This is a modern-English version of Wanderings in New South Wales, Batavia, Pedir Coast, Singapore, and China, Vol. 1 (of 2) : Being the journal of a naturalist in those countries, during 1832, 1833 and 1834, originally written by Bennett, George.
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From a Sketch by G. Bennett. Pub: by R. Bentley, London, 1834. T. Clark, sc.
From a Sketch by G. Bennett. Published by R. Bentley, London, 1834. T. Clark, sc.
Bugong Mountain
Bugong Mountain
WANDERINGS
IN
NEW SOUTH WALES,
BATAVIA, PEDIR COAST, SINGAPORE,
AND CHINA;
BEING
THE JOURNAL OF A NATURALIST
IN THOSE COUNTRIES, DURING 1832, 1833, AND 1834.
WANDERINGS
IN
NEW SOUTH WALES,
BATAVIA, PEDIR COAST, SINGAPORE,
AND CHINA;
BEING
THE JOURNAL OF A NATURALIST
IN THOSE COUNTRIES, DURING 1832, 1833, AND 1834.
BY
GEORGE BENNETT, Esq. F.L.S.
FELLOW OF THE ROYAL COLLEGE OF SURGEONS, &c.
BY
GEORGE BENNETT, Esquire F.L.S.
FELLOW OF THE ROYAL COLLEGE OF SURGEONS, etc.
IN TWO VOLUMES.
VOL. I.
IN TWO VOLUMES.
VOL. 1.
LONDON:
RICHARD BENTLEY, NEW BURLINGTON STREET.
Publisher in Ordinary to his Majesty.
1834.
LONDON:
RICHARD BENTLEY, NEW BURLINGTON STREET.
Official Publisher for the King.
1834.
LONDON:
IBOTSON AND PALMER, PRINTERS, SAVOY STREET, STRAND.
LONDON:
IBOTSON AND PALMER, PRINTERS, SAVOY STREET, STRAND.
The Work now given to the Public is the result of a series of recent excursions into the interior of the Colony of New South Wales, at intervals of disengagement from professional duties, and at periods of the year best calculated for observations in natural history. To this are added a detail of such incidents as appeared to the Author worthy of notice, while visiting Batavia, Singapore, China, &c. on his return to England.
The work presented to the public is the outcome of several recent trips into the heart of the Colony of New South Wales, taken during breaks from professional responsibilities and at times of the year most suitable for observing natural history. It also includes a record of notable incidents that the author found worth mentioning while visiting Batavia, Singapore, China, etc., on his way back to England.
The writer in his narrative has limited himself principally, if not entirely, to the notes taken at the instant of observation, his object being to relate facts in the order they occurred; and, without regard to studied composition, to impart the information he has been enabled to collect in simple and unadorned language, avoiding, as much as possible, the technicalities of science.
The writer has mostly, if not completely, based his narrative on the notes he took during observation. His goal is to share facts in the order they happened and, without worrying about polished writing, to present the information he has gathered in straightforward and plain language, avoiding, as much as possible, scientific jargon.
London, June, 1834.
London, June 1834.
| CHAPTER I. | |
| Island of Porto Santo—Madeira—The Desertas Islands—Town of Funchal—The Physalia, or Portuguese man of war—Description of that animal—An experiment—Effects of the Physalia’s sting—Method of preserving the animal—Land in sight—Approach to the Cape Verd Islands—Islands of Mayo and St. Jago—Anchor at Porto Praya—The town—Famine—Novel method of Fishing—Tropical trees and other plants—Valley of St. Trinidad—The monkey bread-tree—Springs of water—Severe drought—Negro Huts—Plantations—The gigantic boabab-tree—Residence of Don F. Melo—The Orchilla weed—Date palms—Leave the island | 1 |
| CHAPTER II. | |
| Enter the tropics—Flying fish—Luminosity of the ocean—Magnificent scene—Phosphoric light—Interesting facts in elucidation of that phenomenon—Albicores and Bonitos—A colossal whale—Sea birds—Gigantic species of Albatross—Description of those birds—Their manner of flight | 28[viii] |
| CHAPTER III. | |
| Sombre appearance of the Australian coast—Feelings of an emigrant on approaching it—Improvement of Sydney—Fruits produced in the colony—Extent of the town—Cultivation of flowers and culinary vegetables—House-rent—The streets—Parrots—Shops—Impolicy of continuing the colony as a penal settlement—The theatre—Aspect of the country in the vicinity of Sydney—The grass tree—Floral beauties—Larva of a curious insect—The colonial museum—Visit to Elizabeth Bay—Valuable botanical specimens in the garden of the Honourable Alexander Macleay—New Zealand flax—Articles manufactured from that vegetable—Leave Sydney—Residence of Mr. M’Arthur—Forest flowers—Acacias—Paramatta—Swallows | 50 |
| CHAPTER IV. | |
| Road from Paramatta to Liverpool—Arrival at Raby Farm—The opossum—Prisoners and free men—Advantage of being sentenced to an iron gang—London pickpockets converted into Shepherds—Suggestion with regard to the convicts—Leave Raby—Mr. Jones’s farm—Cultivation of the vine—Sameness of the forest scenery in Australia—Lose our way—Journey resumed—Gloomy appearance of the Australian vegetation—The tea tree—Colonial farms—Emu-ford—Blue Mountain range—The Pilgrim Inn—View from Lapstone Hill—Variety of flowering shrubs—A beautiful garden—Road over the Blue Mountains—Picturesque prospects—A mountain station—Bleak air of the place—Our supper | 84[ix] |
| CHAPTER V. | |
| Our journey resumed—The new road—Road-side flowers—Blackheath—The pass through Mount Vittoria—Talent and perseverance of Major Mitchell, the surveyor-general—Appearance of an iron gang—Leave the Blue Mountain range—Arrive at Collet’s Inn—Resume our journey towards Dabee—New line of road—Aspect of the country—Arrival at Mr. Walker’s farm—Residence of Mr. Dalhunty—Huge mounds of clay—Blackman’s Crown—Gum-trees—Bush travelling—Encamp for the night—Caution to travellers—Cherry-tree Hill—A deserted station—Encampment of Aborigines—The musk duck—Produce of Mr. Cox’s dairy-farm—Mount Brace—Infanticide—Custom of native women relative to their dead offspring—Native practice of midwifery—Animal called the Cola—Belief in the doctrine of metempsychosis | 104 |
| CHAPTER VI. | |
| Cross the country to Goulbourn Plains—A road-gang stockade—Splendid view—The old Bathurst road—Sidmouth valley—Brisbane valley—Squash field—Bolam Creek—Turril, turril—Gum resin—Swampy country—Mr. Cowper’s farm—Anecdotes—Distant view of Goulburn Plains—Mr. Bradley’s estate—Cross the plains—Hospitable reception at Cardross—The Manna tree—Failure in rearing the tulip tree | 132[x] |
| CHAPTER VII. | |
| Appearance among the natives of a disease resembling the small-pox—Origin and progress of that malady among the aborigines—Medical investigations—Plan of treatment—Variety of forms assumed by the disease—Its duration—The critical period—Dr. Mair’s report | 148 |
| CHAPTER VIII. | |
| Bredalbane Plains—Forest country—Cockatoos and parrots—Peculiar species of the lizard tribe—Medicinal trees—Bark of the wattle trees—Mr. Manton’s farm—Picturesque view—Yas Plains—Encampment of natives—Stringy bark, or box tree—Use of that tree—Native method of cooking—The Australian negro—Game—The flying squirrel—Human chimney ornaments—Cloaks of opossum or kangaroo skins—Barbarous ceremonies—Women not admitted to the confidence of the males | 162 |
| CHAPTER IX. | |
| Perch, and other fish—An elegant couple—Kangaroo dogs—Black and white cockatoos—Vegetable productions—Mr. O’Brien’s farm—Herds of cattle—Bush life—Proceed towards the Murrumbidgee river—A bush track—Romantic country—Arrive on the banks of the Murrumbidgee—Cross the river—Swamp oaks, and other trees—Remarkable caves—Return to Yas—Superstitious ceremonies—Crystal used in the cure of diseases—Mode of employing it | 179[xi] |
| CHAPTER X. | |
| Leave Yas Plains for Sydney—Mr. Shelley’s farm—Splendid new road—Mr. Barber’s farm—Shoalhaven gullies—Interesting spot—Mr. Campbell’s farm—Journey resumed—Settlement of Bong, Bong—Bargo Brush—Profusion of flowering shrubs—View from the summit of Mount Prudhoe—The cow pasture road—Farms of Mr. M’Arthur, and Captain Coghill—Flowers—The white cedar—Government hospital at Liverpool | 195 |
| CHAPTER XI. | |
| Second Journey into the interior commenced—Land of roses—The grape-vine—Foreign grain—Missionary rewards—Bargo brush—Small species of Lobster—Another species—Snakes—Leeches—Mr. Button’s farm—Proceed on the journey to Gudarigby—Native plants—Magnificent mountain view—Our repast—The laughing jackass—A spacious cavern—Its interior—Black swans and other birds | 208 |
| CHAPTER XII. | |
| Native dogs—Their tenacity of life—Return to Yas Plains—The Australian raspberry—Native cherry-tree—The summer season—Tree hoppers—Their clamour—Gannets—Country about the Tumat river—Bugolong—The Black range—A storm—Vicinity of rivers—Native blacks—Their costume and weapons—Wheat-fields—Destructive birds—Winding course of the Murrumbidgee | 231[xii] |
| CHAPTER XIII. | |
| Devoted attachment of Women—Remarkable instance of this, exemplified in the tale of an Australian savage—Journey resumed—Botanical productions—The Munne-munne range—Luxuriant Plain—Mr. Warby’s farm—The bell bird—Junction of the Murrumbidgee and Tumat rivers—Native names of rivers—Soil—River cod—Aquatic fowl—The Tumat country—Fertility of the plains—Assigned servants—A mountainous range—The Murrumbidgee Pine—Geological character of the vicinity—Mr. Rose’s cattle station | 247 |
| CHAPTER XIV. | |
| Wooded hills—Base of the Bugong mountains—Multitudes of the Bugong moths—Timber trees and granite rocks—Snow mountains—Method of collecting the moths—Use of these insects—Crows—Height of the Bugong mountains—The aborigines—Dread of ridicule in the females—Native fine arts—Lyre-bird of the colonists—Destruction of kangaroos and emus—The station of Been—Sanguinary skirmishes—A fertile plain—Cattle paths—Shrubs on the banks of the Tumat | 265 |
| CHAPTER XV. | |
| Kangaroo hunt—Ferocity of that animal—Use of its tendons—The culinary parts—Haunts of the kangaroo—A death struggle—Dissection of a kangaroo—Preservation of human[xiii] fat—Ascent of trees in pursuit of game—Parrots and cockatoos—The emu—The native porcupine—Species of ophthalmia, termed the blight—Leave the Tumat country—Banks of the Murrumbidgee—Aborigines—Water gum-tree—Kangaroo-rat—The fly-catcher—The satin bird—Sheep stations—Colonial industry | 283 |
| CHAPTER XVI. | |
| Flocks of pelicans and grey parrots—Arrive at Jugiong—A busy scene—The harvest—Quails and Hawks—Mr. Hume’s farm—Domestic life among the settlers—Miss my way in the forest—Mr. Reddal’s farm—Disease called the Black Leg—Mr. Bradley’s residence at Lansdowne Park—Drooping manna trees—Christmas festival—Mr. F. M’Arthur’s farm—Aboriginal tribes—Native costume—Noisy revelry—Wild ducks and pigeons—Spiders | 310 |
| CHAPTER XVII. | |
| Arrive at Wombat Brush—Animals called Wombat—Parched country—Road-side houses—Colonial English—Column to the memory of La Perouse—Death of Le Receveur—Sydney police-office—The Bustard—Botanic garden—The aborigines—King Bungaree—The castor-oil shrub—Diseases of Australia—New Zealanders—Australian ladies—Prejudice against travellers from Botany Bay—Anecdote—A fishing excursion—Cephalopodous animals—Conclusion of the author’s researches in this colony | 329[xiv] |
| CHAPTER XVIII. | |
| Leave Sydney—Rottenest Island—Colonial prospects—Voyage to Batavia—Prince’s Island—The Java coast—Anchor in Batavia roads—The river—Alligators—Streets of Batavia—M. Choulan’s tavern—Forests—Java ponies—A veterinary monkey—Public buildings—The traveller’s tree—Celebrated Javanese chief—Sketch of his life and actions—Exactions of the Dutch government—The orang-utan—Society in Batavia—Animals of Java—Doves—Dried specimen of the hippocampus | 346 |
| CHAPTER XIX. | |
| Leave Batavia and anchor off Hoorn Island—Islands about the Bengal Passage—Gingiong roads—Lofty aspect of the land—The coast—The golden mountain—Island of Sumatra—Aspect of the country—The lover’s leap—Village of Pedir—Ships of the Acheenese Rajah—Visit to the Rajah—Dense vegetation—Buffaloes—Ba Assan trees—Hall of reception—Interview with his Highness—Commercial negociations—Curiosity of the natives—The Areka or Betel-nut—Flowering shrubs and plants—Rice-planting—Return to the ship—A prohibition | 375 |
| CHAPTER XX. | |
| Visit from the young Rajah—Native weapons—Costume—The “trading minister” and his boy—Inspection of the ship by the natives—Population of the Pedir district—Rambles[xv] on the coast—King Crabs—Land crabs—Ova of fish—Soldier crabs—Their food—The Rajah’s house—Cocoa-nut water—Habitations in the Rajah’s inclosure—The fort—The bazaar—Banks of the river—Plants—Native fishing—Fruits—The country farther inland—Vegetation—The Eju Palm—A fine plain | 395 |
| CHAPTER XXI. | |
| Country about Pedir—“White Lions”—The rajah’s habits—A decision—Ornaments for the ear—Female curiosity—The rajah’s horses—War between the rajah of Acheen and the rajah of Trumong—A native’s account of the quarrel—Purchase of betel-nut—The Areka-nut—Trade in that article—Anecdote—A Chittagong brig—Dried fish—Beautiful appearance of the Golden Mountain—Assemblage of the mountains—Tornados—The fire king and his demons—Yamora—Burial-ground—Large tree—Small crabs—Game called Mein Achu—Leprosy—Party of natives—The Viverra musanga—Applications for medicine—Rajah of Putu—His retinue—Object of his visit | 416 |
WANDERINGS
IN
NEW SOUTH WALES,
&c.
CHAPTER I.
Island of Porto Santo—Madeira—The Desertas Islands—Town of Funchal—The Physalia, or Portuguese man of war—Description of that animal—An experiment—Effects of the Physalia’s sting—Method of preserving the animal—Land in sight—Approach to the Cape Verd Islands—Islands of Mayo and St. Jago—Anchor at Porto Praya—The town—Famine—Novel method of Fishing—Tropical trees and other plants—Valley of St. Trinidad—The monkey bread-tree—Springs of water—Severe drought—Negro Huts—Plantations—The gigantic boabab-tree—Residence of Don F. Melo—The Orchilla weed—Date palms—Leave the island.
Island of Porto Santo—Madeira—The Desertas Islands—Town of Funchal—The Physalia, or Portuguese man of war—Description of that creature—An experiment—Effects of the Physalia’s sting—Method of preserving the animal—Land in sight—Approach to the Cape Verde Islands—Islands of Maio and Santiago—Anchor at Porto Praya—The town—Famine—New method of fishing—Tropical trees and other plants—Valley of St. Trinidad—The monkey bread tree—Springs of water—Severe drought—African huts—Plantations—The gigantic baobab tree—Residence of Don F. Melo—The Orchilla weed—Date palms—Leave the island.
On the 15th of May 1832, the island of Porto Santo, in latitude 35° 5′ north, longitude 16° 5′ west, was seen bearing south-west, half-south, at the distance of forty miles from the ship “Brothers,” Captain Towns, bound to New South[2] Wales, eleven days having elapsed since leaving Plymouth, from whence we had taken our departure. The appearance of the island, when we had reached to within seven or eight miles of it, was generally barren, varied by an occasional verdant patch scattered over the rugged rocks, which terminated in steep cliffs to the water’s edge.
On May 15, 1832, the island of Porto Santo, located at 35° 5′ north latitude and 16° 5′ west longitude, was spotted to the southwest, about forty miles away from the ship "Brothers," captained by Towns, which was heading to New South[2] Wales. It had been eleven days since we left Plymouth, our point of departure. As we got within seven or eight miles of the island, it appeared mostly barren, with occasional green patches scattered across the rugged rocks that rose steeply to the edge of the water.
On the following morning at daylight, the dark towering land of Madeira[1] was visible, rising like a huge black mass from the blue water. By eight A.M. we were in the passage between the south-east side of Madeira and the group of islands known as the Desertas, sailing, with a light and agreeable breeze, from the eastward, which enabled us to have an excellent view both of the former islands and Madeira; and as our progress seemed to be quicker than would have been expected from our gentle zephyrs, we were probably also aided by a current.[2]
On the next morning at dawn, the dark, towering land of Madeira[1] was visible, rising like a massive black silhouette from the blue water. By eight A.M., we were in the passage between the southeast side of Madeira and the group of islands known as the Desertas, sailing with a light and pleasant breeze coming from the east, which gave us a great view of both Madeira and the nearby islands. Since we were moving faster than expected given the gentle winds, we were likely also being helped along by a current.[2]
The passage between the Desertas and Madeira is considered to be about eleven miles across. The Desertas stretch nearly north-north-west and south-south-east, and may be five leagues in extent; they have an abrupt, barren appearance, with steep, rugged, perpendicular rocks descending to the sea; on the largest island there was some appearance of cultivation, and the tufa, or red volcanic ash, imparts that colour to several parts of the island; there is a high pyramidal rock, resembling a needle or pillar, situated about the north-west part of the group, which at a distance is like a ship under sail.
The gap between the Desertas and Madeira is about eleven miles wide. The Desertas stretch nearly north-northwest and south-southeast, covering around five leagues. They have a steep, barren look, with rugged, vertical cliffs dropping down to the sea. On the largest island, there are signs of farming, and the tufa, or red volcanic ash, gives several areas of the island that color. There's a tall, pyramid-like rock that looks like a needle or pillar, located in the northwestern part of the group, which appears like a ship with its sails up from a distance.
By eight A.M. the heat of the sun had dissipated the gloomy mist which had previously been pending over and concealing the beautiful features of the island of Madeira, and caused it to burst forth in all its luxuriance and beauty; the northern part of the island had a very sombre, barren aspect, when compared with the fertility of the southern; the plantations, glowing in varied tints, interspersed with neat white villas and small villages, gave much animation and picturesque beauty to the scene.
By eight AM, the heat of the sun had cleared away the gloomy mist that had been hanging over and hiding the beautiful landscape of Madeira, allowing it to come alive in all its lushness and beauty. The northern part of the island looked very dark and barren compared to the fertile southern region. The plantations, shining in vibrant colors, interspersed with tidy white villas and small villages, added a lively and picturesque charm to the scene.
Early in the morning is the time best calculated to view the island clearly, as the sun, gradually emerging from the dense masses of clouds which have previously enveloped[4] the towering mountains, gilds their summits, and, gradually spreading its rays over the fertile declivities, enlivens and renders distinct the splendid prospect afforded to the voyager. As the sun, however, acquires a stronger power, its proximity to a wide expanse of waters soon causes a mist to arise by which the clearness of the view from the sea is much obstructed.
Early in the morning is the best time to see the island clearly, as the sun, slowly rising from the thick clouds that had previously shrouded the tall mountains, lights up their peaks and, gradually spreading its rays over the lush slopes, brings to life and sharpens the beautiful view for the traveler. However, as the sun gets stronger, its closeness to the large body of water quickly creates a mist that greatly obscures the clarity of the view from the sea.
As we approached, the town of Funchal opened to our view, the white habitations rising like an amphitheatre, and the hills around, covered by the variegated tints of a luxuriant vegetation: the whole appearance of the island was such, as to be well calculated to excite the most agreeable sensations of delight at any time, but more especially after the eye has enjoyed for a time only the prospect of sea and sky.
As we got closer, the town of Funchal came into view, its white buildings rising like an amphitheater, surrounded by hills covered in the colorful shades of lush vegetation. The overall look of the island was sure to spark the most pleasant feelings of joy at any moment, but especially after we had spent some time just looking at the sea and sky.
As it was not our intention to touch at this island, in the course of the day we had passed and left it far in the distance. We spoke off the island one of Don Pedro’s blockading squadron; it was a brig mounting eighteen guns, filled with such a motley crew as one may expect to see in a piratical craft. The spokesman informed us that Don Pedro was with Admiral Sartorius, in a large ship off the north side of the island: we then parted; they wishing us “un bon voyage,” and we, in return, hoped they might obtain[5] abundance of prize money, but which we hardly supposed would ever be realized.
Since we didn't plan to stop at this island, we passed it and left it far behind during the day. We encountered one of Don Pedro's blockading ships off the island; it was a brig carrying eighteen guns, with a crew as diverse as you would expect on a pirate ship. The spokesperson told us that Don Pedro was with Admiral Sartorius on a large ship on the north side of the island. We then parted ways, with them wishing us "bon voyage," and we, in return, hoping they would earn plenty of prize money, though we doubted it would actually happen. [5]
There are various objects well calculated to excite interest to a naturalist during a long voyage, and to furnish both amusement and instruction. The splendid Physalia, or “Portuguese man of war,”[3] is often seen floating by the ship; the inflated, or bladder portion of this molluscous animal, glowing in delicate crimson tints, floats upon the waves, whilst the long tentaculæ of a deep purple colour extend beneath, as snares to capture its prey. It is oftentimes amusing to see persons eager to secure the gaudy prize; but they find, by painful experience, that, like many other beautiful objects of the creation, they possess hidden torments; for no sooner have they grasped the tinted and curious animal, than, encircling its long filiform appendages over the hands and fingers of its capturer, it inflicts such pungent pain by means of an acrid fluid discharged from them, as to cause him to drop the prize, and attend to the smarting occasioned by it.
There are many things that can spark a naturalist's interest during a long journey and provide both fun and learning. The impressive Physalia, or "Portuguese man of war,"[3] is often seen drifting by the ship; the inflated, or bladder part of this mollusk, shimmering in delicate shades of crimson, floats on the waves, while the long tentacles of a deep purple color stretch below, acting as traps to catch its prey. It’s often amusing to watch people eager to capture the colorful creature; however, they soon learn the hard way that, like many other beautiful things in nature, it can bring hidden pain. As soon as they grab the vividly colored animal, its long, slender appendages wrap around their hands and fingers, delivering a sharp sting from a toxic fluid that forces them to drop the creature and tend to the painful irritation it caused.
This beautiful molluscous animal inhabits the[6] tropical seas, and is also seen in high latitudes during the summer months[4] of the year. When first removed from the water, it excites the admiration of the spectators by the elegant and vivid colours with which it is adorned. These tints, however, are as evanescent as they are brilliant; and soon after this animal is taken from its native element, the crest sinks; the bright crimson, green, and purple tints lose their brilliancy, and the beauty which had previously excited so much admiration fades, and at last totally vanishes. There are a number of species of the genus;[5] but the one most commonly seen is the Physalia pelagica of Lamarck, (Holothuria physalis of Linn.) They are known to our seamen as the “Portuguese men of war,” and[7] galére or frégate among the French, from having some resemblance to a small vessel resting tranquilly on the surface of the water during a calm, at which time they are more readily discerned than during strong breezes: they have also been confounded by many persons unacquainted with natural history with the Nautilus.
This beautiful mollusk lives in the tropical seas and can also be found in high latitudes during the summer months of the year. When first taken out of the water, it captures the attention of onlookers with its elegant and vibrant colors. However, these colors are as fleeting as they are stunning; soon after being removed from its natural habitat, the crest droops, and the bright crimson, green, and purple hues lose their brilliance. The beauty that initially drew so much admiration fades away and eventually disappears completely. There are several species in this genus, but the one most commonly seen is the Physalia pelagica of Lamarck, (also known as Holothuria physalis of Linn.). Sailors refer to them as "Portuguese men of war," while the French call them galére or frégate, because they somewhat resemble a small boat floating peacefully on the water’s surface in calm weather, making them easier to spot than during strong winds. Many people unfamiliar with natural history have also confused them with the Nautilus.
The figure of this species is somewhat ovate; the upper portion resembles an inflated bladder, rounded at one extremity, and with a beak-like termination at the other. On the summit or back is a crest or ridge, slightly elevated, sulcated, and fringed at the edges: the whole of this part of the animal is of a light blue, with occasional streaks of delicate sea-green, and tinged with brilliant crimson: this portion of the animal is filled with air, and, although I have heard it frequently asserted that the animal has the voluntary power of collapsing the bladder on the approach of tempestuous, or inflating it on a return of fine weather, yet I do not credit the remark, considering it is more probably a seaman’s tale than the result of a naturalist’s observation. On examination, no apparatus is found by which such an effect could be produced; and if it actually possesses such a power, why is it not exercised in every moment of peril?—for, when we approach the animal to capture it, or[8] when it is taken from the water, no such change occurs; the bladder still remains inflated, and can be preserved thus distended either in a dried state or by placing it in alcohol. During strong breezes, I have seen them floating on the waves; but, from the ship passing at that time rapidly through the water, they are then more rarely observed. I have also seen them thrown in tempestuous weather on the beach at New South Wales, the bladder portion of the animal still remaining inflated. From these, and other reasons which might be adduced, the assertion cannot be considered as the result of actual observation. Situated at the under portion of the animal is a mass of tentaculæ, some short and thick, others long, filiform, and extending to several yards in length: these seem to consist of a chain of globules, filled with an extremely acrid fluid: in colour, they are of a beautiful purple, with an admixture of crimson; and they are covered by a glutinous substance, having a peculiar odour. The inflated membrane is probably intended to keep the animal buoyant on the water, by which it is readily enabled to extend its long tentaculæ in search of prey, or it may be designed as a locomotive agent, aiding the animal in its progress over the “vast bosom of the ocean,”—thus serving the purpose[9] of a sail. It is said that the appearance of the Physalia near to the sea-coast is the indication of an approaching tempest.[6]
The shape of this species is somewhat oval; the upper part looks like an inflated bladder, rounded on one end, and with a beak-like tip on the other. On the top or back, there’s a slightly raised crest or ridge, marked with grooves and fringed at the edges. This part of the animal is a light blue, with occasional delicate sea-green streaks, and hints of bright crimson. This section is filled with air, and while I’ve often heard it claimed that the animal can voluntarily shrink the bladder in rough weather or inflate it when the weather improves, I don't believe this statement. It seems more like a sailor's tale than an observation from a naturalist. Upon closer inspection, there is no structure that could cause such a change; and if it really has this ability, why doesn’t it use it every time it’s in danger? When we try to catch the animal or take it out of the water, no such change happens; the bladder stays inflated and can be preserved either dried or by placing it in alcohol. During strong winds, I've seen them floating on the waves, but because the ship moves quickly through the water, they are less often spotted at that time. I've also seen them washed up on the beach during storms in New South Wales, with the bladder still inflated. For these and other reasons, the claim cannot be considered based on actual observation. On the underside of the animal is a group of tentacles, some short and thick, others long and thin, reaching several yards in length. They seem to be made up of a chain of small globules filled with a highly toxic fluid. In color, they are a striking purple mixed with crimson, and they are covered by a sticky substance with a distinctive smell. The inflated membrane likely helps keep the animal afloat, allowing it to extend its long tentacles to hunt for food, or it may serve as a means of movement, helping the animal across the "vast surface of the ocean," acting as a sail. It’s said that the appearance of the Physalia near the shore indicates an approaching storm.
Having captured a very fine specimen of this animal on a former voyage in latitude 9° 0′ south, and longitude 12° 59′ west, and being aware of the pungent property residing in the tentaculæ, I was desirous of trying its effects on myself, for the purpose of ascertaining from personal experience the constitutional irritative effects resulting from it. On taking hold of the animal it raised its tentaculæ, and stung me on the second and ring fingers. The sensation was[10] similar at first to that produced by the nettle; but before a few minutes had elapsed, a violent aching pain succeeded, affecting more severely the joints of the fingers, the stinging sensation at the same time continuing at the part first touched by the acrid fluid. On cold water being applied, with the intention of removing or lessening the pain, it was found rather to increase than diminish the effects. The irritation resulting from the poisonous fluid emitted by the animal extended upwards, increasing in extent and severity, (apparently acting along the course of the nerves,) and in the space of a quarter of an hour, the effect in the fore-arm (more particularly felt at the inner part) was very violent, and at the elbow-joint still more so. It may be worthy of remark, that when the joints became affected the pain always increased. It became at last almost unbearable, and was much heightened on the affected arm being moved; the pulse of that arm was also much accelerated, and an unnatural heat was felt over its whole surface. The pain extended to the shoulder-joint; and on the pectoral muscle becoming attacked by the same painful sensation, an oppression of breathing was occasioned, which we find similarly produced by rheumatism, when it attacks that muscle; and it proved very distressing[11] during the time it remained. The continuance of the pain was very severe for nearly half an hour, after which it gradually abated, but the after effects were felt during the remainder of the day in a slight degree of numbness and increased temperature of the arm.
Having caught a really good specimen of this animal on a previous voyage at latitude 9° 0′ south and longitude 12° 59′ west, and knowing about the painful properties in its tentacles, I wanted to see how it affected me personally to understand the irritative effects better. When I grabbed the animal, it raised its tentacles and stung me on my second and ring fingers. At first, the feeling was similar to being stung by a nettle; but within a few minutes, a sharp aching pain came on, especially hitting the joints of my fingers, while the stinging sensation at the spot first touched by the toxic fluid continued. When I applied cold water to try to relieve the pain, it seemed to make it worse instead of better. The irritation from the venom spread upward, growing in size and intensity (seemingly following the nerve paths), and within a quarter of an hour, the discomfort in my forearm (especially on the inner side) was very intense, and the pain was even more severe at the elbow. It's worth noting that when the joints were affected, the pain always intensified. Eventually, it became nearly unbearable, especially when I moved my affected arm; my pulse in that arm sped up, and I felt an unusual heat all over it. The pain reached up to my shoulder joint, and when the pectoral muscle also started to hurt, it made it hard to breathe, similar to what happens with rheumatism when it affects that muscle, which was very distressing during the entire time it lasted. The pain continued strongly for nearly half an hour, and then it gradually lessened, but I still felt some lingering numbness and increased warmth in my arm for the rest of the day.
About two hours after I had been stung, I perceived that a vesicle had arisen on the spot; and when children have been stung, I observed that numerous small vesicles arose, similar to those produced by the nettle. The intensity of the effects produced depends on the size and consequent power of the animal; and after it has been for some time removed from the water, it is found that the stinging property has diminished. This irritative property, unattended, however, by any of the constitutional effects, remains for a long time in the tentaculæ, even after they have been removed from the animal; for on touching a handkerchief some weeks after it had been used in wiping off some portions of the tentaculæ, the stinging property was found to have remained, although it had lost that virulent quality, which produced on a recent application such violent constitutional irritation.
About two hours after I got stung, I noticed that a blister had formed on the spot; and when kids get stung, I observed that many small blisters appeared, similar to those caused by nettles. The severity of the effects depends on the size and power of the creature; and after it has been out of the water for a while, the stinging property seems to lessen. This irritating property, however, does remain in the tentacles for a long time, even after they have been detached from the animal; because when I touched a handkerchief weeks later that had been used to wipe off some of the tentacles, the stinging property was still there, although it had lost the intense quality that caused such extreme reactions with a fresh application.
This irritative secretion does not, however, exist solely in this species of mollusca; several of the medusæ have similar properties, which[12] may perhaps be considered as both offensive and defensive; and it has been, and no doubt correctly, supposed to be given to these animals as a means of procuring their food, the benumbing principle existing in the tentaculæ rendering their prey when touched unable to escape. For what purpose this acrid property is found existing in the vegetable kingdom, it is difficult to decide, and all that has yet been said on the subject may be considered as merely hypothetical. For instance, at the island of Singapore there is a remarkable species of the order Fuci, usually found growing in isolated patches upon coral banks. Finlayson thus mentions it: “It is pinnated, plumose, elegant, about a foot and a half in length, and of a whitish colour. It is endued with a property of stinging like nettles; the sensation produced is more acute and more penetrating, more instantaneous, but somewhat more permanent. The hand is scarcely brought into contact with it, before the wound is inflicted. A small corrugated granular bag, filled with a transparent fluid, would seem to be the organ by which it produces this effect. These are no sooner touched than they discharge the fluid they contain. The plant soon loses this power after being removed from the water.” This plant seems, therefore, to possess an offensive[13] or defensive property analogous to that of the Physalia, but for what purpose it would be difficult to form an opinion.
This irritating secretion isn't found just in this type of mollusk; several types of medusæ have similar characteristics, which[12] could be seen as both offensive and defensive. It's been suggested, and likely correctly, that these animals use it to help them catch food, as the numbing agent in their tentacles makes their prey unable to escape when touched. It’s challenging to determine why this irritating quality exists in plants, and everything that's been said so far on the topic can be considered just hypothetical. For example, on the island of Singapore, there's a notable species from the Fuci order, typically found in isolated patches on coral reefs. Finlayson describes it this way: “It has a feather-like appearance, is elegant, about a foot and a half long, and is whitish. It has a stinging property similar to nettles; the sensation it causes is sharper and more intense, comes on quickly but lasts longer. You barely have to touch it before it stings. A small, bumpy, granular pouch filled with a clear liquid seems to be the part that causes this reaction. As soon as they are touched, they release the fluid inside. The plant quickly loses this ability once removed from water.” This plant appears to have an offensive[13] or defensive mechanism similar to that of the Physalia, but it's hard to determine its exact purpose.
The usual method adopted for the preservation of this curious and beautiful mollusca is by placing it in spirits; the form is thus well preserved; but its vivid tints, the subject of so much admiration, are totally lost. As it is with the beautiful but evanescent colour of flowers, no method has been discovered by which their natural brilliancy can be preserved, and it is impossible to retain that peculiar brightness given only by life and health. I have preserved the animal by detaching the tentacute from the bladder; (on account of their being too soft and perishable to enable them to be dried, en masse, with any chance of success; their form only being preserved well in spirits;) then permitting the air to escape from the bladder, dried, pressed, and afterwards gummed on paper, it produces a good lateral view of the form of this mollusca; the colours being afterwards artificially renewed by the pencil, and the tentaculæ underneath drawn and coloured, the tout ensemble conveys an idea of the brilliant appearance of the animal, as far as can be produced by art. I have also kept the animal with the bladder inflated, dried it in that state, and, by[14] afterwards colouring it, the appearance produced is very excellent; but, it is only by repeated trials that the best and most accurate methods of preserving objects of natural history can be discovered—the greatest difficulty existing, being that of preserving them accurately in their natural appearance.
The usual method for preserving this fascinating and beautiful mollusk is by placing it in alcohol. This keeps its shape intact, but the vibrant colors that are so admired are completely lost. It's similar to the beautiful yet fleeting colors of flowers; no technique has been found that preserves their natural brightness, and it’s impossible to maintain that unique glow that only comes from life and health. I preserved the creature by removing the tentacles from the sac (since they’re too soft and fragile to dry successfully as a group; their shape is only well maintained in alcohol); then, after allowing the air to escape from the sac, I dried, pressed, and glued it onto paper, which provides a good side view of the mollusk's shape. The colors were later artificially added with paint, and the tentacles underneath were drawn and colored, so the overall result gives a sense of the animal's vivid appearance, as much as can be achieved through art. I also preserved the creature with the sac inflated, dried it in that state, and after coloring it, the result is very impressive; however, it’s only through repeated trials that the best and most accurate methods for preserving natural history specimens can be discovered—the main challenge being accurately preserving them in their natural appearance.
We had the N. E. trade in lat. 28° N. and long. 18° 11′ W. and at three P.M. of the 25th made the “Northern Saddle Hill,” (N. W. hill,) on the island of Sal, (Cape Verd group,) bearing S. E. about six leagues distant.
We were in the northeastern trade winds at latitude 28° N and longitude 18° 11′ W, and at 3 PM on the 25th, we spotted the "Northern Saddle Hill" (the northwest hill) on the island of Sal (part of the Cape Verde group) to the southeast, about six leagues away.
The announcement of “land in sight,” and the delightful sensations produced by it, can only be appreciated by those who have for some length of time been tossed about on the “deep, deep sea,” for many a weary day, with nothing but sea and sky to gaze upon. All hasten on deck as soon as the land is stated to be visible; at first its rather indistinct form, as it rises from the horizon, does not excite so much interest; but, on a nearer approach, the variously tinted strata of the lofty mountains become visible, and plantations, trees, shrubs, and neat habitations cheer the eye; and, on landing, a profusion of the floral beauties of the vegetable kingdom, with butterflies vieing with them in splendour of tints, or several species of the coleoptera tribe[15] decked in golden armour, meet the eye. But the approach to the Cape Verd islands does not possess these beauties in any profusion—barren volcanic mountains, contrasted occasionally only by a few others of a verdant character are seen instead; even these become an agreeable prospect, being a change from the monotony of a ship, but a departure from them, after a few days’ sojourn, is attended with but little if any regret.
The announcement of “land in sight” and the excitement it brings can only be truly understood by those who have been tossed around in the “deep, deep sea” for many long days, with nothing but water and sky to look at. Everyone rushes on deck as soon as land is reported visible; at first, its vague shape rising from the horizon doesn’t generate much interest. However, as they get closer, the different colored layers of the tall mountains come into view, along with fields, trees, shrubs, and tidy homes that brighten the scenery. When they finally land, they are greeted by a wealth of beautiful flowers, with butterflies competing in vibrant colors, or various species of beetles shining in their golden shells. However, the approach to the Cape Verde Islands doesn’t have these visual delights in abundance—what you see instead are barren volcanic mountains, occasionally interrupted by a few greener spots. Even these become a pleasant sight, providing a welcome change from the sameness of being on a ship, but after spending a few days there, leaving doesn’t bring much if any regret.
On the 26th, at daylight, we sailed with a pleasant breeze between the island of Mayo and that of St. Jago; the former distant about ten, the latter about eighteen miles; the western side of Mayo had a very sterile appearance; there was not a tree or speck of verdure to be seen. The lofty mountain of St. Antonio, on the island of St. Jago, was visible; its declivities verdant, but the peaked summit was for the most part hidden by clouds. As we coasted along the latter island, the feature of the coast was very barren, although it was occasionally relieved by a small verdant valley, diversified by some miserable huts and a few stunted cocoa-nut trees. In the afternoon we anchored at Porto Praya,[7] about a quarter of a mile distant from the shore.
On the 26th, at daylight, we set sail with a nice breeze between the island of Mayo and St. Jago; Mayo was about ten miles away, and St. Jago was about eighteen miles. The west side of Mayo looked very barren; there wasn't a tree or any greenery in sight. The tall mountain of St. Antonio on St. Jago was visible; its slopes were green, but the pointed peak was mostly covered by clouds. As we sailed along the coast of St. Jago, the landscape was very desolate, though it was occasionally brightened by a small green valley with a few rundown huts and some stunted coconut trees. In the afternoon, we anchored at Porto Praya, [7] about a quarter of a mile from the shore.
After dinner we paid a visit to the shore; the landing-place is very inconvenient, and often dangerous, from the surf, which at this time was fortunately not high. After landing we had to walk over a soft sandy road, varied only by large stones coming in contact with our feet, and assuring us of their presence by the pain they occasioned. Several miserable date palms and dusty plants of Aloe perfoliata (a few of the latter being in flower) grew by the road side. Then by a winding and steep ascent, covered by loose stones, we arrived at the town, which is built upon a table land of moderate elevation, and on this side of the approach there is a battery mounting twenty-one guns. From the descriptions I had previously perused, the town appears to have been much improved since they had been written, but still it has nothing of interest to recommend it; but the view of the bay and shipping from the elevated site is very pretty. The Plaza (in which the American consul resides, and where there is a small church, which as yet cannot boast of a steeple,) contains the best houses and stores, where almost any supplies of foreign manufacture can be purchased, but at exorbitant prices.
After dinner, we headed to the shore; the landing area is pretty inconvenient and often dangerous due to the surf, which luckily wasn’t too high at the time. After we landed, we had to walk along a soft sandy path, interrupted only by large stones that jabbed at our feet, reminding us they were there through the pain they caused. A few sad-looking date palms and some dusty Aloe perfoliata plants (a few of which were in bloom) lined the side of the road. Then, we took a winding, steep path covered in loose stones and eventually reached the town, which sits on a moderately elevated plateau. There’s a battery on this approach with twenty-one guns. Based on descriptions I had read before, the town seems to have undergone some improvements since those were written, but it still doesn’t have anything particularly interesting to offer; however, the view of the bay and the ships from up here is quite lovely. The Plaza (where the American consul lives and there’s a small church that still can’t claim a steeple) has the best houses and stores, where you can find almost any foreign-made supplies, but they’re priced ridiculously high.
At the period of our visit, this, together with the whole of the islands of the group were suffering from a severe and long drought; this one,[17] from its fertility, and the irrigation that is capable of being produced, as well as from imports, is in a better condition than the others. At the island of Fuego, more particularly, the inhabitants were said to be dying daily in great numbers, from famine. The island of St. Jago alone is stated to have a population of 27,000 inhabitants.
During our visit, this island, along with the entire group of islands, was experiencing a severe and prolonged drought. However, due to its fertility, the irrigation that can be produced, and imports, this island is in better shape than the others. On the island of Fuego, in particular, it was reported that many of the residents were dying each day from starvation. The island of St. Jago is said to have a population of 27,000 people.[17]
I observed several boats engaged in fishing near the ship, previous to our landing, and their mode of capturing the finny tribe appeared to me novel; they sprinkled something over the water, like crumbs of bread, that attracted the fish (which were five or six inches long) to the surface in shoals; the fishermen then swept amongst them a stick to which a number of short lines and hooks were attached, and by aid of this they usually brought up several fish at a time. After the fish were caught, some women, who were in the boat, were engaged in cleansing and salting them.
I saw several boats fishing near the ship before we landed, and their way of catching fish seemed new to me. They sprinkled something on the water, like bread crumbs, which attracted the fish (about five or six inches long) to the surface in groups. The fishermen then swept a stick with several short lines and hooks attached through the water, and with this, they usually pulled up several fish at once. After the fish were caught, some women in the boat were busy cleaning and salting them.
Tired of the dull village, we descended from the elevated site to a garden in which the well was situated whence the supply of water of excellent quality is procured for shipping. At this spot the plantain, date, papaw, and cocoa-nut trees, attracted the attention of those of our party who had never before seen these magnificent[18] tropical trees. The sides of the paths were adorned with the gay and handsome flowers of the Poinciana pulcherrima, and the more elevated lilac tree (Melia azedarack) profusely covered with its long panicles of fragrant flowers. As we rambled further into the scrubby parts beyond this cultivated spot, cotton shrubs, (Gossypium herbaceum,) the thorny Zizyphus and mimosas were abundant. The Jatropha curcas was used for hedges, and a handsome asclepias (procera?) called bombadero by the Portuguese, was abundant about this waste land, both in fruit and flower: the flowers are succeeded by a large somewhat oval fruit, containing a quantity of pretty feathered seeds; the whole plant (like all the family to which this belongs) abounds in a viscid milky juice; the capsule of the pod is elegantly veined, reminding the anatomist of the veins displayed on the exterior of the heart.
We were tired of the boring village, so we headed down from the elevated area to a garden where the well was located, providing excellent quality water for shipping. Here, the plantain, date, papaw, and coconut trees caught the eye of those in our group who had never seen these impressive tropical trees before. The paths were lined with bright, beautiful flowers of the Poinciana pulcherrima, and the taller lilac tree (Melia azedarack) was covered in long clusters of fragrant blooms. As we wandered further into the overgrown areas beyond the cultivated land, we found plenty of cotton shrubs (Gossypium herbaceum), along with the thorny Zizyphus and mimosas. The Jatropha curcas was used for hedges, and a striking asclepias (procera?), known as bombadero by the Portuguese, was common in this wasteland, both in fruit and flower: the flowers give way to a large, somewhat oval fruit, filled with pretty feathered seeds; the entire plant (like others in its family) has a thick, milky sap; the pod's capsule is beautifully veined, reminiscent of the veins on the outer surface of the heart.
On the following morning a small party was formed for an excursion to the valley of St. Trinidad, to gain some idea, if possible, of the fertile portions of this apparently very sterile island. This valley, it may be said, commences soon after descending the table land on which the town is situated. We diverged from the direct road, for the purpose of visiting a plantation about a mile and a half distant from[19] the town. The road was stony, and there was nothing in the aspect of the country around to relieve the eye; a few stunted Mimosæ, (occasionally varied by a few of the same species of large dimensions and great age,) some stunted Zizyphi, and a few trailing plants of Convolvulus soldanella, which, by its dark green leaves and purplish flowers, contrasted in a beautiful manner with the sterile brown soil of the scorched plains. The plantation we visited was not yet in order; it contained some flourishing coffee plants, with cocoa, plantain, cashew-nut, and other tropical trees; but the principal object of my visit was to view a specimen of the Adansonia digitata, or monkey bread tree, and its very peculiar appearance and growth imparted much gratification; it was about eighteen or twenty feet high, and twenty-one feet in circumference. This tree was in full foliage, and its bright green digitated leaves imparted much animation to it. The tree is surrounded to some depth by a spongy sap. As subsequently at the valley I saw a much larger specimen of this gigantic tree, but destitute of foliage, I shall then return to its description, and add a sketch. From this part of the island I collected but few plants; Momordica senegalensis grew wild about the fertile parts, as well as Lotus jacobæus, Tribulus cistoides, Asclepias, (procera?)[20] and a very pretty convolvulus, with lilac flowers, climbed over rocks and trees in good soil.
On the next morning, a small group set out for a trip to the valley of St. Trinidad to get a sense, if possible, of the fertile areas of this seemingly barren island. This valley begins shortly after you descend the plateau where the town is located. We took a detour from the main road to visit a plantation about a mile and a half from[19] the town. The road was rocky, and there was nothing in the surrounding landscape to catch the eye; just a few stunted Mimosæ, occasionally accompanied by some larger, older specimens of the same species, a few stunted Zizyphi, and some trailing Convolvulus soldanella plants, which contrasted beautifully with the dry brown soil of the scorched plains thanks to their dark green leaves and purplish flowers. The plantation we visited was still being organized; it had some healthy coffee plants, along with cocoa, plantain, cashew, and other tropical trees. However, the main reason for my visit was to see a specimen of the Adansonia digitata, or monkey bread tree, whose unusual shape and growth were incredibly pleasing; it stood about eighteen or twenty feet tall and had a circumference of twenty-one feet. This tree was full of leaves, and its bright green, finger-like foliage gave it a lively appearance. It was surrounded by a thick layer of spongy sap. Later in the valley, I saw a much larger version of this enormous tree, but it lacked leaves, so I'll return to describe it then and include a sketch. From this part of the island, I gathered very few plants; Momordica senegalensis grew wild in the fertile areas, along with Lotus jacobæus, Tribulus cistoides, Asclepias, (procera?)[20] and a lovely convolvulus with lilac flowers that climbed over rocks and trees in rich soil.
From this place we proceeded to our destination. The sun was fervent, but the inconvenience was in some degree mitigated by a delightful north-east trade breeze. We passed over scorched plains, about which a few stunted bushes of mimosa were scattered, and at other places some wretched trees of Jatropha curcas. In a small vale we passed a rivulet of delicious water, at which several negresses were busily engaged in washing linen. The springs of water appear excellent, and there seems to be no deficiency of it in the valleys; but the want of rain is often severely felt: it was stated to me, that during the previous twenty months only half an inch has fallen on this island.
From this spot, we made our way to our destination. The sun was intense, but the discomfort was somewhat eased by a pleasant north-east trade breeze. We crossed scorched plains, dotted here and there with a few stunted bushes of mimosa and, in other places, some struggling trees of Jatropha curcas. In a small valley, we came across a stream of refreshing water, where several women were busy washing clothes. The water springs seem excellent, and there appears to be no shortage of it in the valleys; however, the lack of rain is often keenly felt: I was told that in the past twenty months, only half an inch of rain has fallen on this island.
Continuing our journey, we passed several negroes conveying their produce, consisting of fruit, vegetables, orchilla weed, &c. to the town for sale, upon asses, with panniers made from bullocks’ hides. The animals seemed in excellent condition, at which we were not a little surprised, from what we had seen of the sterility of the soil. A few cattle were also seen wandering over the plains, where barely a speck of verdure tinged the barren volcanic rocks, still[21] the animals were sleek, and in tolerable condition; we therefore came to the conclusion that they were turned out to feed, or, what was much more likely, to view the country and fast during the day, and driven home to feed at night.
