock. At the appointed hour the folding doors were opened by two natives of the “Flowery Land,” and we were soon seated at the tables, which were crowded with a bountiful supply of most tempting viands, and quantities of luscious fruit.
As soon as all the seats were occupied the Celestial waiter closed the door, and was most assiduous in seeing that his staff attended carefully to the wants of his guests. Presently there were loud knockings at the door, to which no attention whatever was vouchsafed by the smiling Chinee; and when the knockings were varied by angry exclamations from our friends outside, his face became blander still. It could not be said of this “Heathen Chinee” that his “tricks they were vain,” for they were only too effectual in keeping the hungry crowd at bay. When we had quite finished (and I fear we were in no haste to depart), the doors were opened to admit a further batch of impatient voyagers, and even then only one half of the expectant throng could be admitted, the remainder being advised to betake themselves to the restaurants in the town. We shall not soon forget our experiences at the Honolulu Hotel, the landlord of which is no less a personage than His Most Gracious Majesty the King of the Hawaiian Islands.
We occupied the remainder of the limited time at our disposal in walking and driving around the town and neighbourhood.
The date and other palms, india-rubber and cocoanut trees, tree ferns, guavas, and other kinds of tropical vegetation flourish here in great abundance. Flowers of the most brilliant colours grow everywhere, and the houses of the better classes seem perfect little paradises, with numerous jets of water flying. The grass is delightfully green and beautiful, and great dragon-flies flit about in all directions. Here and there we came across a group of little black-eyed, brown-faced, merry children, looking shyly at the white strangers, and rushing wildly along the streets. We also met numbers of natives on horseback, dressed in splendid colours—red, blue, yellow, and green—all mixed, or in masses of one or more of these delicate hues. “Will you ride,” said one. “Not to-day,” I said, “perhaps to-morrow.” “That no good,” replied he, “for steamer sails tomorrow!” and off he went at a gallop. They are sharp, sprightly fellows, very handsome, wonderfully lithe and active, and have dark, flashing eyes.
The women of the labouring class are very stately looking, and walk with a dignity and grace a duchess might envy. Their clothing is not of a very extensive character, consisting apparently of one long loose robe, gathered neatly around the neck and wrists, with gay-coloured ribbons, and suggesting the idea that seven years would be an unnecessary time for a Honolulu girl to be bound to learn dressmaking.
Meeting a number of little girls returning from school, I tried to get them to come and read to us out of their books. They were very shy, and it was some time before they would venture near us. At last one of them let me have her book, and I saw that her name was Emma—after the good queen of that name, who visited England a few years since—so I said, “Now, Emma, read us something, and I will give you this,” holding a new threepenny piece before her. At once she came and read a page in the true conventional schoolgirl monotone. The book was printed in Honolulu, and was in the native language, which sounded sweet, and free from harshness. She was a nice-looking little girl, quite a “brownie,” and was much pleased with her threepenny-piece. The children were delighted at seeing Queen Victoria’s face on the coin, and frequently repeated her name. The race is fast dying out, and in a few generations will become extinct.
During the day we visited a school, and looked over the Parliament House, which is a handsome building. The hall is very large and lofty, and so also are the rooms, the walls and ceilings being lined with a smooth white enamel. In connection with the House of Parliament there is a tolerably good library, and the nucleus of a good museum, but the country is very poor; indeed I am told it is almost bankrupt. On passing the post-office it occurred to us to ask if there were any letters for us, although we did not expect any, and putting our cards on the table we said we supposed there were no letters for us. “Oh, but there are though,” the clerk said, “and I am very glad to get rid of them,” whereupon, to our intense delight, he produced a huge packet of letters and papers.
While driving into the country we passed many pretty villas, with gardens full of splendid shrubs and flowers, and on to a native village. The houses are made chiefly of large rushes, which grow here in great abundance. There seem to be no chairs or seats in the houses, every one squatting on the ground. We passed some native women carrying their babies, and I asked if they would sell me one. “Yes, for a dollar,” one replied; but when I said “Very well, then, bring it here,” she altered her mind, which was a good thing for me, for I should not have known what to do with a black baby.
Ruth, The King’s Sister (Died 1883)
The temperature of Honolulu ranges between 60° and 88°, and the islands are always fanned by the N.E. trade winds, rendering them exceedingly healthy.
Our visit conveyed the impression to our minds that it would be impossible to spend a month more delightfully than among the Hawaiian group, and we bade adieu to Honolulu with the greatest regret.