Continuing our journey, we passed several Black men transporting their goods, including fruit, vegetables, orchilla weed, etc., to the town for sale on donkeys with panniers made from bull hides. The animals looked to be in great shape, which surprised us considering the dryness of the soil. We also saw a few cattle wandering across the plains, where hardly any greenery touched the barren volcanic rocks, yet the animals appeared healthy and in decent condition; we concluded that they were let out to graze or, more likely, to explore the area and go without food during the day, being brought back at night to eat.
We pursued our dreary path, occasionally passing a few negro huts, and refreshing ourselves with some delicious goats’ milk. As we came upon the fertile portion of this valley, the change of scene was certainly most agreeable; the brown-parched soil which we had been so long previously alone regarding, now gave place to the verdant plantations of sugar-cane, manioc, and various European and tropical esculent vegetables, which gave a rich and animated character to the scene. The plantations were also interspersed with a great variety of tropical fruit trees, such as orange, lemon, guava plantain, tamarind, custard apple, &c. The tamarind trees were stunted, compared with the luxuriant and elegant growth of those trees in India; they were, however, laden with ripe fruit, whose powerful acid soon set the teeth on edge of such of our party as were induced to partake of them.
We continued on our dull journey, occasionally passing a few small huts and refreshing ourselves with some delicious goat's milk. When we reached the fertile part of the valley, the change in scenery was truly pleasant; the dry, brown soil we had been looking at for so long was replaced by lush plantations of sugar cane, cassava, and various European and tropical vegetables, which added a vibrant and lively character to the landscape. The plantations were also filled with a variety of tropical fruit trees, such as orange, lemon, guava, plantain, tamarind, custard apple, etc. The tamarind trees were smaller compared to the lush and impressive ones in India; however, they were heavy with ripe fruit, whose strong acidity quickly made some of our group cringe after tasting them.
Several trees of the Boabab, or monkey bread-tree, (Adansonia digitata,) were now seen, and[22] among them one was particularly conspicuous from its size, as also from a resemblance to the union of three trees. This tree was destitute of foliage, but that loss was compensated by the curious character it assumed, being covered with fruit pending from a long, twisted, spongy stalk, varying in length from one to two feet.[23] This tree measured forty feet in circumference, and was about sixty feet high; the bark was smooth, and of a greyish colour; the termination of its larger branches is remarkable, from being abruptly rounded, and from these rounded extremities the smaller branches are given off, as may be seen in the accompanying drawing; this forms a very characteristic feature in the tree. The fruit, on the outer shell being broken, contained not the yellow pulp usually mentioned, but a white farinaceous substance enveloping the dark brown seeds, of an agreeable acidulated taste. This may proceed from the fruit being old. The fruit is of an oval form, usually six inches in length, and three or four in diameter; rough externally, and, when mature, of a brownish yellow colour; a dark red gum exuded from the outer part of the fruit.[8]
Several Baobab trees, or monkey bread trees (Adansonia digitata), were now visible, and[22] one stood out due to its size and its appearance, which resembled a combination of three trees. This tree was bare of leaves, but its unique form more than made up for that, as it was covered with fruit hanging from long, twisted, spongy stalks that varied in length from one to two feet.[23] This tree had a circumference of forty feet and reached about sixty feet high; its bark was smooth and greyish in color. The ends of its larger branches were notably rounded, and from these rounded tips, the smaller branches sprouted, as shown in the accompanying drawing; this gives the tree a very distinct characteristic. When the outer shell of the fruit was broken open, it did not contain the yellow pulp commonly described, but rather a white, starchy substance surrounding the dark brown seeds, which had a pleasantly sour taste. This might be because the fruit was overripe. The fruit is oval-shaped, typically six inches long and three or four inches wide; it is rough on the outside and, when ripe, has a brownish-yellow color; a dark red gum oozed from the outer part of the fruit.
Some of the farms and plantations were in very fine and luxuriant condition, and this was an enjoyment to us after the arid country we had before seen, destitute almost of vegetation, and covered with loose stones. Of the feathered tribe, although not very numerous, a few were shot by one of the party, among which were two specimens of Halcyon senegalensis, and a fine hawk; quails and Guinea fowls (Numida meleagris, Linn.) were abundant, and several of the former were also shot; the crow and several species of Fringillæ were likewise seen. In the afternoon we returned to the town. The population consists for the most part of mulattos and negroes: fruit, including plantains, bananas, oranges, and pine-apples, was abundant, but not yet fully in season.
Some of the farms and plantations were in really great shape, and this was a pleasure for us after the dry land we had seen earlier, which was nearly barren and covered in loose stones. Although there weren’t many birds, a few were shot by one of the group, including two examples of Halcyon senegalensis and a beautiful hawk; quails and Guinea fowls (Numida meleagris, Linn.) were plentiful, and several of the quails were also shot; we also saw crows and several types of Fringillæ. In the afternoon, we headed back to town. The population mainly consists of mulattos and black people: fruits like plantains, bananas, oranges, and pineapples were plentiful, though not fully in season yet.
Among the very few decent houses in this paltry town, was one, the residence of a Don[25] F. Melo, (who speculates in orchilla weed,) situated in the Plaza, which displays taste and neatness both in the exterior and interior of its arrangement: on the lower land, behind the house, he has laid out with much labour an extensive garden, well irrigated, and in which European and tropical vegetables, fruits, and elegant flowering plants, were thriving in luxuriance, and sufficiently proved that even in that sterile spot, industry and perseverance could surmount almost any difficulty. At the house of this gentleman, I had an opportunity of seeing some excellent specimens of the orchilla weed; this valuable production of the vegetable kingdom is indigenous to this and other islands of the group, as well as to Madeira, the Canaries, and the coast of Barbary; it is the Roccella tinctoria of botanists,[9] and is held in high estimation for the purplish dye it yields, and I believe, excepting the cochineal, is the only dye that possesses a mordant in itself. This[26] lichen is of a gray colour, and those plants which are of the darkest hue, long and strong, are considered the best; it grows to a great length, but is rarely obtained so, as the natives gather it before it comes to any size, on account of its high value.
Among the few decent houses in this small town, there was one belonging to Don F. Melo, who trades in orchilla weed. It was located in the Plaza and showcased taste and neatness in both its exterior and interior design. Behind the house, he had put a lot of effort into creating a large, well-irrigated garden, where European and tropical vegetables, fruits, and beautiful flowering plants thrived abundantly. This demonstrated that even in such a barren area, hard work and determination could overcome almost any obstacle. At this gentleman's house, I had the chance to see some excellent examples of the orchilla weed. This valuable plant is native to this and other islands in the group, as well as to Madeira, the Canary Islands, and the Barbary coast. It is known botanically as Roccella tinctoria and is highly valued for the purplish dye it produces. I believe it is the only dye, aside from cochineal, that has a mordant inherent in itself. This lichen is gray in color, and the plants with the darkest, longest, and strongest strands are considered the best. It can grow quite long, but it is seldom harvested that way, as the locals pick it before it reaches any significant size due to its high value.
The quantity collected in one year, among the whole of this group of islands, was 537,600 lbs.; but sometimes a larger quantity is obtained, when, not having much work upon the plantations, the negroes can be employed for the purpose.[10] It is found on the steep rocks in the interior of the islands, and growing in the crevices; the finest orchilla is collected at the island of St. Antonio, where it grows in some places so inaccessible as to be only procured by lowering the gatherer down the cliffs by ropes. This lichen is exported only to Lisbon, there being an order from the Portuguese government to that effect, but quantities were often smuggled direct to some foreign port.[11]
The total collected in one year from all the islands in this group was 537,600 pounds; however, a larger amount is sometimes gathered when there isn't much work on the plantations and the workers can be diverted to this task.[10] It is found on the steep rocks in the interior of the islands, growing in the crevices; the best-quality orchilla is collected on the island of St. Antonio, where it grows in areas so hard to reach that gatherers have to be lowered down the cliffs by ropes. This lichen is only exported to Lisbon, as per an order from the Portuguese government, but large quantities were often smuggled directly to other foreign ports.[11]
Date palms were very numerous in the vicinity of the town, but did not appear to attain any high degree of perfection, or bear fruit, and were used, for what they alone seemed fit, as firewood.
Date palms were quite common around the town, but they didn't seem to reach any high level of quality or produce fruit, and were primarily used for what they seemed suitable for—firewood.
The troops were decently clad, and consisted of about five hundred, principally negroes and mulattoes, officered by Europeans.
The troops were well-dressed and made up of about five hundred soldiers, mostly Black and mixed-race individuals, led by European officers.
All arrangements having been completed, we left the island in the evening, with a fine north-east trade breeze.
All the arrangements were made, and we left the island in the evening, with a nice northeast trade wind.
CHAPTER II.
Enter the tropics—Flying fish—Luminosity of the ocean—Magnificent scene—Phosphoric light—Interesting facts in elucidation of that phenomenon—Albicores and Bonitos—A colossal whale—Sea birds—Gigantic species of albatross—Description of those birds—Their manner of flight.
Enter the tropics—Flying fish—Brightness of the ocean—Stunning scene—Glowing light—Interesting facts explaining that phenomenon—Albicores and Bonitos—A massive whale—Sea birds—Giant species of albatross—Description of those birds—Their way of flying.
On the 31st of May we lost the north-east trade, in 8° 40′ north, and longitude 23° west, after which we experienced variable winds with torrents of rain, until the 4th of June, when we had the south-east trade in latitude 4° 38′ north, and longitude 22° 49′ west, and crossed the equator early on the morning of the 7th, in longitude 27° 5′ west, being altogether only thirty-two days from Plymouth, including our delay at St. Jago.
On May 31st, we lost the northeast trade winds at 8° 40′ north and 23° west longitude. After that, we dealt with shifting winds and heavy rain until June 4th, when we picked up the southeast trade winds at 4° 38′ north and 22° 49′ west. We crossed the equator early on the morning of the 7th at 27° 5′ west longitude, making it a total of just thirty-two days since we left Plymouth, including our stop at St. Jago.
On entering the tropics many animate objects excite attention, among others the flying-fish;[29] it is surprising how many different opinions have been formed on the subject of this fish; some considering it seeks the air for sport or pastime, whilst others regard it as only taking flight when pursued, and thus decide its existence to be a continued series of troubles and persecutions. Between such opposite opinions, we can only form our judgment from actual observation, and there is one circumstance without any doubt resting upon it; that the supposed war of extermination exercised against them has not diminished their numbers, for they are observed in as large “flocks” at the present day, as navigators have related of them former days; they must also have had a long cessation of hostilities from the time of birth, to enable them to arrive at maturity. To say that these fish undergo persecution more than any other living animals of the creation, is absurd, for we may observe the same principle throughout the whole of the animated kingdom of nature.
Upon entering the tropics, many living creatures grab our attention, including the flying fish;[29] it’s surprising how many different opinions exist about this fish; some think it takes to the air for fun, while others believe it only flies when chased, concluding that its life is nothing but a series of troubles and harassment. With such opposing views, we can only form our judgment based on actual observation, and there’s one fact that is indisputable: the alleged extermination efforts against them haven't decreased their numbers, as they are seen in just as large “schools” today as sailors have reported in the past; they must have also enjoyed a long break from hostilities since birth to reach maturity. To claim that these fish suffer more than any other living creatures is ridiculous, as we can see the same principle applies across the entire animated kingdom of nature.
On arriving in tropical regions, this curious fish is seen, and affords some variety to the tedium of a ship; the passengers amusing themselves by watching its flight, and sometimes its “persecution,” when pursued by bonitos, dolphins, albicores, among the finny, and tropic birds, boobies, gannets, &c. among the feathered tribe.[30] I have frequently derived both information and amusement by watching the flight of these fish; to observe them skim the surface of the water for a great distance, sometimes before, and at other times against the direction of the wind, elevating themselves either to a short height from the surface, or to five or six feet, and then, diverging a little from their course, drop suddenly into their proper element; sometimes when their flight was not high above the water, and it blew fresh, they would meet with an elevated wave, which invariably buried them beneath it, but they would often again start from it and renew their flight.
Upon reaching tropical areas, this fascinating fish can be seen, providing a break from the monotony on a ship; the passengers entertain themselves by watching its movements and sometimes its “chase” when it's pursued by bonitos, dolphins, albicores among the fish, and tropic birds like boobies and gannets. [30] I have often found both information and enjoyment in observing these fish; seeing them glide over the water for long distances, sometimes going with the wind and other times against it, rising just above the surface or up to five or six feet, and then veering off their path to drop suddenly back into the water. Occasionally, when their flight was low and the wind was strong, they would encounter a high wave that would completely submerge them, but they would often break free and take flight again.
I have never yet been able to see any percussion of the pectoral fins during flight, although such a high authority as Cuvier says, “the animal beats the air during the leap, that is, it alternately expands and closes its pectoral fins;” and Dr. Abel also supports this opinion, and says that it agrees with his experience; he has repeatedly seen the motion of the fins during flight, and as flight is only “swimming in air,” it appears natural that those organs should be used in the same manner in both elements. But the structure of a fin is not that of a wing; the pectoral fins or wings of the flying fish are simply enlarged fins, capable of supporting,[31] perhaps, but not of propelling the animal in its flight.[12]
I have never been able to see any movement of the pectoral fins during flight, even though a well-known authority like Cuvier states, “the animal beats the air during the leap, that is, it alternately expands and closes its pectoral fins.” Dr. Abel supports this view as well, claiming it matches his experience; he has repeatedly observed the motion of the fins during flight, and since flight is just “swimming in air,” it seems natural that those organs would be used similarly in both environments. However, the structure of a fin is not like that of a wing; the pectoral fins or wings of the flying fish are just enlarged fins, capable of providing support, [31] but not of propelling the animal through the air.[12]
In fish, the organ of motion for propelling them through the water is the tail, and the fins direct their course; in birds, on the contrary, the wings are the organs of motion, and the tail the rudder. The only use of the extended pectoral fins in the fish is for the purpose of supporting the animal in the air, like a parachute, after it has leaped from the water by some power, which is possessed by fish of much larger size, even the whale. From the structure of the fin, I cannot consider it at all calculated for repeated percussions out of the water, although while in that fluid it continues its natural action uninjured, as it soon dries when brought into contact with the air, and the delicacy of the membrane between the rays would very readily become injured, were the organ similarly exerted in that medium.
In fish, the tail is the main organ for moving them through the water, while the fins help steer their direction. In contrast, birds use their wings for movement, and their tail acts as a rudder. The extended pectoral fins in fish mainly help keep them supported in the air, like a parachute, after they've jumped out of the water with some force, a capability found in much larger fish, like the whale. Based on the structure of the fin, I don't think it's designed for repeated impacts outside of the water. However, in the water, it functions normally without damage, but it dries out quickly when it comes into contact with air, and the delicate membrane between the rays can easily get damaged if the fin tries to function similarly in that environment.
The greatest length of time that I have seen these volatile fish on the fin, has been thirty seconds by the watch, and their longest flight, mentioned by Captain Hall, has been two hundred yards; but he thinks that subsequent observation has extended the space. The most[32] usual height of flight, as seen above the surface of the water, is from two to three feet; but I have known them come on board at a height of fourteen feet and upwards; and they have been well-ascertained to come into the channels of a line of battle ship, which is considered as high as twenty feet and upwards.[13]
The longest I've seen these volatile fish in the air is thirty seconds on the clock, and the longest jump, as mentioned by Captain Hall, has been two hundred yards; however, he believes that later observations might have increased that distance. The most common height of their jumps, as noted above the water's surface, is between two and three feet, but I've seen them come on board at heights of fourteen feet or more; it's been confirmed that they can enter the paths of a battleship at heights as high as twenty feet or more.[32][13]
But it must not be supposed they have the power of elevating themselves in the air, after having left their native element; for on watching them I have often seen them fall much below the elevation at which they first rose from the water, but never in any one instance could I observe them raise themselves from the height at which they first sprang, for I regard the elevation they take to depend on the power of the first spring or leap they make on leaving their native element.
But they shouldn’t be thought to have the ability to lift themselves into the air once they’ve left their natural habitat; because when I observe them, I’ve often seen them fall far below the height at which they initially rose from the water. However, I’ve never seen them lift themselves from the height at which they first jumped, as I believe the height they reach depends on the strength of their initial leap when leaving their natural environment.
On the 6th of June, in latitude 1° 50′ north, and longitude 25° 14′ west, a flying-fish was brought me by one of the steerage passengers, which had just “flown” on board over his head, as he was standing near the fore-part of the ship; being still alive when he brought it to me, I hastened to place it in a bucket of water, to ascertain whether it would attempt[33] to spring from it, and “take flight;” however, I found it was too late, for after floating about with its long pectoral fins half expanded, as it remained near the surface of the water, it continued alive for about the space of a minute, and then died. They usually, from the violence with which they come on board, receive some injury against the spars, boats, or chains, sufficient to destroy them; and therefore it will be difficult to observe their true actions as when performed in full vigour in their native element. This specimen measured nine inches in length. What excited my attention in this fish was a species of anatifa attached by its peduncle to the thorax. I regard as a very unusual circumstance, the existence of an anatifa attached to a living animal, particularly one of such rapidity of motion as this fish is usually supposed to be. The height at which this fish came on board could not have been less than fourteen feet from the surface of the water, and on the windward side of the vessel.
On June 6th, at a latitude of 1° 50′ north and longitude 25° 14′ west, a flying fish was handed to me by one of the steerage passengers. It had just "flown" aboard over his head while he was standing near the front of the ship. Since it was still alive when he brought it to me, I quickly put it in a bucket of water to see if it would try to jump out and "fly" again. However, I found it was too late; after swimming around with its long pectoral fins half spread and floating near the surface of the water, it lived for about a minute before dying. They usually get injured from the force with which they come aboard, hitting the spars, boats, or chains, which is often enough to kill them. Therefore, it's tough to observe their true behavior as they do when fully energized in their natural habitat. This fish was nine inches long. What caught my attention was a type of anatifa attached by its stalk to the body. I consider it quite unusual to find an anatifa on a living creature, especially one as fast-moving as this fish is generally thought to be. The height from which this fish came on board must have been at least fourteen feet above the water's surface and on the windward side of the vessel.
The “flight” of these fish has been compared to that of birds, so as to deceive the observer; however, I cannot perceive any comparison, one being an elegant, fearless, and independent motion, whilst that of the fish is hurried, stiff, and awkward, more like a creature requiring[34] support for a short period, and then its repeated flights are merely another term for leaps. The fish make a rustling noise, very audible when they are near the ship, dart forward, or sometimes take a curve to bring themselves before the wind, and when fatigued fall suddenly into the water. It is not uncommon to see them, when pursued, drop exhausted, rise again almost instantly, proceed a little further, again dipping into the ocean, so continuing for some distance until they are out of sight, so that we remain in ignorance whether they have been captured or have eluded pursuit.
The “flight” of these fish has been compared to that of birds, which can be misleading; however, I don’t see any real comparison. One is an elegant, fearless, and independent motion, while the fish's movement is hurried, stiff, and awkward—more like a creature that needs support for a moment, and then its repeated jumps are just another term for leaps. The fish make a rustling noise that's very loud when they are close to the ship, they dart forward, or sometimes curve to face the wind, and when they get tired, they suddenly drop into the water. It's not unusual to see them drop exhausted when being chased, rise almost immediately, swim a little further, and then dip back into the ocean, continuing this pattern for a while until they're out of sight, leaving us unsure whether they've been caught or managed to escape.
The flying-fish swim in shoals, for on one day they are seen rising about, and in the vicinity of the ship, in great numbers; and on the day following, or latter part of the same day, only a few stragglers are seen. When disturbed by the passage of the ship through the shoal, they rise in numbers near the bows of the ship, and the consternation seems to spread among those far distant: the same may be observed when dolphins and albicores are pursuing them. On passing between the islands of Fuego and St. Jago, (Cape Verd group,) in December, 1828, I witnessed a number of bonito in pursuit of flying-fish; the former springing several yards out of the water, in eager chase, whilst large[35] shoals of the latter arose with an audible rustling noise before their pursuers, and the chase continued as far as we could see, a number of victims no doubt being sacrificed to the voracity of their hunters. Besides the finny enemies, they had to encounter, as they rose from the water, boobies, gannets, and tropic birds, which hovered about, and in our view secured very many as they sought refuge in the air. It was a novel sight, and one not often witnessed during repeated voyages, and afforded much amusement and interest to those who beheld it.[14]
The flying fish swim in schools; on one day, they're seen jumping out of the water in large numbers around the ship, and the next day, or later the same day, only a few stragglers are left. When the ship moves through the school, they jump up frantically near the bow, and you can see the panic spreading among those further away. The same happens when dolphins and albacores are chasing them. While passing between the islands of Fuego and St. Jago (Cape Verde group) in December 1828, I saw a group of bonito chasing flying fish; the bonito sprang several yards into the air as they eagerly pursued, while large schools of flying fish jumped out with a noticeable rustling sound ahead of their predators. The chase went on as far as we could see, with many no doubt falling prey to their hunters. In addition to their finned enemies, the flying fish faced boobies, gannets, and tropic birds that hovered around, successfully catching many as the fish tried to escape into the air. It was a unique sight, rarely seen during my many voyages, and it provided a lot of entertainment and interest for those who witnessed it.
Occasionally our attention was excited during the voyage, by the remarkable luminosity assumed by the ocean in every direction, like rolling masses of liquid fire, as the waves broke and exhibited an appearance inconceivably grand and beautiful. The phosphoric light, given out by the ocean, exists to a more extensive and brilliant degree in tropical regions,[36] although in high latitudes it is occasionally visible, more especially during the warm months of the year. The cause of it has excited much speculation among naturalists; and although many of the marine molluscous and crustaceous animals, such as salpa, pyrosoma, cancer, several medusæ have been found to occasion it, yet no doubt debris, from dead animal matter, with which sea water is usually loaded, is also often one of the exciting causes.
Sometimes during the voyage, we were captivated by the extraordinary glow of the ocean in every direction, resembling rolling waves of liquid fire as they broke and revealed an incredibly grand and beautiful sight. The phosphorescent light emitted by the ocean is more extensive and brilliant in tropical regions,[36] although it can occasionally be seen in higher latitudes, especially during the warmer months of the year. The cause of this phenomenon has sparked much curiosity among naturalists; while many marine creatures like salpa, pyrosoma, cancer, and several medusæ have been found to create it, there is also no doubt that debris from dead animal matter, which usually accumulates in seawater, often plays a role in causing it.
As the ship sails with a strong breeze through a luminous sea on a dark night, the effect produced is then seen to the greatest advantage. The wake of the vessel is one broad sheet of phosphoric matter, so brilliant as to cast a dull, pale light over the after-part of the ship; the foaming surges, as they gracefully curl on each side of the vessel’s prow, are similar to rolling masses of liquid phosphorus; whilst in the distance, even to the horizon, it seems an ocean of fire, and the distant waves breaking, give out a light of an inconceivable beauty and brilliancy: in the combination, the effect produces sensations of wonder and awe, and causes a reflection to arise on the reason of its appearance, as to which as yet no correct judgment has been formed, the whole being overwhelmed with mere hypothesis.
As the ship moves swiftly through a shimmering sea on a dark night, the effect is most striking. The wake of the vessel is a wide trail of glowing material, so bright that it casts a soft, pale light over the back of the ship; the foaming waves, as they elegantly curl on either side of the ship’s bow, look like rolling blobs of liquid phosphor. Meanwhile, in the distance, all the way to the horizon, it appears to be an ocean of fire, and the distant waves crashing release a light of unimaginable beauty and brilliance. This combination creates feelings of wonder and awe, sparking thoughts about the reasons behind its appearance, which still remain a mystery as there’s no clear understanding, with everyone only left with mere speculation.
Sometimes the luminosity is very visible without[37] any disturbance of the water, its surface remaining smooth, unruffled even by a passing zephyr; whilst on other occasions no light is emitted unless the water is agitated by the winds, or by the passage of some heavy body through it. Perhaps the beauty of this luminous effect is seen to the greatest advantage when the ship, lying in a bay or harbour in tropical climates, the water around has the resemblance of a sea of milk. An opportunity was afforded me when at Cavité, near Manilla, in 1830, of witnessing for the first time this beautiful scene: as far as the eye could reach over the extensive bay of Manilla, the surface of the tranquil water was one sheet of this dull, pale, phosphorescence; and brilliant flashes were emitted instantly on any heavy body being cast into the water, or when fish sprang from it or swam about; the ship seemed, on looking over its side, to be anchored in a sea of liquid phosphorus, whilst in the distance the resemblance was that of an ocean of milk.
Sometimes the glow is very apparent without[37] any disturbance to the water, its surface staying smooth and undisturbed even by a light breeze; while at other times, no light is produced unless the water is stirred by the wind or by something heavy moving through it. The beauty of this glowing effect is most striking when the ship is anchored in a bay or harbor in tropical climates, where the water resembles a sea of milk. I had the chance to witness this stunning scene for the first time in Cavité, near Manilla, in 1830: as far as I could see over the broad bay of Manilla, the surface of the calm water was a continuous sheet of this dull, pale phosphorescence; and bright flashes were produced instantly when something heavy was thrown into the water, or when fish jumped out of it or swam around; from the side of the ship, it looked as though it was anchored in a sea of liquid phosphorus, while in the distance it appeared as if there was an ocean of milk.
The night to which I allude, when this magnificent appearance presented itself to my observation, was exceedingly dark, which, by the contrast, gave an increased sublimity to the scene; the canopy of the heavens was dark and gloomy; not even the glimmering of a star was to be[38] seen; while the sea of liquid fire cast a deadly pale light over every part of the vessel, her masts, yards, and hull; the fish meanwhile sporting about in numbers, varying the scene by the brilliant flashes they occasioned. It would have formed, I thought at the time, a sublime and beautiful subject for an artist, like Martin, to execute with his judgment and pencil, that is, if any artist could give the true effect of such a scene, on which I must express some doubts.
The night I’m talking about, when this amazing sight caught my eye, was pitch black, which made the scene even more breathtaking; the sky was dark and gloomy; not even a hint of a star was visible[38]; while the sea of liquid fire cast a deadly pale light over every part of the ship, her masts, rigging, and hull; fish were swimming around in huge numbers, adding to the scene with their brilliant flashes. I thought at the time it would make a stunning and beautiful subject for an artist, like Martin, to capture with his skill and brush, assuming any artist could truly convey the impact of such a scene, which I have to admit I have some doubts about.
It must not be for a moment conceived that the light described as brilliant, and like to a sea of “liquid fire,” is of the same character as the flashes produced by the volcano, or by lightning, or meteors. No: it is the light of phosphorus, as the matter truly is, pale, dull, approaching to a white or very pale yellow, casting a melancholy light on objects around, only emitting flashes by collision. To read by it is possible, but not agreeable; and, on an attempt being made, it is almost always found that the eyes will not endure the peculiar light for any length of time, as headaches and sickness are often occasioned by it. I have frequently observed at Singapore, that, although the tranquil water exhibits no particular luminosity, yet when disturbed by the passage of a[39] boat, it gives out phosphoric matter, leaving a brilliant line in the boat’s wake, and the blades of the oars when raised from the water seem to be dripping with liquid phosphorus.
It should not be thought for a moment that the light described as brilliant, resembling a sea of “liquid fire,” is similar to the flashes produced by a volcano, lightning, or meteors. No, it is the light of phosphorus, which is actually pale, dull, and closer to white or very pale yellow. It casts a somber light on the surrounding objects and only emits flashes upon impact. Reading by it is possible but not pleasant; when an attempt is made, it’s almost always found that the eyes cannot tolerate this peculiar light for long, as headaches and nausea often result. I have often noticed in Singapore that, although the calm water shows no particular brightness, when disturbed by the passage of a [39] boat, it emits phosphoric matter, leaving a bright trail in the wake of the boat, and the oars, when lifted from the water, appear to be dripping with liquid phosphorus.
Even between the tropics, the phosphoric light is increased or diminished in its degree of brilliancy, in a very slight difference of latitude; on one day it would be seen to a most magnificent extent, on the next it would be perhaps merely a few luminous flashes. It might proceed from the shoals of marine animals, that caused the brilliancy to be less extensively distributed over one part of the ocean than another. That I am correct in asserting that some of the animals which occasion the phosphoric light, emitted by the ocean, do travel in shoals, and are distributed in some latitudes only in a very limited range, I insert two facts which occurred during this voyage, and which will no doubt be regarded as interesting.
Even between the tropics, the phosphorescent light varies in brightness with just a slight change in latitude; on one day it can be spectacularly visible, while on the next it might only appear as a few glowing flashes. This variation could be due to schools of marine animals, which cause the brightness to be less evenly spread across different parts of the ocean. To support my claim that some of the creatures responsible for the phosphorescent light in the ocean travel in groups and are only found in a limited range within certain latitudes, I will share two observations from this voyage that will surely be considered interesting.
On the 8th of June, being then in latitude 00° 30′ south, and longitude 27° 5′ west, having fine weather and a fresh south-easterly trade wind, and range of the thermometer being from 78° to 84°, late at night the mate of the watch came and called me to witness a very unusual appearance in the water, which he, on first seeing, considered to be breakers. On arriving upon the deck, this was found to be a very broad and[40] extensive sheet of phosphorescence, extending in a direction from east to west as far as the eye could reach; the luminosity was confined to the range of animals in this shoal, for there was no similar light in any other direction. I immediately cast the towing net over the stern of the ship as we approached nearer the luminous streak, to ascertain the cause of this extraordinary and so limited a phenomenon. The ship soon cleaved through the brilliant mass, from which, by the disturbance, strong flashes of light were emitted; and the shoal (judging from the time the vessel took in passing through the mass) may have been a mile in breadth: the passage of the vessel through them, increased the light around to a far stronger degree, illuminating the ship. On taking in the towing net, it was found half filled with pyrosoma, (atlanticum?) which shone with a beautiful pale greenish light, and there was also a few small fish in the net at the same time; after the mass had been passed through, the light was still seen astern until it became invisible in the distance, and the whole of the ocean then became hidden in darkness as before this took place. The scene was as novel as it was beautiful and interesting, more so from having ascertained, by capturing the luminous animals, the cause of the phenomenon.
On June 8th, while we were at latitude 00° 30′ south and longitude 27° 5′ west, enjoying fine weather and a fresh southeast trade wind, with temperatures ranging from 78° to 84°, the night watchmate woke me up to see something unusual in the water, which he initially thought was waves. When I got to the deck, we discovered a wide and extensive sheet of phosphorescence stretching from east to west as far as we could see; the glowing light was limited to the range of animals in this area, as there was no similar brightness in any other direction. I immediately tossed the towing net over the back of the ship as we got closer to the glowing streak to find out what was causing this extraordinary and confined phenomenon. The ship soon moved through the brilliant mass, creating strong flashes of light as we disturbed it; judging by how long it took to pass through, the shoal might have been a mile wide. As the vessel moved through, the brightness intensified, lighting up the ship. When we took in the towing net, it was half-filled with pyrosoma (atlanticum?), which glowed with a lovely pale green light, and we also caught a few small fish at the same time; after we passed through the mass, the light was still visible behind us until it faded into the distance, leaving the ocean in darkness once again. The scene was as unique as it was beautiful and fascinating, especially since we had figured out the cause of the phenomenon by capturing the glowing creatures.
The second was not exactly similar to the preceding;[41] but, although also limited, was curious, as occurring in a high latitude during the winter season. It was on the 19th of August,[15] the weather dark and gloomy, with light breezes from north-north-east, in latitude 40° 30′ south, and longitude 138° 3′ east, being then distant about three hundred and sixty-eight miles from King’s Island, (at the western entrance of Bass’s Straits). It was about eight o’clock, P.M. when the ship’s wake was perceived to be luminous, and scintillations of the same light were also abundant around. As this was unusual and had not been seen before, and it occasionally also appeared in larger or smaller detached masses giving out a high degree of brilliancy: to ascertain the cause, so unusual in high latitudes during the winter season, I threw the towing net overboard, and in twenty minutes succeeded in capturing several pyrosoma, giving out their usual pale green light; and it was no doubt detached groups of these animals, that were the occasion of the light in question. The beautiful light given out by these molluscous animals soon subsided, (being seen emitted from every part of[42] their bodies,) but by moving them about it could be reproduced for some length of time after. As long as the luminosity of the ocean was visible, (which continued most part of the night,) a number of Pyrosoma atlanticum, two species of Phyllosoma, an animal apparently allied to Leptocephalus, as well as several crustaceous animals, all of which I had before considered as inter-tropical species, were caught and preserved. At half-past ten, P.M. the temperature of the atmosphere on deck was 52°, and that of the water 51½°. The luminosity of the water gradually decreased during the night, and towards morning was no longer seen, nor on any subsequent night.[16]
The second one wasn’t exactly like the first;[41] but, although still limited, it was interesting, as it happened in a high latitude during the winter season. It was on August 19th, [15] the weather was dark and gloomy, with light breezes from the north-north-east, in latitude 40° 30′ south, and longitude 138° 3′ east, about three hundred and sixty-eight miles away from King’s Island (at the western entrance of Bass’s Straits). Around eight o’clock, P.M. the ship’s wake was glowing, and similar lights were also shining abundantly around us. Since this was unusual and hadn’t been observed before, and it sometimes showed up in larger or smaller groups that shone intensely, I wanted to find out what was causing this phenomenon, which is rare in high latitudes during winter, so I threw the towing net overboard. In twenty minutes, I managed to catch several pyrosoma, which emitted their typical pale green light; and it was certainly groups of these creatures that caused the light in question. The beautiful glow produced by these mollusks quickly faded (being seen emitted from every part of[42] their bodies), but by moving them around, it could be recreated for a while after. As long as the glow of the ocean was visible (which lasted most of the night), a number of Pyrosoma atlanticum, two species of Phyllosoma, an animal that appeared related to Leptocephalus, as well as several crustacean species, all of which I had previously thought were found only in tropical regions, were caught and preserved. At half-past ten, P.M. the temperature on deck was 52°, and that of the water was 51½°. The glow of the water gradually faded during the night, and by morning was no longer visible, nor did it reappear on any subsequent night. [16]
Albicores,[17] bonitos, and even a colossal whale[43] close under the stern, beguiled a tedious hour, until we arrived in latitudes where the various species of albatross, cape petrel, and other oceanic birds afforded a change from the “finny” to the “feathered” tribe. We lost the south-east trade on the 13th of June, in about 14° 30′ south, and long. 32° 14′. west. In lat. 30° 0′ south, and long. 24° 18′ west, on the 25th of June, cape petrels[18] were first seen, and increased in numbers as we proceeded, continuing about the ship, in greater or less numbers, even to Port Jackson; albatrosses were not seen until we arrived in lat. 36° south, long. 5° 18′ west, when several species of this bird were often about the vessel.
Albicores, bonitos, and even a huge whale[43] lingered near the stern, making a boring hour pass by more quickly, until we reached areas where different species of albatross, cape petrel, and other ocean birds offered a shift from the “finny” to the “feathered” group. We lost the southeast trade wind on June 13th, around 14° 30′ south and 32° 14′ west. On June 25th, at 30° 0′ south and 24° 18′ west, we first spotted cape petrels, which increased in number as we moved on, staying around the ship, in varying amounts, all the way to Port Jackson; we didn’t see any albatrosses until we reached 36° south and 5° 18′ west, when several species of this bird were often near the vessel.
Besides the sight of flying fish, sharks, dolphins, and other deep-water fish; cape petrels, albatrosses, and other oceanic birds, serve to banish the sameness of a sea voyage, and that ennui which lays its benumbing hand upon those who have but few resources in themselves, and looking for it in objects around, too often feel disappointed. It is usually about the 29° of latitude, and 26° of west longitude, that the gigantic[44] species of albatross is usually first seen, as well as the smaller but not less elegant species of the same bird. At first but few are seen, but they increase in numbers as the vessel gets into more southern latitudes; at some seasons of the year they appear more numerous than at others, which may be attributed to the pairing time, which may keep them, at certain seasons, nearer the rocky islets upon which they breed or rear their young. The large white or wandering albatross,[19] (Diomedia exulans,) the type of the genus, excites much interest by its majestic appearance, either when almost sweeping the sides of the vessel with its huge pinions, or when beheld a prisoner on the ship’s deck, realizing the idea of the famed roc (allowing for the brilliant and exaggerated descriptions usual in all eastern nations) mentioned in the Arabian Nights’ Entertainments.[20]
Besides the sight of flying fish, sharks, dolphins, and other deep-sea fish, cape petrels, albatrosses, and other ocean birds break the monotony of a sea voyage and the boredom that weighs down those who lack inner resources and often feel let down when searching for excitement in their surroundings. It's usually around 29° latitude and 26° west longitude where the gigantic species of albatross is first spotted, along with the smaller but just as elegant species of the same bird. At first, only a few are seen, but their numbers increase as the ship sails further south; at certain times of the year, they are more abundant, possibly due to the breeding season that keeps them closer to the rocky islets where they nest or raise their young. The large white or wandering albatross, Diomedia exulans, the type of its genus, generates a lot of interest with its impressive appearance, whether it's gliding alongside the ship with its massive wings or appearing as a captive on the ship’s deck, evoking the idea of the legendary roc (allowing for the colorful and exaggerated descriptions typical in eastern literature) mentioned in the Arabian Nights’ Entertainments.
It is pleasing to observe this superb bird sailing in the air in graceful and elegant movements, seemingly excited by some invisible power, for there is rarely any movement of the wings seen, after the first and frequent impulses given, when the creature elevates itself in the air; rising and falling as if some concealed power guided its various motions, without any muscular exertion of its own; and then descending sweeps the air close to the stern of the ship, with an independence of manner, as if it were “monarch of all it surveyed.” It is from the very little muscular exertion used by these birds, that they are capable of sustaining such long nights without repose.
It’s a joy to watch this amazing bird gliding through the air with smooth and elegant movements, seemingly thrilled by some unseen force. You rarely see its wings move after the initial pushes that lift it up; it rises and falls as if a hidden power controls its movements, without much effort from the bird itself. Then it descends, swooping close to the back of the ship with a sense of freedom, as if it’s the “ruler of everything it sees.” Because these birds use so little muscle effort, they can endure long nights without resting.
When these elegant birds are captured, and brought on board, their sleek, delicate and clean plumage is a subject of much admiration; and the fine snow-white down which remains after the removal of the outer feathers, is in requisition among ladies for muffs, tippets, &c. The large species of albatross measures from eight to fourteen feet. I have even heard it asserted, that specimens have been shot of this species, the expanded wings of which measured twenty feet across; but the greatest spread I have seen, has been fourteen feet.[21] The immense distance these birds[46] are capable of flying, seems almost incredible, although often ascertained by birds having been caught, marked, and again set at liberty. When seizing an object floating on the water, they gradually descend with expanded or upraised wings, or sometimes alight, and float like a duck on the water, while devouring their food; then, elevating themselves, they skim the surface of the ocean with expanded wings, giving frequent impulses, (as the great length of their wings prevents their rising with facility from a level surface,) as they run along for some distance, until they again soar in mid-air, and recommence their erratic flights. It is interesting to view them during boisterous weather, flying with, and even against, the wind, seeming the “gayest of the gay” in the midst of howling winds and foaming waves.
When these graceful birds are caught and brought on board, their sleek, delicate, and clean feathers attract a lot of admiration; the fine, snow-white down that remains after the outer feathers are removed is sought after by women for muffs, tippets, and more. The large species of albatross measures between eight and fourteen feet. I've even heard claims that some of this species have been shot, and their wings measured twenty feet across; however, the largest wingspan I've personally witnessed was fourteen feet. [21] The incredible distance these birds can fly is almost unbelievable, although it has been confirmed by birds that have been caught, marked, and then released again. When they spot something floating on the water, they gradually descend with their wings extended or raised, or sometimes they land and float on the water like a duck while they eat their food; then, lifting themselves, they skim along the ocean surface with their wings spread, making frequent flaps (since the great length of their wings makes it difficult for them to take off from a flat surface) as they glide for a distance until they soar into the sky again and resume their erratic flights. It's fascinating to watch them during stormy weather, flying with, and even against, the wind, appearing to be the "cheeriest of the cheerful" amidst howling winds and churning waves.
To watch the flight of these birds used to afford me much amusement;—commencing with the difficulty experienced by them in elevating themselves from the water. To effect this object, they spread their long pinions to the utmost, giving them repeated impulses as they run along the surface of the water for some distance. Having, by these exertions, raised themselves above the wave, they ascend and descend, and cleave the atmosphere in various directions, without[47] any apparent muscular exertion. How then, it may be asked, do these birds execute such movements? The whole surface of the body in this, as well as, I believe, most, if not all, the oceanic tribes, is covered by numerous air-cells, capable of a voluntary inflation or diminution, by means of a beautiful muscular apparatus. By this power, the birds can raise or depress themselves at will, and the tail, and great length of the wing, enable them to steer in any direction. Indeed, without some provision of this kind, to save muscular exertion, it would be impossible for these birds to undergo such long flights without repose, as they have been known to do; for the muscles appertaining to the organs of flight, although large in these birds, are evidently inadequate in power to the long distances they have been known to fly, and the immense length of time they remain on the wing, without scarcely a moment’s cessation.
Watching these birds fly used to bring me a lot of enjoyment. It all starts with their struggle to lift themselves off the water. To do this, they spread their long wings as wide as possible, taking several strong pushes as they run along the water's surface for a bit. Once they manage to get above the waves, they glide up and down, cutting through the air in different directions without any visible effort. So, how do these birds pull off such movements? The entire surface of their bodies, as well as I believe most, if not all, oceanic species, is lined with numerous air cells that can be inflated or deflated at will, thanks to a wonderful muscular system. With this ability, the birds can rise or lower themselves whenever they want, and their tail, along with their long wings, helps them steer in any direction. In fact, without some kind of mechanism like this to conserve energy, it would be impossible for these birds to undertake such long flights without resting, as they are known to do; because even though the muscles involved in flight are large in these birds, they are clearly not strong enough for the long distances they can fly and the incredibly long times they stay airborne, hardly taking a break.
When several species of the albatross, as well as petrels and other oceanic birds, are about the ship at the same time, no combats have been seen to take place between them; but on the death of one, the others soon fall upon and devour it. When one of this tribe of birds is captured and brought upon the deck, it appears to be a very[48] muscular bird,—judging from its external form. This deception is occasioned by the quantity of down and feathers, with a very dense integument, and the air-cells being often inflated in a slight degree. When these are removed, the body of the bird is found to be of a smaller size than would have been supposed, and, comparatively speaking, does not possess the muscular power, which, from its long flights, our ideas might lead us to suppose. I remarked that the albatross would lower himself even to the water’s edge, and elevate himself again without any apparent impulse; nor could I observe any percussion of the wings when the flight was directed against the wind,—but then, of course, its progress was tardy. Many, however, have differed with me in considering that the birds never fly “dead against the wind,” but in that manner, which sailors term, “close to the wind,” and thus make progress, aided by, when seemingly flying against, the wind.[22]
When several species of albatross, along with petrels and other oceanic birds, gather around the ship at the same time, no fights are observed between them; however, once one dies, the others quickly swoop in and eat it. When one of these birds is caught and brought onto the deck, it appears to be very muscular based on its outward appearance. This illusion is caused by the thick layer of down and feathers, along with a dense covering, and the air sacs are often slightly inflated. Once those are stripped away, the bird’s body is actually smaller than expected and doesn’t have the muscular strength that one might assume from its long flights. I noticed that the albatross would lower itself to the water’s edge and then lift itself back up without any visible effort; I also didn’t see any flapping of the wings when it flew into the wind—though its movement was slow in that case. Many, however, disagree with me, believing that the birds never fly “dead against the wind,” but rather in a way sailors call “close to the wind,” allowing them to make progress even when it seems like they are flying directly into the breeze.
The different species or varieties of the albatross,[49] are but little understood; in the course of a long voyage but few opportunities occur to any person acquainted with natural history to examine specimens, and consequently our knowledge respecting them is limited to a very few facts. It is not in many instances that a new species can be defined; age and sex often producing differences which are frequently regarded as specific characters. If persons, who may feel an interest, or have studied this interesting science, would note down the differences of plumage, size, and sex, &c. of the birds captured, in course of time a mass of information might be collected, which would serve, in some degree, to determine the different changes of plumage undergone by the various species.[23]
The different species or varieties of the albatross,[49] are not well understood; during a long voyage, there are few chances for anyone knowledgeable in natural history to examine specimens, and as a result, our understanding of them is limited to just a few facts. In many cases, it’s difficult to define a new species; age and gender often create differences that are frequently seen as specific traits. If individuals who are interested or have studied this fascinating science would record the differences in feathers, size, gender, etc. of the birds captured, over time a wealth of information could be gathered, which would help identify the various changes in plumage that different species undergo.[23]
On the 21st of August, the south end of King’s Island was seen, bearing east-north-east, by compass, at a distance of thirty miles. We entered Bass’s Straits on the same night, and anchored in Sydney Cove, Port Jackson, on the morning of the 25th of August.
On August 21st, we spotted the south end of King’s Island, which was located east-north-east according to the compass, about thirty miles away. That same night, we entered Bass’s Straits and anchored in Sydney Cove, Port Jackson, on the morning of August 25th.
CHAPTER III.
Sombre appearance of the Australian coast—Feelings of an emigrant on approaching it—Improvement of Sydney—Fruits produced in the colony—Extent of the town—Cultivation of flowers and culinary vegetables—House-rent—The streets—Parrots—Shops—Impolicy of continuing the colony as a penal settlement—The theatre—Aspect of the country in the vicinity of Sydney—The grass tree—Floral beauties—Larva of a curious insect—The colonial museum—Visit to Elizabeth Bay—Valuable botanical specimens in the garden of the Honourable Alexander Macleay—New Zealand flax—Articles manufactured from that vegetable—Leave Sydney—Residence of Mr. M’Arthur—Forest flowers—Acacias—Paramatta—Swallows.
Sombre appearance of the Australian coast—Feelings of an emigrant as they approach it—Improvements in Sydney—Fruits grown in the colony—Size of the town—Cultivation of flowers and vegetables—House rental prices—The streets—Parrots—Shops—The poor choice of keeping the colony as a penal settlement—Theater—The landscape around Sydney—The grass tree—Floral beauties—Larva of an interesting insect—The colonial museum—Visit to Elizabeth Bay—Valuable botanical specimens in the garden of the Honorable Alexander Macleay—New Zealand flax—Products made from that plant—Leaving Sydney—Mr. M’Arthur’s residence—Forest flowers—Acacias—Paramatta—Swallows.
As we sailed by the Australian coast, its barren aspect neither cheered or invited the stranger’s eye; even where vegetation grew upon its shores, it displayed so sombre an appearance as to impart no animation to the scenery of the coast. To an emigrant, one who has left the land of his fathers, to rear his family and lay his bones in a distant soil, the first view of this, his adopted[51] country, cannot excite in his bosom any emotions of pleasurable gratification; despondency succeeds the bright rays of hope, and he compares with heartfelt regret the arid land before him with the fertile country he has forsaken, because it afforded not sustenance for himself and family, and thus reluctantly caused him to sever the affectionate ties that united him to dear friends in his native land—the place of his birth—the soil and habitation of his forefathers for centuries.
As we sailed along the Australian coast, its barren look didn’t inspire or attract the eye of a stranger; even where plants grew along its shores, they had such a gloomy appearance that they did little to enliven the coastal scenery. For an emigrant, someone who has left their homeland to raise a family and settle in a distant land, the first sight of this adopted[51] country offers no feelings of joy. Despair replaces the bright hopes he once had, and he can't help but compare the dry land in front of him with the fertile land he has left behind, which provided for him and his family, making it difficult for him to break the emotional bonds that connected him to cherished friends back in his homeland—the place where he was born—the soil and home of his ancestors for centuries.
One does not behold the graceful waving of the cocoa palm, the broad and vivid green foliage of the plantain, nor the beautiful luxuriance of a tropical vegetation, which delight the vision of the wearied voyager on a first approach to a tropical region, where the soil teems with cultivation, or a profuse natural vegetation extending from the loftiest mountains even to the ocean’s brink. But on landing and viewing the interior of Australia, the wanderer, although seeing much to confirm his first impressions, will also view many parts of the country recalling to his memory features resembling the land he has left; and as industry gives him wealth and independence, and he finds his family easily maintained, he becomes reconciled to his choice, and remains comparatively if not entirely happy.
One does not see the graceful waving of the cocoa palm, the broad and lush green leaves of the plantain, or the stunning richness of tropical plants that amaze the eyes of the tired traveler upon their first arrival in a tropical region, where the soil is full of crops, or where dense natural vegetation stretches from the highest mountains down to the ocean's edge. However, after landing and exploring the interior of Australia, the traveler, while observing much that reinforces his initial impressions, will also notice areas of the country that remind him of the land he has left behind; and as hard work brings him wealth and independence, and he finds it easy to support his family, he becomes content with his choice and remains relatively, if not completely, happy.
Sydney was much improved and enlarged since my last visit in 1829; provisions were abundant and exceedingly cheap, the shipping being supplied with fresh beef at one penny a pound, and even less; vegetables are also very abundant, except in the most arid of the summer months; and fruit is, during the summer months, plentiful, and a great portion of excellent quality, consisting of several varieties of peaches, apricots, apples, pears, water-melons, loquats, grapes, plums, and strawberries, &c. Fruit of a superior kind obtains a high price, but the common kinds are very cheap; peaches for preserves or tarts being hawked about the streets at a penny a dozen. Gooseberries will not succeed in the vicinity of Sydney, but this fruit has been produced in the Argyle and Bathurst districts. Grapes have lately been perfected in the colony in great abundance, both as to size and flavour; and much attention is now devoted by the colonists to the cultivation of the vine; for which, from its prolific and early bearing, the Australian soil seems to be exceedingly well calculated.
Sydney has improved a lot and expanded since my last visit in 1829; food sources are plentiful and incredibly cheap, with fresh beef available to shippers for just a penny a pound, or even less. Vegetables are also very plentiful, except during the driest summer months. During the summer, fruit is abundant and many types are of excellent quality, including peaches, apricots, apples, pears, watermelons, loquats, grapes, plums, and strawberries, etc. Higher quality fruit sells for a high price, but common varieties are very affordable; peaches for preserves or tarts are sold on the streets for a penny a dozen. Gooseberries don't thrive around Sydney, but they have been successfully grown in the Argyle and Bathurst areas. Grapes have recently flourished in the colony in great numbers, both in size and flavor; and colonists are now paying a lot of attention to vine cultivation, as the Australian soil seems extremely suitable for it, given its abundance and early yields.
Several enterprising individuals have introduced the different species and varieties of vines from Spain, France, Portugal, &c. &c. producing grapes, valuable in the manufacture of wine, as[53] also for the dessert; and we may hope that the time is not distant when grapes will abound in Australia as they at present do at the Cape, and that wine both for home-consumption and exportation will be made from them. The immense increase of grapes in the colony during the last two or three years, leads one to suppose that the above opinion will speedily be confirmed.
Several entrepreneurial people have brought over various types of vines from Spain, France, Portugal, etc., that produce grapes valuable for making wine, as[53] well as for desserts. We can hope that it won’t be long before grapes are as plentiful in Australia as they are now at the Cape, and that wine for both local consumption and export will be made from them. The significant increase in grapes in the colony over the last two or three years suggests that this belief will soon be proven true.
On making a circuit around the town of Sydney, the metropolis of the Australian colony, the extent of ground it occupies, the number of buildings completed, as well as those erecting for the increased and still increasing population, the variety and neatness of the shops, excite the surprise of a stranger, and still more of a person who revisits the town after a brief absence, at the rapid improvements that have taken place in this distant colony in so short a period of time. The humble wooden dwellings are fast giving place to neat houses and cottages constructed of brick or sandstone; but, as may be expected in all recently established towns, there is much want of symmetry in the construction of the buildings; and on perambulating the streets, specimens of several unknown orders of architecture are seen; the cottage style, with neat verandas, is one much adopted for private dwellings, and has a neatness of external appearance, with which the[54] interior usually corresponds. Many have neat gardens attached to them, in which, during the summer season, the blooming rose, as well as the pink, the stock, and other European flowers, impart a beauty, and remind one of home; or, in lieu of these gay vegetable productions, the industrious housekeeper has caused the plot of ground to be planted with peas, beans, cabbages, and other culinary vegetables. The tree cabbage, common on the European continent, but rarely seen in England, I observed introduced in the gardens; it thrives well in the colony.
While exploring the town of Sydney, the capital of the Australian colony, the size it covers, the number of buildings completed and under construction to accommodate the growing population, and the variety and tidiness of the shops truly impress a visitor. This is even more striking for someone returning after a short time away, witnessing the rapid development that has occurred in this distant colony in such a brief period. The simple wooden houses are quickly being replaced by stylish homes and cottages made of brick or sandstone. However, as expected in newly established towns, there’s a noticeable lack of uniformity in the architectural design. As you walk through the streets, you can see examples of various unfamiliar architectural styles; the cottage style with tidy verandas is commonly used for private homes, and it has a charming exterior that typically matches the inviting interior. Many of these homes have lovely gardens where, during summer, blooming roses as well as pinks, stocks, and other European flowers add beauty and evoke memories of home. Alternatively, practical housekeepers have also planted their yards with peas, beans, cabbages, and other vegetables. I noticed that tree cabbages, common on the European continent but rarely seen in England, were introduced in the gardens and thrive well in the colony.
House-rent is excessively high in the colony, being one of the greatest expenses to a resident in Sydney; it varies from sixty to two hundred and fifty pounds annually. The streets being of sandstone, the constant attrition of it by vehicles, &c. produces, from its friability, much dust, which occasions, during windy days, much annoyance; from the same cause, the streets are often out of repair, and the best material for repairing them is a kind of flinty stone, brought by ships from Hobart Town as ballast.
House rent is really high in the colony, making it one of the biggest expenses for someone living in Sydney. Prices range from sixty to two hundred and fifty pounds a year. The streets are made of sandstone, and the constant wear and tear from vehicles creates a lot of dust, which can be quite annoying on windy days. Because of this, the streets are often in poor condition, and the best material for repairs is a type of flinty stone that ships bring over as ballast from Hobart Town.
Parrots are, perhaps, of all the feathered tribe, the most numerous in the colony; and different species are lauded for speaking, whistling, and other noisy accomplishments. No one can walk the streets of Sydney or any of the villages of[55] the colony, or enter an inn or dwelling-house, without seeing this class of birds hung about in cages, and having his ears assailed by the screeching, babbling, and whistling noises which issue from their vocal organs: it is the street music of the colony, and “pretty polly,” “sweet polly,” are tender sounds which issue from the exterior as well as interior of every dwelling. These birds are evidently gifted with the bump of talkativeness. It was once asserted, that ladies kept the birds to converse with when alone, which served a double purpose—that of being to them both practice and amusement.
Parrots are probably the most common birds in the colony, and different species are known for their ability to talk, whistle, and make other loud sounds. You can't walk the streets of Sydney or any village in the colony, or go into an inn or home, without seeing these birds in cages and hearing the screeching, chattering, and whistling coming from them. It’s the street music of the colony, and phrases like “pretty polly” and “sweet polly” can be heard both outside and inside every house. These birds clearly have a knack for talking. It was once said that women kept them to talk to when they were alone, which served both as practice and entertainment.
The best view of the town, shipping, and adjacent country is that seen from the “rocks,” and the prospect afforded from this elevated situation is very fine. Shops of all kinds are rapidly multiplying; and lately there have been extensive emigrations of artisans of all descriptions from every part of the united kingdom; butchers, bakers, pastrycooks, provision merchants, shoemakers, apothecaries, fancy-bread bakers, booksellers, &c. &c. are numerous, and have neat, and some even elegant shops; the press sends forth their cards and circulars, and large posting bills, printed in a neat and even superior manner, equal to any similar production in our country towns in England. Circulating[56] libraries and literary reading rooms are now becoming numerous, for the Australians are desirous of being a reading as well as a thinking people, and are anxious to have the permission of legislating for themselves; but whilst the free and emancipist parties are each desirous of gaining an ascendancy in colonial affairs, it would certainly not be advisable to grant the boon; both have their interests at home, and the emancipists are a wealthy and powerful body; and although I am not anxious to enter into the political affairs of the colony, I would, while on this subject, merely wish to suggest the expediency, from the wealth and importance of this part of the Australian colony, to no longer use it as a penal settlement, but encourage free emigration of labourers, and send the convicts to a new colony, which might be founded at the northern portion of the extensive Australian territory; then there can be no doubt that party spirit will in some degree subside, and the colony will increase still more in prosperity, being undivided by any party feeling.
The best view of the town, shipping, and surrounding countryside is from the “rocks,” and the view from this high spot is really impressive. Shops of all kinds are quickly multiplying; recently, there have been significant migrations of all types of workers from all across the United Kingdom; butchers, bakers, pastry chefs, grocery stores, shoemakers, pharmacists, specialty bakers, booksellers, etc. are plentiful, and they have neat, and some even stylish shops; they send out their business cards and brochures, and large posters, printed neatly and even better than similar prints you’d find in our country towns in England. Circulating[56] libraries and literary reading rooms are becoming quite common, as Australians want to be both a reading and thinking people and are eager to gain the right to govern themselves; but while the free settlers and ex-convict groups each seek to gain influence in local affairs, it wouldn't be wise to give them that privilege; both groups have their own interests back home, and the ex-convicts are a wealthy and influential crowd; and although I don’t want to get involved in the political issues of the colony, I would like to suggest that, considering the wealth and significance of this part of the Australian colony, it should no longer be used as a penal settlement. Instead, encourage the free migration of laborers and relocate the convicts to a new colony that could be established in the northern part of the vast Australian territory; then there’s no doubt that political factions will lessen somewhat, and the colony will continue to thrive, free from divisive party feelings.
It is well known that free emigration is detested by most of the convict party, and a wealthy individual of this class once remarked, “What have the free emigrants to do here? the[57] colony was founded for us, they have no right here;” and that individual, from his wealth, would probably be elected a member of a future House of Assembly. The emigration of wealthy settlers has been much retarded by the government order, that no grants of land are to be given, but only purchased; until that order is repealed, no great increase of settlers for agricultural purposes will take place; one grant—but one grant only—ought to be given to the emigrant on his arrival in the colony as before; and those who may be desirous of having an additional grant, may then be able to effect it by purchase; the land sold since the new order has been in operation, has been principally, if not entirely, purchased by those among the settlers who were desirous of increasing the extent of their property, and from the vicinity of the “selection” to their former grant, can afford to give a higher price for it, than the newly arrived settler, ignorant of the quality of the land, and the district in which it may be situated.
It's well known that most of the convict party hates free emigration, and one wealthy member of this group once said, “What do free emigrants have to do here? The colony was founded for us; they have no right to be here.” That person, due to their wealth, would likely be elected to a future House of Assembly. The emigration of wealthy settlers has been significantly slowed down by the government's order that no land grants will be given, only purchased. Until that order is lifted, there won't be a significant increase in settlers for agricultural purposes. One grant—but only one grant—should be given to each emigrant upon their arrival in the colony as before; those who want an additional grant can then purchase it. The land sold since the new order has mainly, if not entirely, been bought by settlers wanting to expand their property. Since the new land is close to their previous grants, they can afford to pay a higher price for it than the newly arrived settlers, who are unaware of the quality of the land and the area it’s in.
A theatre having been licensed by the governor, and lately opened by a select company of performers, I visited it one night to ascertain the actual state of the drama in the colony, as also to see the mingled society[58] which would be brought together by such a novel place of amusement. On the night mentioned, I visited it with a party of friends; the evening’s entertainment was the “Heir at Law,” and “Bombastes Furioso.” The interior of the theatre (which was fitted up as a temporary measure, in a large room of the Royal Hotel[24]) is small, and is used only until one more complete can be erected: considering the disadvantages under which theatrical exhibitions must labour in so young a colony, the “tout ensemble” far exceeded what I had expected. The pit and boxes (for there was no gallery) might probably contain one hundred and fifty persons. To speak of the performance of Colman’s celebrated comedy, would be to say it was beneath criticism; and the actors seemed determined to “play the comedy” after a manner of their own, substituting passages of their own for those of the author, in defiance of all dramatic rules.
A theater was licensed by the governor and recently opened by a select group of performers. I went to check it out one night to see what the state of drama was in the colony and to experience the diverse crowd that such a new entertainment venue would attract. That night, I went with a group of friends; the shows were “Heir at Law” and “Bombastes Furioso.” The theater's interior, set up temporarily in a large room at the Royal Hotel[24], is small and only for use until a more permanent venue can be built. Given the challenges that theater productions face in such a young colony, the overall experience exceeded my expectations. The main seating area, which included the pit and boxes (there was no gallery), could probably hold about one hundred and fifty people. Talking about the performance of Colman’s famous comedy would be an understatement; the actors seemed intent on doing it their own way, swapping in their own lines for those of the original script, completely ignoring all the traditional rules of drama.
The greatest novelty of the evening was a young Australian actress, to whom the drama was as much a novelty as she became to us this evening; and consequently she had no medium of comparison by which her judgment could be directed. Her predominant fault was a want of feeling. In the very affecting scene, where poor Henry, long supposed to be lost, returns to his beloved and disconsolate Caroline—he was in ranting raptures, while she received him in the most hard-hearted manner that can be conceived, uttered the expressions placed by the author into her mouth as a mere matter of course; and, as the unfeeling creature evidently showed that she neither felt nor understood the sentiments uttered, it proved no affecting scene either to actors or auditors. However, “Advance Australia;” the lady and the colony, we thought, are both young. As for the rest of the corps, they too often mistook indecency for wit, and probably by so doing they pleased the majority of their audience; if so, both parties would be satisfied. The pit contained those usually seen in the galleries of the theatre at home; and squabbles, threats, and actual combats, served to amuse some, and discipline others; and the various scenes and expressions in both pit and boxes excited in our[60] minds any thing but an idea of the sublime and beautiful. It may also be worthy of remark, as a proof of the increasing morality of the colony, that no one was stationed at the doors, as in our depraved metropolis, warning you to “take care of your pockets;” and that neither myself, or any gentlemen in company, either in our ingress or egress, had our pockets picked.
The biggest surprise of the evening was a young Australian actress, for whom the drama was as much a new experience as she was for us tonight; she had no prior benchmark to judge her performance. Her main flaw was a lack of emotion. In the very touching scene where poor Henry, long thought to be lost, returns to his beloved and heartbroken Caroline, he was filled with overwhelming excitement while she responded in the coldest way imaginable, reciting the lines given to her by the playwright as if it were just routine; her complete lack of feeling made it clear she didn’t understand or connect with the sentiments expressed, making it an unimpressive scene for both the actors and the audience. However, “Advance Australia;” we believed both the actress and the colony are still young. As for the rest of the cast, they often confused indecency with humor and probably pleased most of their audience that way; if so, both sides were satisfied. The pit was filled with people usually found in the galleries of theaters back home, and arguments, threats, and even fights entertained some while keeping others in line. The various scenes and reactions in both the pit and the boxes sparked nothing in us but memories far from the sublime and beautiful. It’s also worth mentioning, as evidence of the colony’s growing morality, that there was no one stationed at the doors, unlike our corrupt capital, warning us to “watch your pockets;” and neither I nor any men in my company had our pockets picked while entering or leaving.
The domain and country in the immediate vicinity of Sydney was assuming (in September) a gay and brilliant aspect from the profusion of flowering shrubs and plants strewed over the arid soil; there was, however, a peculiar character in the vegetation, the foliage of the trees having a dry appearance, and being destitute of the lustre so observable in those of other countries. This want of lustre is attributed by that justly celebrated botanist, Dr. Brown, to the equal existence of cutaneous glands on both surfaces of the leaf;[25] and another peculiarity is the trees attaining a great elevation, with branches only at the summit, and shedding their bark;[61] some of the trees being seen perfectly decorticated and appearing in a smooth new bark, whilst others have the outer bark not yet quite thrown off, but hanging in long strips from the trunk. These peculiarities, in combination with others, convey to us different ideas from those formed from the vegetation of other countries.
The area around Sydney was looking vibrant and lively in September, thanks to the abundance of blooming shrubs and plants covering the dry soil. However, the vegetation had a unique quality; the tree leaves appeared dry and lacked the shine commonly seen in foliage from other countries. This lack of shine is attributed by the well-known botanist, Dr. Brown, to the presence of glands on both sides of the leaf. Another distinctive feature is that the trees grow tall with branches only at the top and shed their bark; some trees are completely stripped and show a smooth new bark, while others have their outer bark still hanging in long strips from the trunk. These features, along with others, give us a different impression compared to the vegetation in other countries.[61]
Among the beauties of the kingdom of Flora, which are lavished so profusely in this colony, the different species of the Banksia[26] genus (or honeysuckle, as all the species are indiscriminately termed by the colonists) would arrest the attention of the stranger, by its peculiar growth as well as remarkable flowers; the species Banksia ericifolia was most profusely in bloom, its erect tufts of orange-coloured flowers imparting to it a lively appearance. That curious and interesting tree the Xanthorrhœa,—yellow gum or grass tree of the colonists,—would attract observation from its peculiar growth, the trunk being surmounted by long grassy foliage, from the centre of which arises a long scape terminated by a cylindrical spike, either crowded with its small white flowers of sickly odour, or[62] with dark coloured angulated capsules, containing small black seeds. The flowers of the several species secrete a honey, which exudes at first like dew-drops, and afterwards concretes into an albumen, attracting multitudes of insects, which soon deface the purity the flowers before presented. The natives readily produce fire by rubbing two pieces of the trunk of this tree together.
Among the beautiful plants in the kingdom of Flora, which are plentiful in this colony, the different types of the Banksia[26] genus (also known as honeysuckle, as the colonists call all the species) would catch the attention of newcomers with their unique growth and striking flowers. The species Banksia ericifolia was blooming profusely, its upright clusters of orange flowers giving it a vibrant look. The fascinating tree Xanthorrhœa, or yellow gum and grass tree as the colonists refer to it, would draw attention with its unusual growth; the trunk topped with long grassy leaves, and from the center rises a tall spike, either filled with small white flowers that have a sweet scent or with dark, angled capsules that contain tiny black seeds. The flowers of various species produce honey that first appears like dew drops and later solidifies into a substance, attracting swarms of insects that quickly mar the beauty of the flowers. The natives easily create fire by rubbing two pieces of this tree's trunk together.
This tree is found abundantly in several parts of the colony, and there are already seven described species. It is named “grass tree” by the colonists from its long pendent grassy foliage, and “yellow gum tree” from secreting a quantity of yellowish gum.[27] It is a tree of curious growth, and I have seen the species called hastile from eight to ten feet high, and the trunk sometimes surmounted by from two to four heads; each bearing a flowering stem, which rises from the centre of the foliage to the length of six feet and upwards: it is round and very light, combining lightness with strength, and is used by the aborigines for making their spears, fish gigs, &c. The scape terminates in a cylindrical spike; the flowers are small, white, and numerous; an albumen is secreted from[63] them of a sweet taste, which is eaten by the natives and birds, and is also a source of attraction to multitudes of ants and other insects; the capsules are triangular, and contain three flat black seeds in distinct cells.
This tree is commonly found in various regions of the colony, and there are already seven recognized species. The colonists call it the “grass tree” due to its long, hanging grassy leaves, and “yellow gum tree” because it produces a lot of yellowish gum.[27] It's an interesting tree, and I've seen the species called hastile grow between eight to ten feet tall, often with a trunk that has two to four heads on top; each head has a flowering stem that rises from the center of the leaves to over six feet long. The stem is round, very light, and combines lightness with strength, making it useful for the aborigines when crafting their spears, fish gigs, etc. The flowering spike ends in a cylindrical shape; the flowers are small, white, and plentiful. A sweet-tasting substance is secreted from the flowers, which is consumed by the natives and birds, and it also attracts many ants and other insects. The capsules are triangular and contain three flat black seeds in separate chambers.
It secretes a yellow gum, resembling very much in appearance, though not in quality, the gamboge; externally it has a dull yellow appearance, but breaks with a bright yellow fracture, and is often streaked internally with red. In its natural state it has no fragrant smell, but by the action of fire it diffuses an agreeable odour, resembling that produced by frankincense, instead of which, I believe, it has been used in the Roman Catholic churches on the continent. It exudes spontaneously from the trunk, in very small globules, and is found in very thin layers about the bases of the petioles of the leaves, but may be melted into large masses.
It releases a yellow gum that looks a lot like gamboge but is different in quality. It has a dull yellow appearance on the outside, but when broken, it reveals a bright yellow interior and is often streaked with red. In its natural state, it has no pleasant smell, but when heated, it gives off a nice fragrance similar to frankincense, which I believe has been used in Roman Catholic churches in Europe instead. It seeps out naturally from the trunk in tiny droplets and is found in thin layers around the bases of the leaf stalks, but it can be melted into larger pieces.
The resin (more commonly known as the gum acaroides) is slightly bitter, pungent and astringent, and has been used in dyspeptic, dysenteric, and other cases; but not with such success as to cause it to be admitted into our materia medica.
The resin (more commonly known as gum acaroides) is slightly bitter, pungent, and astringent, and has been used for digestive issues, dysentery, and other conditions; however, it hasn’t been successful enough to be included in our materia medica.
The floral beauties were profusely lavished, and the brilliancy and gaiety they impart to the[64] otherwise arid country during the full flowering season, are to be equalled but by few countries. The present season was later than usual, from the coldness of the weather continuing for a more advanced period of the year than had been experienced for many years in New South Wales. On our arrival the thermometer was lower than we had experienced it in 41° south latitude, or when passing the Cape during the winter season. During the remainder of the month of August, the range of the thermometer was min. 45°, max. 58°.
The flowers were abundant, and their brightness and cheerfulness they brought to the[64] otherwise dry region during peak blooming season are rivaled by very few places. This season came later than usual because the cold weather lingered longer into the year than we've seen in many years in New South Wales. When we arrived, the temperature was lower than what we had experienced at 41° south latitude, or when passing the Cape in winter. For the rest of August, the temperature ranged from a low of 45° to a high of 58°.
Besides the Banksia,[28] or honeysuckles, the Boronias, Epacris grandiflora, with its elegant pendent blossoms, and two species of Kennedia,[29] one bearing red and the other small blue flowers[65] entwined over the shrubs in their vicinity; the other golden and fragrant flowers of the Acacias (of which genus the colony possesses a large number of indigenous species) gave an additional beauty to the otherwise arid character of the vegetation; the Xylomelum pyriforme, or wooden pear-tree, so called from its exceedingly hard woody fruits, is seen abundant in the vicinity of Sydney, several are seen from thirty to thirty-five feet in elevation, and two feet in circumference. A splendid Bignonia overspread the rocks, decked with its pendulous clusters of tinted blossoms; and two large and parisitical Dendrobiums, in full flower, adorned the rough trunk of one of the eucalyptus tribe to which it had attached itself for sustenance; and the different species of Grevillea, Leptospermum, Pimelia, Lambertia, Crowea, and a number of others, added to the animated appearance of the soil. On the north shore the shrubs and plants, now in full flower, were more abundant; the arid soil was brilliant with the variety of tints emanating from them, combining to charm the eye with their beauty, but were destitute of that agreeable fragrance for which the flowers of European climes are so highly esteemed.
Besides the Banksia, honeysuckles, the Boronias, Epacris grandiflora with its graceful hanging flowers, and two species of Kennedia, one with red flowers and the other with small blue flowers, intertwined over the nearby shrubs; the other golden and fragrant flowers of the Acacias (of which the colony has many native species) added extra beauty to the otherwise dry character of the vegetation. The Xylomelum pyriforme, or wooden pear-tree, named for its very hard woody fruits, is abundant around Sydney, with several reaching heights of thirty to thirty-five feet and two feet in circumference. A stunning Bignonia spread over the rocks, adorned with its hanging clusters of colorful flowers; and two large, parasitic Dendrobiums, in full bloom, decorated the rough trunk of one of the eucalyptus trees it had attached itself to for nourishment. The different species of Grevillea, Leptospermum, Pimelia, Lambertia, Crowea, and many others contributed to the lively appearance of the soil. On the north shore, the shrubs and plants, now in full bloom, were more numerous; the dry soil was vibrant with a mix of colors emanating from them, delighting the eye with their beauty, but lacked the pleasant fragrance for which flowers from European climates are so highly valued.
On the Leptospermum I remarked an insect, or rather the larva of some Coleopterous insect,[66] pending from a sprig and enclosed in a case of a woven substance, strengthened externally by bits of twigs; the insect to which this larva belongs is unknown to me, nor have I been able to see it described in any entomological work; the only publication in which I have seen it mentioned, is in the catalogue of the museum of the Royal College of Surgeons in London, part 4, fasc. 1. “Preparations of Natural History in Spirit,” page 117, No. 438. “Larva of a Coleopterous Insect in its Case.”
On the Leptospermum, I noticed an insect, or rather the larva of a beetle, [66] hanging from a branch and wrapped in a case made of woven material, reinforced on the outside with small twigs. The adult insect that this larva originates from is unknown to me, and I haven't found it described in any entomology texts; the only source where I've seen it mentioned is in the catalogue of the museum of the Royal College of Surgeons in London, part 4, fasc. 1. “Preparations of Natural History in Spirit,” page 117, No. 438. “Larva of a Coleopterous Insect in its Case.”
It attaches itself to the sprigs of shrubs, and, like the caddis worms, protects itself by a habitation from which it can protrude the anterior part of its body, being attached internally to its case by the tail, and by that means can feed and change its locality at pleasure, bearing its case with it, and re-attaching itself to any other place that may suit its habits; thus I have had them moving about in my room, attaching themselves to one place, and then removing to another; at first much to my surprise at their power of mobility, until I saw it was effected by the protrusion of the larva from its habitation. The case is composed internally of a very tough web, and the exterior is covered by bits of twigs interwoven upon it in a perpendicular direction; it suspends itself from the twig by a strong cluster[67] of filaments. I have found this larva enclosed in its case of various sizes from three to six inches; this has led me to conclude that, like the caddis worms, they increase in size in the larva state, enlarging their habitations as the former ones become too small for the increased size of their bodies. I found, by cutting one of the cases open, that they readily repair any injury their dwellings may have sustained, for a few hours only having elapsed after I had made the incision to view the contained larva, I found the case restored as firmly as before.
It attaches itself to the branches of shrubs and, like caddis worms, protects itself with a shelter from which it can extend the front part of its body, staying connected inside its case by the tail. This way, it can eat and move around as it likes, carrying its case with it and reattaching itself anywhere else that fits its lifestyle. I’ve seen them moving around my room, sticking to one spot and then shifting to another, and at first, I was surprised by their mobility until I realized it was because the larva was stretching out from its shelter. The case is made up of a very strong inner web, and the outside is covered with bits of twigs woven on in a vertical direction; it hangs from the twig with a strong bunch of filaments. I’ve found this larva in its case in various sizes from three to six inches; this made me think that, like caddis worms, they grow in size when they are larvae, expanding their homes as the previous ones get too small for their growing bodies. I discovered, by cutting one of the cases open, that they quickly fix any damage their homes may have suffered, because just a few hours after I made the cut to check on the larva inside, I found the case had been restored just as securely as before.
In company with my friend, Mr. Lauga, I visited the colonial museum, which is arranged for the present in a small room, assigned for the purpose, in the council-house, and which had been recently established at Sydney: it forms an excellent nucleus for a splendid collection, particularly in a country so prolific in rare, valuable, and beautiful specimens of natural productions. For the present, the ornithological collection is by far the best, both for the number, and being beautifully stuffed and “set up” in attitudes, from which it is evident that nature has been closely studied. Specimens of the families Columbæ, Psittaceæ,[30] Raptores, &c. are the most numerous.[68] There are also several of the mammalia, and reptiles of the colony in the collection.
Accompanied by my friend, Mr. Lauga, I visited the colonial museum, which is currently set up in a small room designated for this purpose within the council house. This museum was recently established in Sydney and serves as a great starting point for a fantastic collection, especially in a country so rich in rare, valuable, and beautiful natural specimens. Right now, the bird collection is by far the best, both in terms of quantity and the quality of the specimens, which are beautifully stuffed and displayed in poses that clearly show a deep understanding of nature. The most common specimens belong to the families Columbæ, Psittaceæ, Raptores, etc. There are also several mammals and reptiles from the colony in the collection.[68]
But, in a country where specimens could be procured in the majority of instances in almost any number, it would be of great interest to the lover of science, as well as to the admirer of nature, and also considerably increase the value of the collection and the advancement of scientific knowledge, if, besides among the birds, the male and female specimens being preserved, any showing the changes of plumage, which so frequently occur in the feathered tribe from the juvenile to the adult age; the nest and eggs, together with the skeletons, or any remarkable anatomical peculiarity, should also be preserved. The same system may be adopted with[69] respect to other animals, reptiles, and insects, arranged each under the separate families and genera, so as, in a comparatively short period of time, to form as valuable a collection of Australian natural productions as has ever been collected in any part of the world. Native weapons, utensils, and other specimens of the arts, as existing among the Aborigines, as well as the skulls of the different tribes, and accurate drawings of their peculiar cast of features, would be a desirable addition. At the present time, such might be procured without much difficulty; but it is equally certain, as well as much to be regretted, that the tribes in the settled parts of the colony are fast decreasing, and many, if not all, will, at no distant period, be known but by name. Here, in a public museum, the remains of the arts, &c. as existing among them, may be preserved as lasting memorials of the former races inhabiting the lands, when they had ceased to exist.
But in a country where you could easily find specimens in almost any quantity, it would be really interesting for science lovers and nature enthusiasts. It would also significantly enhance the value of the collection and contribute to scientific knowledge if, along with the preserved male and female birds, we also kept examples showing the changes in plumage that frequently happen as birds transition from juvenile to adult. Nest and egg collections, along with skeletons or any notable anatomical features, should also be preserved. The same approach could apply to other animals, reptiles, and insects, categorized by their specific families and genera, so that in a relatively short time, we could build a collection of Australian natural specimens as significant as any gathered anywhere in the world. Native weapons, tools, and other artifacts from Aboriginal culture, as well as skulls from different tribes and accurate drawings of their unique features, would also be valuable additions. Right now, these could be obtained without much trouble; however, it’s also sadly true that the tribes in the settled areas of the colony are quickly declining, and many, if not all, will soon be known only by name. In a public museum, the artifacts and other remnants of their culture could be preserved as lasting reminders of the earlier races that inhabited these lands after they are gone.
The botanical productions of the colony may also be kept in a dried state for reference, together with specimens of the woods in different stages of growth. Peculiarities in the economy of any of the animals might be preserved as wet preparations, and to the whole collection, systematically arranged, as well as the scientific, (or hard names,[70] as the ladies call them,) let also the popular, colonial and native names, be attached. The council has liberally granted the sum of two hundred pounds annually out of the colonial funds, for the support of the museum; a hundred and thirty pounds of which is a salary to the collector and staffers of specimens of natural history for the collection, and the remainder is expended for cases, &c.; but encouragement should be held out for donations, as is usual in other public collections.[31] At all events, the commencement of the public museum is excellent; and science, I believe, is indebted for its institution to the Honourable Alexander Macleay, colonial secretary; and may he see it attain an importance which no one can enjoy or appreciate more than himself, who has devoted the leisure moments of a long and arduous life engaged in other important occupations, to the study of the natural sciences.
The botanical products of the colony can also be kept dried for reference, along with samples of wood in various growth stages. Unique characteristics of any animals could be preserved as wet specimens, and the entire collection should be systematically organized. Both the scientific names (or the complicated names, as the ladies call them) and the popular, colonial, and native names should be included. The council has generously allocated two hundred pounds each year from the colonial funds to support the museum; one hundred thirty pounds of that goes to salaries for the collector and staff who gather natural history specimens, while the rest is spent on cases and similar items. However, there should be encouragement for donations, as is common in other public collections. [31] In any case, the start of the public museum is fantastic; and I believe science owes its establishment to the Honourable Alexander Macleay, colonial secretary. May he witness it grow to a significance that no one can appreciate more than he, having dedicated the spare moments of a long and challenging life, spent on other important tasks, to the study of natural sciences.
In company with my friend, Lieutenant Breton, R. N., I visited Elizabeth Bay, about two miles distant from Sydney, and the property of the Honourable Alexander Macleay. The situation is beautiful, being in a retired bay or cove of Port Jackson, and the garden and farm is near the sea. This spot, naturally of the most sterile description, has been rendered, at a great expense and perseverance, in some degree productive as a nursery for rare trees, shrubs, and plants, from all parts of the world. We were much gratified with the valuable and rare specimens the garden contained, and surprised that a spot possessed of no natural advantages should have been rendered, comparatively, a little paradise.
Accompanied by my friend, Lieutenant Breton, R. N., I visited Elizabeth Bay, about two miles from Sydney, which belongs to the Honourable Alexander Macleay. The location is stunning, nestled in a secluded bay or cove of Port Jackson, with the garden and farm close to the sea. This area, which would typically be very barren, has been transformed, at great cost and effort, into a somewhat productive nursery for rare trees, shrubs, and plants from around the globe. We were quite pleased with the valuable and rare specimens in the garden and were surprised that a place with no natural advantages could be turned into, relatively speaking, a small paradise.
In the garden, a species of cactus was pointed out to me by the gardener, Mr. Henderson, which Mr. Macleay had brought some years ago from Rio Janeiro: it had flowered at the usual time, and they had changed into what had the usual external form of the fruit. On making a section of one, it had the usual fructual character, although in an immature state. I was, however, informed that the fruit never attained maturity, but became as one of the branches, blossoms being produced from it, which would again produce fruit, and that fruit would not[72] ripen, but again produce flowers, so continuing during the whole of the flowering season, without ripening any fruit, having consequently a curious anomaly of fruit producing flowers, instead of flowers producing fruit. It has always, during the time it has been planted in the garden, exhibited this phenomenon, which was never observed in the plant from which this was taken at Rio. It must therefore be considered as a curious anomaly in vegetation.
In the garden, the gardener, Mr. Henderson, pointed out a species of cactus that Mr. Macleay had brought from Rio de Janeiro some years ago. It had bloomed at the usual time, and the flowers turned into what looked like the typical fruit. When I cut one open, it had the expected characteristics of fruit, although it was still immature. However, I was told that the fruit never fully matures and instead becomes like one of the branches, producing blossoms that would give rise to more fruit, which again wouldn’t ripen but would keep producing flowers. This cycle continues throughout the flowering season, resulting in a strange anomaly where fruit produces flowers instead of flowers producing fruit. This has been the case since it was planted in the garden, a phenomenon that was never seen in the original plant from Rio. Therefore, it must be considered a peculiar anomaly in vegetation.
The greatest importer and manufacturer of New Zealand flax[32] in the colony is Mr. Maclaren. I visited his extensive establishment, which had just been completed on the north shore near Sydney, for the cleaning and manufacture of the flax into rope. He has also establishments at New Zealand, from whence he imports the flax, exporting some to England, and manufacturing[73] the remainder into cordage for the use of the colonial vessels. He has also a powerful hydraulic press, for the purpose of compressing the flax into bales for exportation. He manufactures from this material a large quantity of whale lines for the colonial whalers, who speak in high terms of the quality of the rope, for that purpose. The rope manufactured from this flax, takes the tar readily, and the small lines are passed through it previous to their being made into rope of larger size.[33]
The biggest importer and manufacturer of New Zealand flax in the colony is Mr. Maclaren. I visited his large facility, which has just been completed on the north shore near Sydney, for cleaning and processing the flax into rope. He also has operations in New Zealand, from where he imports the flax, exports some to England, and manufactures the rest into cordage for use by the colonial vessels. He also has a powerful hydraulic press to compress the flax into bales for export. He produces a significant amount of whale lines for the colonial whalers, who have a high opinion of the quality of the rope for that use. The rope made from this flax absorbs tar well, and the smaller lines are passed through it before they are made into larger rope.
As I hope the time is not far distant when its value will be more appreciated, and the prejudice, at present so much against it, will have diminished, I may perhaps be excused in giving an account of this valuable plant from my own observations during a visit to New Zealand.
As I hope the time isn't too far off when its value will be more appreciated, and the current prejudice against it will have lessened, I may be forgiven for sharing my account of this valuable plant based on my own observations during a trip to New Zealand.
This valuable plant is regarded by the natives of New Zealand as sacred, but is probably an object of veneration for its value in manufactures,[75] as it is neither employed in religious or other ceremonies. It grows principally in moist, marshy soil, but I have also observed it growing on the declivities of hills. The leaves are ensiform, of a bright green colour, with a rim of orange along the margin: the foliage attains the elevation of five to seven feet, and resembles in mode of growth our water flags: the flower stalk rises to the elevation of four or five feet beyond the foliage, and bears a profusion of liliaceous flowers of a reddish yellow colour, succeeded by triangular capsules, filled with numerous oblong, flattened, black seeds. The leaves grow perfectly erect, but are figured incorrectly in Cook’s first voyage, and other works, as they are delineated bending towards the ground, which from their rigidity they are, unless broken, unable to do. The flax procured from this plant is situated (unlike all other kinds with which we are acquainted) in the leaves, where the fibres run in a longitudinal direction, covered by the epidermis. There are several varieties of it indigenous to New Zealand, from some of which the flax is procured of much finer quality than others. I collected much finer specimens of the flax from the vicinity of the River Thames, New Zealand, than from the Bay of Islands.
This valuable plant is seen by the natives of New Zealand as sacred, likely because of its usefulness in manufacturing, even though it’s not used in religious or other ceremonies. It mainly grows in moist, marshy areas, but I’ve also seen it on the slopes of hills. The leaves are sword-shaped, bright green, with an orange edge: the foliage can reach heights of five to seven feet and grows similarly to our water flags. The flower stalk rises four to five feet above the foliage and produces a bunch of reddish-yellow lily-like flowers, which then develop into triangular capsules filled with numerous oblong, flat, black seeds. The leaves grow straight up, but they’ve been incorrectly illustrated in Cook’s first voyage and other works, where they are shown bending toward the ground, which they can’t do because they are too stiff unless broken. The flax obtained from this plant is found (unlike other types we know) in the leaves, where the fibers run lengthwise, covered by the outer layer. There are several varieties native to New Zealand, and some yield finer quality flax than others. I gathered much better specimens of the flax near the River Thames, New Zealand, than from the Bay of Islands.
The flax is used by the natives of New Zealand for a variety of purposes; from it they manufacture very strong fishing-lines, and also a variety of handsome and durable mats, which are used both by males and females for clothing. The method adopted by the natives of New Zealand, for the separation of the fibre from the other parts of the leaf, is as follows:—The leaves, when full grown, are cut down, the most perfect selected, and a lateral incision is made with a shell on each side of the leaf, so as simply to cut through the epidermis; the shell is then, with a gentle pressure, drawn from one of the incisions rapidly down the leaf, and is afterwards repeated on the other side; by this, the whole of the external epidermis is readily removed; the internal epidermis, which is of very thin texture, usually remains, but sometimes it is in the greatest part removed together with the external: the internal seems to unite the fibres of the leaf more intimately together, and if not cleaned from the flax when in a recent state, is removed afterwards with great difficulty; and when it is suffered to remain, renders the flax less valuable as an article of commerce.
The natives of New Zealand use flax for various purposes. They make strong fishing lines and a range of beautiful and durable mats, which both men and women use for clothing. The process the natives use to separate the fiber from the other parts of the leaf is as follows: When the leaves are fully grown, they are cut down, and the best ones are selected. A side incision is made with a shell on each side of the leaf to cut through the outer layer. The shell is then gently pulled from one of the incisions quickly down the leaf, and this process is repeated on the other side. This removes the entire outer epidermis easily. The inner epidermis, which is very thin, usually remains, but sometimes most of it is removed along with the outer layer. The inner epidermis seems to bind the fibers of the leaf more closely together, and if it isn’t cleaned off when the flax is fresh, it’s very difficult to remove later. Allowing it to stay makes the flax less valuable as a commercial product.
In the preparation of the flax, as well as in the manufacture of it into matting, the females[77] are employed, and custom renders them very expert. Before, however, the flax is manufactured into matting, it is previously soaked in water, and afterwards beaten, by which it becomes more pliable and soft. The plant is named koradi by the natives; and when the flax is prepared, it is named muka. This plant alone would render New Zealand a valuable colony to the British nation. At present the flax is used in England only in the manufacture of cordage, &c.; but if the best varieties, indigenous to New Zealand, were selected, (for they differ materially in the fineness of the fibre,) and proper care and attention bestowed on the cleaning, when in a recent state, it may, there can be no doubt, be employed in the manufacture of linen of very fine quality.
In preparing flax and turning it into matting, women[77] are involved, and tradition makes them quite skilled. However, before the flax is made into matting, it is soaked in water and then beaten to make it more flexible and softer. The locals call the plant koradi, and once the flax is ready, it’s called muka. This plant alone could make New Zealand a valuable colony for Britain. Right now, flax is only used in England to make rope and similar products, but if the best varieties from New Zealand were chosen (since they vary significantly in fiber quality) and if proper care was taken to clean it while it’s still fresh, it could definitely be used to produce very high-quality linen.
Previous to being used for cordage, Mr. Maclaren has the flax well hackled, which materially improves its quality and appearance: could it be exported in this improved state, it cannot be doubted that much of the prejudice now existing against its use would be removed; for the epidermis of the leaves being entirely removed when the flax is well cleaned, the fibres will, as a matter of course, unite closer together, affording a united and stronger resistance; but Mr. Maclaren informs me that[78] the expense attending the hackling in this colony would not repay him at the price the material at present obtains in England, or even were it to advance to its former high price.
Before being used for rope, Mr. Maclaren makes sure to hackle the flax well, which significantly improves its quality and appearance. If it could be exported in this enhanced state, it’s likely that much of the current prejudice against its use would disappear. When the outer layer of the leaves is completely removed during the cleaning process, the fibers naturally bond more closely together, providing a stronger and more resilient product. However, Mr. Maclaren tells me that[78] the costs of hackling in this region wouldn’t be worth it given the current market price of the material in England, even if it were to rise to its previous high levels.
At present this gentleman cannot manufacture cordage at a less price than a ship from England could bring it out as stores, but still at a lower rate than the Europe cordage sent out on freight for sale; in the colony it is therefore cheaper to colonial vessels, and is found very durable. It has been used three years and upwards as running gear for shipping, and highly approved of; from the flax having been sent home in an uncleaned state, it has been rendered almost unsaleable, and gave an opportunity for those prejudiced to depreciate its value. From the natural indolence of the New Zealanders, it is difficult to procure the flax from them in a better dressed state, until some of them are taught the art of hackling it, which would be advisable to be done immediately. To attempt to clean the flax from the epidermis in any but during the recent state, is a labour of difficulty, from its close connexion with the fibres, by which a great loss in weight would necessarily be sustained.
Currently, this gentleman can't produce cordage for less than what it would cost to ship it from England as supplies, but it is still cheaper than the cordage from Europe that’s sent over for sale. In the colony, it’s therefore more affordable for colonial vessels and is found to be very durable. It has been used for running gear on ships for over three years and has received high praise. However, since the flax was sent home unprocessed, it has become almost unsellable and allowed some biased individuals to undermine its value. Because of the natural laziness of the New Zealanders, it's hard to get the flax from them in a better-prepared state until some are taught how to hackle it, which should be done immediately. Trying to clean the flax from its outer layer in any state other than fresh is a challenging task since it’s tightly connected to the fibers, which would inevitably result in a significant loss of weight.
Captain P. P. King, R. N. (who may be considered high authority,) when on the survey of[79] the Australian coast, used rope manufactured from this flax, and he commends it highly for running rigging. I was also informed by a mercantile gentleman, that from its unclean state (as well as from bending the fibres in packing, by which the edges decaying, the length of staple is diminished one-half) it has become quite unsaleable at home, and the opposition to it by the Riga flax importers tends still more to crush it, the badly cleaned state of the flax giving them a strong ground for its condemnation.
Captain P. P. King, R. N. (who is considered a leading authority) during his survey of[79] the Australian coast, used rope made from this flax and praised it highly for running rigging. I was also told by a business professional that due to its dirty condition (as well as the bending of the fibers during packing, which causes the edges to decay and reduces the staple length by half), it has become unsellable domestically, and the competition from the Riga flax importers further crushes its market because the poor quality of the flax gives them a solid reason for rejecting it.
On the 9th of September I left Sydney, with the intention of calling on my friends in the vicinity, and then proceeding into the interior of the colony. I passed an agreeable day with the amiable family of Major Lockyer, at his pretty residence at the Field of Mars, near Kissing[34][80] Point, and situated upon the banks of the Paramatta creek or river.[35]
On September 9th, I left Sydney, planning to visit my friends nearby before heading into the interior of the colony. I spent a lovely day with the friendly family of Major Lockyer at his charming home in the Field of Mars, close to Kissing[34][80] Point, right by the banks of the Parramatta creek or river.[35]
After an agreeable day’s sojourn I left for Paramatta, calling at the “Vineyard,” the residence of Hannibal M’Arthur, Esq. The habitation was delightfully situated on the banks of the Paramatta creek, or river. His gardens, annexed to the house, were extensive, and richly stored with many valuable shrubs and plants, and a brilliant display of hyacinths, anemones, jonquils, and other annuals, usually the ornament of our gardens, brought forcibly to our minds the recollection of our spring and summer seasons at home. Salt provision becoming an article of colonial export, Major Lockyer, Mr. H. M’Arthur, and many other gentlemen, settled in, and possessing large estates in the colony, are profitably employed in salting provision, both for the commissariat department of the colony, as well as for exportation. The Liverpool is preferred by some to[81] the salt of colonial manufacture, from its being of a stronger quality.
After a pleasant day, I headed to Paramatta, stopping by the "Vineyard," the home of Hannibal M’Arthur, Esq. The house is beautifully located along the banks of the Paramatta creek, or river. His gardens, connected to the house, are large and filled with many valuable shrubs and plants, showcasing a stunning array of hyacinths, anemones, jonquils, and other annual flowers that remind us of our spring and summer seasons back home. With salt provisions becoming an export from the colony, Major Lockyer, Mr. H. M’Arthur, and other gentlemen, who have settled in and own large estates, are successfully engaged in salting provisions for both the colony's commissariat and for export. Some prefer Liverpool salt over the locally produced salt because it is of a stronger quality.
The woods in the vicinity of the “Vineyard” abounded with numerous plants of the Orchideæ family, growing in a very barren soil. One of these, that has received the colonial appellation of “native hyacinth,” was just developing its beautiful cærulean blossoms, and another its flowers of a bright yellow, spotted internally with brown. These latter Orchideæ are named “boyams,”[36] having their bulbous roots filled with a viscid mucilage, which renders them an article of food among the aborigines: they are also sought after by the colonial children, who are fond of collecting and eating them; the little creatures would readily recognize their favourite “boyams” among the specimens I had collected. The Emu flowers, (Richea glauca,) were now abundant, and in full blossom; the colonial appellation has been given from the emus feeding upon them, that is, when emus were to be seen, for they have been driven by encroaching settlements far into the interior of the colony, and before long an emu will[82] be as great, if not a greater rarity, at Sydney than in England, for in the latter country I am happy to see they are endeavouring to, and I hope will, succeed in breeding them.
The woods near the “Vineyard” were full of various plants from the Orchideæ family, thriving in very poor soil. One of these, known colloquially as the “native hyacinth,” was just starting to bloom with its stunning blue flowers, while another was showcasing bright yellow flowers, which were brown-spotted on the inside. The latter Orchideæ are called “boyams,”[36] as their bulbous roots are filled with a sticky substance that makes them a food source for the indigenous people. Colonial children also seek them out, enjoying the fun of collecting and eating them; they could easily identify their favorite “boyams” among the samples I had gathered. The Emu flowers, (Richea glauca), were now plentiful and fully blooming; they are named because emus feed on them, at least when emus were still around, as they have been pushed far into the interior by expanding settlements. Soon, an emu will[82] be as much of a rarity in Sydney, if not more so, than in England, where I’m pleased to see they are making efforts to breed them, and I hope they will succeed.
The acacias (of the species floribunda and fillifannilius) were abundant, and covered at this season with a profusion of delicate golden flowers, imparting to the otherwise sterile aspect of the woods, a gay and animated appearance, as well as diffusing a grateful fragrance around, wafted by the gentle breezes to a still greater distance; their drooping branches, thickly studded with pending clusters of blossoms, decorated the sides of the roads, gardens, barren plains, and banks of rivers, being the only trees that at one period of the season bestowed some life to the usual uninteresting character of the scenery, at some parts aided by other flowering shrubs in full blossom, among which those of the Epacridæ family were most profuse.