It was a beautiful moonlight evening when we left Honolulu for San Francisco, and after many months’ travelling by land and sea, we began to feel that we were at last really homeward bound, for would not our next voyage land us at Liverpool? While at Honolulu we received a very considerable addition to our passenger list in the persons of a number of Americans, of both sexes, some of them being gentlefolks and some of them not. We also took on board three thousand bundles of bananas, which were hung up in the netting all round the promenade deck. This was a most unfair arrangement on the part of the captain, as not only were the seats on this deck rendered unavailable, and a large portion of the space occupied, but the ship became overrun with centipedes, some of them five inches long, making it like Egypt during one of the plagues, “for they were in all our quarters,” in our beds and in our clothes. Americans, as a rule, are not good sailors. Hence it is that when commencing a voyage they take it for granted that they are going to be ill, and make their arrangements accordingly. My companions had been flattering themselves that the spare berth in their cabin would remain empty to the end of the voyage, but they were doomed to disappointment, for it was their bad fortune to receive one of the most bilious-looking of the new arrivals. On entering the cabin the first observation the Yankee made was, “Where d’ye throw up?” The answer to which was, “We don’t ‘throw up’ at all. We go up and lean over the lee side.” The event proved the Yankee’s apprehensions to be well founded. One party of Americans were returning from a prolonged residence on one of the islands of the Pacific, where they appeared to have acquired some of the native habits. One day these people were taking their lunch on deck; it consisted of chicken and a native dish called “POI.” The latter was a substance like bill-stickers’ paste, and was contained in a large bowl. The company, which numbered some five or six persons, men and women, sat upon the deck around the bowl, and, having learned from their new acquaintances, the savages, to do without spoons and separate dishes, helped themselves to the delicious mixture by each dipping two fingers into the common bowl until it was empty. They then attacked the chicken, and had evidently taken lessons in carving from the same authorities, for they adopted the primitive plan of pulling it to pieces. Of course these proceedings excited considerable remark among the passengers, but the party seemed quite insensible to observation.
Another of our passengers was an American, named Steinberg, who had a grievance against the British Government on account of an alleged outrage on the part of an English man-of-war’s crew, in some dispute in the Samoan Islands. He was nursing his wrath until he arrived at Washington, when he certainly thought England’s fate would be settled, and that she would be “chawed up catawampously.” This man was accompanied by a Yankee journalist of a most anti-British type. He was a sallow-faced man with a large square lower jaw, without any hair on his face, and with straight lanky locks, and, moreover, was something under five feet high. He was so thorough-going in his hatred of everything British that when “God save the Queen” was sung at the close of a concert in the saloon, he got up with much fuss and stalked out, followed by some half-dozen of his countrymen. We called the fiery editor “Jefferson Brick,” after Martin Chuzzlewit’s acquaintance. On one occasion I heard a friend of this gentleman ask him if he had a chair on deck. He said he had not, as the Britishers always brought a good supply. I took the hint, and determined that, at any rate, he should not use mine. Soon afterwards it happened that a sea, breaking over the deck, soaked the carpet seat of my chair, which obliged me to place it in a sunny position that it might dry. Presently I saw “Mr. Brick” deliberately fetch the chair, which was a very comfortable one, and, taking it into the shade, settle down on it. I went to him and remarked that the chair was quite wet. “I guess it’s dry now,” said he, with the peculiar twang of a down-east Yankee. Seeing that he failed to take the hint, I told him that the chair was mine and that I would thank him to give it up. This he did, with a remark that he “did not see what people who were always walking about wanted with chairs at all.”
We were not altogether without curious examples of our own countrymen as fellow-passengers. One in particular, an Irish tradesman, from one of the New Zealand ports, seemed determined to amuse and be amused. We called our friend “Mister,” because he addressed everybody by that name. It appears that “Mister” was too fond of liquor, and that he had to take an occasional holiday, in order to give his friends an opportunity of putting his affairs straight at home. I was told that he had a flourishing business, which was managed by two able assistants, who insisted upon his leaving them for twelve months in the interest of the concern, under the penalty, if he returned, of their opening an opposition shop. “Mister” told me he had been educated in four Colleges in Ireland, which, doubtless, accounted for the remarkable absence of knowledge he displayed. He frequently alarmed us by the disappearance of the knife down his throat at the dinner table. One evening he volunteered to read at one of the entertainments in the saloon, and caused great amusement by the richness of his humour and of his brogue—winding up his reading by the impromptu observation, “and shure it is oi that am moighty dray.” We shall hear of “Mister” again when we get to San Francisco.
One of our passengers, who died during the voyage, had been suffering greatly from severe pains in the head. He had been told by a lady that sometimes great relief was obtained in such cases by rubbing brandy upon the head. Soon after giving this advice the lady was walking down the saloon where there were a number of passengers and stewards, when she was astonished by hearing the poor invalid calling after her in the most excited manner, and to the no small wonderment of the passengers, “Miss, Miss, did you say brandy or whiskey?” On one occasion the doctor was examining this patient, when the poor fellow appealed to him to do what he could for him, saying, “Doctor, I should like to have one more chance, do you see, and if you can put this old crazy machine together again and make it run once more I shall take it—as a personal favour!” Before he became dangerously ill the invalid was in the same cabin with one of my friends, who one night was considerably disturbed by his dreadful coughing, varied at intervals by strong language respecting the cough, which, he declared, did not belong to him. “It’s not mine, I never had a cough, it’s my head that’s wrong—this cough belongs to some other fellow; what’s it bothering me for?” and when some ladies gently remonstrated with him he said, “Look here, now, I guess it’s just as natural for me to swear as it is for you to pray!” His end came suddenly at last, and in a few hours after, in the early morning, his remains were
“In the deep bosom of the ocean buried.”