The acacias (of the species floribunda and fillifannilius) were plentiful and, at this time of year, covered in a shower of delicate golden flowers. This added a cheerful and lively touch to the otherwise barren look of the woods and spread a wonderful fragrance that mingled with the gentle breezes, reaching even further away. Their drooping branches, filled with hanging clusters of blossoms, adorned the sides of the roads, gardens, empty plains, and riverbanks. They were the only trees that, at one point in the season, brought some vitality to the usually dull scenery, occasionally complemented by other flowering shrubs in full bloom, with the Epacridæ family being the most abundant among them.
Paramatta is a pretty village situated in a vale, and has some well-constructed public buildings—as the government-house, orphan-school, commissariat stores, female factory, &c. The situation of the village renders it exceedingly sultry during the summer months. The government-house is well-situated, and the building is of neat construction; the grounds[83] about it are well laid out, and it has become the favourite residence of the present governor; and when compared to the government-house at Sydney, well merits his choice.
Paramatta is a charming village located in a valley and features some well-built public buildings, such as the government house, orphan school, commissariat stores, female factory, etc. The village's location makes it quite hot during the summer months. The government house is well-located, and the building is nicely constructed; the grounds[83] surrounding it are well-designed, making it the preferred home of the current governor. Compared to the government house in Sydney, it truly deserves his choice.
Swallows were numerous at this season of the year, and were now busily engaged in constructing their nests under the eves of houses; the nests differ from those of the European species, in having a bottle-shaped neck.
Swallows were plentiful this time of year and were busy building their nests under the eaves of houses; their nests are different from those of the European species, as they have a bottle-shaped neck.
I had no opportunity of ascertaining whether the species were the same; but from casual observation I should think they were different. When these little birds are not in the vicinity of the dwellings of man, they construct their nests in the hollow trunks of trees, or under overhanging rocks, but always seem to prefer the society or protection of the human race: many are seen busily engaged in the construction of a nest, forming a “co-operative society;” when the nests are constructed in a situation about the dwelling, where, being built of mud, the appearance is unsightly, they are frequently knocked down; but this will not deter the industrious little creatures from re-building in the same situations, until, being repeatedly destroyed, they are obliged to seek for another place of refuge.
I didn't have the chance to determine if the species were the same, but from what I've casually observed, I think they are different. When these little birds aren’t near human homes, they build their nests in hollow tree trunks or under overhanging rocks, but they always seem to prefer the company or protection of humans. Many can be seen hard at work building a nest, forming a “co-operative society.” When the nests are built in places around homes where their mud construction looks unsightly, people often knock them down. However, this doesn’t stop these hardworking little creatures from rebuilding in the same spots until, after repeated destruction, they have to find another place to live.
CHAPTER IV.
Road from Paramatta to Liverpool—Dismal appearance of the uncleared land—Liverpool—Arrival at Raby Farm—The opossum—Prisoners and free men—Advantage of being sentenced to an iron gang—London pickpockets converted into shepherds—Suggestion with regard to the convicts—Leave Raby—Mr. Jones’s farm—Cultivation of the vine—Sameness of the forest scenery in Australia—Lose our way—Journey resumed—Gloomy appearance of the Australian vegetation—The tea tree—Colonial farms—Emu-ford—Blue Mountain range—The Pilgrim Inn—View from Lapstone Hill—Variety of flowering shrubs—A beautiful garden—Road over the Blue Mountains—Picturesque prospects—A mountain station—Bleak air of the place—Our supper.
Road from Paramatta to Liverpool—Dismal look of the uncleared land—Liverpool—Arriving at Raby Farm—The opossum—Prisoners and free people—Benefits of being sentenced to an iron gang—London pickpockets turned into shepherds—Suggestion regarding the convicts—Leaving Raby—Mr. Jones’s farm—Growing grapes—Uniformity of the forest scenery in Australia—Getting lost—Journey continues—Gloomy look of the Australian vegetation—The tea tree—Colonial farms—Emu-ford—Blue Mountain range—The Pilgrim Inn—View from Lapstone Hill—Variety of flowering shrubs—A lovely garden—Road over the Blue Mountains—Scenic views—A mountain station—Chilly air of the area—Our dinner.
On the 13th of September, I proceeded from Paramatta to Raby farm, near the cow pastures, (distant twenty-one miles from Paramatta,) at that time the residence of my friend Mr. Dutton. The road from Paramatta to Liverpool was in excellent condition, but the land on each side was for the most part uncleared; and, being[85] covered by dense forest trees, had a very sombre character. A few trees of the “green wattle,” (acacia decurrens,) profusely covered by golden blossoms, and occasionally a cleared verdant space, alone gave anything like animation to the scenery.
On September 13th, I made my way from Paramatta to Raby farm, near the cow pastures, which was about twenty-one miles away from Paramatta. At that time, it was the home of my friend Mr. Dutton. The road from Paramatta to Liverpool was in great shape, but the land on either side was mostly undeveloped; it was covered with thick forest trees, giving it a very gloomy feel. A few “green wattle” trees (acacia decurrens) heavily adorned with golden blossoms, along with the occasional cleared green area, were the only things that brought any life to the scenery.
The uncleared land has a dismal appearance; the huge blue gum, stringy bark, box, and iron bark trees, (all of the Eucalyptus genus,) rose from the thick bush which surrounded their bases, to a great elevation. On arriving at the small village of “Liverpool,” after a ride of nine miles, but little cultivation appeared; the forest-trees and brush still kept their place, except that a few “runs” were becoming cleared. “Liverpool” is only a scattered village, containing some neat houses; the colonial hospital is a very splendid building; and the church, which has a tower and clock, is a small but neat brick building.
The uncleared land looks pretty bleak; the massive blue gum, stringy bark, box, and iron bark trees, all from the Eucalyptus genus, towered over the thick bush that wrapped around their bases. After riding nine miles, we reached the small village of “Liverpool,” where cultivation was sparse; the forest trees and brush still dominated, though a few areas were starting to be cleared. “Liverpool” is just a small, scattered village with some tidy houses; the colonial hospital is quite an impressive building, and the church, which has a tower and clock, is a small but well-kept brick structure.
After passing this neat little village, several farms, with cleared and cultivated land about them, were seen, affording some relief to the dismal character of the Australian jungle. The “green wattle” trees, loaded with blossoms, were abundant, attracting numbers of beautiful insects. This species of acacia is valued as well for its beauty as for the utility of the bark in[86] tanning. It is of rapid growth, but seldom survives more than four or five years.
After passing this tidy little village, we saw several farms with clear and cultivated land around them, providing some relief from the gloomy nature of the Australian jungle. The “green wattle” trees, heavy with blossoms, were plentiful, attracting many beautiful insects. This type of acacia is appreciated for both its beauty and the usefulness of its bark in[86] tanning. It grows quickly but rarely lives more than four or five years.
I arrived at Raby at noon. This farm is the property of W. Riley, Esq.; it is a large and very valuable estate, principally used as a sheep-run; and there are several fine breeds of these very valuable animals. The estate also possesses several acres of arable land, and much more capable of cultivation for grain, &c. but not yet used for that purpose.
I got to Raby at noon. This farm belongs to W. Riley, Esq.; it's a large and very valuable estate, mainly used for raising sheep, and there are several impressive breeds of these valuable animals. The estate also has several acres of farmland, and even more that could be cultivated for grain, etc., but hasn't been used for that yet.
Here I had an opportunity of seeing the common opossum of this country, (phalangista vulpina,) one a young female, and the other an old male specimen,[37] (the “young feller” and “old[87] feller” of the blacks.) When the aborigines observe marks of the animal’s claws upon the bark of a tree, they ascend and search in the hollows of the trunk, drag the creature from its place of concealment, (where it remains during the day, feeding at night,) and killing it, convert its carcase into a meal to satisfy their appetites; indeed, even when the blacks have been well fed by the settlers, they seldom refrain from ascending after an opossum, if they observe recent tracks of one on the trunk of a tree, which their keen vision soon enables them to do. The stomachs of these animals were distended with clover, grass, and the young leaves of the eucalypti trees. The odour which emanated from their bodies during dissection was of that camphorated kind which might be expected to proceed[88] from their feeding on the foliage of those trees which are well known to possess that peculiar smell. The fur of the opossum is used at Sydney by the hat-manufacturers, and may be likewise valuable for other purposes; the natives spin it, in their rude manner, into small cord, from which they manufacture their bags called netbuls.[38]
Here I had the chance to see the common opossum of this country, (phalangista vulpina), one a young female and the other an old male specimen—the “young feller” and “old feller” as the locals call them. When the Indigenous people notice claw marks on a tree's bark, they climb up and search the hollows of the trunk, pulling the animal from its hiding place (where it stays during the day and feeds at night). They kill it and use its body for a meal to satisfy their hunger; in fact, even when the locals have had enough to eat from the settlers, they often go after an opossum if they see fresh tracks on a tree trunk, which their sharp eyesight helps them spot. The stomachs of these animals were full of clover, grass, and young eucalyptus leaves. The smell that came from their bodies during dissection was the kind of camphor scent you'd expect from eating the foliage of those trees, which are known for that unique odor. The fur of the opossum is used by hat manufacturers in Sydney and could also be valuable for other uses; the locals spin it, in their simple way, into small cords for making bags known as netbuls.
The opinion which appears generally to prevail, that prisoners of the crown are placed in the colony in a better situation than free men, there is too much reason for regarding as correct. They are well-fed and clothed, take good care to be never overworked, and have an hospital, with the best attendance, when sick. An assigned servant or convict may be correctly defined as an individual who is well fed and clothed—insolent and indolent—and takes care that the little work he has to perform is badly done. When sick,[89] which often proceeds from lying idle too long in the sun, he walks to the hospital; and, from the exertion, together with the thoughts of “bleeding, blistering, and physic,” he soon recovers, and returns to his master, to again undergo the fatigue of doing little or nothing. One of these characters applied for his ticket of leave, but soon returned, wishing again to be employed by his former master, if only for his food; at the same time observing, that he was better off before, in bondage, than he was now, partially free—so his fellow servants persuaded him to send the ticket back, and say, “it was all a mistake.”
The general opinion seems to be that prisoners of the crown are in a better position than free people in the colony, and there's a lot of reason to see this as true. They are well-fed and clothed, ensure they're never overworked, and have access to a hospital with excellent care when they're sick. An assigned servant or convict can be described as someone who is well-fed and clothed—rude and lazy—and makes sure that the little work they do is done poorly. When sick,[89] which often happens from lounging around too long in the sun, they walk to the hospital. From the effort, along with thoughts of “bleeding, blistering, and medicine,” they quickly recover and go back to their master to endure the strain of doing little or nothing. One of these people applied for a ticket of leave but soon returned, wanting to be employed by their former master again, even just for food; they noted that they were better off before, in bondage, than they were now, partially free—so their fellow servants convinced them to return the ticket and say, “it was all a mistake.”
The following anecdote may serve to illustrate the misery an iron gang occasions to spirit drinkers. A convict was once weighed by his comrades, and the weight at that time marked with chalk upon the barn door. A short time after this took place, he was sentenced for an offence to an iron gang for six weeks. After the term of his punishment had expired, and he returned to his master, he was observed to be in a stouter and more robust condition than before; his comrades again weighed him, to see what he had gained in flesh, if not in any moral benefit, by his punishment; when it was ascertained he had gained twenty pounds. As this man had,[90] when on the farm, been continually toping, and as, when with the iron gang, he had no opportunity of continuing his potations, that circumstance may have occasioned his increased good health and condition. This may be a hint, therefore, to send all the sick whose illness may arise principally from habitual drunkenness, instead of an hospital, to an iron gang for a short period.
The following story may illustrate the misery that an iron gang brings to drinkers. A convict was once weighed by his fellow inmates, and his weight was marked with chalk on the barn door. Shortly after that, he was sentenced to an iron gang for six weeks for an offense. When his punishment was over and he returned to his master, he was noticed to be in better shape and more robust than before. His comrades weighed him again to see how much weight he had gained, if not any moral benefit, from his punishment; it turned out he had gained twenty pounds. Since this man had been drinking heavily on the farm and had no opportunity to drink while with the iron gang, that might have contributed to his improved health and condition. So, this might be a suggestion to send anyone whose illness mainly comes from chronic drunkenness to an iron gang for a short period instead of a hospital.
The London pickpockets are considered to make the best shepherds in the colony, as it suits their naturally idle habits; the industrious labourer cannot endure the very wearisome and lazy employment of looking after sheep; the petty larcener soon gets attached to his woolly charges, and the sheep, no doubt, by a natural instinct, to him; and thus the animals are tended with some degree of care; but the regular workman, detesting the occupation, (unless incapacitated from a more active employment, by age or accident,) seldom takes any interest in the valuable property entrusted to his care; the former are, therefore, to be preferred. The shepherds, when tending their flocks in the pasturage, wile away their leisure time by manufacturing coarse but durable straw hats.
The London pickpockets are seen as the best shepherds in the colony because their naturally lazy habits suit the job. The hard-working laborer can’t stand the exhausting and slow task of looking after sheep; on the other hand, the petty thief quickly becomes fond of his woolly charges, and the sheep, by instinct, feel a connection to him. As a result, the animals are cared for with a certain level of attention. In contrast, the regular worker, who dislikes the job (unless they are unable to do something more active due to age or injury), rarely takes an interest in the valuable property they’re supposed to look after. So, the former are preferred. The shepherds, while watching over their flocks in the fields, spend their free time making sturdy but rough straw hats.
There is, no doubt, much truth in the remark[91] I have heard in the colony, that some of the lower orders contrive to get government servants assigned to them, ostensibly for the purpose of cultivating the soil, but in reality to assist in plundering. This may also be inferred from the very limited means they can otherwise have for procuring a livelihood. As a veil to such practices, and to lull any suspicion that might be created, they dig, and plant a few potatoes and other vegetables, in a small spot of ground, laid out near their bark residence, as a garden; and the crown prisoners are procured ostensibly to assist in cultivating this “bit of earth;” and thus the vegetable garden affords a cloak to many crimes.
There’s definitely some truth to the statement[91] I've heard around the colony, that some of the lower classes manage to get government workers assigned to them, supposedly for farming, but really to help them steal. You can also tell this from the very limited options they have for making a living. To hide these activities and avoid raising suspicion, they dig and plant a few potatoes and other vegetables in a small area near their makeshift homes, calling it a garden; and the convicts are brought in supposedly to help cultivate this "patch of land;" so the vegetable garden ends up covering for a lot of wrongdoing.
Convicts ought (if by transportation any punishment is intended) to be sent, according to the nature of their crimes, to the whole of our colonies, whether in the East and West Indies, coast of Africa, &c. &c. solely for the purpose of being employed upon the public works, and free emigration to be encouraged to Australia, Cape, &c. on a very extended scale. The influence of the emancipist class of the New South Wales population is great, and they are also possessed of great wealth. As wealth is one degree of power, they must be regarded both as an influential and powerful body. There is also that[92] system adopted, which is much to be regretted. I allude to no distinction being made between those banished for trivial offences, and those who have committed deeper crimes. Many atrocious characters are assigned to persons of the highest respectability, well clothed and fed; and from them often have I witnessed most unbounded insolence: so that a stranger would imagine the master to be under obligations to the servant, and would be astonished when told that the servant was a convicted felon.
Convicts should be sent, if transportation is meant as punishment, to all of our colonies based on the nature of their crimes, whether in the East and West Indies, the coast of Africa, etc., solely for the purpose of working on public projects. We should also encourage free migration to Australia, the Cape, etc., on a large scale. The influence of the emancipated class in New South Wales is significant, and they also have considerable wealth. Since wealth equates to power, they should be seen as both an influential and powerful group. There is also that[92] system in place, which is unfortunate. I refer to the lack of distinction made between those who were banished for minor offenses and those who committed serious crimes. Many dreadful individuals are associated with highly respectable people, well-dressed and well-fed; and I have often seen them display incredible arrogance: a stranger might think the master owes the servant a debt of gratitude and be shocked to learn that the servant is a convicted felon.
On the 17th of September, I left Raby, in company with Mr. Henry O’Brien, for the Yas country, intending to visit several parts of the Bathurst district by the way. Our mode of travelling was on horseback. We passed “Fleurs,” (formerly Baily Park,) the property of R. Jones, Esq.: it is a neat farm, with extensive sheep runs; and several suitable spots of land were in progress of being laid out as vineyards. The vine having now become an object of cultivation over most parts of the colony, and the prolific bearing of fruit[39] in a very short[93] period of time after the cuttings have been planted evidently proves that the Australian soil is extremely suitable for its cultivation.
On September 17th, I left Raby with Mr. Henry O’Brien, heading to the Yas country and planning to explore several areas of the Bathurst district along the way. We traveled on horseback. We passed “Fleurs” (formerly Baily Park), owned by R. Jones, Esq.: it’s a tidy farm with large sheep runs, and several good spots were being developed into vineyards. Since vineyards have become a popular crop throughout most of the colony, the quick production of fruit after planting cuttings clearly shows that the Australian soil is ideal for growing grapes.[93]
From the sameness of the forest scenery in this colony it is difficult even for one endowed with a large development of locality in his cranium to regain the right path, on making a deviation, in however slight a degree, from it. As we, for a short time, were in this predicament, it afforded a practical instance of what I had only heard before, as sometimes occurring: we, consequently, did not arrive at “Erskine Park” the residence of Mr. Campbell, until two P.M., who received us in the kindest manner: this was an agreeable farm, and the view from the mount near the house was extensive and beautiful.
From the uniformity of the forest scenery in this area, it's hard for even someone with a great sense of direction to find the right path after straying even a little bit. While we were stuck in this situation for a bit, it provided a real example of something I'd only heard about before: we finally reached "Erskine Park," the home of Mr. Campbell, around 2 PM, and he welcomed us very warmly. This was a lovely farm, and the view from the hill near the house was vast and beautiful.
After a short rest and refreshment, we resumed our journey, passed a neat farm, belonging to the Reverend Mr. Marsden, and, coming upon the western road, crossed it, and, taking a bush path for a distance of probably four or five miles, passed the cottage and extensive farm belonging to Captain P. P. King, R. N., and, two or three miles further, arrived at a gate, which had near it a board requesting persons passing to “shut the gate, and oblige John Harris.” This, after having attained with our horses the other side of the gate, we acceded to, and, passing “Shute[94] Park,” the property of Dr. Harris, we arrived, late in the evening, at Clydesdale, the farm of Mr. Tompson, where we remained for the night, heartily tired, after a sultry ride across the country of thirty-five miles.
After a quick break and something to eat, we continued on our journey, passing a tidy farm owned by Reverend Mr. Marsden. We reached the western road, crossed it, and took a bush path for about four or five miles, going by the cottage and large farm owned by Captain P. P. King, R. N. A couple of miles later, we came to a gate that had a sign asking people passing by to “shut the gate, and oblige John Harris.” After getting our horses to the other side of the gate, we agreed to this request. We then passed “Shute[94] Park,” the property of Dr. Harris, and arrived, late in the evening, at Clydesdale, the farm of Mr. Tompson, where we spent the night, really tired after a hot thirty-five-mile ride across the countryside.
The great deficiency of animation in the Australian vegetation, except when in flower, casts a gloom over, rather than exhilarates the mind of the traveller, producing none of those mental delights which the liveliness of the vegetable kingdom, combined with picturesque scenery, excites in other countries. As the traveller journeys through the Australian forests, there is a sameness, which creates a degree of melancholy feeling, excepting when the Angophora lanceolata, or apple-tree[40] of the colonists is seen, when its more verdant foliage and elegant growth imparts some degree of animation and beauty, particularly when contrasted with the other forest trees about it. When we came upon a cultivated spot, where the young wheat was springing up, together with the lucerne fields, it formed a smiling feature in the landscape, and a most agreeable relief from the sameness of the bush of New South Wales.
The major lack of vibrancy in Australian vegetation, except when it's in bloom, creates a gloomy atmosphere rather than uplifting the traveler's spirits, failing to stimulate the mental joys that the liveliness of plant life, combined with beautiful scenery, offers in other countries. As travelers move through the Australian forests, there's a monotony that brings about a sense of melancholy, aside from the sight of the Angophora lanceolata, or what colonists call the apple-tree, which adds a bit of life and beauty with its lush foliage and graceful growth, especially when compared to the surrounding trees. When we stumbled upon a cultivated area where young wheat was sprouting alongside lucerne fields, it brought a cheerful touch to the landscape and a much-appreciated break from the monotony of the bush in New South Wales.
The Melaleuca, or tea-tree, was very abundant in some parts of the forests, attaining the elevation of thirty-five to forty feet, and a diameter of nearly two feet: the bark is nearly as smooth as velvet, and, like most of the Australian trees, is deciduous: the wood is stated to be very durable, and, the leaves being formerly used as a substitute for tea, it still retains the name of “Tea-tree” among the colonists. There is sometimes much difficulty experienced, when travelling through the wild Australian country, in finding the habitation to which the traveller may be proceeding; for, until he may be close upon it, or a patch of cultivation peeping through a small opening in the dense forest directs him to the farm, as the cultivated land is usually near the house, or, at all events, no great distance from it, he may wander very far from his destined resting place even after having been close to it without its being visible. The remainder of the estate is used as “runs” for sheep or cattle; but in this country (Cumberland) there are but few sheep-runs, as the proprietors of the estates have, for the most part, “runs” from seventy to two hundred miles inland, where the sheep have better pasturage, and there is more facility for washing the fleeces, during the shearing season. About Clydesdale farm, as well as other estates[96] in the vicinity of this part of the country called the “South Creek,” there are patches of a fine red clay soil, which has been found very productive when laid out as vineyards.
The Melaleuca, or tea tree, is very common in some areas of the forests, reaching heights of thirty-five to forty feet and a diameter of nearly two feet. The bark is almost as smooth as velvet, and like most Australian trees, it sheds its leaves. The wood is said to be very durable, and since the leaves were once used as a substitute for tea, it still goes by the name "Tea Tree" among the settlers. Sometimes, it's quite challenging to find your destination while traveling through the wild Australian landscape; until you get close, or spot a patch of cultivated land peeking through a small opening in the thick forest, you might not see the farm. Usually, the cultivated land is near the house, or at least not too far from it, but you might wander off quite a distance from where you meant to rest, even if you were close by without realizing it. The rest of the estate is used as grazing land for sheep or cattle, but in this area (Cumberland), there aren't many sheep runs since most estate owners have grazing land seventy to two hundred miles inland, where the sheep have better pasture and there’s easier access to wash the fleece during shearing season. Around Clydesdale farm and other estates in this region known as "South Creek," there are patches of excellent red clay soil, which has proven to be very productive when set up as vineyards.[96]
On the following morning we left Clydesdale, retraced our path, came upon the western road, and, continuing our journey, passed Penrith, and arrived at Emu Ford, close to which a very handsome and well-furnished inn has recently been erected. Having crossed the Ford (a part of the Nepean river) in a punt, we were on the Emu plains. The appearance of these fertile plains, situated at the base of the commencement of the Blue Mountain range, was very beautiful. The weather had been stormy and showery, but, at this time, the squall having passed away, the sun shone with brightness upon the green fields on and about the Nepean river; and the neat houses, scattered profusely about this charming spot, produced a very pleasing landscape.
On the next morning, we left Clydesdale, retraced our steps, reached the western road, and continued our journey, passing Penrith and arriving at Emu Ford, where a beautiful and well-equipped inn has recently been built. After crossing the Ford (a part of the Nepean River) in a small boat, we arrived at the Emu plains. The sight of these fertile plains, located at the foot of the beginning of the Blue Mountain range, was stunning. The weather had been stormy and rainy, but by now, the squall had cleared, and the sun shone brightly on the green fields around the Nepean River; the neatly arranged houses scattered throughout this lovely area created a very pleasing landscape.
At this part of our journey, we were joined by Mr. Edward Cox, of Mulgoa, who, travelling partly in the same direction as ourselves, had agreed to accompany us. We ascended “Lapstone Hill,” where the road commenced over the extensive Blue Mountain range, and soon after arrived, in a heavy rain squall, at the Pilgrim Inn, where we enjoyed, from the bleakness of[97] the weather, a blazing wood fire and an excellent dinner. The view from Lapstone Hill, on gaining its summit, was very splendid: a large extent of country appeared from this elevated site: the Nepean river was seen winding its course through lands rich for pasturage, as well as in the cultivation of grain. During the harvest season, the prospect must be much increased both in richness and beauty. The situation of Windsor was pointed out; but a haze being over the distant village, the houses were not distinguishable. Regent Ville, the beautiful residence and farm of Sir John Jamieson, was included in the view.
At this point in our journey, we were joined by Mr. Edward Cox from Mulgoa, who, traveling partly in the same direction as us, had agreed to come along. We climbed “Lapstone Hill,” where the road began to cross the vast Blue Mountain range, and shortly after, we arrived, amid a heavy rain squall, at the Pilgrim Inn. There, we enjoyed a cozy wood fire and an excellent dinner, which was a welcome relief from the harsh weather. The view from Lapstone Hill at the top was spectacular: a large area of countryside stretched out before us. The Nepean River could be seen winding through the rich pastures and cultivated fields. During the harvest season, the scenery must be even more vibrant and beautiful. The location of Windsor was pointed out; however, because of the haze over the distant village, the houses were hard to distinguish. Regent Ville, the lovely home and farm of Sir John Jamieson, was also visible in the landscape.
About this place there was a great variety of flowering shrubs, among which the Dianella cærulea, and a variety or species with white flowers, were abundant; but the season (particularly on this bleak range) was not yet sufficiently advanced for Flora to distribute all her beauties, without the bright sun to enliven them. The rapidly advancing summer will, however, soon strew the earth with a thicker carpeting of floral beauties, which the earlier spring about Sydney had already brought forth in such an infinite profusion. It is difficult to eradicate from our minds early impressions; thus we find those who have been accustomed to regard plants from foreign climes, nursed in the conservatories at[98] home, with a certain degree of veneration, even here still retain their former feelings towards them; until by a residence in a country where they constantly meet the eye, and from their profusion, become annoying weeds, early impressions pass away, and they are regarded as valueless because common. Thus we may say it is with mankind, both in a civilized and savage state of society; most things are estimated for their rarity.
About this place, there were many different kinds of flowering shrubs, including the Dianella cærulea and another species with white flowers, which were plentiful; however, the season (especially on this harsh range) wasn't quite far enough along for nature to show all her beauty, without the bright sun to make them shine. The quickly approaching summer will soon cover the ground with a thicker layer of floral beauty, which the earlier spring around Sydney had already revealed in such an incredible abundance. It's hard to shake off our early impressions; we see that those who have been used to viewing plants from foreign lands, raised in home conservatories, still hold a certain admiration for them, even here. But over time, with living in a place where they are constantly in view and become annoyingly common, those early feelings fade, and they start to be seen as worthless because they are so common. The same can be said about people, whether in a civilized society or a primitive one; most things are valued based on their rarity.
I recollect, when at the Cape, riding to Constantia; on the road, flowers gay and magnificent in colour, were passed, and I thought there would be no termination either to their number or variety. On arriving at that little paradise of nectar, an invitation was given me to view the garden. I accepted it with pleasure, thinking that many rare specimens of the Cape Flora would now be laid before me; but such an expectation, was not, however, to be realized. The beautiful and fragrant rose, the simple pink, or the brilliantly coloured carnation, the sweet scented scabious, the mignonette, and the Digitalis purpurea, or Foxglove, (which latter having flowered for the first time in that country was held in very high estimation,) as well as many of the hybrid productions so abundant in Europe, were alone prized here; the others, so much[99] admired by the stranger, were regarded only as weeds. All this, however, thought I, on reflection, is perfectly natural; here, our plants are rare, and theirs, worthless to them, are new to us, and, consequently, nursed with care in the green-houses at home. But a lady just arrived from England at the Cape, could hardly be persuaded that she might gather the flowers seen growing in such profusion and beauty around, and which she was accustomed to regard as exotics at home.
I remember when I was at the Cape, riding to Constantia; on the way, I passed by flowers that were bright and beautiful in color, and I thought there would be no end to their number or variety. When I arrived at that little paradise of nectar, I was invited to see the garden. I gladly accepted, thinking that many rare examples of Cape Flora would be showcased for me; but that expectation didn’t come true. The beautiful and fragrant rose, the simple pink, the brightly colored carnation, the sweet-scented scabious, the mignonette, and the Digitalis purpurea, or Foxglove, (which had just bloomed for the first time in that country and was held in very high regard) along with many of the hybrid varieties that are so common in Europe, were the only ones appreciated here; the others, which were admired by visitors, were seen only as weeds. However, upon reflection, I thought this is perfectly natural; here, our plants are rare, and theirs, which are worthless to them, are new to us and thus cared for in the greenhouses at home. But a lady who had just arrived from England at the Cape could hardly be convinced that she could pick the flowers growing so abundantly and beautifully around her, which she was used to thinking of as exotic back home.
The inns in the Australian colony are neat and elegant, well supplied, and charges very moderate. We left the “Pilgrim Inn” about three o’clock, P.M., and proceeded on our journey through an excellent road over the Blue Mountains, which is formed upon a dividing ridge of this mountainous range; on each side thick forests, deep romantic glens, occasionally enlivened by beautiful flowering shrubs, formed the landscape scenery around us. After passing a great number of “forest oaks,” (Casuarina torulosa,) whose dark green filiform foliage had a peculiar appearance, and “turpentine trees,”[41] (Tristania albicans,) which lined the sides of the road, and extended into the interior of the[100] forest, intermingled with other trees and shrubs, we reached “Springwood,” at which place a corporal’s guard was stationed, principally for the purpose of escorting prisoners attached to the iron gangs from one station to another.
The inns in the Australian colony are tidy and stylish, well-stocked, and reasonably priced. We left the “Pilgrim Inn” around three o’clock, PM, and continued our journey along a fantastic road over the Blue Mountains, which runs along a ridge of this mountainous area; thick forests and deep romantic valleys, occasionally brightened by beautiful flowering shrubs, surrounded us. After passing many “forest oaks” (Casuarina torulosa), whose dark green, thread-like foliage looked unique, and “turpentine trees” ([41] Tristania albicans), which lined the road and reached deeper into the[100] forest, mixed with other trees and shrubs, we arrived at “Springwood,” where a corporal’s guard was stationed mainly to escort prisoners working in the iron gangs from one location to another.
As we made the gradual ascent of this mountainous but excellent road, the scenery began to develope itself, until the prospect before us had assumed a romantic and in a high degree picturesque appearance: there was a distant view of the Appin, Windsor, and other districts, like a sea of country in the distance; near us were wild deep-wooded glens, to the bottom of which the eye could not reach. On another side were mountains heaped on mountains of various forms, and for the most part densely wooded, all combining to form a landscape of a grand and impressive character. There was, however, a deficiency of water in the view, an element which adds so much to the natural beauties of all landscape scenery; by its presence the picturesque as well as fertile appearance of the country would have been much increased. The atmosphere upon this elevated range was colder and bleaker than we had experienced on the low land; it seemed as if we had been removed to another climate, and the wind, which blew fresh, was so piercingly cold, as the sunset approached, as to render our warm cloaks of much service.
As we gradually climbed this mountainous but well-maintained road, the scenery started to unfold, revealing a romantic and highly picturesque view: we could see the Appin, Windsor, and other areas in the distance, like a sea of countryside. Nearby, there were wild, deep-wooded valleys that our eyes couldn't reach the bottom of. On the other side were layers of mountains in various shapes, mostly densely forested, all coming together to create a grand and impressive landscape. However, the view was lacking in water, which is an element that greatly enhances the natural beauty of any landscape; if it had been present, the area would have looked even more picturesque and fertile. The atmosphere at this high elevation was colder and windier than what we had felt in the lowlands; it felt like we had entered another climate, and the fresh breeze became so biting and cold as sunset approached that our warm cloaks were a big help.
As we advanced on our journey, by the continued gradual ascent, the cold increased; even the shrubs had a stunted and miserable appearance, which gave a desolate aspect to the country about us, indicating a great difference of climate in this spot in comparison with the lower part of the range from whence we had departed only a few hours before. The sunset brought a still keener air, and with joy we hailed the bridge and habitations of a station called the “Weather-boarded Hut,” our place of rest for the night, and a termination to our journey of thirty-six miles this day. On hearing the tramping of our horses, the door of a neat little inn (which now supplied the place of a rude bark hut) was opened for the travellers, and a blazing fire cheered us by its appearance in this desolate-looking spot.
As we continued our journey, the steady climb made the cold more intense; even the shrubs looked stunted and miserable, giving the landscape around us a bleak feel, showing a significant climate difference compared to the lower area we had left just a few hours ago. The sunset brought an even sharper chill, and we happily greeted the bridge and homes of a place called the “Weather-boarded Hut,” our stop for the night and the end of our thirty-six-mile journey for the day. When we heard the sound of our horses' hooves, the door of a tidy little inn (which had replaced a rough bark hut) opened for the travelers, and a blazing fire welcomed us in this otherwise desolate spot.
It was not long before we were happy to find ourselves seated in the warm room, and busy preparations making for our supper, for which we were prepared, as we found that “the keen air is a marvellous provoker of appetites;” and as, when seated snugly within this dwelling, we heard the cold wintry blast, which in this elevated region is felt through the greater part of the year, passing in gusts, we congratulated ourselves on the contrast we experienced in our[102] present comfortable situation. The “Weather-boarded hut” is a military station for a serjeant’s guard, placed to escort prisoners of road and iron gangs, as they are removed from one station to another. It was formerly very unhealthy for the troops, occasioned by the bad construction of their habitations, and the bleakness of situation; but since more commodious dwellings have been erected, fully capable of resisting the severity of the weather, it has become more healthy.
It didn't take long for us to be glad to find ourselves sitting in the warm room, busy getting ready for our dinner. We were definitely ready for it, as we discovered that "the crisp air really stirs up appetites." While comfortably seated in this place, we could hear the cold winter wind howling, which is felt most of the year in this high area. We felt grateful for the contrast to our[102] cozy situation. The "Weather-boarded hut" serves as a military post for a sergeant's guard, tasked with escorting prisoners from road and iron work gangs as they are moved from one place to another. It used to be quite unhealthy for the troops due to the poor construction of their quarters and the harshness of the location. However, since more suitable housing has been built that can withstand the extreme weather, it has become healthier.
We enjoyed a plentiful supper of tea, toast, bacon, eggs, &c., but there was no milk; the excellent reason given for its absence being the death of the cow a few days previous, not that I was surprised at the animal’s death, but only how any living creature could subsist even for a few days in such a place. When we asked our attendant why he did not get another cow, he replied, “Because it would not survive long!” No wonder, thought I; for where in this desolate place could sufficient provender be found for the unfortunate beast to sustain life?
We had a big dinner of tea, toast, bacon, eggs, etc., but there was no milk. The reason given for its absence was that the cow had died a few days earlier. I wasn't surprised by the cow’s death, just amazed that any living creature could survive even a few days in such a place. When we asked our attendant why he didn't get another cow, he replied, “Because it wouldn’t last long!” No wonder, I thought; where in this barren place could there be enough food for the poor animal to stay alive?
After seeing our horses fed, and placed in a warm and comfortable stable, with a good bed for the night, (for in the stables at the colonial inns, horses require as much to be looked after when travelling as at home, for ostlers are in this country much of the same species, or perhaps[103] a worse genus, having similar peculating habits,) we retired to our beds, and slept soundly, in spite of the strong gusts of wind which swept furiously by our little dwelling.
After making sure our horses were fed and settled into a warm and comfy stable with a nice bed for the night (since the stables at colonial inns take just as much care as they would at home—ostlers in this country tend to be of a similar sort, or maybe even worse, having similar questionable habits), we went to bed and slept well, despite the strong winds howling around our little home.
CHAPTER V.
Our journey resumed—The new road—Road-side flowers—Blackheath—The pass through Mount Vittoria—Talent and perseverance of Major Mitchell, the surveyor-general—Appearance of an iron gang—Leave the Blue Mountain range—Arrive at Collet’s Inn—Resume our journey towards Dabee—New line of road—Aspect of the country—Arrival at Mr. Walker’s farm—Residence of Mr. Dalhunty—Huge mounds of clay—Blackman’s Crown—Gum-trees—Bush travelling—Encamp for the night—Caution to travellers—Cherry-tree Hill—A deserted station—Encampment of Aborigines—The musk duck—Produce of Mr. Cox’s dairy-farm—Mount Brace—Infanticide—Custom of native women, relative to their dead offspring—Native practice of midwifery—Animal called the Cola—Belief in the doctrine of metempsychosis.
Our journey continued—The new road—Wildflowers by the roadside—Blackheath—The pass through Mount Vittoria—The skill and determination of Major Mitchell, the surveyor-general—The sight of a labor crew—Leaving the Blue Mountain range—Arriving at Collet’s Inn—Continuing our journey towards Dabee—New road layout—Landscape overview—Reaching Mr. Walker’s farm—Home of Mr. Dalhunty—Large clay mounds—Blackman’s Crown—Eucalyptus trees—Traveling through the bush—Setting up camp for the night—Advice for travelers—Cherry-tree Hill—An abandoned station—Aboriginal encampment—The musk duck—Products from Mr. Cox’s dairy farm—Mount Brace—Infanticide—Traditional practices of native women regarding their deceased children—Native midwifery practices—An animal called the Cola—Belief in reincarnation.
On the following morning, about seven A.M., after a good night’s repose and an excellent breakfast, we resumed our journey; the air was keen, but not so piercing as on the previous[105] evening, and the sun shone brilliantly. The road we had passed, and the one we were still upon, are excellent; the new road is a great improvement. From what I had an opportunity of occasionally seeing of the old one it must have been wretched, and the great surprise was how vehicles could have passed it in safety; some parts, however, of a better character, were incorporated with the new road.
On the next morning, around seven AM, after a good night's sleep and a great breakfast, we continued our journey; the air was crisp, but not as biting as it had been the night before[105], and the sun was shining brightly. The road we had traveled and the one we were on now were both great; the new road was a significant improvement. From what I could occasionally see of the old one, it must have been terrible, and it was surprising how vehicles could safely navigate it; however, some better sections were included in the new road.
As we proceeded flowers again began to deck the road-sides, and the “Warratah or Tulip-tree” (Telopea speciocissima) now made its appearance in great abundance: the buds with which it was covered were not yet, however, sufficiently expanded to display the splendid crimson hue of the blossoms, which make it, perhaps, one of the most elegant and splendid flowering shrubs indigenous to the colony. The Acacia taxifolia was abundantly in flower, and diffused a delightful fragrance. The scenery, as we proceeded, increased rather than diminished in its grand and romantic character. At one place we passed a large quantity of a species of Eucalyptus, called the “mountain ash” by the colonists, and saw-pits had been erected near the spot for the purpose of cutting it into planks, it being much valued for shafts of gigs, as well as for other purposes, in which the wood[106] can be better applied than any other kinds of the colonial timber.
As we continued, flowers began to line the roadsides again, and the “Warratah or Tulip-tree” (Telopea speciocissima) appeared in great abundance. The buds covering it weren't fully opened yet to show the stunning crimson color of the blossoms, which make it one of the most beautiful flowering shrubs native to the area. The Acacia taxifolia was blooming profusely, filling the air with a lovely fragrance. The scenery, as we moved along, became even more grand and romantic. At one point, we passed a large number of a type of Eucalyptus, known as “mountain ash” among the colonists, and saw-pits had been set up nearby to cut it into planks. It's highly valued for making shafts for gigs and other purposes, as its wood is better suited than any other kind of local timber.
We passed an inn, erected on a spot not unappropriately called “Blackheath,” and it was truly a dismal, bleak-looking place. After riding a distance of fourteen or fifteen miles, we turned off to the new road, nearly completed, but not yet thrown open to the public, passing through Mount Vittoria, so as to avoid the steep and stupendous pass of “Mount York.”[42] It would be well worth the trouble of the traveller to view both passes, by which he will be enabled to judge of the value that must be attached to an undertaking that ought to confer immortality on its projector and engineer, Major Mitchell, the surveyor-general of the colony. He will then appreciate the immense labour that must have attended the formation of a road through “Mount Vittoria,” which was always considered impracticable until the present highly-talented surveyor-general, surmounting all the difficulties, against both public and private opposition, showed what talent and perseverance can attain, and how superior minds can overcome the prejudices of ignorant or self-interested individuals. He has thus given to the colony a road, which,[107] considering its peculiar situation, is not at present, nor perhaps ever will be, equalled.
We passed an inn located in a place fittingly named "Blackheath," and it was really a gloomy, dreary-looking spot. After traveling about fourteen or fifteen miles, we took a detour onto the new road, which was almost finished but not yet open to the public, going through Mount Vittoria to avoid the steep and impressive pass of "Mount York." It would be worthwhile for travelers to see both passes, as they would be able to appreciate the significance of a project that should grant lasting recognition to its creator and engineer, Major Mitchell, the surveyor-general of the colony. They would then understand the tremendous effort that went into creating a road through "Mount Vittoria," which was long deemed impossible until the current highly skilled surveyor-general, overcoming all the challenges and opposition from both the public and private sectors, demonstrated what talent and determination can achieve and how exceptional individuals can rise above the biases of those who are ignorant or self-serving. He has thus provided the colony with a road that, given its unique circumstances, is unmatched now and perhaps will never be.
Although not entirely completed, we were enabled to pass over it on horseback; (by leading our horses over one small unfinished portion of it;) the descent is gradual, and the solid rock of “Mount Vittoria” had been cut through in the formation of the road, a most laborious undertaking, as a great portion of it consisted of a kind of freestone. A large iron gang was still employed upon it, in order, as soon as possible, to throw it open to the public, as forming a portion of the splendid new line of road over the Blue Mountain range to Bathurst.
Although it wasn't completely finished, we were able to ride over it on horseback (by leading our horses across one small unfinished section). The slope is gradual, and solid rock from "Mount Vittoria" was cut through to create the road, which was a very demanding effort, as much of it was made of a type of freestone. A large team of workers was still on-site, aiming to complete it as soon as possible to open it to the public, as it is part of the impressive new road connecting the Blue Mountain range to Bathurst.
The iron gang employed upon this pass was just leaving for dinner when we passed, so we availed ourselves of the opportunity to visit the barracks, to see them mustered, and the messes served out. The clothes of these men were in bad condition, from the quarry work, in which most of them were employed; but as far as their personal state was concerned, they appeared plump and thriving. The barrack was a temporary stockade, in which the bark huts were situated, and around these a barricade was erected, outside which sentinels were stationed. It was miserable to see these men in so degraded a state, who, banished for crimes from their[108] native land, subject themselves to a second punishment, when, by good conduct, they could become, not only useful members of society, but attain independent and comfortable circumstances for life.
The iron crew working on this pass was just heading out for dinner when we walked by, so we took the chance to check out the barracks, see them gathered, and watch the meals being served. The clothes of these men were in poor condition from the quarry work most of them did; however, they looked healthy and well-fed. The barrack was a temporary stockade, with the bark huts located inside, surrounded by a barricade, beyond which sentinels were posted. It was disheartening to see these men in such a degraded state, who, exiled for crimes from their[108] home country, subjected themselves to a second punishment when, through good behavior, they could become not only valuable members of society but also achieve independent and comfortable lives.
Having left the Blue Mountain range by this splendid pass, the features of the country were not found to be materially changed, excepting the occasional appearance of granitic masses, and several trees and plants not seen on the Sydney side of the range. One species of Banksia was very abundant, its foliage resembling that of the rosemary, (B. rosmarinifolia?) and the subgenus of the Eucalyptus with white and opposite leaves, which contain a large quantity of camphorated oil, was now abundantly seen, as well as Lobelia, Gnapthalium, and other flowering plants. At noon we arrived at Collet’s inn, were we refreshed ourselves and horses, after a long ride of twenty-two miles from the “Weather-boarded Hut.”
After leaving the Blue Mountain range through this beautiful pass, the landscape didn’t change much, except for the occasional appearance of granite outcrops and several trees and plants not found on the Sydney side of the range. One type of Banksia was plentiful, with leaves that looked like those of rosemary (B. rosmarinifolia?), and the subgenus of Eucalyptus with white, opposite leaves, which contained a lot of camphorated oil, was also seen in abundance, along with Lobelia, Gnapthalium, and other flowering plants. At noon, we reached Collet’s inn, where we took a break to refresh ourselves and our horses after a long ride of twenty-two miles from the “Weather-boarded Hut.”
About two P.M. we proceeded on our journey to visit “Dabee,” an estate, the property of our travelling companion, Mr. Edward Cox. The road we had to pass was not of the most agreeable description “either for man or horse,” having a descent into deep vallies, and a corresponding ascent up steep acclivities; but, fortunately[109] for travellers, Major Mitchell is again at work with his gangs, and a road, in spite of all obstacles, is rapidly progressing; avoiding all the rough places we had now to pass, and also affording a more direct as well as pleasing route. To myself and fellow-traveller, the observation of, “We shall soon pass over some of Major Mitchell’s line of road,” was a certainty, as far as it might be completed, that it would be good, and the result always verified the correctness of the opinion we formed on this subject.
About two P.M., we continued our journey to visit “Dabee,” an estate owned by our traveling companion, Mr. Edward Cox. The road we had to take was not very pleasant “either for man or horse,” featuring steep descents into deep valleys and challenging climbs up steep hills. Fortunately[109] for travelers, Major Mitchell is once again working with his teams, and a road is quickly being developed despite all the obstacles; it avoids all the rough spots we had to deal with and also provides a more direct and enjoyable route. For me and my fellow traveler, the thought of, “We’ll soon be on some of Major Mitchell’s road,” was a certainty; as far as it might be completed, it would be good, and the outcome always confirmed our belief on this matter.
The country around us abounded in granitic masses, but its features were not interesting, having the usual dismal character of the Australian bush. We passed several rivulets, (or creeks, as they are called by the colonists,) and the little streams, similar to those seen meandering through our fields at home, are in this country dignified with other larger streams by the appellation of rivers. Of the feathered creation, loris, parrots, and white cockatoos, as also the small green parrots with red heads (Psittacus pusillus, Lath?) were seen in great numbers, and flew away screaming on our approach. At six P.M. we arrived at “Wallerowang,” the farm of James Walker, Esq., (after a journey of sixteen miles,) and were kindly received by the persons in charge during the absence[110] of Mr. Brown, the overseer, and took up our abode in the little cottage for the night. This estate appears, as far as I could judge from a casual view, to have few attractions from its locality, or value from capability of cultivation. The sheep are kept at a station called “Looe,” which is nearly fifty miles further distant.
The area around us was full of granite formations, but it wasn’t very interesting, having the usual gloomy character of the Australian bush. We passed several small streams, called creeks by the locals, and these tiny rivers, which are similar to those that wind through our fields back home, are referred to as rivers in this country. Among the birds, we saw plenty of lorikeets, parrots, and white cockatoos, as well as small green parrots with red heads (Psittacus pusillus, Lath?), which took off screaming as we approached. At six PM, we reached “Wallerowang,” the farm of James Walker, Esq., after a sixteen-mile journey, and we were warmly welcomed by the people in charge while Mr. Brown, the overseer, was away. We settled in the small cottage for the night. From what I could tell with a quick look, this estate didn’t seem to have much to offer in terms of location or agricultural potential. The sheep are kept at a station called “Looe,” which is almost fifty miles away.
After an early breakfast on the next morning (September 20th) we resumed our journey. The atmosphere was cold, and the season was considered by the settlers more backward than usual this year. After riding six or seven miles we reached “Cullen Bullen,” the farm and residence of Robert Dalhunty, Esq. The situation is picturesque, but the land was stated not to be of an excellent description. The cottage (to which a neat garden was attached) displayed both in its exterior, as well as its interior adornments, a degree of taste and neatness, which was sufficient to acquaint the visitor that the more gentle and amiable sex had secluded themselves in this place. After an agreeable but short stay, we continued our journey through a very uninteresting country. During the journey I observed the “black wattle-tree” (Acacia melanoxylon) growing abundantly, sometimes on the declivities of the hills, and also in swampy situations. Several species of Acacias[111] were in flower, some merely small shrubs, while others had attained the size of large trees; but the whole being in full bloom, bestowed a pleasing appearance upon the otherwise dull scenery. These were as yet the only trees which we had seen in full blossom, and indeed every twig was so thickly studded with fragrant flowers of golden hue, as almost to conceal the foliage, proving sources of attraction to a multitude of insects which revelled in the sweets they contained.
After an early breakfast the next morning (September 20th), we continued our journey. The air was chilly, and the season felt behind compared to previous years. After traveling six or seven miles, we arrived at “Cullen Bullen,” the farm and home of Robert Dalhunty, Esq. The location was charming, but the land was said to be mediocre. The cottage, which had a tidy garden, showed a level of taste and neatness in both its outside and inside decor, indicating that the more refined and gentle sex had made this place their own. After a pleasant but brief visit, we moved on through a rather dull landscape. During the trip, I noticed the “black wattle-tree” (Acacia melanoxylon) growing in abundance, sometimes on the hillsides and also in marshy areas. Several species of Acacias[111] were in bloom; some were just small shrubs, while others had grown into large trees. The full blossoms added a nice touch to the otherwise bland scenery. These were the only trees we had seen in bloom, and every branch was so densely covered with fragrant golden flowers that it almost hid the leaves, attracting countless insects that thrived on their sweetness.
Occasionally, among the trees or bushes, a huge mound of clay, conical in form, would attract the traveller’s attention; these were produced by the labours of a species of Termite, indigenous to the colony. I have seen the mounds from four to five feet in elevation, and two or three feet in diameter, firmly constructed of red or white clay; they furnish persons, about to erect a mud-hut, with an excellent material, ready prepared for use; and then many of them, together with myriads of their inhabitants, are destroyed for the purpose.
Sometimes, among the trees or bushes, a large cone-shaped mound of clay would catch the traveler's eye; these were created by a type of Termite native to the colony. I have seen the mounds rise four to five feet tall and have a diameter of two or three feet, built solidly from red or white clay. They provide people who are about to build a mud hut with great material that's ready to use; as a result, many of them, along with countless inhabitants, are destroyed for this purpose.
About nine miles further, we arrived at a steep hill, up which we were obliged to lead our horses, and there was a corresponding steep descent on the opposite side of the ridge; near it was a lofty hill, surmounted by a bare mass[112] of sandstone, and called “Blackman’s Crown,” by which name the ridge and pass is also known. After passing the ridge and descent, the road continues tolerably good, having about it thickly wooded and brush country, among which white, spotted gums, and box, together with other varieties, or species of Eucalypti abounded, with dwarf and other Acacias, in full bloom, emu flowers, (Richea glauca,) butter-cups, and asters, and among them several purple and yellow flowering plants of the Orchideæ family occasionally mingled. The “spotted gum” is usually found in situations, which, although in dry weather appearing firm, in wet are boggy; this tree consequently indicates by its presence the quality of the soil. The “white gum” trees have a smooth whitish bark, giving them an appearance as if white-washed.
About nine miles further, we reached a steep hill that we had to lead our horses up, and there was a similarly steep drop on the other side of the ridge. Close by was a tall hill topped with a bare mass[112] of sandstone, known as “Blackman’s Crown,” which is also the name of the ridge and pass. After we crossed the ridge and went down, the road was fairly good, surrounded by thickly wooded and brushy areas, where white-spotted gums and box trees, along with various species of Eucalypti, thrived, alongside dwarf and other Acacias in full bloom, emu flowers (Richea glauca), buttercups, and asters. Among them, several purple and yellow flowering plants from the Orchideæ family occasionally appeared. The “spotted gum” is typically found in areas that seem solid in dry weather but become boggy when it rains; thus, its presence signals the quality of the soil. The “white gum” trees have smooth, whitish bark, making them look as if they've been whitewashed.
After travelling some distance, we ‘hobelled’ our horses, turned them out in some fine pasturage, and set to work, after the bush fashion, to prepare tea, as a refreshment; there being no station between “Cullen Bullen” and “Dabee:” our pocket-knives cut up the eatables we had with us, sharpened sticks served as a substitute for forks, and flat pieces of wood made excellent spoons. Thus we enjoyed our[113] rustic meal; and it would be well for fastidious people, who, having every luxury at their command, are contented with nothing, to become bush travellers in Australia for a short period, in pursuit of health and contentment, and there can be no doubt but they would return better in both respects. Tea, sugar, a tin-pot, and a blanket, are the requisites for a bush traveller, other necessaries being left to Providence, or to be supplied at the stations he may occasionally meet with.
After traveling a while, we ‘hobelled’ our horses, let them graze in some nice pasture, and got to work, bush-style, to make tea for a snack; there wasn't a station between “Cullen Bullen” and “Dabee.” We used our pocket knives to slice up our food, sharpened sticks worked as forks, and flat pieces of wood made great spoons. So, we enjoyed our[113] simple meal; it would benefit picky people, who have every luxury available yet are satisfied with nothing, to try being bush travelers in Australia for a little while, searching for health and happiness, and there's no doubt they’d come back improved in both ways. Tea, sugar, a tin pot, and a blanket are all a bush traveler needs, with other essentials left to fate or found at the stations they might come across.
Ourselves and horses having had an agreeable feed, we travelled on until about six P.M., when we “brought up” at the “Round Swamp,” and encamped on a hill for the night: the horses were hobbelled and turned out to graze, while we occupied ourselves in collecting fuel, of which a sufficient supply was soon procured from the quantity of dried wood that was strewed about. Having lighted our fire, chopped down several small trees, forming with their branches a rude hut, as a temporary shelter, and fern and small shrubs made a rough but not uncomfortable bed. The only drawback to the comfort of sleeping in the bush is the fall of heavy rain; we had a little during the night, but, fortunately, it ceased before sufficient had fallen to penetrate our leafy hut.
After we and the horses had a good meal, we traveled on until around six P.M., when we stopped at the “Round Swamp” and set up camp on a hill for the night. The horses were hobbled and let out to graze while we gathered firewood, which we quickly found in the dried wood scattered around. Once we got the fire going, we cut down several small trees and used their branches to create a makeshift hut for some temporary shelter, and we made a rough but not uncomfortable bed from ferns and small shrubs. The only downside to sleeping in the bush is the risk of heavy rain; we did have a little during the night, but fortunately, it stopped before enough fell to soak through our leafy hut.
In choosing night encampments, it would be well for travellers, if they have any regard for their personal comfort, to be particularly cautious to avoid making their dormitory upon the nest of the red ant, which cannot endure intrusion, and consequently will give them so inhospitable a reception, as to oblige a speedy decampment to take place, leaving painful mementos of their formidable forceps. This happened not to be our lot, and we enjoyed sound repose (after our journey of thirty-three miles) until towards the morning, when the chilness of the air awoke us: the fire not having been kept replenished was nearly extinguished, we, however, soon made it blaze again by an addition of fuel, and as the dawn of day was fast approaching, we prepared tea,—that beverage being always found most refreshing after a fatiguing day’s journey, or before commencing one,—previous to resuming our journey.
When choosing places to camp for the night, travelers who care about their comfort should be careful to avoid settling down on a red ant nest. These ants can't stand being disturbed and will respond in a way that forces you to leave quickly, leaving you with painful reminders of their sharp pincers. Fortunately, that wasn't our experience, and we enjoyed a restful sleep (after traveling thirty-three miles) until morning, when the chilly air woke us up. The fire had almost gone out because we hadn’t kept it fueled, but we quickly brought it back to life with more wood. As dawn was approaching, we made tea—always a refreshing drink after a tiring day of travel or before starting a new one—before setting out on our journey again.
As day dawned we proceeded on our journey, and arrived at a place called “Cherry-tree Hill;” on one side of it there is a steep, almost perpendicular descent, which drays passing this road were formerly obliged to descend at great risk; but it is now avoided by a lately discovered route, nearly three miles further round. The view, looking from this hill into[115] the luxuriant little valley beneath, was very beautiful. Having led our horses down, we passed through an open forest country, which presented a more agreeable prospect than any I had yet seen. About this part of the country I remarked the Indigo shrub (Indigofera Australis) abundant, and I was told that indigo of good quality has been prepared from it at Bathurst. The species of Eucalyptus, called “manna-tree” by the colonists, (E. mannifera,) was now occasionally seen, but the season was not yet sufficiently advanced for its secretion, which is usually about the months of December and January. The Currijong-tree (Hibiscus heterophyllus?) was also occasionally seen growing in a granite soil, and more often in elevated than other situations: it has a lively appearance, more especially contrasted with the other trees around it; the bark is rough, greyish, thick, and spongy, and the wood is used by the aborigines for boats or canoes. There are two species indigenous to the colony; from the bark of one, if not of both, the natives manufacture durable rope for nets, &c., as the Polynesian islanders use the bark of another species of Hibiscus (H. Tiliaceus) for a similar purpose.
As day broke, we continued our journey and arrived at a place called “Cherry-tree Hill.” On one side, there is a steep, almost vertical drop that vehicles using this road had to navigate with great caution; however, it is now sidestepped thanks to a newly discovered route that's nearly three miles longer. The view from this hill into the lush little valley below was absolutely beautiful. After leading our horses down, we passed through an open forest area that looked more pleasant than anything I had seen before. In this part of the country, I noticed the Indigo shrub (Indigofera Australis) in abundance, and I was informed that high-quality indigo has been produced from it in Bathurst. The species of Eucalyptus known as “manna-tree” by the settlers (E. mannifera) was occasionally spotted as well, but the season wasn’t advanced enough for it to secrete yet, which usually happens in December and January. The Currijong-tree (Hibiscus heterophyllus?) was also occasionally seen growing in granite soil, more frequently in higher locations compared to others. It has a vibrant appearance, especially against the other trees around it. The bark is rough, grayish, thick, and spongy, and aboriginal people use the wood for making boats or canoes. There are two species native to the colony; from the bark of one, if not both, the natives create durable rope for nets, etc., similar to how Polynesian islanders use the bark of another species of Hibiscus (H. Tiliaceus) for the same purpose.
By nine A.M. we passed a deserted station, formerly called, and still known as “Vincent’s[116] Station;” and by one P.M. arrived at “Dabee,” which is pleasantly situated near the Cudgegong river, which, I believe, empties itself into the Macquarie. The situation of this farm is picturesque, being nearly surrounded by high-wooded and broken ranges of mountains. On approaching the house, several of the aborigines were seen encamped; we rode up to them, and found an assemblage of several, of different ages and sexes: the males were armed with spears, clubs, and the “womera,” or “bomerang;” this last is a peculiar weapon thrown by the hand, and possesses the apparent anomalous property of striking an object in the opposite direction from that in which it is at first propelled.
By nine AM, we passed an abandoned station, once called, and still referred to as “Vincent’s[116] Station;” and by one PM we arrived at “Dabee,” which is nicely located near the Cudgegong river, which I believe flows into the Macquarie. The location of this farm is beautiful, being almost completely surrounded by tall, wooded, and rugged mountain ranges. As we approached the house, we spotted several indigenous people camped nearby; we rode over to them and found a group of individuals of various ages and genders: the men were armed with spears, clubs, and a “womera,” or “boomerang;” the latter is a unique weapon that is thrown by hand and has the seemingly strange ability to hit a target in the opposite direction from which it was thrown.
In the “United Service Journal,” for June 1833, Mr. Wilkinson gives the following explanation of this curious weapon:
In the “United Service Journal,” for June 1833, Mr. Wilkinson provides the following explanation of this interesting weapon:
“The Bommarang may be formed of any tough, heavy wood, and is about three-eighths of an inch thick in the middle, gradually tapering off towards the extremities, and rounded on each side from the centre until brought to an edge.
The Bommarang can be made from any strong, heavy wood, is about three-eighths of an inch thick in the middle, gradually getting thinner towards the ends, and has rounded edges on both sides from the center to the tip.
“Construction.—Let A B E be the arc of a circle: the chord A D E = 18 inches: the perpendicular B D = 7 inches: the width[117] B C = 3 inches. Thus constructed, the centre of gravity will fall exactly on the edge of its concave surface at C. When used as an offensive weapon, it is usually thrown with the convex side outwards; but when intended to return, it is held in the reverse position; although it will probably act in either direction, if properly managed.
Construction.—Let A B E be the arc of a circle: the chord A D E = 18 inches; the perpendicular B D = 7 inches; the width [117] B C = 3 inches. With this setup, the center of gravity will be exactly on the edge of its concave surface at C. When used as a weapon, it is usually thrown with the convex side facing outwards; but when meant to return, it is held in the opposite position; although it will likely work in either direction if managed correctly.
“For the latter purpose, however, it should be thrown from the hand at a considerable elevation (45°) with a sudden jerk, so as to combine with the projectile force a rapid rotation round its centre of gravity. The rotation acts constantly in opposition to its line of flight; so that if a similar rotation could be communicated without any projectile force, the instrument would move backwards: now, as the force with which it is thrown is constantly diminishing while the rotation continues, it must always arrive at a certain point where these opposite[118] forces balance, or equalize each other. At that moment the weapon would fall towards the ground, were it not for its flat surface and rotatory motion; but in consequence of the centre of gravity being so placed that it will always present its broad surface to the air, it cannot descend perpendicularly, but slides down the inclined plane, up which it has been thrown, in consequence of the whirling motion continuing after the projectile force has ceased; so that if properly thrown, it will pass over the head of the thrower, and often to a considerable distance behind him. On the same principle, a hoop thrown from the hand with a spinning-motion inwards, will begin to return before it touches the ground; and also the curious, though not so familiar instance, of a ball fired from a musket, the barrel of which has been bent to the left, being carried at long distances considerably to the right of the object aimed at, in consequence of the rotation of the ball on its axis, caused by the friction against the right side of the barrel overcoming the projectile force, and thus carrying it across the line of aim.
“To achieve this, you should throw it from your hand at a significant height (45°) with a quick motion, which will create both projectile force and a fast spin around its center of gravity. This rotation constantly opposes its flight path, meaning that if you could spin it without any forward force, it would move backward. Since the force behind the throw decreases over time while the rotation keeps going, there will eventually come a point where these opposing forces balance each other out. At that moment, the weapon would drop to the ground if not for its flat surface and spinning motion; however, because the center of gravity is positioned to keep its broad surface facing the air, it can't fall straight down but instead slides down the incline it was thrown up. If thrown correctly, it will sail over the thrower's head and often land far behind them. Similarly, a hoop thrown with a spinning motion inwards will start to return before it even hits the ground. There's also the interesting, though less known, case of a ball shot from a musket whose barrel has been angled to the left. That ball will travel long distances to the right of the intended target due to the rotation on its axis, created by friction against the right side of the barrel overcoming the forward force and causing it to veer off the aim.”
“The bommarang may be illustrated in a room, by merely cutting a piece of card into the same shape as the diagram; then holding it between the finger and thumb of the left-hand, at[119] an inclination of about 45°, and striking one corner with a piece of wood, it will advance several feet and return to the spot from whence it proceeded. I find, however, that this form is not essential to produce a similar effect, although the most convenient to throw from the hand. Any thin, flat body of a semicircular or rectilinear figure, will return in the same manner, if a rotative motion be communicated to it, in conjunction with the projectile force at a considerable angle of elevation.”
“The boomerang can be demonstrated in a room by simply cutting a piece of cardboard into the same shape as the diagram. Then, hold it between your thumb and finger of the left hand at an angle of about 45°, and strike one corner with a piece of wood. It will fly forward several feet and come back to where it started. However, I’ve found that this shape isn’t necessary to achieve a similar effect, though it is the easiest to throw from the hand. Any thin, flat object with a semicircular or straight shape will return in the same way if you give it a spinning motion along with enough upward force at a significant angle.”
Among this tribe was an old woman in mourning, which was indicated by her face and breast being painted in white stripes with pipe-clay. The people composing the tribe were well-formed, muscular, extremities well-proportioned, but of slender form: the average height five feet five or six inches; cheekbones prominent; nose broad and flattened, with expansive nostrils; mouth large; beard copious, and hair long, black, and coarse; they seem as intelligent, but not so fine a race as the Polynesians, excepting those of the Papuan or Oceanic race, to which they are evidently closely allied. Some physical differences, however, ought to be expected in a people inhabiting so sterile a country, compared with those races inhabiting islands, perhaps[120] as fertile as any in the world. The males of this tribe (similar to other parts of the colony) knock out the front incisor tooth on arriving at the age of puberty, and being admitted into the council and society of men.
Among this tribe was an old woman in mourning, which was visible from her face and chest being painted with white stripes using pipe-clay. The tribe members were well-built, muscular, with well-proportioned limbs, but they had a slender physique; the average height was about five feet five or six inches. They had prominent cheekbones, broad and flat noses with wide nostrils, large mouths, thick beards, and long, black, coarse hair. They seemed intelligent, but they weren't as refined a race as the Polynesians, except for the Papuan or Oceanic race, to which they are clearly closely related. Some physical differences are expected in a population living in such a harsh environment compared to those living on islands, perhaps as fertile as any in the world. The males of this tribe (similar to other areas of the colony) knock out their front incisor teeth when they reach puberty and are accepted into the council and society of men.
I had an opportunity of examining a male stuffed specimen of the “musk duck,” which had lately been shot in the Cudgegong river. I felt desirous of procuring a recent specimen for dissection, to ascertain from what gland the musk was secreted, which diffuses so strong an odour over the body of this bird, and its situation, but did not succeed in securing one fit for the purpose; I felt more desirous of deciding the point, as those persons with whom I had conversed on the subject, and who had seen the bird in its recent state, were much divided in opinion, and gave very contradictory accounts. The bird is of an uniform dark speckled colour over the whole body, except upon the breast and abdomen, where it became lighter; the bill is black and short, in proportion to the size of the bird; the wings are short, and inadequate for the purpose of flight, but assist the animal as it runs over the water; the second penfeather of the wings is the longest; the tail is short, and consists of several very stiff feathers. It is a shy bird, diving the instant it[121] is approached, and afterwards only elevates its head above water to watch proceedings, disappearing again on the least appearance of danger. It requires a good marksman, as well as much caution, to secure a shot even at the small mark the head of this bird presents. The female is said to be smaller than the male.
I had a chance to examine a male stuffed specimen of the "musk duck," which had recently been shot in the Cudgegong River. I wanted to get a recent specimen for dissection to find out which gland secretes the musk that gives off such a strong odor across the body of this bird, as well as its location, but I wasn't able to secure one suitable for that purpose. I was particularly eager to clarify this because the people I talked to about it, who had seen the bird recently, had very different opinions and provided contradictory accounts. The bird has a uniform dark speckled color all over its body, except for the breast and abdomen, which are lighter. Its bill is black and short in proportion to the size of the bird; the wings are short and too small for flight but help the bird run over the water. The second primary feather of the wings is the longest; the tail is short and made up of several very stiff feathers. It’s a shy bird that dives as soon as it’s approached, only raising its head above the water to observe what’s happening before disappearing again at the slightest hint of danger. You need to be a good marksman and exercise a lot of caution to take a shot at the tiny target that the bird's head presents. It’s said that the female is smaller than the male.
This estate is used by Mr. Cox principally as a dairy-farm, and a quantity of cheeses are made upon it, about which some of the men were at this time employed. They had now sufficient milk to make four cheeses, and expected soon to increase to ten, daily. Mr. Cox informed me he has made four tons of cheese on this farm in one season, and expected, during the succeeding one, to make nine or ten tons. The price of this article of course varies at Sydney; but it has been sold at forty-six pounds the ton. Attached to the neat little habitation at this farm is a garden, which contains strawberries and gooseberry bushes in a thriving condition, and was rendered gay by many of our European flowering plants in full bloom.
This estate is primarily used by Mr. Cox as a dairy farm, where a lot of cheese is produced, and some workers were busy with it at that time. They had enough milk to make four cheeses and expected to increase that to ten daily soon. Mr. Cox told me he has made four tons of cheese on this farm in one season and anticipated making nine or ten tons in the next. The price of cheese varies in Sydney but has been sold for forty-six pounds per ton. Attached to the tidy little house on the farm is a garden that has thriving strawberry and gooseberry bushes, and it was brightened by many of our European flowering plants in full bloom.
The day after our arrival, (22d,) I ranged about the farm, and was much pleased with its situation. To procure an extensive view, I ascended an elevated hill, distant about a mile from the house, and known by the name of[122] “Mount Brace:” the view from it was extensive, and of much picturesque beauty.—Plains, (varied by wooded patches,) upon which herds of cattle grazed or reposed;—spots of cultivated land, green with the rising grain;—the distance terminating to the horizon in mountains of a greater or less degree of elevation and of varying forms,—peaked, rounded, or tabular, more or less densely wooded; and the Cudgegong river winding its course amidst the tranquil scene, produced, in the combination, a very pleasing landscape. The ascent to “Mount Brace” was rugged, and huge masses of sandstone, in which quartz pebbles were strongly imbedded, projected in several places as if about to be precipitated on the plains beneath; the Liptomera acida, Exocarpus cupressiforme, and the beautiful parasitical Loranthus pended from an Eucalyptus were seen; and other flowering shrubs, among which some small and delicate plants (bearing pink flowers) of the Orchideæ family were also profusely scattered about the declivities. I returned from my walk much gratified with the scenery.
The day after we arrived, (22nd), I explored the farm and was really pleased with its location. To get a better view, I climbed a high hill about a mile from the house, known as [122] "Mount Brace." The view from there was extensive and very picturesque—fields, with patches of woodlands, where herds of cattle grazed or rested; areas of cultivated land glowing green with young grain; and in the distance, mountains of various heights and shapes—some peaked, some rounded, and some flat, with varying amounts of trees. The Cudgegong River wound through this peaceful scene, creating a really beautiful landscape. The path up “Mount Brace” was rough, and large chunks of sandstone with quartz pebbles embedded in them jutted out in several spots, looking like they could fall onto the plains below. I spotted the Liptomera acida, Exocarpus cupressiforme, and the lovely parasitic Loranthus hanging from a eucalyptus tree, along with other flowering shrubs, including small and delicate plants with pink flowers from the Orchideæ family sprinkled across the slopes. I came back from my walk feeling very satisfied with the scenery.
It appears far from being an uncommon circumstance for the females of the aboriginal tribes about this and other districts in the colony, when they experience much lingering suffering in labour, to threaten the life of the poor infant[123] previous to birth; and when it takes place, keep their word by destroying it. One instance was mentioned to me as occurring at a station at “Cuttabaloo,” (a hundred and twenty miles from Dabee,) and near the Castlereagh or Big River; (and I have since known several similar occurrences;) the woman had, in this case, been two days suffering from a severe and lingering labour, during which, she often threatened the poor unborn infant with death on its coming into the world, using the expression of “pi, a, cobera! (break its head!”[43]) and, on its birth, the unfortunate baby was absolutely killed by its unnatural parent.[44] This has occurred in a number of instances when the children were half-castes, and seems to be almost an invariable custom among the Australian aborigines,—as it is among the New Zealanders and natives of the Polynesian Archipelago, to destroy the infants produced by intercourse with Europeans, unless the father resides constantly with the female, or else may be near them at the time, to prevent[124] the commission of so horrid and unnatural an act.
It seems quite common for the women of the indigenous tribes in this and other areas of the colony to threaten the life of their unborn child when they endure prolonged suffering during labor. In such situations, they often go through with their threats and harm the infant before it is born. I was told about one instance that happened at a station called “Cuttabaloo,” (120 miles from Dabee), near the Castlereagh or Big River; and I have since learned of several similar cases. In this particular situation, the woman had been in intense, difficult labor for two days and frequently threatened the unborn baby, saying “pi, a, cobera! (break its head!)” and, upon its birth, she tragically killed the unfortunate child herself. This has happened in several instances when the children were mixed-race, and it seems to be almost a common practice among the Australian Aboriginal people, similar to the customs of the New Zealanders and the natives of the Polynesian Islands, to eliminate infants conceived through relationships with Europeans unless the father is present during the birth to prevent such a horrific and unnatural act.
During a visit to the Murrumbidgee and Tumat countries, as well as other parts of the colony, I availed myself of every opportunity to procure information regarding acts of infanticide, as existing among the aborigines of this country. I succeeded in ascertaining that infants were frequently destroyed: sometimes the reason assigned was some personal defect in the infant,[45] (whence we may attribute the fact of a deformed person being seldom seen among native tribes,) or the mother not wishing to have the trouble of carrying it about: the female children were more frequently destroyed than the males. I heard of a weak and sickly child having been destroyed, and even eaten: the reason given by the unnatural parents was, that they were very hungry, and the child no use and much trouble; one redeeming quality, however, was, that they displayed a sense of shame when acknowledging the fact, and gave the reason for[125] which they had committed so barbarous an act. It is seldom they will confess having destroyed their offspring: one, however, who had a child by an European, acknowledged it readily; and the reason given for the commission was its being like a warragul, or native dog. This was because the infant, like its papa, had a “carroty poll,” and thus resembled, in colour, the hair of the native dog, which is certainly not so handsome as the dark black locks of the aboriginal tribes.
During a visit to the Murrumbidgee and Tumat regions, as well as other parts of the colony, I took every chance to gather information about acts of infanticide among the Indigenous people of this area. I found out that infants were often killed: sometimes it was due to a personal defect in the child, which might explain why deformed individuals are rarely seen among native tribes, or because the mother didn’t want the hassle of carrying the baby around. Female children were more often killed than male ones. I heard of a weak and sickly child who had been killed and even eaten; the parents claimed it was because they were very hungry, and the child was of no use and too much trouble. One redeeming quality was that they showed some shame when admitting to this and explained why they committed such a brutal act. They rarely confess to having killed their children: however, one person who had a child with a European admitted it without hesitation, saying the reason was that the child looked like a “warragul,” or native dog. This was because the baby, like its father, had a “carroty poll,” and thus had hair color similar to that of the native dog, which is definitely not as attractive as the dark black hair of the Indigenous tribes.
Although addicted to infanticide, they display, in other instances, an extraordinary degree of affection for their dead offspring, evidenced by an act that almost exceeds credibility, had it not so often been witnessed among the tribes in the interior of the colony. I allude to the fact of deceased children, from the earliest age to even six or seven years, being placed in a bag, made of kangaroo skin, and slung upon the back of the mother, who, besides this additional burden, carries her usual netbul, or culy,[46] for provisions, &c. They carry them thus for ten or twelve months, sleeping upon the mass of mortal remains, which serves them for a pillow, apparently unmindful of the horrid fœtor[126] which emanates from such a putrifying substance. Habit must reconcile them to it, for a woman carrying such a burden, may be “nosed” at a long distance before seen; and a stranger, unacquainted with this native custom, will see a woman with a large pack upon her back, from which such an odour proceeds, as to make him doubt from what it can be produced. When the body becomes dry, or only the bones left, the remains are burnt, buried, or placed into a hollow trunk or limb of a tree: in the latter instance covering the opening carefully with stones, &c. All the information that could be procured from them respecting this disgusting custom, was, “that they were afraid, if they buried them, the Buckee, or devil-devil would take them away.” When the adults among the aborigines die, the body is consigned to the hollow trunk of a tree, cave, or in the ground, according to circumstances, and wood, stones, &c. are piled on the entrance, or over the grave, so that, according to the ideas of these poor, superstitious savages, the Buckee may not be able to find them.
Although they have a strange habit of killing their infants, they also show an incredible amount of love for their deceased children. This is demonstrated by a practice that seems almost unbelievable, if it weren't so frequently observed among the tribes in the interior of the colony. I’m referring to the way they carry the bodies of deceased children, from infancy up to around six or seven years old, in a kangaroo skin bag slung over the mother's back. Along with this extra load, she carries her usual netbul or culy, which she uses for gathering food and other items. They maintain this practice for ten to twelve months, even sleeping on top of the remains, using them as a pillow, seemingly indifferent to the terrible smell that comes from such decaying matter. They must grow accustomed to it, as a woman carrying such a load can be detected by her odor from quite a distance before she's seen. A stranger, who is unfamiliar with this custom, would see a woman with a large pack on her back, and the smell would lead him to wonder what could possibly be causing it. When the body dries out, or only the bones remain, these remains are either burned, buried, or placed in a hollow trunk or branch of a tree; in the last case, the opening is carefully covered with stones and other materials. The only explanation I could get from them regarding this unsettling custom was that they feared if they buried the bodies, the Buckee, or devil-devil, would take them away. When adults among the aborigines die, their bodies are placed in the hollow trunk of a tree, a cave, or buried in the ground, depending on the situation, with wood, stones, and other materials piled over the entrance or grave to prevent the Buckee from finding them, according to the beliefs of these superstitious people.
Even after the relation of this disgusting custom, these people are more degraded by writers than they really appear when seen in the interior, uncontaminated by European vices, in full native independence, hunters, but not tillers[127] of the soil, from having no natural productions worthy of cultivation.[47]
Even after describing this disgusting custom, these people are written about as being more degraded than they actually seem when seen from inside their own society, untouched by European vices, living fully on their own terms as hunters, but not farmers since they have no natural resources worth cultivating.[127]
The following is the practice of midwifery, as I observed it among the native tribes, more particularly those inhabiting the Yas, Murrumbidgee, and Tumat countries.
The following is the practice of midwifery, as I saw it among the native tribes, especially those living in the Yas, Murrumbidgee, and Tumat regions.
When a female is in labour she leaves the camp alone, and, should any assistance be required, she calls another female to her. When the child is born, the afterbirth, or placenta, is separated from the navel-string, or umbilical cord, by scraping or rudely cutting it with a shell, and the cord is left pending to some[128] length from the abdomen of the infant. The parent then taking some water into her mouth, throws it over the child, rubbing the infant at the same time with coarse grass; and this, I suppose, they would call cleaning the little newborn creature. The first flow of milk is not given by the mother to the child, as they say it would produce griping. The afterbirth is buried by the mother, and soon taken up again and burnt; it is only buried, however, if they are not prepared to burn it immediately, but it is usually destroyed on the same day or night on which the woman has been delivered, although I could not ascertain correctly whether they entertain any such superstitious notions regarding the placenta, as obtains among the New Zealand females, yet by the care in burning it some such idea no doubt exists among them.[48] If the placenta is retained long after the birth of the infant, they endeavour to excite uterine contraction, by employing pressure on the lower[129] part of the abdomen over the region of the womb. As soon as the child is born, the forehead of the infant is compressed, by laying the child upon its back and employing pressure with the foot; I could not find out for what object this was done, as the pressure was not repeated after the day following the birth of the infant.
When a woman goes into labor, she leaves the camp alone and will call another woman for help if she needs it. Once the child is born, the afterbirth, or placenta, is separated from the umbilical cord by either scraping or roughly cutting it with a shell, leaving some of the cord attached to the baby's abdomen. The mother then takes some water in her mouth and splashes it over the baby while rubbing the infant with coarse grass; this is what they likely call cleaning the newborn. The mother does not give the first milk to the baby, as they believe it would cause discomfort. The afterbirth is buried by the mother and then usually taken up again and burned; it is only buried if they aren’t ready to burn it right away, but it’s typically destroyed on the same day or night the child is born. I couldn't find out if they have any superstitions about the placenta similar to those of New Zealand women, but the care taken in burning it suggests some beliefs might exist. If the placenta is retained long after the baby is born, they try to stimulate uterine contractions by applying pressure to the lower part of the abdomen over the womb. Once the baby is born, the forehead of the infant is pressed down by placing the baby on its back and applying pressure with a foot; I couldn't determine the reason for this, as the pressure is not repeated after the day following the birth.
The labours are sometimes tedious, and the suffering attending them severe; the presentations are generally natural; when preternatural labours occur, in most, if not in all such cases, they prove fatal for want of assistance.[49] After the delivery of the woman a belt of opossum skin, called “Cumeel” (similar to that worn by the males, when adults) is placed around the abdomen, and is removed after being kept on from twenty-four to forty-eight hours; the day after delivery the woman goes to the river[130] for the purpose of ablution. Similar to most native tribes, the females are married at a very early age. I saw one in the Tumat country, whom I regarded as a mere child, and was surprised on being told that she had been married for eight months.
The labor can be pretty exhausting, and the pain that comes with it can be intense; the births are usually straightforward. However, when complications arise, they are often fatal due to a lack of help. After the woman gives birth, a belt made of opossum skin, called “Cumeel” (similar to what the adult males wear), is placed around her abdomen and left on for twenty-four to forty-eight hours. The day after giving birth, the woman goes to the river[130] to wash herself. Like many native tribes, women get married at a very young age. I saw one in the Tumat country who seemed like a little girl, and I was shocked to learn that she had been married for eight months.
At “Dabee” I had an opportunity of viewing the native animal, called Koala or Cola,[50] and it immediately occurred to me (this being the first living specimen I had seen) how inaccurately the published representations of the animal were delineated, being probably, like most of the drawings of Australian animals, as well as many of other countries, taken from stuffed instead of recent specimens. The very peculiar droll-looking physiognomy of this little beast was entirely lost in the mis-representation. This animal, the Phascolartos genus of Blainville, was a young specimen, and covered over the body with a fine grey fur, having a reddish tinge, no tail, ears short and erect, and covered with thick long fur of a light greyish colour, eyes small, iredes brown, nose naked and pointed, upper lip divided, upper jaw projecting over the lower, hind feet like the opossum, the thumb wanting the nail. This animal laps when drinking, like a dog, and is very fond of[131] milk; it uses the fore-feet in laying hold of the branches when eating the young leaves of the gum trees, (Eucalypti). This specimen was a male, and the noise it uttered was a peculiar soft barking sound. It sleeps during the day, running about to feed at night, but when roused will also feed during the day in its present state of confinement.
At “Dabee”, I got the chance to see a native animal known as the Koala or Cola, and it struck me immediately (this being the first living specimen I had encountered) how inaccurately the published images of this animal were represented. They were probably, like many illustrations of Australian wildlife and even those from other countries, based on stuffed specimens rather than live ones. The unique, quirky appearance of this little creature was completely lost in the misrepresentation. This animal, of the genus Phascolartos as named by Blainville, was a young specimen with a fine gray fur coat that had a reddish hue, no tail, short and upright ears covered in thick long fur of a light gray color, small brown eyes, a bare and pointed nose, a split upper lip, and an upper jaw that extends over the lower jaw. Its hind feet resembled those of an opossum, and its thumb lacked a nail. This animal laps water like a dog and has a strong preference for milk; it uses its forefeet to hold onto branches while eating the young leaves of gum trees (Eucalypti). This specimen was male and made a distinct soft barking sound. It sleeps during the day and is active at night to feed, but when disturbed, it will also eat during the day while in its current confinement.
From many circumstances that have occurred, there is some reason to think that the aborigines of this country believe in the metempsychosis of the departure of the soul of their brethren into the bodies of certain animals; but as the notes I collected did not satisfy my mind, so as to assert this as a positive fact, I mention it, for others to procure information on the subject. That something like it exists, appears in some degree certain. In one instance, a native, at Béran plains, desired a European not to kill a Gúnar which he was then chasing, but to catch it alive as it was “him brother.” The animal, however, was killed, at which the native was much displeased, and would not eat any of it, but unceasingly complained of the “tumbling down him brother.”
Based on various events that have happened, there's some reason to believe that the indigenous people of this land think that the souls of their relatives can enter the bodies of certain animals. However, since my notes didn’t convince me enough to state this as a definite fact, I mention it for others to investigate further. There seems to be some truth to this. In one instance, a native at Béran plains asked a European not to kill a Gúnar that he was chasing, but to capture it alive instead, as it was “his brother.” The animal was killed, which greatly upset the native, who then refused to eat any of it and continually complained about the “falling down of his brother.”
CHAPTER VI.
Cross the country to Goulbourn Plains—A road-gang stockade—Splendid view—The old Bathurst road—Sidmouth valley—Brisbane valley—Squash field—Bolam Creek—Turril, turril—Gum resin—Swampy country—Mr. Cowper’s farm—Anecdotes—Distant view of Goulburn Plains—Mr. Bradley’s estate—Cross the plains—Hospitable reception at cardross—The Manna tree—Failure in rearing the tulip tree.
Cross the country to Goulburn Plains—A road crew's camp—Amazing view—The old Bathurst road—Sidmouth valley—Brisbane valley—Squash field—Bolam Creek—Turril, turril—Gum resin—Wetlands—Mr. Cowper’s farm—Stories—Distant view of Goulburn Plains—Mr. Bradley’s estate—Cross the plains—Warm welcome at Cardross—The Manna tree—Struggles with growing the tulip tree.
On the 24th of September, after an agreeable sojourn with Mr. E. Cox, and again accompanied by Mr. O’Brien, we resumed our journey; retracing our road to Wallerowang, and crossing the country to Goulburn Plains. We arrived at Wallerowang on the morning of the 28th, and, after a short stay, proceeded on our journey, taking a bush-road across the country; passed “Honeysuckle Swamp,” (so called from abounding in that species of Banksia, before mentioned as rosmarinifolia,) about which the old grass was on fire. The custom of setting the dry grass on fire is very prevalent throughout the[133] colony, as the young grass shooting up soon after affords fine feeding for cattle, &c.
On September 24th, after a pleasant stay with Mr. E. Cox, and once again joined by Mr. O’Brien, we continued our journey; retracing our route to Wallerowang and crossing the countryside to Goulburn Plains. We reached Wallerowang on the morning of the 28th, and after a short stay, we moved on, taking a bush road across the area. We passed “Honeysuckle Swamp,” named for the abundant Banksia species previously mentioned as rosmarinifolia, around which the old grass was on fire. The practice of setting dry grass ablaze is quite common throughout the[133] colony, as the young grass that sprouts soon after provides great grazing for cattle, etc.
After riding about seven miles,[51] we arrived at a stockade, inhabited by a road-gang, employed upon the new Bathurst road, having a very distant view of the descent at Mount Vittoria, from which the road we were upon was a continuation, and a splendid view of mountain ranges and forest scenery was now before us. We only proceeded a few miles upon this excellent road, when we turned off into a dull bush-path through a portion of country which, from its want of animation, became tiresome to man and beast; there was nothing to excite the attention of either, and the horses always appear to participate, with ourselves, in the want of a lively character in the country.
After riding about seven miles, [51] we reached a stockade where a road crew was working on the new Bathurst road. From here, we had a distant view of the descent at Mount Vittoria, where the road we were on continued, along with a stunning view of mountain ranges and forest scenery in front of us. We only traveled a few miles on this great road before we veered off onto a dull bush path through an area that, due to its lack of activity, became tiresome for both man and beast. There was nothing to capture the attention of either, and the horses seemed to share our feelings about the lack of energy in the landscape.
Emerging from this wild bushy track, we came upon the old Bathurst road, and then the country assumed a better appearance, being thinly timbered, and herds of cattle gave some animation to the scene, increasing the beauty of[134] the landscape. As we proceeded, the Fish River was occasionally seen winding its course among acacias, swamp oaks, and other trees, which grew upon its banks, and the sight of a river in this badly watered country, was always a pleasing relief. We crossed this river, and deviating from the main road arrived at “Sidmouth Valley,” the neat farm and residence of Mr. Lowe, by whom we were kindly received, and remained for the night, after a journey this day of twenty-two miles. A distant view of the Bathurst Plains was obtained from this farm.
Emerging from the overgrown path, we came across the old Bathurst road, and the landscape looked nicer, with scattered trees and herds of cattle adding life to the scenery, enhancing the beauty of[134] the area. As we moved on, we occasionally spotted the Fish River winding through acacias, swamp oaks, and other trees growing along its banks, and seeing a river in this dry region was always a refreshing sight. We crossed the river, and taking a detour from the main road, we reached “Sidmouth Valley,” the tidy farm and home of Mr. Lowe, who welcomed us warmly, and we stayed for the night after a twenty-two-mile journey that day. From this farm, we had a distant view of the Bathurst Plains.
We left “Sidmouth Valley” early on the following morning, through a good bush-road, and arrived at a portion of thinly-timbered country, having a character of park scenery, abounding in fine herbage. This brought us almost immediately upon a cattle station, the property of Capt. P. P. King, R.N. There was no one in the hut, so, after feeding our horses, we again proceeded; and, after a four miles ride, arrived at a cattle station, belonging to Mr. Scarvell, called “Brisbane Valley,” although from its quality and locality, “swamp” would have been a more correct nomenclature. From this station our road led by a bush-path between wooded hills, and through miserable swamps famed for the loss of an immense number of sheep, until[135] we arrived at a place called “Squashfield,” and never was a more appropriate name bestowed upon a locality; for although the vegetation, springing up from the swamps, gave a fresh, fertile, and even beautiful appearance to the place, yet the moist, chilly, and raw atmosphere, could excite no other ideas than those connected with rheumatisms, catarrhs, and analogous diseases, to which cold and damp will subject the human frame. From the lateness of the hour we took up our night’s lodging in the hut at this station, where every thing was done to make us as comfortable as possible. Squashfield was, for the present, rented by Mr. Imlay, as a cattle station.
We left “Sidmouth Valley” early the next morning, traveling along a decent dirt road, and soon reached an area with sparse trees that had a park-like vibe, filled with lush grass. This led us almost immediately to a cattle station owned by Capt. P. P. King, R.N. The hut was empty, so after we fed our horses, we moved on; after a four-mile ride, we arrived at another cattle station owned by Mr. Scarvell, called “Brisbane Valley,” although “swamp” would have been a more accurate name given its condition and location. From this station, our path went along a dirt trail between wooded hills and through miserable swamps notorious for the loss of countless sheep, until[135] we got to a place called “Squashfield,” which was a perfectly fitting name for the area; even though the vegetation sprouting from the swamps made the place look fresh, fertile, and even beautiful, the damp, chilly, and raw air prompted thoughts only of rheumatism, colds, and similar illnesses that arise from cold and damp conditions. Since it was getting late, we decided to spend the night in the hut at this station, where everything possible was done to make us comfortable. Squashfield was currently rented by Mr. Imlay as a cattle station.
This place is an extensive range of swampy flats, of fertile appearance, which was the cause of its being first selected as a sheep station, and its bright features, when the young grass is springing up, charmed many into severe losses; for, not taking into calculation the quality of the soil, or the adaptation of the place for a sheep-run, numerous flocks were placed upon it, and the result was, before any long period had elapsed, the loss of the whole from rot; and yet, notwithstanding these facts more sheep were subsequently placed on the same spot, and, as might have been expected, with similar results, from the[136] damp and swampy nature of the situation. Even now the stock-keepers stated that cattle could not remain about the place, but wander away to more congenial pasturage in other parts of the country.
This area is a wide expanse of swampy flats that looks fertile, which is why it was originally chosen as a sheep station. Its appealing features, especially when the young grass starts to grow, enticed many into serious losses. Many didn't consider the soil quality or whether the location was suitable for sheep grazing, so numerous flocks were brought in, resulting in the complete loss of the sheep due to rot in a short time. Despite this, even more sheep were later added to the same area, leading to similar outcomes, as could be expected due to the wet and swampy conditions. Even now, the stock-keepers say that cattle can't stay around here and instead roam off to find better pastures elsewhere.
We rose at day light to continue our journey; a hoar frost whitened the ground, and the atmosphere was exceedingly cold and damp: even our horses were impatient to leave this uncongenial spot, having been left by themselves during the night; for every animal, except those in confinement, which had been collected together with much trouble the previous day, were all reported absent without leave on the following morning.
We got up at dawn to continue our journey; a thick layer of frost covered the ground, and the air was really cold and damp. Even our horses were eager to leave this unpleasant place, having been left alone overnight. All the animals, except for those kept in confinement, which had been gathered together with a lot of effort the day before, were reported missing the next morning.
After a short journey, through a similar swampy country, we arrived at a more elevated and agreeable spot, when we stopped to take refreshments, made a bush fire, prepared tea, turning out our horses to graze in a fine pasturage. Many of the Eucalypti trees[52] were throwing off their dark brown and rough outer bark, appearing in a new one, of a greyish colour. The appearance of the trees, partially denuded, with strips of brown crisped bark hanging about their trunks and branches ready to fall,[137] being a general peculiarity of the trees of the country, excites the attention of the stranger. Our road led through a broken but picturesque country, thinly timbered, and appeared good pasture land. We crossed a small river, called the Bingham, the country improving very much as we proceeded, abounding in beautiful park scenery, and the distant hills, rising one above the other, both thinly, and, in some situations, densely wooded, was an agreeable change to the uninteresting sameness of the country through which we had, for the most part, journeyed.
After a short trip through a similar swampy area, we arrived at a higher and more pleasant spot, where we stopped to have some snacks, built a campfire, prepared tea, and let our horses graze in some great pasture. Many of the eucalyptus trees were shedding their dark brown, rough outer bark, showing a new greyish layer underneath. The sight of the trees, partially stripped, with bits of brown, crispy bark hanging from their trunks and branches, ready to fall, is a common feature of the trees in this area that catches the eye of newcomers. Our route went through a rugged but beautiful landscape, with sparse trees, and it looked like good grazing land. We crossed a small river called the Bingham, and the scenery improved significantly as we advanced, filled with lovely park-like views, while the distant hills rose one after another, some sparsely, and others more densely wooded, offering a refreshing change from the monotonous landscape we had mostly traveled through.
The species of Eucalyptus, termed “Box Tree,” by the colonists, was most abundant: it has a rough, scaly bark, differing in that particular from most of the other species or varieties of the same genus. On the elevated spots, the Exocarpus cupressiforme, or native cherry-tree, was seen; but the situation appeared uncongenial to its growth; for, instead of the graceful and elegantly pending branches, with delicate dark-green foliage, such as this tree presents when growing in sheltered situations, it now had a stunted, brown, and wretched appearance. About noon, we arrived at Mr. Murphy’s station at Bingham, being seventeen miles from Squashfield.
The species of Eucalyptus, called the “Box Tree” by the settlers, was very common: it has a rough, scaly bark, which sets it apart from most other species or varieties in the same family. In the higher areas, we spotted the Exocarpus cupressiforme, or native cherry tree, but the environment didn’t seem suitable for its growth; instead of the graceful and elegantly drooping branches with delicate dark-green leaves that this tree shows when it grows in sheltered places, it looked stunted, brown, and miserable. Around noon, we reached Mr. Murphy’s station at Bingham, which is seventeen miles from Squashfield.
The approach to marshy land is readily indicated by the melody of the frog tribe, among[138] which, the peculiar sound uttered by that species known by the name of the “bell frog,” is very often heard: and indeed the name is not inapplicable to the creature, the sound it produces, being very similar to a sheep-bell. Detached clumps of wire grass,[53] intermingled with the brown-coloured sedge grass,[54] and at some places reeds (Arundo phragmites? Linn.) also point out those watery patches which are often met by the traveller while journeying through this country.
The way to marshy land is clearly marked by the sounds of frogs, especially the unique call of the “bell frog,” which is commonly heard. The name fits well because its sound resembles that of a sheep bell. Scattered clumps of wire grass intermix with the brown sedge grass, and in some areas, reeds (Arundo phragmites? Linn.) also indicate the wet spots that travelers frequently encounter while traveling through this region.
Birds were occasionally numerous, particularly when near a river; but magpies and crows were never found wanting in any part of the country, abounding every where: the former the same impudent, peculating race as at home. As for the parrot tribe, enough may be seen in a day’s ride to supply all the maiden ladies in Europe with pollies sufficient to talk or scream them to death in an inconceivably short period of time; and the peculiar noise of the laughing or feathered jackass, (Dacelo gigantea,) which increases from a low to a loud thrilling gurgling laugh, was often heard.
Birds were sometimes really abundant, especially near rivers; but magpies and crows were always present in every part of the country, found everywhere: the former being just as cheeky and thieving as they are back home. As for the parrot family, you could see enough in a day’s ride to give all the single ladies in Europe enough parrots to talk or scream them to death in an unimaginably short time; and the unique sound of the laughing or feathered jackass (Dacelo gigantea), which rises from a low to a loud, thrilling gurgling laugh, was often heard.
We continued our journey over a very beautiful and romantic country, with distant thinly-wooded mountains trending towards the Abercrombie river, which was not far off, reminding me of some of the splendid scenery of Devon. After travelling about four miles, descending a steep hill, we arrived on the banks of the river, which at this part of its course was a rapid, but not broad stream. Swamp oaks (Casurina paludosa) grew abundantly on the banks, their dark foliage giving a gloomy character to the scene.[55]
We continued our journey through a beautiful and romantic countryside, with distant, lightly wooded mountains leading toward the Abercrombie River, which wasn't far away, reminding me of some of the stunning landscapes in Devon. After traveling about four miles and going down a steep hill, we reached the riverbanks. At this point, the river was fast-moving but not wide. Swamp oaks (Casurina paludosa) grew abundantly along the banks, their dark foliage adding a somber tone to the scene.[55]
After crossing the river, (which, not having been lately swollen by rains, was effected without much difficulty,) we had to ascend a very steep hill, which brought us to a gradually ascending road over hills, having a remarkably beautiful, verdant, and romantic appearance. The thinly-wooded hills were thickly clothed with a bright carpeting of verdure, imparting a cheerful feature to the country, which was further increased by a number of flowers scattered about, of various[140] tints; among which were the Gnapthalium, with yellow, white, and pink blossoms; Emu flowers, (Richea glauca,) and a great number of the Orchideæ family; their blue, pink, and yellow flowers rising a short distance above the surface of the ground,—all afforded a pleasing variety to the many natural beauties of this place.
After crossing the river, which wasn't swollen from recent rains, we didn't have too much trouble. We then had to climb a very steep hill that led us to a gradually rising road over more hills, which looked incredibly beautiful, lush, and picturesque. The lightly wooded hills were covered in a bright green carpet of grass, adding a cheerful vibe to the landscape, enhanced by a variety of flowers scattered around in different shades. Among them were the Gnapthalium with yellow, white, and pink blooms; Emu flowers (Richea glauca); and many from the Orchideæ family, their blue, pink, and yellow petals rising just above the ground—together creating a delightful array of natural beauty in this area.
As we ascended this road, the sloping declivities of the hills in the vicinity, clothed with rich pasturage, sufficiently wooded to give variety, with an occasional glimpse of the “Abercrombie,” winding its course between the lofty, smiling hills, increased, as we proceeded, the beauty of the prospect. Even the climate was changed: instead of the damp, frosty, wintry climate we had left only in the morning, we were suddenly transported (a word obsolete in the colony) to another region,—the weather fine—clear and serene sky—the sun shining brilliantly upon the smiling scene; birds carolling, seemed to sympathize in our feelings; butterflies and other brilliant insects sported over the gay flowers that strewed our path, and the whole formed a scene doubly felt by comparison with the uninteresting country we had left.
As we climbed this road, the rolling hills around us, covered in lush grass and sprinkled with trees for variety, along with the occasional view of the “Abercrombie” meandering between the tall, cheerful hills, made the scenery even more beautiful as we went on. Even the weather changed: instead of the damp, cold winter climate we had left behind that morning, we were suddenly transported (a term that's outdated in the colony) to a different place—the weather was nice—clear skies, the sun shining brightly on the cheerful landscape; the singing birds seemed to share in our happiness; butterflies and other colorful insects danced over the vibrant flowers that lined our path, and the entire scene felt even more remarkable compared to the dull area we had just come from.
After we attained the summit of this hilly ascent, the road led through a more swampy and thickly-wooded country; but that character did not continue[141] far, for we again approached an open forest country, and a farm at Bolam[56] appeared situated on an opposite hill to that over which the road we were then traversing passed. On descending, we crossed a rivulet or creek, (for the terms are synonymous in this country,) called “Bolam Creek;” and at five P.M., arrived at the neat farm of Mr. James Hassell. We now reached the Argyle country; and the contrast between this and the portion of the Bathurst district, through which we had passed, was much in favour of the former. The distance of our journey this day was twenty-eight miles; and our horses, not lately having had good feeding, from the poorness of the pasturage, we here gave them a day’s rest; and although we had to regret the absence of Mr. Hassell, we yet received every attention from the persons left in charge.
After we reached the top of the hilly climb, the road took us through a swampy, densely wooded area; however, that didn’t last long, as we soon approached an open forest area and a farm at Bolam[56] that was on a hill opposite to the one we were currently traveling over. As we descended, we crossed a small stream, known as “Bolam Creek,” and at five P.M., arrived at the tidy farm of Mr. James Hassell. We had now entered the Argyle region, and the difference between this area and the Bathurst district we had just traveled through was definitely in favor of the former. We traveled twenty-eight miles today, and since our horses hadn’t been well-fed lately due to the poor pastures, we decided to give them a day's rest here. Even though we missed Mr. Hassell, the staff left in charge took great care of us.
We resumed our journey early on the morning of the 30th; but the day turned out very wet.
We continued our journey early on the morning of the 30th, but the day turned out to be very rainy.
About Bolam Creek, flocks of wild ducks were abundant. These birds were not so wild about creeks as on large rivers. The barn-doors about the farms (in imitation of a similar custom in the[142] “old country,”) were decorated by the brushes and tails of that shepherds’ pest, the Dingo, or native Australian dog, and other vermin belonging to the colony. As we rode through the bush, the moist atmosphere occasioned a strong aroma to be diffused from the leaves of the gum-trees, as well as from odoriferous flowers. The country was of a picturesque character; and, after a distance of twelve miles, we reached a station belonging to Mr. Ellis, called “Turril, turril,” where we remained an hour to refresh our horses. I remarked the red gum in abundance on most trees of the Eucalyptus genus: the red, spotted, and white gum, iron, and stringy bark, manna, box, and others, produced it profusely: it exudes both spontaneously and in larger quantities, when incisions have been made on the trunk, more particularly after rain. It is seen in masses upon the trunk; but its particles have so little tenacity, that when in a concrete form any attempt to detach them in one entire lump fails, and it crumbles immediately into innumerable minute fragments.
About Bolam Creek, there were lots of wild ducks. These birds preferred larger rivers over creeks. The barn doors on the farms, inspired by a similar custom in the [142] “old country,” were adorned with the fur and tails of that nuisance, the Dingo, or native Australian dog, as well as other pests from the area. As we rode through the bush, the humid air released a strong scent from the leaves of the gum trees and fragrant flowers. The landscape was beautiful, and after traveling twelve miles, we arrived at a station owned by Mr. Ellis called “Turril, turril,” where we stayed for an hour to rest our horses. I noticed the abundance of red gum on most trees in the Eucalyptus genus: red, spotted, and white gum, iron, stringy bark, manna, box, and others produced it generously. It flows out spontaneously and in larger amounts when cuts are made in the trunk, especially after it rains. It appears in large clumps on the trunk, but its particles are so loose that any attempt to remove them as a whole fails, and it immediately crumbles into countless tiny pieces.
This gum resin has a strong astringent quality, and is one of the varieties of the Kino of commerce, (the other variety of Kino being brought from Africa, and is produced by a tree of the Pterocarpus genus.) When first it issues from[143] the tree, it is of the consistence of very thick syrup, and immediately after rain may be seen flowing from an incision or cleft in the tree very abundantly, being then of a very beautiful light-red colour, becoming of a dark shining red, and hardening, by exposure to the air. The Angophora lanceolata, or apple-tree of the colonists, (a genus allied to that of Eucalyptus,) also yields a dark-red astringent gum from its trunk and branches.
This gum resin has a strong astringent quality and is one of the types of Kino found in commerce (the other type comes from Africa and is produced by a tree in the Pterocarpus genus). When it first comes out of the tree, it has the consistency of very thick syrup and can often be seen flowing abundantly from a cut or crack in the tree right after it rains, appearing in a beautiful light-red color. It then turns into a dark, shiny red as it hardens when exposed to air. The Angophora lanceolata, or colonist apple tree (which is related to the Eucalyptus), also produces a dark-red astringent gum from its trunk and branches.
After leaving Turril, turril, we proceeded through a flat, swampy, and uninteresting country, rendered still more tiresome by the drizzling rain. Having passed “Stony Creek,” and descended “Church Hill,” we were glad to obtain shelter at the farm of Mingablah, the property of Charles Cowper, Esq., after a journey of twenty-eight miles. The soil about this part of the country was of a fertile character, but stony; abounding in the whinstone.
After leaving Turril, we moved through a flat, swampy, and dull area, made even more annoying by the drizzling rain. After passing “Stony Creek” and going down “Church Hill,” we were relieved to find shelter at the farm of Mingablah, owned by Charles Cowper, Esq., after a journey of twenty-eight miles. The soil in this part of the country was fertile but rocky, full of whinstone.
Much of the dull time during our confinement to the house, from the heavy and continued rain, was passed away by the amusing relations of the overseer, who informed us he had, from a very tender age, a “propensity” to keep living animals. Since his arrival in this country, he had succeeded in domesticating a large number of parrots, who went in and out of the house, without[144] making any attempt to escape from his protecting care. But one fatal day this pleasing domestic scene was changed to one of a tragical nature; for, at an unlucky hour, a stranger arrived, accompanied by a big dog of a black colour. The result proved that the dog had only one “propensity,” and that, to speak phrenologically, was “destructiveness.” So, availing himself of the absence of those of human creation, and excited by the aforesaid organ, and the dulness of the times, he began to attack and speedily demolish the frames of the pollies, scattered their limbs and feathers about, and did not leave one survivor to relate the tale. The horrid sight that met the affectionate eyes of the owner on his return, was his favourites, some with bowels protruding from their natural cavity; others minus heads and limbs; and all so damaged, as to have life extinguished. The big black dog even then was caught busily occupied in shaking about what remained of those unfortunate feathered bipeds. After this melancholy occurrence, he became disheartened from having any more favourites, and gave it to us as the cause why he had no curious animals at this time to show us, but in my opinion the relation was much more amusing than the animals would have been: so their absence, at least to us, was not a source of regret.
Much of the boring time during our time stuck at home, due to the heavy and continuous rain, was spent listening to the entertaining stories from the overseer. He told us that from a very young age, he had a “thing” for keeping live animals. Since coming to this country, he had managed to tame a large number of parrots, who would come and go from the house without trying to escape his care. But one unfortunate day, this pleasant domestic scene turned into a tragedy; at an unlucky moment, a stranger showed up with a big black dog. It became clear that the dog had only one “thing,” which, to put it in psychological terms, was “destructiveness.” So, taking advantage of the absence of humans and driven by that instinct, along with the boredom of the times, he began to attack and quickly destroy the cages of the parrots, scattering their body parts and feathers everywhere, leaving no survivors to tell the story. The shocking scene that greeted the owner when he returned was his beloved pets, some with their insides hanging out, others missing heads and limbs; all so damaged that they were dead. The big black dog was even caught busily shaking around what was left of those unfortunate feathered creatures. After this sad event, he lost the will to keep any more favorites and explained to us this was why he had no interesting animals to show at the moment. However, in my opinion, his stories were much more entertaining than the animals would have been, so their absence didn’t bother us at all.
Although the rain still continued, we proceeded on our journey the following morning, being desirous of reaching Goulburn Plains, (which was now only twenty miles distant.) We passed through a swampy, thinly-wooded country, and by noon arrived at “Tarlo,” on the banks of the Cockbundoon river. Proceeding several miles further, from the summit of a hill near the road, we were gratified by a splendid distant view of a portion of Goulburn Plains, and the open forest land in its vicinity. We passed through the township, which at present contains only a few bark and wooden habitations. This situation for the township not being originally well chosen, it is the intention of government to remove it to a more suitable part of the plains.
Although the rain still continued, we set out on our journey the next morning, eager to reach Goulburn Plains, which was now just twenty miles away. We traveled through a swampy, sparsely wooded area, and by noon we arrived at “Tarlo,” on the banks of the Cockbundoon River. After going several miles further, we were pleased to see a beautiful distant view of a part of Goulburn Plains and the open forest land around it from the top of a hill near the road. We passed through the township, which currently has only a few bark and wooden houses. Since the location of the township was not originally well chosen, the government plans to move it to a more suitable part of the plains.
We arrived in the evening at the prettily situated dwelling-house and fine estate of J. Bradley, Esq., called Lansdowne Park; from which there is a fine prospect of a very picturesque portion of the plains. This part of the country, (called “Goulburn Plains” and “Mulwerry” by the aborigines,) is a series of beautiful plains, clear of timber, except where a few scattered clumps of Banksia rosmarinifolia, or “honeysuckle,” are seen, readily distinguished by its dark appearance, contrasted by the lively carpeting of verdure[146] beneath and around them; hills of moderate elevation, with sloping declivities, and wooded on their summits, divide the plains, and give a pleasing variety to the prospect; while distant mountains, having a blue tinge, terminate the view to the horizon: occasional patches of land under cultivation with grain, innumerable herds of cattle grazing, and flocks of sheep, attended by their shepherds, gave animation to the verdant plains, not yet browned by the parching summer heats.
We arrived in the evening at the beautifully located house and impressive estate of J. Bradley, Esq., called Lansdowne Park; from there, you get a great view of a very picturesque part of the plains. This area, known as “Goulburn Plains” and “Mulwerry” by the Indigenous people, features a series of lovely plains, mostly clear of trees, except for a few scattered clumps of Banksia rosmarinifolia, or “honeysuckle,” which are easily recognized by their dark appearance, contrasting with the vibrant green grass beneath and around them. Moderately elevated hills, sloping down and topped with trees, separate the plains and add pleasing variety to the view, while distant blue-tinged mountains mark the horizon: occasional fields of grain being cultivated, countless herds of cattle grazing, and flocks of sheep watched over by their shepherds brought life to the lush plains, which hadn’t yet been scorched by the summer heat.[146]
The following morning we crossed the plains, through a still beautiful country, passing the farms of Messrs. Howey, Rossi, and Moore, near which the Wollandilly river flows in a fine stream; after a ride of nine miles, the weather being unfavourable, we sought shelter, and received a kind reception at “Cardross,” the farm of Mr. Kinghorne.
The next morning, we traveled across the plains, through a still beautiful area, passing the farms of Messrs. Howey, Rossi, and Moore, near which the Wollandilly River flows in a nice stream. After riding for nine miles, with the weather being unwelcoming, we looked for shelter and received a warm welcome at “Cardross,” the farm owned by Mr. Kinghorne.
On the road, several of that elegant species of the Eucalyptus, the E. mannifera, or manna-tree, were seen, having just produced flower-buds; but no manna was yet secreted from the trees. Since leaving the Blue Mountain range, not a single shrub of the Warratah or tulip-tree (Telopea speciosissima) has been met with; and I heard from several persons that the attempts as yet made to rear it in the gardens in this part of[147] the colony had failed. From the splendid beauty of its flowers, the introduction would be desirable, as conducing much to the ornamental appearance of the flower garden.
On the road, several of the elegant types of Eucalyptus, specifically the E. mannifera, or manna-tree, were spotted, just starting to produce flower buds; but no manna had been released from the trees yet. Since leaving the Blue Mountain range, not a single shrub of the Warratah or tulip-tree (Telopea speciosissima) has been seen; and I heard from various people that the attempts so far to grow it in gardens in this part of [147] the colony have been unsuccessful. Given the stunning beauty of its flowers, introducing it would be worthwhile, as it would greatly enhance the ornamental look of the flower garden.
CHAPTER VII.
Appearance among the natives of a disease resembling the small-pox—Origin and progress of that malady among the aborigines—Medical investigations—Plan of treatment—Variety of forms assumed by the disease—Its duration—The critical period—Dr. Mair’s report.
Appearance among the locals of a disease resembling smallpox—Origin and progression of that illness among the indigenous people—Medical research—Treatment plan—Different forms the disease takes—Its duration—The critical period—Dr. Mair’s report.
About two years previous an eruptive febrile disease made its appearance among the natives of Wellington Valley, resembling the small-pox in its principal characters. Some alarm was experienced in consequence among the Europeans, to whose children the disease had as yet been fortunately unknown. About a year after I was informed it prevailed among the aborigines at the Lachlan, Burragorang, and Cox’s river, and I remarked that several of the blacks at Goulburn Plains, and also at other parts of the colony, had pits on their faces, resembling those produced by small-pox, and which, they informed me, were caused by the disease[149] in question. The name that this disease is known by among the aborigines is “Thunna, thunna,” or “Túnna, tunna,” and they describe it as being attended by sore-throat, head-ache, and high febrile symptoms, upon the day previous to the appearance of the eruptions; the latter were described to me as commencing in a similar manner, and passing through the same stages as is usual in small-pox, covering the face and all parts of the body, even to the soles of the feet and palms of the hands: it was also stated that adults were more covered with eruptions, and suffered more severely from the disease, than children, and the aggravation of the symptoms caused much mortality among them. Among the children it often occurred that only a few scattered eruptions would appear, and the febrile symptoms also assume a very mild character. No deaths occurred in these cases.
About two years earlier, a contagious fever broke out among the Indigenous people of Wellington Valley, resembling smallpox in its main features. This caused some alarm among the Europeans, whose children had fortunately not yet been affected by the disease. About a year later, I learned that it was affecting the Aboriginal people at Lachlan, Burragorang, and Cox’s River. I noticed that several Indigenous individuals at Goulburn Plains and other parts of the colony had scars on their faces that looked like those from smallpox, which they told me were from the disease in question. This disease is referred to by the Indigenous people as “Thunna, thunna,” or “Túnna, tunna,” and they described it as being accompanied by sore throat, headaches, and high fever symptoms the day before the rashes appeared. The rashes were said to start similarly and progress through the same stages as smallpox, covering the face and all parts of the body, including the soles of the feet and palms of the hands. It was also reported that adults had more rashes and suffered more severely from the disease than children, and the worsening of symptoms led to considerable mortality among them. In contrast, children often experienced only a few scattered rashes, and their fever symptoms were generally mild. No deaths were reported in these cases.[149]
As far as our information at present extends, it appears not to be an introduced disease, or at least we have no facts to prove such being the case. It is mentioned in “Tench’s Account of the Colony of New South Wales, 1795,” that several natives had marks resembling those left by the eruptions of small-pox, and which I have no doubt originated from the disease,[150] the subject of this chapter. Several old men were marked by it; and I understand that during the time it prevailed among the aborigines at Wellington Valley, they did not regard it as of foreign introduction; they considered it contagious, and when one party was attacked by this formidable disease, the others deserted them, to avoid being infected. None of the soldier’s children stationed at Wellington Valley took the disorder, although the blacks about the settlement were suffering from it; the children never had had the small-pox, but I could not be informed whether they had been vaccinated.
As far as our current information goes, it doesn't seem to be a disease that was introduced, or at least we don't have any evidence to prove that it is. In “Tench’s Account of the Colony of New South Wales, 1795,” it’s mentioned that several natives had marks similar to those left by smallpox, and I’m sure they originated from the disease in this chapter.[150] Some older men had these marks, and I’ve learned that during its outbreaks among the Aboriginal people at Wellington Valley, they didn’t think it was something brought in from outside; they viewed it as contagious. When one group was hit by this serious illness, the others would leave them to avoid getting infected. None of the soldier’s children stationed at Wellington Valley got sick, even though the local Indigenous people were dealing with it; the children had never had smallpox, but I couldn't find out if they had been vaccinated.
This disease excited so much attention during the time it prevailed,[57] that the government were induced to send a medical gentleman into the interior to report upon, and give his opinion regarding, its nature. Dr. Mair, assistant-surgeon[151] of the thirty-ninth regiment, was deputed to this office. A more judicious selection could not have been made, although it may be regretted that his arrival was too late to observe its progress through the different stages, but he indefatigably devoted himself to procure such information as would place the nature of the disease almost beyond a doubt. The result was a collection of most interesting information upon its progress, character, &c., although several interesting points are still open for further medical observation and inquiry. On my return to Sydney, Dr. Mair kindly favoured me with a copy of the report he made to the colonial government, and I have availed myself of many of his remarks, and have devoted a chapter to the subject, regarding it as one interesting to non-medical, as well as medical readers, as the same disease, or at all events one very closely allied to it, has been, and still too often is, the cause of much domestic misery and suffering.
This disease drew a lot of attention while it was prevalent, [57] prompting the government to send a medical professional into the interior to report on and share his opinion about its nature. Dr. Mair, an assistant-surgeon[151] in the thirty-ninth regiment, was assigned to this task. He was an excellent choice, although it’s unfortunate that he arrived too late to observe its progress through the various stages. Nevertheless, he tirelessly committed himself to gathering information that would clarify the nature of the disease almost beyond doubt. The result was a collection of fascinating information about its progression, characteristics, etc., even though several intriguing points still remain open for further medical observation and inquiry. Upon my return to Sydney, Dr. Mair kindly provided me with a copy of the report he submitted to the colonial government, and I have drawn on many of his insights, dedicating a chapter to the subject, considering it significant for both non-medical and medical readers, since the same disease, or something very similar, has been and continues to be a source of much domestic misery and suffering.
As far back as the year 1789, says Dr. Mair in his report, an eruptive disorder, resembling the small-pox, broke out among the aborigines, and proved extensively fatal: its marks are still to be seen on the bodies of several of them of very advanced age, corresponding in appearance[152] with the pits left by the small-pox. From that distant period no similar disease had been observed among them, till about the month of August, 1830, when Mr. Brown, of Wallerowang, first saw this eruptive malady in five blacks, near the river Castlereagh, two in the incipient, and three in more advanced stages. He had, however, heard of its existence among the tribes to the northward six months before. One of these men was afterwards seen by Mr. Brown with pits like those of small-pox, on different parts of his body; and he ascertained that the others had died of the disease. Mr. Brown did not meet with any more cases of the disease till the beginning of August, 1831, when it manifested itself in three blacks, who had been in close communication with some others recently arrived from the Lachlan, and who had but a short time recovered sufficiently to be able to travel. These men stated that the disease had been raging in their part of the country, and that several had died of it. Some of the Wallerowang blacks, convinced of its contagious nature, had fled to Emu plains to escape infection; three of the number having afterwards returned were seized with it.
As early as 1789, Dr. Mair reports that an eruptive illness similar to smallpox broke out among the Indigenous people and caused significant fatalities. The scars from this illness are still visible on the bodies of several elderly individuals, resembling the pockmarks left by smallpox. From that time until around August 1830, no similar sickness had been observed among them, until Mr. Brown from Wallerowang first encountered this eruptive disease in five individuals near the Castlereagh River—two in the early stages and three in more advanced stages. However, he had heard about its presence among tribes to the north six months earlier. One of these individuals was later seen by Mr. Brown with smallpox-like scars on various parts of his body, and he learned that the others had died from the illness. Mr. Brown did not come across any further cases until early August 1831, when three Indigenous people who had been in close contact with others recently arrived from the Lachlan, who had only just recovered enough to travel, showed symptoms of the disease. These men reported that the illness had been spreading in their area and that several people had died from it. Some of the Wallerowang Indigenous people, fearing its contagious nature, fled to Emu Plains to avoid infection; however, three individuals who returned later contracted the disease.
At Wellington Valley the same malady was first remarked, (as near as could be ascertained,)[153] in October last year, (1830,) and continued to affect the blacks in that vicinity to December. The poor creatures blamed Captain Sturt for its introduction,[58] were much alarmed about it, and are represented as having anticipated some grievous calamity; a great fire and flood were predicted by one of their sages, which would come from Mount Harris and destroy them. From the testimony of George Clark, a convict, who had resided with the native tribes, far in the interior, for several years, and was lately taken prisoner by the mounted police the disease proceeded from the north-west coast, and spared none of the tribes as far as Liverpool Plains, attacking twenty and thirty at a time, none escaping its fury. The king, or chief of[154] the tribe among whom Clark had been naturalized, was first seized with it, and died, as had been predicted by the kradjee, or physician and soothsayer. He had previously been with a tribe situated near the sea, and it is probable may have seen the disease before, although he disclaimed having any but supernatural knowledge of it.
At Wellington Valley, the same illness was first noticed, (as far as could be determined,) [153] in October last year, (1830,) and continued to affect the local Indigenous people until December. The unfortunate individuals blamed Captain Sturt for bringing it, [58] and were quite anxious about it, fearing some terrible disaster; one of their wise men predicted a great fire and flood that would come from Mount Harris and wipe them out. According to George Clark, a convict who had lived with the native tribes deep in the interior for several years and was recently captured by the mounted police, the disease came from the north-west coast and did not spare any of the tribes as far as Liverpool Plains, attacking twenty or thirty people at a time, with no one escaping its wrath. The king, or chief of the tribe among whom Clark had been accepted, was the first to catch it and died, just as the kradjee, or physician and soothsayer, had predicted. He had previously been with a tribe located near the sea, and it's likely he had encountered the illness before, although he claimed to have only supernatural knowledge of it.
The plan of treatment followed in the case of the king was immersion in cold water; four persons of less note underwent the same, and only one survived. The consequence was, that other medicinal measures were thought of, and the cold-bath was stigmatized and abandoned. Scorching the hair from the head, and pricking the pustules with a sharp-pointed fish bone, then squeezing out the fluid contained in them with the flat part of the instrument, was the next mode of cure adopted by the kradjee; and it is worthy of remark, that the operation suggested itself to him from the observation that the pustules burst spontaneously, and discharged whitish matter, in the first case of recovery.
The treatment plan for the king involved immersing him in cold water; four others of lesser status underwent the same treatment, and only one survived. As a result, other medical options were considered, and the cold bath was criticized and abandoned. The next method of treatment suggested by the kradjee involved burning the hair off the head, pricking the pustules with a sharp fish bone, and then squeezing the fluid from them with the flat side of the tool. It's interesting to note that he came up with this method after observing that the pustules burst on their own and released a whitish substance in the first patient who recovered.
It is curious, observes Dr. Mair, that the very same process was recommended by Avicenna, the celebrated Arabian physician, who flourished in the tenth century of the Christian era, and gave the first complete history of the[155] small-pox, with this only difference, that the learned author used a more elegant instrument, a golden needle! and even in the present day the same practice is approved of by the best writers on the subject. The new method of treatment was attended with happier results than the old, only one out of six dying of the malady; and if, continues Dr. Mair, instead of entirely relinquishing the cold-bath, it had still been employed with judicious caution, the mortality might have been further reduced.
It’s interesting, Dr. Mair points out, that the exact same method was suggested by Avicenna, the famous Arabian doctor, who lived in the tenth century of the Christian era and provided the first complete account of the[155] smallpox, with only one difference: the learned author used a fancier instrument, a golden needle! Even today, the best writers on the topic endorse the same practice. The new treatment method led to better outcomes than the old one, with only one in six dying from the disease; and if, Dr. Mair adds, instead of completely giving up the cold bath, it had still been used with careful consideration, the death rate could have been lowered even more.
The kradjee, priest, soothsayer, or physician, (for he appears to exercise the functions of each,) goes through many superstitious ceremonies to cure his patient, with rods of two or three yards in length, which he fixes in the earth in a crescentic form, and addresses with a variety of gestures. The common people place implicit faith in his predictions; and it is asserted by Clark, that they sometimes bury alive those whom in his medical capacity he has abandoned. They believe the disease to be infectious, but do not shun one another on that account; they name it “Boulol.” The Lachlan and Wellington Valley tribes call it Thunna, thunna; and Dr. Mair also says that he heard a most lugubrious dirge chaunted at a Corrobera at Bathurst, commemorative of[156] this destructive epidemic, and judged accurately of its nature from the melancholy note and solemn manner of the pageant.
The kradjee, who acts as a priest, soothsayer, or doctor, (since it seems he takes on all these roles), performs various superstitious rituals to heal his patients. He uses rods that are two or three yards long, which he plants in the ground in a crescent shape, and interacts with them in various ways. The local people have complete faith in his predictions; it's reported by Clark that they sometimes bury alive those he has given up on as a doctor. They believe the illness is contagious, but they don’t avoid each other because of it; they refer to it as “Boulol.” The Lachlan and Wellington Valley tribes call it Thunna, thunna; Dr. Mair also mentions hearing a very mournful dirge sung at a Corrobera in Bathurst, commemorating this deadly epidemic, and he was able to accurately judge its nature from the sad tone and serious nature of the ceremony.
Dr. Mair continues to state in his report, that the disease seems to have assumed a considerable variety of forms in different individuals, but from the concurrent testimony of all the observers who were consulted, the following symptoms may be considered as common to all of them. For several successive days the patient feels languid, indolent, and oppressed, loses his appetite, suffers from head-ache, pain of chest or stomach, increased heat of skin, and other febrile symptoms. The usual duration of this incipient stage appears to have been from two to eight days. It was followed by an eruption of small red spots, resembling flea-bites, which generally commenced on the face, and gradually spread more or less thickly over the head, breast, and extremities; the tongue and lips were likewise involved in the eruption, and the soles of the feet have been particularly remarked in many instances to be numerously studded with it.
Dr. Mair continues in his report that the disease seems to take on various forms in different individuals, but based on the consistent observations of all consulted experts, the following symptoms can be seen as common to all of them. For several consecutive days, the patient feels weak, lazy, and overwhelmed, loses their appetite, experiences headaches, chest or stomach pain, increased skin temperature, and other fever-like symptoms. The typical duration of this initial stage appears to be between two to eight days. It is followed by a breakout of small red spots, similar to flea bites, which usually start on the face and gradually spread more or less densely over the head, chest, and limbs; the tongue and lips are also affected by the rash, and the soles of the feet have been particularly noted in many cases to be significantly covered with it.
When the eruption had fully developed itself, which generally occurred in twenty-four hours, a remission was observed to take place in the febrile symptoms, but the patient began to complain[157] much of pain in the throat, and could only swallow liquids. The small red spots, or papulæ, were converted into vesicles or pustules, in periods, varying from three to seven or eight days; the fluid contained in these vesicles or pustules is represented by some as resembling whey, by others milk, and by others to be yellowish or straw-coloured, like the thin pus of sores. It was likewise described as bloody water. When at their height they were about the size of a pea. One very intelligent lady, who had witnessed its effects in several of the blacks, informed me the eruption was very like the cow-pock. The greater number of persons who had watched its progress, and who had likewise seen the small-pox in England, pronounced it to be that disorder. Scabs formed and fell off at different periods, in different cases, according to the length of time occupied by the maturation of the vesicles or pustules; these were occasionally confluent on the nose and cheeks, and frequently left permanent marks or indentations on the skin.
When the eruption fully developed, which usually happened within twenty-four hours, there was a noticeable decrease in the fever symptoms, but the patient started to complain a lot about throat pain and could only swallow liquids. The small red spots, or papules, turned into vesicles or pustules over periods ranging from three to seven or eight days. The fluid inside these vesicles or pustules was described by some as looking like whey, by others like milk, and by others as yellowish or straw-colored, similar to thin pus from sores. It was also referred to as bloody water. At their peak, they were about the size of a pea. One very observant woman, who had seen its effects in several black individuals, told me the eruption resembled cowpox. Most people who had observed its progress and had also seen smallpox in England said it was the same disease. Scabs formed and fell off at different times for different cases, depending on how long it took for the vesicles or pustules to mature. Sometimes they merged on the nose and cheeks and often left permanent marks or indentations on the skin.
Its usual duration is stated to have been from a fortnight to three weeks in cases of restoration to health; but even after the eruption had entirely subsided, and the disease might be considered over, the convalescents[158] were unable to walk for a long time, owing to the tenderness of their feet, from which the cuticle had entirely separated. In many cases the other sequelæ of the disease were very distressing; some lost their eye-sight, others had abscesses in different parts of the body, or foul and tedious ulcers, with great debility and emaciation. Death was said to happen generally among the Lachlan and Wellington Valley blacks about the third day after the appearance of the eruption; the tongue became much swollen, and covered with livid spots, the breathing greatly oppressed, and deglutition impracticable. Secondary fever was seldom observed, and when it occurred seemed owing to cold; but the rarity of secondary fever is easily explained by the early fatality of the disease in the severe cases in which only it could have been expected. Some were said to have perished at the very onset of the malady, before there was the slightest sign of eruption.
Its usual duration was said to be from two weeks to three weeks in cases of recovery; but even after the rash had completely gone, and the illness could be considered over, the patients[158] were unable to walk for a long time due to the soreness of their feet, which had lost their outer layer of skin. In many cases, the other aftermaths of the illness were very distressing; some lost their eyesight, others developed abscesses in various parts of their bodies, or painful and slow-healing sores, accompanied by significant weakness and weight loss. It was reported that death usually occurred among the Aboriginal people of the Lachlan and Wellington Valley about the third day after the rash appeared; their tongues became very swollen and covered with dark spots, their breathing was heavily labored, and swallowing became impossible. Secondary fever was rarely observed, and when it did occur, it seemed to be caused by cold; however, the infrequency of secondary fever can be easily explained by the early fatality of the disease in the severe cases where it would have been expected. Some were reported to have died at the very onset of the illness, before there was any visible sign of a rash.
Among the tribes to the north-west of Liverpool Plains, the disease seems to have approached more nearly to the description of confluent small-pox, as it is met with in Europe. The eruption coalescing on the face, and being followed in a day or two by salivation, (or as Clark describes it, water pouring from the[159] mouth as they lay on the ground,) about the 10th or 12th day, a sort of convulsive or epileptic fit took place, and afterwards the fluid from the mouth was of a bloody appearance, and more viscid, so as to be discharged with great difficulty.
Among the tribes northwest of Liverpool Plains, the disease seems to resemble confluent smallpox, similar to what is seen in Europe. The rash merged on the face, and was followed a day or two later by excessive salivation, (or as Clark describes it, water gushing from the[159] mouth while they lay on the ground.) Around the 10th or 12th day, a kind of convulsive or epileptic fit occurred, and afterward, the fluid from the mouth had a bloody appearance and was thicker, making it hard to discharge.
This was considered the critical period, and was speedily followed by death, unless the patient soon after began to rally. The great difficulty and danger of this disease, (the confluent small-pox,) says Huxham, chiefly comes on at the state or turn of the pox; for however easily matters may have proceeded till this time, we are now (viz. the 7th, 9th, or 11th day from the eruption) very often surprised with a very shocking change, and terrible symptoms. The salivation and viscid discharge from the mouth are particularly described by Sydenham, and other eminent writers on this disease.
This was seen as the critical period and was quickly followed by death unless the patient began to improve soon after. The major difficulty and danger of this disease (the confluent smallpox), according to Huxham, mainly occur at the peak or turning point of the illness; for no matter how smoothly things may have gone up until this point, we are often caught off guard by a shocking change and severe symptoms around the 7th, 9th, or 11th day after the rash appears. Sydenham and other notable writers on this disease particularly mention the salivation and sticky discharge from the mouth.
It has been remarked, by most of the eyewitnesses of this epidemic, that it proved chiefly fatal to adults and old people, seldom to children, and that those who had suffered from it at a former period, as indicated by the marks on their skin, escaped it altogether, while there were few other cases of exemption. Dr. Mair proceeds to give, in his report, cases in which some Europeans were attacked by it,[160] on which he has made some very excellent observations, and I regret that my limits will oblige me to exclude them from this work. Dr. Mair observes, that he met with no opposition on the part of the aborigines in his wishes to extend to them the inestimable benefits of vaccination; those who had not suffered from the late epidemic, viewed their escape as accidental, and while its frightful symptoms and dire effects were yet fresh in their memories they were willing to submit to a simple operation, which, they were told, would henceforth protect them against the disease. Dr. Mair thus concludes his interesting and valuable report.
It has been noted by most of the eyewitnesses of this epidemic that it mainly affected adults and older individuals, rarely impacting children. Those who had previously suffered from it, as shown by the marks on their skin, completely avoided it, while there were very few other cases of exemption. Dr. Mair goes on to provide in his report examples of some Europeans who were affected by it,[160] on which he has made some very insightful observations, and I regret that my limitations will require me to leave them out of this work. Dr. Mair notes that he encountered no resistance from the indigenous people in his efforts to offer them the invaluable benefits of vaccination; those who had not been affected by the recent epidemic viewed their good fortune as coincidental, and while the horrifying symptoms and severe consequences were still fresh in their minds, they were willing to undergo a simple procedure that they were told would protect them from the disease in the future. Dr. Mair thus concludes his interesting and valuable report.
“1. The eruptive febrile disease, which lately prevailed among the aborigines, was contagious, or communicable from one person to another, and capable of being propagated by inoculation.
“1. The infectious fever that recently spread among the natives was contagious, meaning it could be transmitted from one person to another, and it could also be spread through inoculation.
“2. It approached more nearly in its symptoms to the character of small-pox than any other disease with which we are acquainted, particularly to that species of small-pox described by Staff-surgeon Marshall, as occurring in the Kandyan provinces in 1819.[59]
“2. Its symptoms were more similar to smallpox than any other disease we know of, especially the type of smallpox described by Staff-surgeon Marshall, which occurred in the Kandyan provinces in 1819.[59]
“4. Vaccination seemed to possess a controlling power over it, as three blacks who had been successfully vaccinated, although equally exposed to the disease, escaped infection.
“4. Vaccination seemed to have a controlling power over it, as three Black individuals who had been successfully vaccinated, despite being equally exposed to the disease, avoided infection.”
“5. It was not confined to the aborigines, but in one instance attacked a European in the form of secondary small-pox, and proved fatal to a child with symptoms resembling confluent small-pox.
“5. It wasn’t just limited to the indigenous people; in one case, it also affected a European as secondary smallpox and was fatal for a child who showed symptoms similar to confluent smallpox.
“6. In several cases it occasioned blindness, and left many of the poor blacks in a very debilitated and helpless condition, with marks which could not be distinguished from the pits of small-pox on different parts of their bodies.
“6. In several cases, it caused blindness and left many of the poor Black people in a very weak and helpless state, with marks that were indistinguishable from the pockmarks of smallpox on various parts of their bodies.”
“7. It was never observed to attack any of the aborigines a second time, and it spread alarm and consternation among them.” Soon after Dr. Mair’s report was sent in to the Colonial Government, an official notice was published in the “Sydney Gazette,” requesting parents to have their children vaccinated.
“7. It was never seen to attack any of the native people a second time, and it caused fear and panic among them.” Soon after Dr. Mair’s report was submitted to the Colonial Government, an official notice was published in the “Sydney Gazette,” asking parents to have their children vaccinated.
CHAPTER VIII.
Bredalbane Plains—Forest country—Cockatoos and parrots—Peculiar species of the lizard tribe—Medicinal trees—Bark of the wattle trees—Mr. Manton’s farm—Picturesque view—Yas plains—Encampment of natives—Stringy bark, or box tree—Use of that plant—Native method of cooking—The Australian negro—Game—The flying squirrel—Human chimney ornaments—Cloaks of opossum or kangaroo skins—Barbarous ceremonies—Women not admitted to the confidence of the males.
Bredalbane Plains—Forest area—Cockatoos and parrots—Unique types of lizards—Medicinal trees—Bark from wattle trees—Mr. Manton’s farm—Scenic view—Yas plains—Native encampment—Stringy bark or box tree—Uses of that plant—Indigenous cooking methods—Aboriginal people—Wildlife—Flying squirrel—Human chimney decorations—Cloaks made from opossum or kangaroo skins—Brutal ceremonies—Women excluded from male discussions.
On the 3rd of October we resumed our journey, taking a bush path for a short distance, until we emerged upon “Bredalbane Plains,” a great portion of which is very swampy, and during heavy rains overflown. Passing a cattle station, the property of Mr. Chisholm, we had a view of another plain, or more correctly marsh, (named the third Bredalbane Plain,) abounding in reeds; here several birds of the heron species, known by the name of the “native companion,” (Ardea[163] antigone,) were pacing about, in search of food, but rising with heavy flight on being disturbed. After an agreeable ride of fourteen miles, we arrived at “Mut, mut billy,” the farm of Mr. Reddal; here we remained for the night.[60]
On October 3rd, we continued our journey, taking a bush path for a short while until we reached “Bredalbane Plains,” a large area that is quite swampy and floods during heavy rain. After passing a cattle station owned by Mr. Chisholm, we got a view of another flat area, more precisely a marsh (called the third Bredalbane Plain), filled with reeds. Several heron-like birds, known as “native companions” (Ardea[163] antigone), were wandering around searching for food but took off with heavy flight when disturbed. After a pleasant ride of fourteen miles, we arrived at “Mut, mut billy,” Mr. Reddal's farm, where we stayed for the night.[60]
Proceeding on our journey the following morning, we passed an interesting open forest country, possessing some good land for cultivation, and abundance of fine herbage for grazing. Many of the situations appeared too damp for sheep, but all, even to the mountain ranges, had fine feeding for cattle. About noon we arrived at “Gonnong,” a cattle station belonging to Mr. Kennedy, of Appin. Our route continued through a still beautiful country, abounding in fine herbage, and for the most part an open forest of much picturesque beauty; blocks of granite, grouped in various forms and of all dimensions, appeared elevating themselves above the land, crowning the summits of the hills, or protruding through the declivities.
The next morning, as we continued our journey, we passed through an interesting open forest area that had good land for farming and plenty of lush grass for grazing. Many spots seemed too wet for sheep, but overall, even in the mountain ranges, there was excellent feed for cattle. Around noon, we reached “Gonnong,” a cattle station owned by Mr. Kennedy from Appin. Our path took us through a still beautiful region filled with lush grass, mostly an open forest with picturesque scenery; blocks of granite, shaped in various forms and sizes, rose above the land, crowning the top of the hills or sticking out through the slopes.
Black and white cockatoos, (Psittacus funereus,[164] Lath. and P. galeritus Temm.,) with an infinite variety of the parrot tribe, such as ground parrots, (Psittacus formosus, Lath.) loris, (Psittacus eximius, Shaw.) &c., enlivened the scene, for even their discordant screams are cheering in the depths of an Australian solitude; among them also the “Rosehill parrot,” which, for beauty, variety, and harmony of colours, is not to be equalled by any of the other species, was abundant; I picked up one of this species lying dead on the road, still warm, in full and beautiful plumage, and without any external wound to account for its death. The more gentle “Bronze-winged pigeons” (Columba chalcoptera) were also very numerous, alighting on the road to pick up food, unmindful of the near approach of the horses. The plumage of this bird varies from a beautiful fawn colour to a dark brown, with several brown feathers near the bases of the wings, from which cause it derives its colonial appellation. Numerous magpies, crows, and the smaller variety of birds of gay plumage, also crossed our path, exciting the admiration and attention of the traveller.
Black and white cockatoos, (Psittacus funereus,[164] Lath. and P. galeritus Temm.,) along with countless varieties of parrots, like ground parrots, (Psittacus formosus, Lath.) and lorikeets, (Psittacus eximius, Shaw.) filled the scene with life. Even their loud cries are uplifting in the vastness of the Australian wilderness. Among them was the “Rosehill parrot,” unmatched in beauty, diversity, and color vibrancy. I found one of these birds lying dead on the road—still warm, with stunning plumage, and no visible injury to explain its death. The more gentle “Bronze-winged pigeons” (Columba chalcoptera) were also plentiful, landing on the road to forage without a care for the approaching horses. The feathers of this bird range from a lovely fawn color to dark brown, with several brown feathers near the wing bases, which is how it got its colonial name. Many magpies, crows, and smaller brightly colored birds also crossed our path, capturing the admiration of passersby.
A peculiar, and, I believe, undescribed species of the lizard tribe, of a black colour and repulsive appearance, but perfectly harmless, was occasionally seen; the tail is very short in proportion[165] to the length of the body, having the appearance of a portion of it being accidentally broken off, but on examination it is found to be the natural formation; they crossed the road before us, moving very slow, and did not display any signs of timidity at our presence. This species is said to be eaten by the aborigines.
A strange, and I think, previously unmentioned species of lizard, which is black and has an unappealing look but is completely harmless, was sometimes spotted. Its tail is quite short compared to the length of its body, appearing as if a part of it has been accidentally broken off, but when examined, it turns out to be its natural shape. They crossed the road in front of us, moving slowly, and showed no signs of fear at our presence. This species is said to be eaten by the native people.[165]
After passing the Gap,[61] or opening in the mountain range, through which the road to Yas Plains leads, we continued for a few miles through a still interesting country. About this place several of the varieties or species of Eucalyptus, which have opposite leaves of a bluish green colour, their surface being sprinkled thinly with a whitish powder, were very abundant; it is from their foliage that the largest quantity of the camphorated oil, which so closely resembles the Caju puti, is produced. Some contain it in such abundance as to cover the hand with oil, when one of the leaves is gently rubbed against it. I am informed that the oil has been extracted in the colony for medicinal purposes, and, I believe, will be found[166] possessed of similar properties to the Caju puti, so highly esteemed in arthrodial rheumatism as an embrocation. The oil known by the name of Caju puti[62] oil is produced from the leaves of a tree of the Melaleuca genus, of the species M. leucadendron and M. Caju puti.
After we passed the Gap, or opening in the mountain range that leads to Yas Plains, we continued for a few miles through some still interesting countryside. Around this area, several varieties or species of Eucalyptus, with opposite leaves that are a bluish-green color and have a light dusting of a whitish powder, were very common; it is from their leaves that a large amount of the camphorated oil, which closely resembles Caju puti, is produced. Some of these trees contain so much oil that if you gently rub one of the leaves on your hand, it will cover it with oil. I've heard that the oil has been extracted in the colony for medicinal uses and, I believe, will have similar properties to Caju puti, which is highly regarded in treating arthrodial rheumatism as a topical application. The oil known as Caju puti oil is derived from the leaves of a tree from the Melaleuca genus, specifically the species M. leucadendron and M. Caju puti.
By five o’clock, P.M. we arrived, after a very agreeable day’s journey, at the neat white cottage of Mr. Rose, at Mundoona: we had made a journey of twenty-nine miles this day, and were now within a few miles of Yas Plains, although they were not visible from this farm; the fine stream of the Yas river flows through[167] the estate, only a short distance from the cottage. Since leaving “Goulburn Plains,” we had occasionally seen the “Green-wattle tree” still in bloom; its bark is highly valued for the tanning principle it abundantly contains; the bark of another “Acacia,” called “black wattle” by the colonists, also contains similar properties, but the former bears the preference from producing a stronger liquor, and from the latter imparting a much deeper red tinge to the leather; the bark is used in the tan pits macerated only in cold water, but when there is time and requisite conveniences, a decoction is made, by which a stronger liquor is procured. The aborigines, about the Illawarra district, and other parts of the colony, stupify fish, by throwing the bark of the “green-wattle tree” into the water.
By five o’clock, PM we arrived, after a really pleasant day’s journey, at the tidy white cottage of Mr. Rose in Mundoona: we had traveled twenty-nine miles today and were just a few miles from Yas Plains, even though they weren’t visible from this farm; the lovely Yas River flows through[167] the estate, only a short distance from the cottage. Since leaving “Goulburn Plains,” we had occasionally spotted the “Green-wattle tree” still in bloom; its bark is highly valued for the tanning properties it contains. The bark of another species, known as “black wattle” by the colonists, has similar properties, but the former is preferred because it produces a stronger liquor, while the latter gives a much deeper red color to the leather. The bark is used in the tanning pits, soaked only in cold water, but when there’s more time and the right materials, a decoction is made to get a stronger liquor. The Indigenous people in the Illawarra district and other parts of the colony stun fish by tossing the bark of the “green-wattle tree” into the water.
I rode over to Yas Plains, to the farm of Mr. Manton, (a son of the celebrated gunsmith,) about four miles distant on the banks of the Yas river, the house being constructed on an elevated site, commands a fine picturesque view of the extensive plains or downs of Yas, the distant wooded hills, forest scenery, with the Yas river slowly winding its course beneath. This part of the colony appears valuable; the country is for the most part open forest, with luxuriant pasturage, and well watered, (an object[168] of much importance in this arid country,) combining capabilities of cultivation and grazing land with picturesque beauty. The “Plains,” or more properly speaking, extensive downs, are destitute of trees, affording abundance of pasturage for sheep, &c., and the distance is terminated by open forest country, most part of which has already been granted or sold by government to settlers.
I rode over to Yas Plains, to Mr. Manton’s farm (a son of the famous gunsmith), about four miles away along the banks of the Yas River. The house is built on a high spot that offers a beautiful view of the vast plains or downs of Yas, the distant wooded hills, forest scenery, and the Yas River slowly winding its way below. This part of the colony seems valuable; the area is mostly open forest with lush pastures and good water supply (which is crucial in this dry region), combining the potential for farming and grazing with stunning beauty. The “Plains,” or more accurately, the extensive downs, lack trees, providing plenty of pasture for sheep, etc., and the distance ends with open forest land, most of which has already been granted or sold by the government to settlers.
Mr. Manton’s farm is delightfully situated, having a fine stream of water running through it, every facility for sheep-washing is afforded him—a desideratum of the first importance in this colony, where wool forms the staple article, the settler’s main prop, and the cleaner it is brought to market, of course a better price can be obtained. The land about the farm, (as must be expected from all large grants,) is composed of good and bad portions, but the former, I believe, preponderates.
Mr. Manton’s farm is beautifully located, with a nice stream of water flowing through it, providing him with all the facilities for washing sheep—a top priority in this region, where wool is the main product and source of support for settlers. The cleaner the wool when sold, the better the price he can get. The land around the farm, as you would expect from large land grants, has both good and bad sections, but I believe the good ones outweigh the bad.
The natives had just arrived in the paddock, and established their temporary village or encampment; their habitations were merely sheets of bark, stripped from the trees in the vicinity, and supported by props, the sheet of bark being placed to windward, and shifted as might be required, the fire for cooking purposes, &c., being made in front. The aborigines are very expert[169] in stripping large and perfect sheets of bark from the trees, and as this material is used by the colonists for the covering of huts and other purposes, the natives are often employed by them to procure it. The bark of two species of the Eucalyptus called “stringy bark” and “box-tree” by the colonists, (more particularly the former,) is preferred, as from them it is more readily stripped in pieces of the large size usually required. If the aborigines wanted to pass a river, I observed them strip off sheets of bark with great expedition, upon which they crossed, paddling themselves with a piece of wood, sometimes placing piles of mud at each end of the rude bark to prevent the ingress of the water, if there was any thing in it they wished to keep dry: having all the services they require out of the rudely constructed vessels, they desert and leave them either to be carried down the stream or rot on the banks, being aware that another canoe of the same rude construction is always ready when it may be required.
The natives had just arrived in the paddock and set up their temporary village or camp. Their homes were simply sheets of bark, stripped from the nearby trees, supported by poles, with the bark positioned against the wind and adjusted as needed. The cooking fire was set up in front. The aborigines are very skilled at stripping large, perfect sheets of bark from trees, and since this material is used by the colonists for covering huts and other purposes, the natives are often hired by them to collect it. The bark from two types of eucalyptus, called “stringy bark” and “box-tree” by the colonists—especially the former—is preferred because it's easier to strip in the large pieces usually needed. If the aborigines needed to cross a river, I saw them quickly strip off sheets of bark, which they used to cross, paddling with a piece of wood and sometimes putting clumps of mud at each end of the makeshift bark raft to keep water out if there was something they wanted to keep dry. Once they had used the crude vessels for their needs, they left them behind to either float down the stream or rot on the banks, knowing another canoe of the same simple design was always available when needed.
When the bark of the “stringy bark” (or, according to its native name in this part of the colony, Dether) is waved, it is rejected by the stock-keepers, fencers, &c., as unserviceable, the timber being then found twisted, and not capable of being split into straight pieces for[170] paling, &c.; but when the fibres of the bark run in a parallel direction, the wood of the tree is also found to correspond, and the grain being straight is readily split into rails, posts, or applied to any other purpose that may be required by the settler. The wood of the “box-tree” (Eucalyptus marginata?) is considered very durable for flooring boards, shingles, &c., and the young trees for shafts of gigs; for the latter purpose it is considered by many persons not to be surpassed by any other kind of wood in the colony.
When the bark of the “stringy bark” (or, as it’s called locally, Dether) is waved, stock-keepers, fence builders, etc., reject it as useless. The timber is then found to be twisted and not suitable for splitting into straight pieces for[170] fencing, etc. However, when the fibers of the bark run parallel, the wood of the tree matches, and its straight grain makes it easy to split into rails, posts, or used for any other purpose the settler needs. The wood from the “box-tree” (Eucalyptus marginata?) is seen as very durable for flooring boards, shingles, etc., and the young trees are great for making shafts for gigs; many people consider it to be unmatched by any other type of wood in the colony for this use.
The usual mode of cooking among the native tribes, is by throwing the food upon the fire to broil, or rather to get half-roasted, in which state it is eaten; or a native oven is made in the ground, similar to those in use among the New Zealanders, and throughout the Polynesian Archipelago.[63] The remarks made on the characteristic features and intellectual capacities[171] of the aborigines, previously seen in the Bathurst district, equally apply to those now seen in this portion of the colony. I cannot consider them so degraded a race as they have been represented. Lesson, alluding to the Australian negro, says, “To judge by his external appearance and intellect, the native of New South Wales would seem to have been degraded from the true rank of man, and to approach the nature of the brute.
The typical way of cooking among the native tribes is by throwing food onto the fire to broil, or rather to get half-roasted, and it’s eaten in that state; or they create a native oven in the ground, similar to those used by the New Zealanders and throughout the Polynesian Archipelago.[63] The observations about the distinct features and intellectual abilities[171] of the aborigines we previously saw in the Bathurst area also apply to those we see now in this part of the colony. I don’t think they are as degraded a race as they have been portrayed. Lesson, referring to the Australian native, says, “Based on his external appearance and intellect, the native of New South Wales seems to have been degraded from the true rank of man and to be approaching the nature of the brute.
“This race does not appear to differ in any thing essential from the Oceanic race, of which the Papuas alone form another somewhat distinct branch; they have a similarity of form and external character to the inhabitants of New Britain, New Ireland, and very probably those of New Caledonia. Poverty of soil and rigour of climate must have exerted an influence upon the race, and deteriorated it, and it is from this source that the slight differences arise, which seem to separate it from the African negro race, with which, however, an attentive examination shows it to be identical.” And he further observes, “it is probable that the negroes of New Holland have extended into the Australian continent, by New Guinea and the eastern islands, and that the migration has been made from the coast of Africa by the great island of[172] Madagascar, which had itself, at a later period, received men of other races.”
“This race does not seem to differ in any essential way from the Oceanic race, of which the Papuans alone form another somewhat distinct branch; they have a similar appearance and external characteristics to the people of New Britain, New Ireland, and very likely those of New Caledonia. Poor soil and harsh climate must have influenced the race and led to its deterioration, and it is from this that the slight differences arise, which seem to set it apart from the African Black race, with which, however, a closer examination reveals it to be identical.” He further notes, “it’s likely that the Black people of New Holland migrated to the Australian continent through New Guinea and the eastern islands, and that this migration occurred from the coast of Africa via the large island of[172] Madagascar, which itself, at a later time, welcomed people of different races.”
The races inhabiting, however, the land of New South Wales and Van Dieman’s Land or Tasmania, differ; the former, although possessing the African features, have straight hair, whilst those of the latter country are more closely allied to the Papuans. As far as regards their occasionally miserable appearance, (for many are the reverse in the interior,) it may be counted for by a dependence upon a precarious supply of food. Having no natural fruits, they subsist principally upon the produce of the chase, having nothing to induce them to cultivate the soil; they have no fixed habitations, and consequently no villages; the different tribes or families remove to those localities where game may abound, and as too long a stay in any situation would cause a scarcity of game, they seldom remain in one spot longer than three or four days. How different then they are, in respect to country and climate, from those races inhabiting the Polynesian Archipelago, who live in a luxuriant and fertile country, abounding in all the vegetables and fruits of tropical countries, as well as having hogs, fowls, &c.[64]
The races living in New South Wales and Van Dieman’s Land, or Tasmania, are different. The people in New South Wales, despite having some African features, have straight hair, while those in Tasmania are more closely related to the Papuans. Their sometimes poor appearance—though many have a healthier look in the interior—can be attributed to relying on an unpredictable food supply. Without natural fruits, they mainly survive by hunting, and there's nothing to encourage them to farm. They don’t have permanent homes, so there are no villages; different tribes or families move to areas where game is plentiful. Because staying in one place too long would deplete their food sources, they usually only stay in one spot for three or four days. This makes them very different from the people living in the Polynesian Archipelago, who inhabit a lush and fertile land filled with all kinds of tropical fruits and vegetables, as well as domesticated animals like pigs and chickens.
Polygamy is permitted among the Australian aborigines: each takes as many wives as he pleases, or can maintain, and can dismiss or assign them over at pleasure; but many have only one wife, not taking another until she is dismissed. Some of the women of the interior tribes have fine forms, tolerably handsome features, and fine curled hair; the generality, however, of both males and females, are not conspicuous for personal beauty.
Polygamy is allowed among Australian Aboriginal people: each man can have as many wives as he wants or can support, and he can dismiss or give them away whenever he likes; however, many only have one wife and don’t take another until she is let go. Some women from the inland tribes have great figures, decent looks, and nice curly hair; overall, though, most men and women aren’t particularly noted for their physical attractiveness.
After wet weather they track game with much facility, and from the late rains the hunting expeditions had been very successful; game was therefore abundant at the camp, which consisted of opossums, flying squirrels, bandicoots, snakes, &c. I purchased, for a small piece of tobacco, the skin (the fur of which is remarkably fine) of a very handsome light grey flying squirrel, called by the natives Min, ugo,[174] (and also Bango and Berat.) It is surprising the distance these animals “fly,” or spring, aided by the membrane extending from the sides between the fore and hind legs. The little sugar squirrel has been known to leap a distance of forty yards, from an elevation of thirty feet to the butt of a tree, across a river. One of the opossums among the game was a female which had two large-sized young ones in her pouch; the delicate morsels were at this time broiling, unskinned, and undrawn, upon the fire, whilst the “old mother” was lying yet unflayed in the basket.
After wet weather, they easily track game, and the recent rains have made hunting trips very successful; there was plenty of game at the camp, including opossums, flying squirrels, bandicoots, snakes, etc. I bought the skin (with very fine fur) of a beautiful light grey flying squirrel, known by the locals as Min, ugo,[174] (also referred to as Bango and Berat). It's surprising how far these animals can “fly” or leap, thanks to the membrane stretching from their sides between the front and back legs. The little sugar squirrel can jump a distance of forty yards, from a height of thirty feet to the base of a tree, across a river. One of the opossums among the game was a female with two large young ones in her pouch; the tender morsels were currently roasting, unskinned and undrawn, over the fire, while the “old mother” lay unskinned in the basket.
It was amusing to see with what rapidity and expertness the animals were skinned and embowelled by the blacks; the offal was thrown to the dogs, but as such a waste on the part of the natives does not often take place, we can only presume it is when game, as it was at present, is very abundant—the dogs are usually in poor condition, from getting a very precarious supply of provender: the liver being extracted, and gall-bladder removed, a stick was thrust through the animal, which was either thrown upon the ashes to broil, or placed upon a wooden spit before the fire to roast; whether the food was removed from the fire cooked, or only half-dressed, depended entirely on the state of their[175] appetites: the flesh of the animals at this time preparing for dinner by our tawny friends appeared delicate, and was no doubt excellent eating, as the diet of the animals was in most instances vegetable.
It was amusing to see how quickly and skillfully the animals were skinned and gutted by the locals; the innards were thrown to the dogs, but since such waste doesn't usually happen, we can only assume it’s because game is very plentiful right now—the dogs are typically in poor shape, as they only get a very inconsistent supply of food. After the liver was taken out and the gallbladder removed, a stick was pushed through the animal, which was either tossed onto the ashes to broil or put on a wooden spit over the fire to roast. Whether the food was taken off the fire fully cooked or only partially cooked depended entirely on how hungry they were. The meat of the animals being prepared for dinner by our tanned friends looked tender and was probably delicious, as the animals’ diet mostly consisted of vegetables.
The natives are as dirty in general habits as in cookery, and this unclean race were often seen as “chimney ornaments” in the settlers’ habitations, placing themselves on each side of the fire-place, or almost in the hearth, to get warm, looking like a huge piece of charred wood, and forming objects neither useful nor ornamental; they have a great antipathy to any thing like labour, (I do not mean to disparage the race by this observation, for all uncultivated tribes are similar in this respect,) and the only way to get rid of them whenever they became troublesome, was to set them to work.
The locals are as messy in their everyday habits as they are in their cooking, and this unclean group often looked like “chimney ornaments” in the settlers’ homes, positioning themselves on either side of the fireplace, or almost in the hearth, to warm up, resembling a large piece of charred wood, and serving as neither useful nor decorative; they have a strong dislike for anything resembling work, (I don't mean to put down the group with this observation, as all uncultivated tribes are similar in this way), and the only way to get rid of them when they became a nuisance was to put them to work.
Both sexes wear cloaks made from several skins of the opossum, kangaroos, or other animals joined together. In cold weather the fur is worn turned inwards, making a warm and comfortable garment; neither males nor females appear to regard it as a covering required for decency, but merely as a protection against the inclemency of the weather, as it is frequently thrown aside. The skins of either the opossum or kangaroo are used for cloaks,[176] and are prepared, when recently taken from the animal, by stretching them out upon the ground with small wooden pegs, the inner side being scraped with a shell, until they are rendered perfectly clean and pliable. The skins when dry are stitched neatly together, with thread made from the long tendons of the muscles about the tail of the kangaroo; (which when dried are capable of being divided into threads of almost any degree of fineness;) the needle is formed of a piece of bone; and a number of these skins sewn together form the cloaks in general use. Among both males and females many have a sort of tatauing, or ornamental marks scratched upon the inner part of the cloak, according to the taste of the owner.
Both men and women wear cloaks made from several skins of opossums, kangaroos, or other animals stitched together. In cold weather, the fur is worn with the soft side facing in, creating a warm and cozy garment. Neither men nor women seem to see it as something needed for decency; instead, they view it mainly as protection against bad weather, often tossing it aside. The skins from opossums or kangaroos are used for the cloaks, and when freshly taken from the animal, they are laid out flat on the ground and secured with small wooden pegs. The inner side is scraped with a shell until it's completely clean and flexible. Once dry, the skins are neatly stitched together using thread made from the long tendons found near the tail of the kangaroo, which can be dried and separated into threads of various thicknesses. The needle is made from a piece of bone, and several of these stitched skins create the commonly used cloaks. Both men and women may have a kind of tattooing or decorative marks scratched onto the inner side of the cloak, depending on the owner's preference.
Both sexes have the septum naris perforated, in which a piece of straw, stick, or emu-bone is worn, looking like what Jack would term a “spritsail yard;” this practice is universal among the whole of the tribes seen in the colony, and is regarded as highly ornamental. I have before alluded to the loss of an incisor tooth of the upper jaw, observed among the adult male natives; this, on inquiry, I found proceeded from a custom existing among them, (which is attended at the time with much ceremony,) of a male, on attaining the age of manhood, having[177] to undergo this operation, receiving at the same time the “cumeel,” or opossum-skin belt, after which he is admitted into the society of men, permitted to attend the corroberas, or consultations when any marauding or war expedition is in contemplation, or when the tribe is about to remove from one part of the country to another: previous to this, they are considered only fit society for women, and associate principally with them. A son of a chief at Yas Plains, who had not yet undergone this ceremony, necessary for his admission, attended one of their meetings: on being discovered, he was obliged to leave the assembly.
Both genders have the septum naris pierced, where they wear a piece of straw, a stick, or an emu bone, resembling what Jack would call a “spritsail yard.” This practice is widespread among all the tribes observed in the colony and is considered quite decorative. I previously mentioned the loss of an incisor tooth in the upper jaw, seen among the adult male natives. Upon further inquiry, I learned that this is due to a customary practice (which involves a lot of ceremony) where a male, upon reaching manhood, has[177] to undergo this operation. At the same time, he receives the “cumeel,” or opossum-skin belt, after which he is accepted into the society of men, allowed to participate in the corroberas, or discussions when planning any raids or war missions, or when the tribe is moving from one area to another. Before this rite, they are seen as only fit to associate with women and mainly spend time with them. A son of a chief at Yas Plains, who had not yet undergone this necessary ceremony, attended one of their meetings, but upon being discovered, he had to leave the gathering.
The females among the native tribes have little confidence reposed in them by the opposite sex, from fear that their secret plans and expeditions might be divulged by them: when, therefore, they form a plot to steal or kill cattle, they are careful to conceal their schemes from the weaker sex, and boys associate with them; for in instances not a few, when plans for marauding excursions have been overheard by the females, the latter have betrayed them to the stock-keepers, and thus frustrated their intentions. But may not this proceed from the want of mutual confidence between the parties? Among the tribes a chieftain does not preserve an hereditary[178] rank, chiefs being chosen for superior bravery, being the best hunter, or having a superior mind.[65] Thus men in a state of nature choose their leaders; and we may observe a similar order of things among gregarious animals.
The women in the native tribes have little trust from the men, as there's a fear that the women might reveal their secret plans and missions. So when they come up with a plan to steal or kill cattle, they make sure to keep their schemes hidden from the men and boys join in instead. In many cases, when the women have overheard plans for raiding, they’ve reported them to the cattle owners, ruining the plans. But could this be due to a lack of mutual trust between them? In the tribes, a chief doesn’t inherit their position; instead, chiefs are chosen based on their bravery, hunting skills, or intelligence. So, men in a natural setting select their leaders, and we can see a similar structure among social animals.[178]
CHAPTER IX.
Perch, and other fish—An elegant couple—Kangaroo dogs—Black and white cockatoos—Vegetable productions—Mr. O’Brien’s farm—Herds of cattle—Bush life—Proceed towards the Murrumbidgee river—A bush track—Romantic country—Arrive on the banks of the Murrumbidgee—Cross the river—Swamp oaks, and other trees—Remarkable caves—Return to Yas—Superstitious ceremonies—Crystal used in the cure of diseases—Mode of employing it.
Perch and other fish—A stylish couple—Kangaroo dogs—Black and white cockatoos—Vegetable crops—Mr. O’Brien’s farm—Herds of cattle—Country life—Head towards the Murrumbidgee River—A bush path—Scenic country—Arrive at the banks of the Murrumbidgee—Cross the river—Swamp oaks and other trees—Notable caves—Return to Yas—Superstitious rituals—Crystal used for healing—How it’s used.
Large quantities of native perch are caught in the Yas and Murrumbidgee rivers; their flavour is delicious: their average length is nineteen inches, and the weight from three to six pounds: they have however been taken from two and a half to three feet in length, and weighing seventy pounds; and some even of the enormous size of one hundred, and one hundred and twenty pounds:[66] the breadth is great in proportion to[180] the length of the fish. Those I examined were of a yellowish-green colour, covered with irregular black spots, with a silvery abdomen. They are named by the colonists, “river cod;” and by the aborigines, “Mewuruk.”[67] In the stomach of this fish I frequently found shell-fish, of the genus Unio, in an entire state. The larger kind of these shells the natives of the Tumat country call “Nargun;” and the smaller, usually found in rivulets or creeks, “Pindaquin, or Bucki.” Occasionally half-digested masses of green caterpillars, and other insects, were also found in the stomach of this fish. In the Tumat country, varieties of the “river cod,” are called by the natives Bewuck, Mungee, &c. Another fish of the family of perches is also caught in the Yas, Murrumbidgee, and other large rivers in the colony: it is called the “perch” by the colonists, and “Kupé” by the natives. I preserved a specimen, caught in the Murrumbidgee, measuring seventeen inches in length, and six inches at its greatest breadth, containing a fine roe:[181] twenty inches was the greatest length they had as yet been taken in this river; but, like the “river cod,” it increases more in breadth, in proportion to its weight, than in length. The colour of the Kupé was inclining to bronze; the ends of the scales being black, gave to the fish a checkered appearance.
Large numbers of native perch are caught in the Yas and Murrumbidgee rivers; they taste delicious. Their average length is nineteen inches, and they weigh between three to six pounds. However, some have been caught measuring two and a half to three feet long and weighing seventy pounds, with a few reaching an enormous size of one hundred and one hundred and twenty pounds. The width is significant compared to the fish's length. The ones I examined were yellowish-green, marked with irregular black spots, and had a silvery belly. The colonists call them “river cod,” while the aborigines refer to them as “Mewuruk.” I often found intact shellfish of the genus Unio in the stomach of this fish. The larger shells are called “Nargun” by the natives of the Tumat country, and the smaller ones, usually found in streams or creeks, are known as “Pindaquin” or “Bucki.” Occasionally, I also found half-digested green caterpillars and other insects in the stomach of this fish. In the Tumat country, different varieties of “river cod” are called Bewuck, Mungee, etc. Another type of perch is also caught in the Yas, Murrumbidgee, and other large rivers in the colony; the colonists call it “perch,” and the natives call it “Kupé.” I kept a specimen I caught in the Murrumbidgee that measured seventeen inches long and six inches at its widest point, containing a nice roe. The largest they have been caught in this river is twenty inches; like the “river cod,” it becomes wider in relation to its weight rather than its length. The Kupé had a bronze tint, and the black-tipped scales gave it a checkered look.
Among the native inhabitants of the Yas district was a pair of originals: the man was called Daraga, and his lady the “beautiful Kitty of Yas.” Neither of them had pretensions to beauty. The lady had ornamented her delicate form (for all the ladies are fond of adornments) with two opossum tails, pendent in a graceful manner from her greasy locks; pieces of tobacco-pipe, mingled with coloured beads, adorned her neck; an old, dirty, opossum-skin cloak was thrown over the shoulders; a bundle of indescribable rags around the waist; and a netbul or culy hanging behind, (filled with a collection of “small deer,” and other eatables, that would baffle all attempts at description,) completed the toilette of this angelic creature. Of her features I shall only say, they were not such as painters represent those of Venus: her mouth, for instance, had a striking resemblance to the gaping entrance of a Wombat’s burrow. The husband also had decorated the locks of his cranium with opossum[182] tails, with the addition of grease and red ochre; a tuft of beard ornamented his chin; and the colour of his hide was barely discernible, from the layers of mud and charcoal covering it: he wore a “spritsail yard” through his “apology for a nose;” the opossum-skin cloak covered his shoulders; and the “cumeel,” or belt of opossum-skin, girded the loins: the pipe was his constant companion, as the love of tobacco among those who have intercourse with Europeans, is unbounded, and no more acceptable present can be made them.
Among the native inhabitants of the Yas district were a couple of unique individuals: the man was named Daraga, and his lady was known as the “beautiful Kitty of Yas.” Neither of them had any claims to beauty. The lady had decorated her slender figure (since all the women loved to adorn themselves) with two opossum tails, gracefully hanging from her greasy hair; bits of tobacco pipe mixed with colorful beads decorated her neck; an old, dirty opossum-skin cloak was draped over her shoulders; a bundle of indescribable rags was wrapped around her waist; and a netbul or culy hanging behind her (filled with a collection of “small deer” and other unnameable foods) completed the outfit of this angelic creature. As for her features, I’ll just say they didn’t resemble how painters typically depict Venus: for instance, her mouth had a striking resemblance to the large opening of a wombat’s burrow. The husband had also adorned his hair with opossum tails, along with grease and red ochre; a tuft of beard decorated his chin; and the color of his skin was hardly visible under the layers of mud and charcoal covering it: he wore a “spritsail yard” through his “apology for a nose;” the opossum-skin cloak covered his shoulders; and the “cumeel,” or belt of opossum-skin, wrapped around his waist: the pipe was his constant companion, as the love for tobacco among those who interact with Europeans is immense, making it the most appreciated gift.
At meal times it was curious to observe the conduct of this interesting couple and the kangaroo dogs: it was evident that no good feeling subsisted betwixt the parties: the dogs regarded the former with an expression of anger, and the opposite party looked both sulkily and anxiously at the canine species;—the dogs appeared instinctively to fear that the human creatures would devour every morsel of the food, and that they should be minus their share; whilst the latter seemed to know, either by instinct or practical experience, that large dogs bite tolerably hard when angry.
At mealtime, it was interesting to watch this couple and the kangaroo dogs. It was clear that there was no good vibe between them. The dogs looked at the couple with anger, while the couple glanced at the dogs with a mix of sulkiness and anxiety. The dogs seemed to instinctively fear that the humans would eat all the food, leaving them with nothing, while the humans appeared to know, either by instinct or experience, that big dogs can bite pretty hard when they're angry.
Black and white cockatoos had lately become very numerous about this part of the country: the former appeared to have been attracted by some trees that had been felled when clearing a[183] spot of land for cultivation—as these birds visit the dead or fallen trees to procure the larvæ of insects that breed in them. I have seen, more than once, small trees lying prostrate, occasioned by the powerful bills of the large black cockatoos, who, observing on the trunk, externally, indications of a larva being within, have diligently laboured to extract it; and should the object of their search be situated (as often occurs) far in, before they reach it, the trunk is so much cut through, that the slightest puff’ of wind lays it prostrate.[68]
Black and white cockatoos have recently become quite common in this area. The black cockatoos seem to have been drawn in by some trees that were cut down while clearing land for farming, as these birds are known to visit dead or fallen trees to search for insect larvae that live in them. I have seen small trees lying flat on the ground several times, caused by the powerful beaks of the large black cockatoos. When they spot signs on the trunk indicating there might be a larvae inside, they work hard to get it out. If the larvae are located deep inside the trunk, which often happens, by the time they reach it, the trunk is so weakened that just a light breeze can knock it down.[183]
Among some of the few vegetable productions in use among the Australian blacks as food, is the root of a species of bulrush, which they name “Cormiork.” It grows abundantly on the banks of the Yas, Murrumbidgee, Tumat, and other rivers: the roots are eaten only when young: they are prepared by being baked, and the epidermis removed. Europeans who have partaken of it, say it has an agreeable farinaceous taste. The roots are collected in spring, when the young plants have just commenced sprouting.
Among the few vegetable foods consumed by Australian Aboriginal people is the root of a type of bulrush, which they call “Cormiork.” It grows in abundance along the banks of the Yas, Murrumbidgee, Tumat, and other rivers. The roots are eaten only when they are young; they are prepared by baking and peeling off the skin. Europeans who have tried it say it has a pleasant, starchy taste. The roots are harvested in spring, when the young plants have just started to sprout.
Among other farms about Yas Plains is “Mount Lavinia,” the property of my late fellow-traveller, Henry O’Brien, Esq., at whose place I passed many agreeable days during my sojourn at Yas. The house has been erected in a picturesque situation, upon a hill of moderate elevation, near the base of which the Yas river winds its course: the effect, on the approach to the house, is extremely pretty; the view from the hill overlooks a good extent of picturesque country, the greatest part is devoted to sheep pasturage; and some portion of arable land is alone wanting to make this spot still more charming. From another hill, on the plains, a short distance from that just mentioned, the view is still more expansive, overlooking the extensive verdant downs, surrounded in the distance by thinly-wooded hills, terminated in the south-west direction by distant blue mountains, near which flows the fine stream of the Murrumbidgee.
Among other farms around Yas Plains is “Mount Lavinia,” the property of my late travel companion, Henry O’Brien, Esq. I spent many enjoyable days at his place during my stay at Yas. The house is built in a beautiful spot, on a moderately elevated hill, near the base of which the Yas River meanders. The approach to the house is very picturesque; the view from the hill overlooks a considerable stretch of charming countryside, most of which is used for sheep grazing, and a bit of arable land is all that’s needed to make this place even more delightful. From another hill on the plains, not far from the one just mentioned, the view is even broader, looking out over the vast green downs, surrounded in the distance by lightly wooded hills, which are capped in the southwest by distant blue mountains, near which flows the lovely Murrumbidgee River.
The plains were animated by herds of cattle, flocks of sheep, and troops of horses, grazing, reposing, or exercising: the whole combination of this beautiful scenery excited the most pleasing sensations, which were heightened by its English character, and cause the settler to reflect less on the remoteness from home; when surrounded[185] by his family circle, and a few select friends—language, manners, customs, being all in accordance with his own “native land:” his farm once under cultivation, and stocked, he feels but few, if any wants. Above all, he has no anxious moments about the future welfare of his children, as there are few difficulties, in a new country, in providing for them; and although many complain of the “dulness of bush life,” it is seldom the case with those who are practically acquainted with it, for time rapidly passes away in the various enjoyments of a rustic life, and the superintendence of duties which the farm imposes on a settler, each tending to advance his prosperity. The farm produces the necessary daily supplies for the tables; and the sale of the wool gives a cash income for the purchase of other articles, as wearing apparel, tea, sugar, agricultural implements, &c.; Sydney is therefore usually visited once annually to dispose of the wool, or ship it to England, and to purchase any supplies that may be required for the use of the family or farm of the settler.
The plains were lively with herds of cattle, flocks of sheep, and groups of horses, all grazing, resting, or running around. The whole mix of this beautiful scenery created a wonderful feeling, intensified by its English vibe, which made the settler think less about being far from home. Surrounded by his family and a few close friends—where language, manners, and customs all matched his own “native land”—once his farm was set up and stocked, he felt few, if any, needs. Most importantly, he didn’t worry about his children's future, since it was easy to provide for them in a new country. While some complain about the “boredom of bush life,” it’s usually not the case for those who know it well, as time flies by with the various pleasures of rural life and the responsibilities that the farm brings, all contributing to his success. The farm supplies the daily essentials for the family meals, and selling wool provides cash to buy other things, like clothing, tea, sugar, agricultural tools, etc. For this reason, Sydney is typically visited once a year to sell the wool or ship it to England and to buy any supplies needed for the settler’s family or farm.[185]
Early on the morning of the 11th of October, in company with Mr. Manton, I left “Mount Lavinia” to visit a part of the country about the Murrumbidgee river, and fourteen or fifteen miles[186] distant from Yas. We crossed the extensive plains, and entered a bush track leading through a fine open forest country; some of the land was boggy, but the most part consisted of open forest, with rich pasturage, and was well circumstanced for the several sheep and cattle stations we passed. From the general excellent quality of land on and in the vicinity of the Yas plains, as well as being well watered, extensive purchases from the government have been made by the settlers already having grants here, and nearly the whole, with water frontage, has been purchased; I am inclined to think that this part of the colony will prove the richest and most valuable of almost any of the present known portions.
Early on the morning of October 11th, I left “Mount Lavinia” with Mr. Manton to explore an area near the Murrumbidgee River, about fourteen or fifteen miles away from Yas. We crossed the vast plains and took a bush track that led us through beautiful open forest land; some areas were swampy, but most consisted of open forest with lush pastures, making it ideal for the various sheep and cattle stations we passed. Due to the generally excellent quality of the land in and around the Yas plains, which is also well-watered, many settlers who already have grants here have made extensive purchases from the government, and nearly all the land with water access has been bought. I believe this part of the colony is likely to become one of the richest and most valuable of all the currently known areas.
On approaching the Murrumbidgee river, the character of the scenery increases in beauty, assuming even a romantic appearance,—the broken country adding to, rather than diminishing the effect: the day was cloudless, with a brilliant sun, so the prospect extended to a great distance;—green sloping hills, thinly timbered, only wanting the addition of mansions to the natural lawns and parks to perfect the landscape; flowers of great variety and gay colours strewed the ground in the utmost profusion; the indigo shrub (Indigofera australis) was also abundant in[187] flower, with numerous other flowering plants; green natural fields decked the level land; the songs of birds, and their increased numbers, were sufficient to acquaint us that we were approaching a river. The scene was of the most animated description; in the distance long lines of “swamp oaks,” (Casuarina palludosa,) readily distinguished by their dark, peculiar appearance, indicated to us the course of the river. Having enjoyed the prospect from the elevation, we descended a steep hill, proceeded through a luxuriant pasturage, which was bounded by thinly-wooded hills, carpeted with verdure, and soon arrived on the bank of the Murrumbidgee stream, which may be, at this part, forty or fifty yards wide. On the opposite side of the river Mr. Manton possessed a grant, which he had just commenced to stock and cultivate: the locality appeared excellent during the cool months, but liable to be soon parched by the fervent summers.
As we approached the Murrumbidgee River, the scenery became increasingly beautiful, taking on a romantic look—the rugged landscape enhancing the effect instead of taking away from it. The day was clear with a bright sun, allowing the view to stretch far and wide; green rolling hills, sparsely covered with trees, would have been perfect if there were mansions to complement the natural lawns and parks. A wide variety of colorful flowers covered the ground in abundance; the indigo shrub (Indigofera australis) was also plentiful in bloom, along with many other flowering plants. Lush, natural fields adorned the flat land; the songs and increased numbers of birds indicated we were getting close to a river. The scene was lively; in the distance, long lines of “swamp oaks” (Casuarina palludosa), easily recognizable by their dark, unique appearance, pointed out the river's path. After enjoying the view from above, we descended a steep hill and walked through rich pastures bordered by lightly wooded hills, covered in greenery, until we reached the bank of the Murrumbidgee stream, which was about forty to fifty yards wide at this point. On the other side of the river, Mr. Manton had a grant that he had just started to stock and cultivate. The area seemed great during the cooler months but was likely to become scorched during the intense summer heat.
Having hobbelled our horses, that eagerly fed on the luxuriant grass surrounding them, we crossed the river in a canoe which had been scooped by Mr. Manton’s servants from the solid trunk of a “water gum” tree, (Eucalyptus sp.) and was capable of carrying four or six persons. Arriving on its opposite side we were now[188] beyond the acknowledged limits of the colony, although numerous cattle and sheep stations extend to a great distance further. On the banks of this fine stream, besides numerous flowering shrubs, the elegant “swamp oaks” towered to the elevation of fifty or sixty feet, their dark filiform foliage giving them the character of the larch: besides these, (which were by far the most numerous,) there were some enormous trees of the Eucalyptus genus, called “water gum” by the colonists; they attain from ninety to one hundred feet in height, with a diameter of from six to eight feet; the wood is of a reddish colour, and very hard: on account of the latter quality, it is less frequently used, being difficult to cut. The currijong (Hibiscus) also grew about the limestone rocks in the vicinity, and was readily to be distinguished from other trees by the lighter and more vivid green of its foliage. A number of European genera of plants indigenous to the country, or at all events from their situations giving reason to suppose so, grew in the vicinity of this river; among others, the “sow thistle,” (the young tops of which are eaten by the natives just before the plant commences to blossom,) a small red poppy, the crow-foot, a rumex or dock (R. lancifolia?) geranium, and “shepherd’s[189] purse,” (Thlaspi bursa pastoris,) were abundant, and they are seen very far in the interior beyond this place.
Having hobbled our horses, which eagerly fed on the lush grass around them, we crossed the river in a canoe carved by Mr. Manton’s servants from the solid trunk of a “water gum” tree, (Eucalyptus sp.), capable of carrying four to six people. Once we reached the other side, we were now[188] beyond the recognized boundaries of the colony, although many cattle and sheep stations extend much farther. Along the banks of this beautiful stream, besides numerous flowering shrubs, the graceful “swamp oaks” rose to heights of fifty or sixty feet, their dark, slender leaves resembling those of the larch. Along with these, which were by far the most abundant, there were some massive trees from the Eucalyptus genus, referred to as “water gum” by the colonists; they reach heights of ninety to one hundred feet and have diameters of six to eight feet. The wood is reddish and very hard, and because of this quality, it’s not used often, as it’s difficult to cut. The currijong (Hibiscus) also grew around the limestone rocks nearby, easily distinguished from other trees by the lighter and brighter green of its leaves. Several European genera of plants native to the area—or at least those found in positions suggesting they might be—were present near this river; among them were the “sow thistle,” whose young tops are eaten by the natives just before the plant flowers, a small red poppy, crow-foot, a dock (R. lancifolia?), geranium, and “shepherd’s purse” (Thlaspi bursa pastoris), which were plentiful, and can be found well into the interior beyond this location.
Some caves have been lately found in the limestone rocks about this selection; and since the valuable discovery of fossil bones in those at Wellington Valley, by Major Mitchell and others, limestone caverns have become one of the colonial lions; these, therefore, were pointed out to me as objects of great curiosity; I found them however very small, and they did not repay the trouble of getting into them. They resembled the small caves often seen in the limestone quarries of Plymouth and Oreston, in Devonshire, from which some valuable fossils have been procured: stalactites of course abounded, but neither fossils nor any red calcareous earth, in which those remains have usually been found deposited. Among a quantity of dust were several loose bones, which had been at first described to me as fossils, but which were the breast bones and tibiæ of the emu, and skulls, and other bones of dogs, which no doubt had been placed there by the natives, for the tibiæ of the emu (here called Béréban by the blacks) had a hole at the upper and anterior part; this perforation is made, as many of them[190] afterwards told me, to enable them more readily, by admitting air, to suck out the rich marrow from the lower end, which was broken for that purpose. The extent of the cavern was from fifteen to twenty feet; the entrance so narrow, that the explorer could only enter feet foremost, nor was it sufficiently large in the interior to enable him to stand erect. About sunset we returned to Yas, having a fine moonlight night for our journey.
Some caves have recently been discovered in the limestone rocks around this area; and following the valuable find of fossil bones in those at Wellington Valley, made by Major Mitchell and others, limestone caverns have become one of the colonial attractions; these were highlighted to me as points of great interest; however, I found them to be quite small and not worth the effort it took to enter them. They resembled the small caves often found in the limestone quarries of Plymouth and Oreston, in Devonshire, where some valuable fossils have been obtained: stalactites were plentiful, but there were neither fossils nor any red calcareous earth, which is usually where these remains are found. Among a lot of dust were several loose bones, which had initially been described to me as fossils, but which turned out to be the breast bones and tibias of the emu, as well as skulls and other bones of dogs, likely placed there by the natives, since the tibias of the emu (referred to as Béréban by the locals) had a hole at the upper front part; this perforation is made, as many of them[190] later explained to me, to help them more easily suck out the rich marrow from the lower end, which was broken for that purpose. The cavern spanned about fifteen to twenty feet; the entrance was so narrow that the explorer could only enter feet first, and it wasn't large enough inside to allow him to stand up straight. We returned to Yas around sunset, enjoying a lovely moonlit night for our journey.
The aborigines have many superstitious ceremonies connected with their practice of the healing art, as we find among all primitive nations; those persons who take upon themselves the occupation to attend upon the sick or wounded, unite the offices of priest, soothsayer, and physician. The few medicines administered by them are from the vegetable kingdom; they also make use of a crystal for the cure of diseases, not by administering it to the sick person, but the physician employs its aid, to act upon the superstitious mind of his patient; it is the common quartz crystal, and is called by the natives, in the vicinity of Sydney, Krardgee Kibba, or Doctor Stone.[69] This name, borrowed from[191] the Europeans, is sometimes employed by the Yas natives, but that by which it is characterized by them and likewise by the natives of the Murrumbidgee and Tumat countries, is “Merrúdagalle.” The aborigines say they manufacture it, but would not mention the ingredients of which it is composed; this was a secret!! The women are never permitted to look upon it, and the priests impose upon their minds a belief, that, should their curiosity prompt them so far, they would instantly die.
The Aboriginal people have many superstitious rituals related to their healing practices, similar to those found in all primitive cultures. Those who care for the sick or injured combine the roles of priest, fortune teller, and healer. The few medicines they use come from plants; they also use a crystal to help heal diseases, not by giving it to the patient directly, but the healer uses it to influence the superstitious beliefs of the sick person. This is a common quartz crystal, referred to by the natives near Sydney as Krardgee Kibba, or Doctor Stone. This name, borrowed from Europeans, is sometimes used by the Yas people, but the term they and the natives of the Murrumbidgee and Tumut regions prefer is “Merrúdagalle.” The Aboriginal people claim to make it, but they never reveal the ingredients; that is a secret! Women are never allowed to see it, as the priests instill a belief that if their curiosity leads them to look, they would die instantly.
These crystals are valued by them according to their size, and it is not easy to procure a large one from them. They are not only regarded as a charm by which wounds and diseases of the human frame can be cured, but they advance another step, by declaring, that when thrown at a person (accompanied, I suppose, by certain incantations) it will have the power of causing his death. This power, said by them to be possessed by the stone, having been mentioned one day by a native to a European settler, the latter ridiculed it, and desired the black to put it to the test by throwing it at him. This, however, was refused, “he being good man;” alluding to the European, “he no want kill him;” and, after using every endeavour to[192] induce blackee to make the trial, he shuffled out of the dilemma, by acknowledging “that it would have no effect upon the white fellers.”
These crystals are valued by them based on their size, and it’s not easy to get a large one from them. They’re not only seen as a charm that can heal wounds and illnesses, but they also take it a step further by claiming that if thrown at someone (along with, I assume, certain incantations), it could cause that person’s death. One day, a native mentioned this power to a European settler, who laughed it off and asked the native to prove it by throwing it at him. However, the native refused, saying, “he being a good man;” referring to the European, “he no want to kill him;” and after trying hard to get the native to make the attempt, the settler backed out of the situation by admitting “that it would have no effect on the white fellers.” [192]
The following account of the manner in which the crystal is used by the physician, may be considered interesting. In the Tumat country, a native black, named Golong, was suffering from a spear wound, received a short time previous in a skirmish with a hostile tribe; it was in the evening, (for the stones are only used after dark, as at that time their efficacy is considered greater,) when a native of his tribe, named Baramumbup, employed the crystal for the purpose of healing the wound in the following manner.
The following account of how the physician uses the crystal may be considered interesting. In the Tumat country, a local man named Golong was suffering from a spear wound he had received shortly before in a fight with a rival tribe. It was evening (since the stones are only used after dark, when their effectiveness is thought to be higher) when a fellow tribesman named Baramumbup used the crystal to heal the wound in the following way.
The patient was laid at a distance of twenty or thirty yards from the encampment, after which the physician commenced the examination of the wound, which he sucked; then, without spitting, he retired to a distance of ten or fifteen yards from the invalid, muttered, or appeared to mutter some prayer or invocation for about a minute; on concluding, he placed the crystal in his mouth, sucked it, and then, removing the stone, spat upon the ground, and trampled upon the discharged saliva, pressing it[193] with his feet firmly into the earth. This ceremony was repeated several times on this and subsequent evenings, until the patient’s recovery, which, of course, was considered to have been effected by the wonderful curative properties resident in the crystal. On making inquiry, why the physician is so careful in trampling the saliva discharged from his mouth into the ground, no satisfactory reason could be obtained, a vague answer only being returned to the query; but it is not improbable that they consider, by this operation, they finally destroy the power of the evil spirit, extracted by the operation, through the virtues of the stone: some such reason for this proceeding may be inferred from an observation made to any European, who may be present at this part of the ceremony, that “He no come up again.”
The patient was positioned about twenty or thirty yards from the campsite, after which the doctor began examining the wound, which he sucked. Then, without spitting, he stepped back about ten or fifteen yards from the patient, muttering—or appearing to mutter—some kind of prayer or invocation for around a minute. When he finished, he placed a crystal in his mouth, sucked it, and then, removing the stone, spat onto the ground and stomped on the saliva, pressing it firmly into the earth. This ritual was repeated several times on that and the following evenings until the patient recovered, which was, of course, believed to be due to the crystal's amazing healing properties. When asked why the physician is so careful about trampling the saliva into the ground, no satisfactory explanation could be given; only a vague answer was returned. However, it’s likely they believe that this action destroys the power of the evil spirit extracted during the procedure through the stone's virtues. Some rationale for this ritual may be inferred from a statement made to any European present during this part of the ceremony: “He no come up again.”
A somewhat analogous custom exists among the aboriginal tribes of Brazil, called “Guachos,” as related by Spix and Martius in their Brazilian Travels. (English Trans. 8vo. vol. ii. page 77.) “Their Payés, or physicians, (called in their language, Vunageneto,) are conjurers and exorcists of the evil principle, which they call Nanigogigo. Their cures of the sick are very simple, and consist principally in fumigating,[194] or in sucking, the part affected; on which the payé spits into a pit, as if he would give back the evil principle, which he has sucked out, to the earth, and bury it.”
A similar tradition exists among the indigenous tribes of Brazil, known as "Guachos," as described by Spix and Martius in their Brazilian Travels. (English Trans. 8vo. vol. ii. page 77.) “Their Payés, or healers, (called Vunageneto in their language) are conjurers and exorcists of the evil spirit, which they refer to as Nanigogigo. Their methods of healing the sick are very straightforward and mainly involve fumigation or sucking the affected area; afterward, the payé spits into a pit, as if to return the evil spirit he has extracted back to the earth and bury it.”
CHAPTER X.
Leave Yas Plains for Sydney—Mr. Shelly’s farm—Splendid new road—Mr. Barber’s farm—Shoalhaven gullies—Interesting spot—Mr. Campbell’s farm—Journey resumed—Settlement of Bong, Bong—Bargo Brush—Profusion of flowering shrubs—View from the summit of Mount Prudhoe—The cow pasture road—Farms of Mr. M’Arthur, and Captain Coghill—Flowers—The white cedar—Government hospital at Liverpool.
Leave Yas Plains for Sydney—Mr. Shelly’s farm—Amazing new road—Mr. Barber’s farm—Shoalhaven gullies—Great spot—Mr. Campbell’s farm—Journey continued—Settlement of Bong, Bong—Bargo Brush—Abundance of flowering shrubs—View from the top of Mount Prudhoe—The cow pasture road—Farms of Mr. M’Arthur and Captain Coghill—Flowers—The white cedar—Government hospital at Liverpool.
On the 13th of October, I left Yas Plains on my return to Sydney,[70] retracing my route by Gonnong, Mut, mut, billy, I arrived at Goulburn Plains on the 14th. Resuming my journey on the following morning, accompanied by some friends, they carried me a different route from that by which I arrived at the plains: the road led over a rather hilly but open forest and good pasture land, and, travelling a distance of fifteen miles, (when close brush asserted its triumph over the former fine country,) we arrived[196] at Mr. Shelly’s farm on the “Grampian Hills.” Proceeding six miles beyond, we crossed the splendid new road, forming a portion of the great southern line: it was wide, yet unbeaten; a dense forest bounding it on either side as far as the eye could reach, the felled trees being placed along, to point out the breadth of the road. This did not appear requisite, as the thick forest sufficiently indicated it.
On October 13th, I left Yas Plains on my way back to Sydney, retracing my route through Gonnong, Mut, mut, billy. I arrived at Goulburn Plains on the 14th. The next morning, I continued my journey with some friends who took me a different route than the one I used to get to the plains. The road went over a fairly hilly but open forest and good pasture land. After traveling about fifteen miles, when we got close to some dense brush that took over the previously nice landscape, we arrived at Mr. Shelly’s farm on the “Grampian Hills.” Going six miles further, we crossed a beautiful new road that is part of the great southern line: it was wide but almost unused; a thick forest lined it on both sides as far as we could see, with cut-down trees placed along the edge to indicate the width of the road. This didn't seem necessary since the dense forest clearly marked it.
At a short distance further on, we turned off the more direct road, and arrived at Mr. Barber’s farm, close to which commences the extraordinary and extensive fissure, called the “Shoalhaven Gullies,” extending through a large tract of country to the sea coast. This farm possesses natural beauties of a sublime and romantic character; but the soil is principally rocky, and does not seem to possess the valuable requisites to a settler, that of arable land and good sheep pasturage, in any quantity. To a visitor, however, the romantic beauties of the Gullies are sufficient objects of attraction; and, accompanied by Mr. Hume, senior, I was taken, at a very short distance from the house, to as splendid a scene as has been perhaps yet discovered in this interesting and peculiar country. I much regret that time did not permit me to make a closer examination of these gullies,[197] which appear to owe their existence to some sudden convulsion of nature that had violently rent the hills asunder; down the steep sides, a dense vegetation concealed their depth, although the eye could reach, unimpeded, sufficiently deep to enable some idea to be formed of the profoundness of these chasms. The largest and most extensive gully, said to possess the most beautiful scenery, was five miles distant.
At a short distance further on, we turned off the more direct road and arrived at Mr. Barber’s farm, near which starts the remarkable and expansive fissure known as the “Shoalhaven Gullies,” stretching across a large area of land to the coast. This farm has natural beauty that is both stunning and romantic; however, the soil is mostly rocky and doesn’t seem to have the essential qualities a settler needs, like arable land and good sheep pastures, in any significant amount. For a visitor, though, the romantic beauty of the Gullies is enough to attract attention; and, accompanied by Mr. Hume, senior, I was taken, just a short distance from the house, to a breathtaking scene that might be one of the most impressive discovered in this captivating and unique country. I truly regret that time didn’t allow me to take a closer look at these gullies,[197] which seem to have come into existence due to some sudden natural upheaval that violently tore the hills apart; down their steep sides, a lush vegetation hid their depths, although the eye could see deep enough to get some idea of how profound these chasms are. The largest and most extensive gully, reputed to have the most beautiful scenery, was five miles away.
The Shoalhaven river, which runs beneath, was not visible, although its murmuring, broken torrent could be heard. The wooded hills, varying in denseness, some trees overhanging the abyss, still further increased the sublimity of the scene; and occasionally in the evenings, a small species of kangaroo, called “rock kangaroo” by the colonists, was seen skipping about the hills. To a geologist, the examination of these localities would be highly interesting, as there are several caverns, in their limestone formations, with indications of fossil remains. Highly gratified by the view, I departed; and after leaving this farm, crossed a small, insignificant rivulet: this was the river (or, according to the colonial vocabulary, “creek”) which empties itself into the Shoalhaven Gullies; and its first fall into them was at no further distance than a[198] hundred rods from this place. The first fall is from a height of perhaps sixteen feet; and there are several falls, altogether of about eighty feet, until the stream reaches the first gully; when in its progress, it receives tributary streams from the westward, forming the Shoalhaven river, which flows through these romantic glens, until it terminates by discharging its waters into the sea.
The Shoalhaven River, which flows beneath, wasn't visible, but its soft, rushing sound could be heard. The wooded hills, varying in density with some trees hanging over the edge, added to the grandeur of the scene. Sometimes in the evenings, a small type of kangaroo, referred to as the "rock kangaroo" by the colonists, could be seen hopping around the hills. For a geologist, studying these areas would be fascinating, as there are several caves in the limestone formations showing signs of fossil remains. Very pleased with the view, I left; after departing from this farm, I crossed a small, insignificant stream: this was the river (or, as the colonists called it, "creek") that flows into the Shoalhaven Gullies, with its first drop into them just a[198] hundred rods away. The first drop is about sixteen feet high, and there are several falls adding up to around eighty feet before the stream reaches the first gully; as it continues, it gathers streams from the west, forming the Shoalhaven River, which runs through these beautiful valleys until it empties into the sea.
Our journey continued through a dull, uninteresting country; and late in the evening we arrived at “Wingelo,” the farm of Robert Campbell, Esq., by whom we were received with the kindest hospitality, and remained the night, after travelling rather more than twenty miles this day.
Our journey went on through a boring, unremarkable area; and late in the evening we reached "Wingelo," the farm of Robert Campbell, Esq., who welcomed us with the warmest hospitality, and we stayed the night after traveling just over twenty miles that day.
The next morning found us again “en route” over a good road; but gloomy forests and brush produced a dull scenery,[71] until, as we progressed, it became enlivened by the gay blossoms of Acacias, Patersonia, Daviesia, Pimelea; the long spikes of the grass-tree, with tufts of white flowers; and a few small and elegant trees of the[199] Eucalyptus corymbosa, which were profusely covered with clusters of snowy blossoms. The large forest trees in this country have very small roots in proportion to their size and elevation, so much so as to excite surprise how they are capable of standing against the severe gusts of wind to which they are frequently exposed; and yet for trees to be uprooted by that cause is comparatively rare,—showing that nature is always correct in her work, however it may at first appear to our judgment.
The next morning found us again “en route” over a good road; but gloomy forests and brush created a dull scenery, [71] until, as we moved along, it became brightened by the colorful blossoms of Acacias, Patersonia, Daviesia, Pimelea; the tall spikes of the grass-tree, with tufts of white flowers; and a few small, elegant trees of the Eucalyptus corymbosa, which were covered in clusters of snowy blossoms. The large forest trees in this area have very small roots compared to their size and height, so much so that it’s surprising how they can stand against the strong gusts of wind they often face; yet it is relatively rare for trees to be uprooted for that reason—showing that nature is always correct in her work, regardless of how it may initially seem to us.
On approaching the settlement of “Bong, Bong,” the wild forest had, in most places, given way to a cleared, cultivated, and beautiful country, forming a strong contrast to the gloomy bush we passed not long before. The vivid green of the fields of grain, in ear, but not yet mature, gave promise of a plentiful harvest; and clumps of trees, scattered about the pastures, sufficient to shelter the cattle from the parching heats of summer, added to the pleasing character of the scenery. The neat cottages, to which barns, stables, &c. were attached, sprinkled over the landscape; the distant wooded hills; and smiling fields, animated by cattle,—could not fail of exciting pleasurable sensations, and a favourable impression of this “land of promise,” sufficient to banish the disappointment[200] which the dulness of many of the wild parts of the country is too apt to produce.
As we got closer to the settlement of “Bong, Bong,” the wild forest in most areas had given way to a cleared, cultivated, and beautiful landscape, creating a strong contrast to the gloomy bush we had just passed. The bright green fields of grain, still immature but promising a plentiful harvest, stood out; and clusters of trees scattered across the pastures provided shelter for the cattle from the summer heat, enhancing the scenery. The tidy cottages, with their attached barns, stables, etc., dotting the landscape, along with the distant wooded hills and lush fields animated by grazing cattle, stirred pleasant feelings and a positive impression of this “land of promise,” enough to dispel the disappointment[200] that the dullness of many wild areas in the country tends to bring.
Numerous small farms, with fields of grain, pasturage land, abounding in cattle, horses, and sheep; neatly fenced paddocks, (for hedges are unknown,) continued more or less from this, which is called the settlement, to the township of “Bong, Bong,” a distance of five or six miles. At one of the farms we passed, the overseer did not appear to have yet received much benefit from the “march of intellect;” for on a board the following notice appeared:—No Thorrofaer Hear.
Numerous small farms with fields of grain, pastures filled with cattle, horses, and sheep; neatly fenced paddocks (since hedges are not known here) continued more or less from this place, called the settlement, to the township of “Bong, Bong,” about five or six miles away. At one of the farms we passed, the overseer didn’t seem to have gained much from the “march of intellect,” as a sign displayed the following notice:—No Thorrofaer Hear.
Arriving at the Argyle Inn, in the township of “Bong, Bong,” we thence proceeded, after remaining sufficient time to refresh ourselves and horses, intending to continue the night at “Mittagong,” ten miles further on. The weather was fine, but sultry; roads dusty, scenery dull and uninteresting, until descending to the valley in which the “Kangaroo or Cutter’s Inn” is situated, (after ascending the Mittagong range,) it was an agreeable change to behold a prospect of cleared and cultivated land, surrounded by dense forests, and ranges of densely-wooded hills in the distance. There was a quantity of land under cultivation for grain, pasturage, &c., animated by herds of cattle and flocks of[201] sheep; and a windmill, made an excellent addition to the landscape. Neat cottages, with gardens, were scattered about; and, as it was near sunset at the time we arrived, the scene was still further increased in beauty. We soon reached the neat and comfortable inn, to which an excellent garden is attached, well stocked with rose trees, in full bloom, pinks, and other European flowering plants, as well as a number of European fruit trees; many of which, at this time, were profusely covered with snowy blossoms.
Arriving at the Argyle Inn in the town of “Bong, Bong,” we then continued on after taking enough time to refresh ourselves and our horses, planning to spend the night at “Mittagong,” ten miles further. The weather was nice but humid; the roads were dusty, and the scenery was dull and uninteresting until we descended into the valley where the “Kangaroo or Cutter’s Inn” is located, after climbing the Mittagong range. It was a pleasant surprise to see the open and cultivated land, surrounded by dense forests and ranges of heavily wooded hills in the distance. There was a lot of land being used for grain and pasture, lively with herds of cattle and flocks of sheep; a windmill added a charming touch to the landscape. Neat cottages with gardens were scattered around, and since it was near sunset when we arrived, the scene was made even more beautiful. We soon reached the tidy and comfortable inn, which had an excellent garden filled with blooming rose bushes, pinks, and other European flowering plants, as well as several European fruit trees, many of which were heavily adorned with white blossoms at that time.
At dawn the next day, we were again on our journey: the morning proved delightfully cool and agreeable, and nature seemed refreshed by the night dews. A grateful fragrance emanated from the plants and shrubs around, and the birds, by their carolling, seemed to enjoy the cool atmosphere. The remainder of the “Mittagong range” was passed over, and a rugged road led through “Bargo Brush,” which is a dense forest, small portions only being occasionally seen cleared, on which a farm or inn is established. Adjoining, was usually a garden and land under cultivation. Although, for the most part, the dense and sombre forest prevailed, yet often the soil beneath was spread with a great number as well as variety of gay[202] and beautiful flowering shrubs, and plants; among the most numerous of those at this time, in full bloom, were Gnaphalium, Crowea, Bossiea, Pomaderris, Patersonia, Persoonia, Daviesia, Banksia, Hakea, Xylomelum, Pimelea, &c. &c.
At dawn the next day, we were back on our journey. The morning was pleasantly cool and refreshing, and nature seemed rejuvenated by the night’s dew. A lovely fragrance came from the plants and shrubs around us, and the birds, with their singing, seemed to enjoy the cool air. We passed over the rest of the “Mittagong range,” and a rough road led us through “Bargo Brush,” which is a thick forest where only small patches are occasionally cleared for a farm or an inn. Typically, there was also a garden and cultivated land nearby. Even though the dense, dark forest dominated the scene, the soil below was often covered with a wide variety of colorful and beautiful flowering shrubs and plants. At this time, the most common ones in full bloom were Gnaphalium, Crowea, Bossiea, Pomaderris, Patersonia, Persoonia, Daviesia, Banksia, Hakea, Xylomelum, Pimelea, and so on.
The new line of road we entered upon, was broad, straight, and in excellent condition. After travelling thirteen miles, we arrived at “Lupton’s Inn,” and did not find early rising, with a long morning’s ride, injuriously affect our appetites. Having breakfasted, we again proceeded over an excellent road, along which were neat houses, with gardens gay with the profusion of flowers, cleared patches of land under cultivation with grain, or forest land, animated by flowers; among them a beautiful Clematis was conspicuous, covering the bushes with a profusion of white blossoms, or pendent in graceful festoons from the dead trunk of a tree. Having crossed the “Bargo River,” an inconsiderable stream, and passed “Myrtle Creek,” which has several pretty farms about it, we reached “Stonequarry Creek,” which at this time was in a dangerous state for vehicles, more particularly for heavily laden drays, the road being much out of repair. There are several farms about this place, and[203] some quantity of land under cultivation for grain.[72]
The new road we joined was wide, straight, and in great shape. After traveling thirteen miles, we arrived at “Lupton’s Inn,” and found that our early start and long morning ride didn't hurt our appetites. After breakfast, we continued along an excellent road lined with neat houses and gardens full of colorful flowers, cultivated fields of grain, and forest areas filled with blooms. One beautiful Clematis stood out, covering the bushes with a mass of white flowers or hanging in graceful bunches from the dead trunk of a tree. After crossing the “Bargo River,” a small stream, and passing “Myrtle Creek,” which has some charming farms nearby, we arrived at “Stonequarry Creek,” which at that time was pretty rough for vehicles, especially for heavily loaded carts, as the road was quite damaged. There are several farms around this area, and a decent amount of land is used for grain cultivation.[203]
We passed the new line of road over the “Razor-back Mountain,” which was in an unfinished state; and, at first, some doubt existed whether this line would be completed, or another adopted; but it has been decided to finish it; for which purpose, road gangs were about to be employed upon it. On attaining the summit of Mount Prudhoe, an extensive and beautiful panoramic view of Appin, the Cowpastures, farms, together with cultivated and forest lands, &c. was laid before us in one extensive landscape. We descended by an excellent road, passed through “Camden,” the property of J. M’Arthur, Esq., came upon the Cowpasture road, crossing the Nepean river by a good wooden bridge, and arrived at Raby farm in the afternoon, after a long ride of forty-three miles. After occupying a few days in this vicinity, I proceeded to Sydney.
We traveled along the new road over “Razor-back Mountain,” which was still not finished. At first, there was some uncertainty about whether this road would be completed or if another route would be chosen. However, it has now been decided to finish it, and road crews were about to be put to work on it. When we reached the top of Mount Prudhoe, we were rewarded with a vast and beautiful view of Appin, the Cowpastures, farms, and both cultivated and forested areas, all together in one stunning landscape. We descended along a well-maintained road, passed through “Camden,” owned by J. M’Arthur, Esq., joined the Cowpasture road, crossed the Nepean River via a sturdy wooden bridge, and arrived at Raby Farm in the afternoon after a long ride of forty-three miles. After spending a few days in this area, I headed to Sydney.
During my stay at the Cowpastures, I visited the fine farm at Kirkham, the residence of Captain Coghill, and his amiable family: this[204] farm is valuable, consisting principally of rich arable land; the Nepean river also running by the estate, is a valuable acquisition for sheep-washing, &c. The summer was more advanced at this part of the country than further in the interior. Strawberries and cream was not an uncommon dish, and the fruit was very abundant this season. Green peas were also in large quantities, and the gardens bloomed with English, and the more delicate, but evanescent China varieties of roses, and in such profusion, that one might have died of “roses in aromatic pain.” Pinks, stocks, and other European flowers, caused the atmosphere to teem with fragrance, and charmed the eye. At some farms, the beautiful rose-tree, covered with its carnation-tinted blossoms, adorned the verandahs; the white and pink Robinia was attractive from the exquisite beauty imparted by its pendulous clusters of blossoms and the ornamental growth of the tree.
During my time at the Cowpastures, I visited the nice farm at Kirkham, the home of Captain Coghill and his friendly family. This farm is quite valuable, mainly consisting of fertile arable land. The Nepean River also runs alongside the estate, which is great for washing sheep, etc. The summer was more progressed in this part of the country than further inland. Strawberries and cream were a common dish, and the fruit was plentiful this season. Green peas were also in large quantities, and the gardens were full of English roses and the more delicate, but short-lived, China varieties, blooming so abundantly that one might have been overwhelmed by “roses in aromatic pain.” Pinks, stocks, and other European flowers filled the air with fragrance and delighted the eyes. At some farms, the beautiful rose bushes, covered in their pinkish blossoms, adorned the verandas; the white and pink Robinia was appealing due to its lovely clusters of blossoms and the ornamental growth of the tree.
But another, combining beauty of growth with fragrant flowers, must not be omitted: it is the “white cedar” of the colony, and is indigenous to this country, as well as most parts of India: it is the Melia azedarach of botanists. The tree is deciduous, and was now covered by pendulous clusters of lilac-coloured blossoms, adding[205] to the beauty and fragrance of the gardens, its lilac blossoms being elegantly contrasted by the dark green glossy foliage: the fragrance of the flowers so closely resembles those produced by the tree known in England as the “lilac,” that the same appellation is given to it in this colony. In the evenings, and night more especially, this tree may be known to exist in the vicinity by the powerful fragrance it emits for some distance.[73] The sweetbriar and quince is often used about the farms as hedges for gardens, &c., and the appearance they give is extremely neat; the fragrance of the former is very agreeable. The Cape and English mulberry trees thrive well in the colony; the former is said to bear fruit two or three times annually, the latter only once.
But another tree, combining beautiful growth with fragrant flowers, shouldn’t be missed: it is the “white cedar” of the colony, native to this country as well as most parts of India; it’s known to botanists as Melia azedarach. The tree is deciduous and is currently adorned with drooping clusters of lilac-colored blossoms, enhancing the beauty and fragrance of the gardens. Its lilac blooms are elegantly contrasted by the dark green glossy leaves, and the scent of the flowers closely resembles those of the tree known in England as the “lilac,” which is why it shares the same name in this colony. In the evenings, especially at night, you can identify this tree nearby by the strong fragrance it releases over a distance. The sweetbriar and quince are often used as hedges for gardens on farms, and they create a very tidy appearance; the scent of the sweetbriar is quite pleasant. The Cape and English mulberry trees thrive well in the colony; the former is said to produce fruit two or three times a year, while the latter only once.
In my way to Sydney, I availed myself of the kindness of Dr. Hill, the colonial surgeon, to visit the government hospital at Liverpool; it is the finest in the colony, but in my opinion of too large and expensive construction for the purpose required. The wards were spacious, well ventilated, and in excellent order, such indeed as[206] might be creditable to any of our metropolitan hospitals. The patients receive every attention and comfort that their situation may require.[74] There are sometimes one hundred and fifty in the hospital, but the wards are capable of containing more. When it is considered that patients come to this hospital from a distance of two hundred miles, (that is, from the Murrumbidgee country, and even beyond,) including a large extent of district, a large building may have been thought requisite; but the more convenient and less expensive method would have been, to have built two hospitals of moderate size, one at Goulburn Plains, and the other at Liverpool; for it was a sad mistake to compel an invalid to travel a distance of two hundred miles for medical assistance; and affords a facility for many to feign sickness, that they might have a journey down the country to see their friends, causing much inconvenience to the settler, who has no other means of ascertaining the man’s complaint, but by taking him to this distant hospital.
On my way to Sydney, I took advantage of the kindness of Dr. Hill, the colonial surgeon, to visit the government hospital in Liverpool; it's the best in the colony, but in my opinion, it's too large and costly for what it needs to accomplish. The wards were spacious, well-ventilated, and in excellent condition, comparable to any of our metropolitan hospitals. Patients receive all the care and comfort their situation requires. There can be as many as one hundred and fifty patients in the hospital, but the wards can hold more. Considering that patients travel from as far as two hundred miles away (from the Murrumbidgee region and even beyond), it may seem necessary to have a large building; however, a more convenient and cost-effective solution would have been to build two moderately sized hospitals—one at Goulburn Plains and the other at Liverpool. It’s a real mistake to make an ill person travel two hundred miles for medical help, and it allows some to pretend they’re sick just to get a trip to see their friends, which creates a lot of hassle for the settlers, who have no way to determine someone's ailment except by taking them to this far-off hospital.
The scheming of the assigned servants is very annoying to the settler: the men often feign sickness, to be revenged upon their masters: several instances of this kind I have seen at a distance of one hundred and eighty-six, and two hundred miles from Liverpool. When requested, during my visit to the interior, to see these men, some were ill, but unable to undergo the fatigue of travelling so far to the hospital; others suddenly got well, and went to their work, when medical assistance was so near them: one boasted, that by methods known to himself he could produce appearances of disease so as to deceive any medical practitioner; he had but just returned from the Liverpool hospital, and was always ill, his master informed me, during the most busy times. The establishment of an hospital at Goulburn Plains would obviate most of this just cause of complaint made by the settler.[75]
The plotting by the assigned workers is really frustrating for the settler: the men often pretend to be sick as a way to get back at their bosses. I've seen several examples of this from a distance of one hundred and eighty-six and two hundred miles from Liverpool. When I visited the interior and was asked to meet these men, some claimed to be ill but were unable to travel such a long way to the hospital; others suddenly felt better and went back to work once medical help was nearby. One guy bragged that he had his own tricks to show symptoms of illness to fool any doctor; he had just come back from the Liverpool hospital and, according to his master, was always sick during the busiest times. Setting up a hospital at Goulburn Plains would solve most of the complaints from the settlers.[75]
There is a lunatic asylum at Liverpool, which I also inspected: there were several patients of both sexes within its walls. The establishment was small, and the building did not appear to have been originally constructed for the purpose for which it was used.
There is a mental health facility in Liverpool that I also checked out: there were several patients of both genders inside. The place was small, and the building didn’t seem to have been originally built for its current use.
CHAPTER XI.
Second Journey into the interior commenced—Land of roses—The grape vine—Foreign grain—Missionary rewards—Bargo brush—Small species of Lobster—Another species—Snakes—Leeches—Mr. Button’s farm—Proceed on the journey to Gudarigby—Native plants—Magnificent mountain view—Our repast—The laughing jackass—A spacious cavern—Its interior—Black swans and other birds.
Second journey into the interior began—Land of roses—The grapevine—Exotic grains—Missionary rewards—Bargo brush—Small type of lobster—Another species—Snakes—Leeches—Mr. Button’s farm—Continue on the journey to Gudarigby—Native plants—Stunning mountain view—Our meal—The laughing jackass—A large cave—Its inside—Black swans and other birds.
On the 8th of November I left Sydney for Yas Plains on a second visit to that interesting part of the colony; again passed over the “Razor-back Mountain,” upon which road gangs were busily employed in finishing that line of road,—and arrived in the afternoon at “Abbotsford,” a very pretty farm belonging to Mr. Harper, near “Stonequarry Creek:” it was in excellent order; a large quantity of land was cultivated with grain, having every prospect of a productive harvest, the whole being in full ear, and verging towards maturity. The neat garden in[209] front of the dwelling-house bloomed with a profusion of roses; and at this season of the year so abundant is this elegant and fragrant flower in the colony, that we may term it a “Land of Roses,” as well as a “land of promise;” pinks, stocks, and other European flowers, gave an additional beauty to the scene.
On November 8th, I left Sydney for Yas Plains on my second trip to that fascinating area of the colony. I once again traveled over the "Razorback Mountain," where work crews were actively finishing the road. I arrived in the afternoon at "Abbotsford," a lovely farm owned by Mr. Harper, near "Stonequarry Creek." The place was in great shape; a large amount of land was cultivated with grain, showing every sign of a bountiful harvest as it was fully ear and nearing maturity. The tidy garden in front of the house was bursting with a wealth of roses. At this time of year, this elegant and fragrant flower is so plentiful in the colony that we might call it a "Land of Roses," as well as a "land of promise." Pinks, stocks, and other European flowers added extra beauty to the scene.
Some portions of land were laid out as vineyards; much attention being now paid to the cultivation of the vine in the colony. In the garden a number of gooseberry bushes had been planted, which were in flourishing condition, and loaded with fruit: it was considered rare to see them so productive near Sydney, although they thrive and bear abundance of fruit in the Argyle and Bathurst districts; but here it was only one part of the garden that was favourable to their growth, being that where the influence of the sun was not too powerful during the hot summers: care has also been taken to shelter the bushes, by small sheets of bark placed upon sticks at some elevation over them, giving a protection above, but at the same time not covering them so much as to cause any deprivation of the vivifying influence of light or moderate solar heat.
Some areas of land were set up as vineyards; a lot of attention is currently being given to growing grapes in the colony. In the garden, several gooseberry bushes were planted, which were thriving and full of fruit: it was considered unusual to see them so productive near Sydney, even though they grow well and produce plenty of fruit in the Argyle and Bathurst regions; however, only a part of the garden here was suitable for their growth, specifically the area where the sun’s influence wasn’t too strong during the hot summers: there was also care taken to protect the bushes with small sheets of bark placed on sticks a bit above them, providing cover while still allowing enough light and moderate sunlight to reach them.
Proceeding on my journey; between this farm and Lupton’s Inn, I was accosted by a native black, who asked me, whether “I white feller parson,[76] for me want shilling;” but not being of the clerical profession, I did not consider myself liable to be placed under contribution, more particularly upon the highway. It occurred to me at the time, that he must have heard of the five hundred pounds, granted annually from the colonial funds for their conversion, and concluded that all clergymen should bestow their shillings on himself and comrades. We parted with this conditional bargain, that if he brought me birds and other animals, he should have shillings in return.
As I continued on my journey between this farm and Lupton’s Inn, I was approached by a local Black man who asked me if “I white feller parson, [76] want shilling.” Since I wasn't a priest, I didn’t think I was obligated to give him anything, especially not on the road. I figured he must have heard about the five hundred pounds given each year from colonial funds for their conversion and assumed that all clergymen should give a shilling to him and his friends. We agreed that if he brought me birds and other animals, he would get shillings in exchange.
Passing through “Bargo Brush,” the forest was still gay with flowers, with the additional beauty of the splendid proteacous shrub, called the “Warratah” or “tulip tree” of the colonists, which now displayed its brilliant crimson flowers.[211] I remained for the night at “Mittagong,” and on the afternoon of the 10th arrived at “Arthursleigh,” the extensive and beautiful farm, the property of Hannibal M’Arthur, Esq.; I passed here two very agreeable days in the society of this gentleman and his friends. On the 12th I arrived at “Goulbourn Plains,” and on the evening of the 14th at “Yas Plains.”
Passing through “Bargo Brush,” the forest was still vibrant with flowers, highlighted by the stunning proteaceous shrub known as the “Warratah” or “tulip tree” of the colonists, which was now showcasing its bright crimson flowers.[211] I stayed overnight at “Mittagong,” and on the afternoon of the 10th, I reached “Arthursleigh,” the extensive and beautiful farm owned by Hannibal M’Arthur, Esq.; I spent two very pleasant days in the company of this gentleman and his friends. On the 12th, I arrived at “Goulbourn Plains,” and on the evening of the 14th, I got to “Yas Plains.”
The plains still retained their verdant appearance, although down the country vegetation was much parched. The river had fallen considerably since my previous visit. In the river, besides the quantity of fish there is a small and new species of lobster, which is also procured in large quantities from the muddy ponds on the Yas Plains; they are delicious eating, and taken readily by placing a piece of raw meat on a bent pin: when one is felt at the bait, it is to be dragged gently to the margin of the pond, (which is very muddy, but not deep,) and taken on the back by the hand: a number can thus be caught in a short time. The aborigines call them “Murugonan.” They burrow deep into the mud, and the blacks capture them by thrusting the hand into the holes, and dragging them out, although they often extend to such a depth that the whole length of the arm is inserted before[212] the animal is secured.[77] The ponds in which the lobsters are taken are always full of water, being supplied by springs: one of them was about fifty yards in length by twenty in breadth, but of no great depth at any part. They form a chain along the plains during the dry season of the year; but during heavy rains they unite into a running stream, which empties itself into the Yas river. It is only at the season, when there is merely a chain of ponds or swamps, with but little water, that the lobsters can be caught with facility.
The plains still looked green, although further down the country, the vegetation was pretty dry. The river had dropped quite a bit since my last visit. In the river, along with the many fish, there's a new kind of lobster that also comes in large quantities from the muddy ponds on the Yas Plains; they taste great and are easily caught by putting a piece of raw meat on a bent pin. When you feel something nibbling at the bait, you gently pull it towards the edge of the pond (which is very muddy but not deep) and scoop it up with your hand. You can catch quite a few this way in a short time. The locals call them “Murugonan.” They dig deep into the mud, and the Indigenous people catch them by reaching into the holes and pulling them out, though sometimes they have to go in so deep that their whole arm is submerged before they can grab the animal. The ponds where the lobsters are found always have water, thanks to springs; one of them was about fifty yards long and twenty wide, but not very deep anywhere. They form a chain across the plains during the dry season, but when it rains heavily, they combine into a flowing stream that flows into the Yas River. It’s only during the time when there’s just a chain of ponds or swamps with very little water that catching the lobsters is easy.
In the Murrumbidgee, Yas, Tumat, and other[213] large rivers, there is a different and larger species of lobster which is frequently found in the stomachs of the “river cod.” This kind is called “Mungola” by the aborigines, and they are captured, measuring a foot and a foot and a half in length, and weighing three or four pounds. I examined a small one, captured in the Murrumbidgee at Jugiong; its dimensions were as follow:—
In the Murrumbidgee, Yas, Tumat, and other[213] large rivers, there's a different and bigger type of lobster that's often found in the stomachs of the “river cod.” The aborigines call this kind “Mungola,” and they catch them, measuring between a foot and a foot and a half long, and weighing three to four pounds. I looked at a small one caught in the Murrumbidgee at Jugiong; here are its measurements:—
| Inch. | |
|---|---|
| Length of the body | 4 |
| Length of the tail | 4 |
| Length of the claw | 5½ |
| Breadth of the body at the broadest part | 2 |
| Breadth of the claw | 1⅜ |
| Length of the anterior or external antennæ | 7 |
The colour of the upper surface of the shield was dark green, with reddish tinges on the sides, the rings of the tail studded with short, thick spines, and similar but smaller spines on the sides of the shield: the spines and claws were white: the legs having been pulled off by the blacks, to prevent their escape during the time they were employed in catching others. I could not ascertain their colour. They are found under the large stones in the river, and are taken by the hand when the rivers are low. The natives usually seek for them in the evening,[214] or at night by torchlight, and say it is difficult to get them during the daylight.[78]
The color of the top surface of the shield was dark green, with reddish hues on the sides. The rings of the tail were covered with short, thick spines, and there were similar but smaller spines on the sides of the shield. The spines and claws were white. The legs were removed by locals to stop them from escaping while they were capturing other ones. I couldn't figure out their color. They are found under large rocks in the river and can be caught by hand when the water levels are low. The locals usually look for them in the evening or at night with torches, and say it's tough to catch them during the day.[214]
Snakes are numerous in various parts of the colony. Those known among the colonists as the “black and brown snakes,” are found about the banks of the rivers, or in swampy situations: the natives (they are not, however, the best authority for the extent of danger a venomous snake produces) say that its bite is not deadly, but causes the person to feel sick and sleepy for a short time, which passes off without producing any further ill effects, even if no remedy be applied.
Snakes are common in many areas of the colony. The ones referred to by the colonists as the “black and brown snakes” are found along riverbanks or in swampy areas. The locals (though they aren’t the most reliable source on how dangerous a venomous snake can be) claim that its bite isn’t fatal, but it does make someone feel sick and sleepy for a little while. This feeling goes away on its own without any treatment and doesn’t cause any lasting harm.
It would be interesting to institute experiments, so that the extent of danger attending the bites of the venomous reptiles in the colony might be ascertained with some degree of correctness. As far as regards this snake, I am well informed by persons who have been bitten, that the effects are as above stated; but still it would be interesting to know the degree of violence the poison is capable of producing in each of the venomous reptiles. I examined a “black[215] snake,” which had been just killed at the farm of Gudarigby, upon a “flat” near the river: it was of a shining, silvery, black colour above; the abdomen being dark red: it measured three feet and a half in length, and at its largest circumference, three inches: it was a male specimen. The stomach was filled with a quantity of green frogs with golden spots; (the Rainette dorée of Péron?) some having the appearance of being just swallowed, whilst others were half digested: there was also a mass of digested matter, in which the remains of frogs could be distinctly seen. This snake appears to be a species of the genus “Acanthophis.” By the natives of Yas, the black snake is called “Bulbuk.”
It would be fascinating to conduct experiments to determine the level of danger posed by the bites of venomous reptiles in the area with some accuracy. As for this snake, I've heard from people who have been bitten that the effects are indeed as mentioned; however, it would still be interesting to learn how severe the poison can be in each type of venomous reptile. I examined a “black[215] snake” that had just been killed at the Gudarigby farm on a flat near the river. It had a shiny, silvery-black color on top, with a dark red belly. It measured three and a half feet long and had a maximum diameter of three inches. It was a male. The stomach was filled with several green frogs with golden spots (the Rainette dorée of Péron?), some of which looked like they had just been swallowed, while others were partially digested. There was also a mass of digested material where the remains of frogs could be clearly seen. This snake seems to belong to the genus “Acanthophis.” The natives of Yas call the black snake “Bulbuk.”
The “brown snake,” which I examined, is also venomous, and, according to popular opinion, the effect very dangerous upon the human constitution. The specimen measured nearly five feet in length, and five inches at its largest circumference; the upper part of the body was of a brown colour, (from which no doubt its name is derived,) with a few light shades of black; the abdomen was of a light, bluish black. In the stomach were found several half-digested lizards, and a quantity of worms, which in some parts had even perforated the coats: on a further examination, the lungs were also found perforated[216] by, and had attached to them, a number of these worms, varying from one and a half to two inches in length, and of a bright red colour: I preserved them, together with the lungs, in spirits, and sent them to the museum of the Royal College of Surgeons, in London.[79]
The “brown snake” I examined is also venomous, and, according to popular belief, it has a very dangerous effect on the human body. The specimen was nearly five feet long and five inches at its widest point; its upper body was brown (which is probably where it gets its name) with some lighter black shades; the underbelly was a light bluish-black. Inside the stomach, there were several half-digested lizards and a lot of worms, which in some areas had even eaten through the stomach wall. Upon further examination, the lungs were also found to be perforated and had a number of these worms attached to them, ranging from one and a half to two inches in length and brightly red in color. I preserved them, along with the lungs, in alcohol and sent them to the museum of the Royal College of Surgeons in London.[216]
There is another dangerous snake, called “yellow snake” by the colonists, and “Jaruk” by the Yas natives: it attains a large size, and has the reputation of being very venomous, the bite producing almost immediate death.[80] The most deadly snake in appearance, and I believe also in effect, is one of hideous aspect, called by the colonists the “death adder,” and by the Yas natives “Tammin,” from having a small curved process at the extremity of the tail, or, more correctly, the tail terminating suddenly in a small curved extremity, bearing some resemblance[217] to a sting, it is considered by popular rumour to inflict a deadly sting with it.
There’s another dangerous snake, known as the "yellow snake" by colonists and "Jaruk" by the Yas natives. It grows to a large size and is believed to be highly venomous, with a bite that can cause almost immediate death.[80] The most lethal-looking snake, and I think also in effect, is one that looks quite hideous. Colonists call it the "death adder," while the Yas natives refer to it as "Tammin." This snake has a small curved extension at the end of its tail, which ends suddenly in a little curved tip that looks somewhat like a sting. Popular belief suggests it can deliver a deadly sting with it.
This hideous reptile is thick in proportion to its length; the eye is vivid yellow, with a black longitudinal pupil; the colour of the body is difficult to be described, being a complication of dull colours, with narrow, blackish bands, shaded off into the colours which compose the back; abdomen slightly tinged with red; head broad, thick, and flattened. The specimen I examined measured two feet two inches in length, and five inches in circumference. It is, I believe, an undescribed species.[81] A dog that was bitten by one, died in less than an hour. The specimen I examined was found coiled up near the banks of the Murrumbidgee river; and being of a torpid disposition, did not move when approached, but quietly reposed in the pathway, with its head turned beneath the belly.
This ugly reptile is thick relative to its length; the eye is bright yellow with a long black pupil; the body color is hard to describe, being a mix of dull shades with narrow, dark bands that fade into the colors on its back; the abdomen has a slight reddish tint; the head is wide, thick, and flattened. The specimen I examined was two feet two inches long and five inches around. I believe it is a species that hasn’t been categorized yet. A dog that was bitten by one died in under an hour. The specimen I examined was found coiled up near the banks of the Murrumbidgee river; being sluggish, it didn't move when I approached and just lay quietly in the path with its head turned under its belly.
The “diamond snake” is handsome, attains a large size, and I believe is not considered venomous. It is said, that when cattle are bitten by a venomous snake, they resort immediately to the water. A cow was found lying dead near the river, at “Gudarigby,” during the time I[218] visited the farm, and from appearances the body presented, the stock-keepers formed an opinion that its death was produced by the bite of a venomous snake.
The “diamond snake” is attractive, grows to a large size, and I believe it’s not poisonous. It is said that when cattle are bitten by a venomous snake, they immediately head for the water. A cow was found dead near the river at “Gudarigby” when I[218] visited the farm, and based on how the body looked, the stock-keepers concluded that its death was caused by a bite from a venomous snake.
Leeches are abundant in all the “water holes” about this part of the colony, and are used for medicinal purposes: they are of a black colour, with longitudinal orange lines extending the whole length of the body, the abdomen being of a dark orange colour. They are in great demand at Sydney, as few or none are found in its vicinity.
Leeches are everywhere in the “water holes” around this part of the colony and are used for medical purposes: they are black, with long orange stripes running the entire length of their bodies, and their abdomens are a dark orange color. They are highly sought after in Sydney since there are few, if any, found nearby.
On the 19th of November I visited the farm at “Gudarigby,” the property of W. H. Dutton, Esq., in company with his brother, Mr. F. Dutton, and Mr. Manton. We remained the first night in the bark hut erected on Mr. Manton’s farm. Snakes of the black and brown species were numerous at this place, no doubt arising from the location being close to the Murrumbidgee river. We had sufficient proof of the existence of these reptiles, from seeing several which had recently been destroyed by the men on the farm; one had dropped from the back shed upon a man’s bed during the night, and occasioned him to quit, and leave the reptile in undisturbed possession for the remainder of the night: in the morning, search was made, the[219] reptile discovered among the blankets, and killed: it was a “black snake,” and measured full three feet in length. The warm valley in which the farm is situated, as well as its being near the river, must make it an agreeable retreat to the reptiles. We, however, slept through the night without experiencing any visits from them, although we often expected to feel their cold bodies gliding over and awakening us, from pleasant dreams to disagreeable realities.
On November 19th, I visited the farm at "Gudarigby," owned by W. H. Dutton, Esq., along with his brother, Mr. F. Dutton, and Mr. Manton. We spent our first night in the bark hut built on Mr. Manton’s farm. There were a lot of black and brown snakes in the area, likely due to its location near the Murrumbidgee River. We had plenty of evidence of these reptiles’ presence, having seen several killed by the workers on the farm; one snake fell from the back shed onto a man's bed during the night, causing him to flee and leaving the snake undisturbed for the rest of the night. In the morning, a search was conducted, and the snake was found among the blankets and killed; it was a “black snake” measuring a full three feet in length. The warm valley where the farm is located, as well as its proximity to the river, makes it a nice spot for the reptiles. However, we managed to sleep through the night without any visits from them, even though we often braced ourselves for the feeling of their cold bodies sliding over us, waking us from pleasant dreams to unwelcome realities.
The following morning we proceeded on the journey to “Gudarigby,” over a hilly and broken, but still romantic and beautiful country; with a variety of flowering plants spread over the luxuriant, verdant declivities and flats, casting different hues over the soil; among them the delicate and beautiful orchideous plant called “fringed violet” by the colonists, the Thysanotus junceus of botanists, was particularly abundant: its elegant lilac-coloured flowers, in clusters of from three to six upon the same stalk were very conspicuous. The “native hyacinth,” and others of the Orchideæ family, with white, dark red, yellow, and pink flowers, were abundant.
The next morning, we continued our journey to "Gudarigby," traveling through a hilly, rugged landscape that was still romantic and beautiful. The area was filled with various flowering plants scattered across the lush, green slopes and flatlands, creating different colors on the soil. Among them, the delicate and lovely orchid known as the “fringed violet” by the settlers, or the Thysanotus junceus to botanists, was especially plentiful. Its elegant lilac flowers, blooming in clusters of three to six on the same stem, were very noticeable. The “native hyacinth” and other members of the Orchideæ family with white, dark red, yellow, and pink flowers were also abundant.
After proceeding full six miles over a rich but broken country, fertile flats, and limestone hills, the declivities rich in herbage, but the summits arid, rocky, and bare of verdure,—we arrived[220] at “Narrángullen,” a fine flat, abounding in excellent pasturage, with thickly wooded hills. This was formerly a sheep station, but deserted from the great losses sustained by the sheep devouring their lambs.[82]
After traveling a full six miles across a rich but uneven landscape, with fertile plains and limestone hills—where the slopes were lush with grass but the peaks were dry, rocky, and devoid of greenery—we arrived at “Narrángullen,” a beautiful flat area teeming with great grazing land and surrounded by densely wooded hills. This used to be a sheep station, but it was abandoned due to the significant losses caused by the sheep eating their own lambs.[220]
From this place we passed up a gully, bounded by lofty mountains, thinly-wooded, which brought us to the almost perpendicular ascent of an elevated mountain, which certainly gave me a few ideas of what Nature’s roads may have been in this colony before the formation of new ones came into fashion. This I was told, was one road to the farm, and the shortest, but there was another for drays not so steep, but many miles further round; by that one we proposed returning as soon as the visit to the farm was concluded. We led our horses, or rather they scrambled up this steep acclivity, to the summit of a ridge of mountains, from which the view was magnificent; it seemed as if Nature had sported with her superfluities in the formation of this country; mountains over mountains heaped: some were thinly and others densely covered with timber; the tout ensemble formed a splendid specimen of wild and romantic scenery.[221] About the elevated ridges, the black-wattle acacias, in full bloom, were numerous, and their fresh and verdant foliage was well contrasted by the arid melancholy appearance of the Eucalypti trees around. A descent more gradual than the ascent, with the soil covered by long thick grass, brought us to a well-watered flat through which the Murrumbidgee river, and large creek, flowed; and in this place (completely surrounded by the river and creek, and consequently rendered impassable during floods produced by the rains) the farm was situated.
From here, we climbed up a gully flanked by tall, sparsely wooded mountains, leading us to a nearly vertical climb up a high mountain. This certainly gave me some ideas of what Nature’s paths might have looked like in this colony before new routes took over. I was told this was one road to the farm, and the shortest, but there was another, less steep road for wagons, though it was many miles longer; we planned to take that route back after our visit to the farm. We led our horses, or rather they clambered up this steep incline, to the top of a mountain ridge, where the view was stunning. It looked like Nature had shown off her abundance in shaping this land; mountains piled upon mountains: some were lightly, others heavily wooded. The overall scene was a beautiful example of wild and romantic landscape.[221] Around the elevated ridges, the black-wattle acacias were in full bloom, their bright green leaves contrasting sharply with the dry, gloomy look of the surrounding Eucalypti trees. A descent that was more gradual than the ascent, with the ground covered in thick, long grass, led us to a well-watered flat through which the Murrumbidgee River and a large creek flowed. In this spot, completely surrounded by the river and creek – making it impossible to access during floods caused by the rains – the farm was located.
This place, secluded by lofty-wooded mountains, and in a situation of great romantic beauty, cannot be valuable except as a cattle run, for which, from the abundance of grass and excellent supply of water, a better selection could not be made, but for sheep the situation is too moist. After rather a laborious and fatiguing journey, we enjoyed, in a neat and clean hut, some fine river cod fish, tea, and delicious rich milk, and our horses had, in this fine valley, excellent grass. Among the feathered animals which abound here, is the Dacelo gigantea, Temm., better known to the colonists and strangers by the appellation of “Laughing or[222] Feathered Jackass.”[83] Its peculiar gurgling laugh, commencing from a low, and gradually rising to a high and loud tone, is often heard by the traveller in all parts of the colony, sending forth its deafening noises whilst remaining perched upon the lofty branch of a tree watching for prey; it is respected by gardeners for destroying grubs, &c. The natives at Yas call the bird “Gogera,” or “Gogobera,” probably from its peculiar note, which has some resemblance to the sound of the word. It is said that one seldom laughs without being accompanied by a second, forming a very harmonious duet.
This place, set apart by tall, wooded mountains and surrounded by stunning natural beauty, doesn't hold much value except as grazing land. With plenty of grass and a great water supply, it's the perfect spot for cattle, but it's too wet for sheep. After a rather tiring journey, we enjoyed some nice river cod, tea, and rich milk in a tidy, clean hut, while our horses grazed on excellent grass in this lovely valley. Among the many birds here is the Dacelo gigantea, Temm., known to locals and visitors as the “Laughing or[222] Feathered Jackass.” Its unique gurgling laugh starts low and gradually rises to a high, loud tone, often heard by travelers throughout the colony, producing its loud calls while perched on a tall tree branch, watching for prey. Gardeners appreciate it for eating pests, etc. The locals at Yas call it “Gogera” or “Gogobera,” likely inspired by its distinctive call, which somewhat resembles the sound of the name. It's said that one rarely laughs alone, as a companion usually joins in, creating a harmonious duet.
This bird, from its devouring mice and venomous reptiles, deserves protection; (hawks also destroy snakes in this colony.) A gentleman told me that he was perfectly aware of the bird destroying snakes, as he had often seen them carry the reptiles to a tree, and break their heads to pieces with their sharp strong beaks; he also said he had known them destroy chickens soon after they were hatched, and carry away eggs, breaking the shell with their sharp beaks, to get at their contents. One of these birds,[223] seen upon the branch of a tree near a river, looking so stupid, and nodding as if asleep, was shot, and it was then found that this peculiar manner proceeded from having swallowed a small snake, which had got into the stomach, throat, and bill, but had not yet accommoded itself in the former cavity.
This bird, which eats mice and poisonous reptiles, deserves protection; (hawks also kill snakes in this area.) A man told me he knew for sure that the bird kills snakes, as he often saw them carry the reptiles to a tree and smash their heads with their sharp, strong beaks. He also mentioned that he had seen them kill chickens soon after they hatched and take eggs, breaking the shells with their sharp beaks to get to the insides. One of these birds,[223] was spotted on the branch of a tree near a river, looking so clueless and nodding as if it were asleep. It was shot, and then it was discovered that this strange behavior was because it had swallowed a small snake that had gotten stuck in its stomach, throat, and bill, but hadn't yet settled in the stomach.
It is not uncommon to see these birds fly up with a long snake pending from their beak, the bird holding the reptile by the neck, just behind the head; but as the snake hangs down without motion, and appears dead, it is probable that the bird destroys them upon the ground before it conveys them into the tree. From these circumstances, although they may now and then “make away” with an egg, or recently hatched chicken, by mistake for other food, yet there ought to be a prohibition against their being injured, as the vermin destroyed by them amply repay such trifling losses. This is the first bird heard in the morning, and the last (among the day-birds) at night; it rises with the dawn, when the woods re-echo with its gurgling laugh; at sunset they are again heard, and as that glorious orb sinks in the westward, a last “good night” is given in its peculiar tones to all within hearing.
It’s not uncommon to see these birds flying with a long snake hanging from their beak, holding the reptile by the neck just behind the head. However, since the snake dangles motionless and looks dead, it’s likely that the bird kills them on the ground before taking them into the tree. Given these facts, even though they might occasionally “snatch” an egg or a recently hatched chick by mistake for something else, there should be a ban on harming them, as the pests they eliminate far outweigh these minor losses. This is the first bird you hear in the morning and the last (among the day-birds) at night; it awakens with the dawn, filling the woods with its cheerful laughter; at sunset, they are heard again, and as that glorious sun sets in the west, they give a final “good night” in their unique calls to all within earshot.
At this farm, close to the Murrumbidgee river,[224] and on the almost perpendicular side of a limestone hill, which rises in the midst of this wooded valley, the rocks partially scattered with herbage, shrubs, and stunted casuarina-trees, is the entrance to a spacious cavern; there are others of smaller size sprinkled about different parts of the same mass of limestone, but this seems to be the most spacious; they were originally pointed out by the natives to the overseer of the farm, but were first explored by Mr. Dutton, and some friends.
At this farm, near the Murrumbidgee River,[224] on the nearly vertical side of a limestone hill that rises in the middle of this wooded valley, the rocks are partly covered with grass, shrubs, and small casuarina trees. Here is the entrance to a large cave; there are others of smaller size scattered around different areas of the same limestone formation, but this one seems to be the biggest. The locals initially pointed them out to the farm overseer, but they were first explored by Mr. Dutton and some of his friends.
The day after our arrival we visited the cave, taking materials to produce a light, by which we might explore these recesses with more facility. The approach to this cavern is through a thick jungle of grass, reeds, veronica, fern brake, (Pteris,) &c.: much caution is required, more particularly when on horseback, on account of the number of wombat burrows which abound about the spot. A slight ascent brought us to the spacious and lofty entrance into which the horses were easily led, and conveniently stabled; this may be truly said to form the waiting-hall for admission into the two ranges of chambers which branch off in different directions, as seen in the accompanying diagram of a supposed section.
The day after we arrived, we visited the cave, bringing materials to make a light so we could explore its depths more easily. The entrance to this cave is through a thick jungle of grass, reeds, veronica, ferns, etc. A lot of caution is needed, especially when on horseback, because of the many wombat burrows in the area. A slight uphill led us to the spacious and high entrance, where the horses were easily guided and conveniently stabled. This area can truly be considered the waiting room for access to the two ranges of chambers that branch off in different directions, as shown in the accompanying diagram of a supposed section.
GUDARIGBY CAVERNS.
Gudarigby Caves.
- A. Entrance to the great cavern.
- B. Entrance to the lesser cavern.
- C. The “Grand Hall” of the Cavern; lofty and most spacious.
- D. Second Cavern, not extensive, but there are several small caverns above it.
- E. Termination of the great cavern.
The entrance is probably about eighteen or twenty feet broad, and thirty or forty feet high, abounding in large stalactites, incrusting and pending from all parts of the interior, as well as separate masses like columns, supporting the roof. Having made a fire and lighted our torches, we entered the cavern to the right, [A in the diagram,] and ascending over some loose earth, entered a narrow vestibule, capable of admitting only one person at a time; it was encrusted above, and on all sides, by stalactites of various[226] forms which presented a glittering appearance, as the light from the torches fell upon them. A number of a small species of bat, disturbed by our presence in their dark retreat, flew about, and we captured many of them: several of their skeletons pending from the rocks, indicated that it afforded them a mausoleum, as well as a retreat during life.
The entrance is probably about eighteen or twenty feet wide and thirty or forty feet high, filled with large stalactites hanging from all parts of the interior, along with separate masses like columns that support the roof. After starting a fire and lighting our torches, we entered the cavern to the right, [A in the diagram,] and climbed over some loose earth, reaching a narrow vestibule that could only fit one person at a time. It was covered above and on all sides with stalactites of various forms that sparkled as the light from the torches hit them. A number of small bats, disturbed by our presence in their dark retreat, flew around, and we caught several of them. Some of their skeletons hanging from the rocks showed that this place served as both a mausoleum and a hideout during their lives.
As we proceeded, the cavern became more lofty and expansive; but although able, from the elevation, to walk erect, we were obliged to take care of occasional projections from the rocks on each side. As the light from the torches fell upon the white glittering fantastic forms of the stalactites which hung from the roofs and covered the sides, the effect was highly pleasing. We came at last to a descent of fine loose earth, in which some wombats had been burrowing, and much care was necessary to avoid falling into the gaping entrances. The descent having been effected, we found ourselves in the most lofty, beautiful, and spacious part of this extensive cavern; we termed it the “grand hall:” immense masses of stalactites, (to which fancied resemblance of forms had occasioned the names of the altar, organ-pipes, &c., to be given,) had a beautiful appearance: enormous pending[227] stalactites adorned the lofty roof, and the whole scene had by torchlight an inconceivably grand and splendid effect. At several places the ground upon which we walked gave a hollow sound when struck, and masses of decomposed limestone were abundantly mingled with a fine black earth. Proceeding some distance further, we arrived at the termination.[84]
As we moved forward, the cave became taller and wider; even though we could stand up straight because of the height, we had to be careful of occasional rock outcroppings on either side. The light from the torches shimmered on the white, sparkling, unusual shapes of the stalactites hanging from the ceiling and covering the walls, creating a very pleasing effect. Eventually, we came to a steep slope with loose earth where some wombats had burrowed, and we had to be careful to avoid falling into the open entrances. After making our way down, we found ourselves in the most grand, beautiful, and spacious part of this vast cave; we called it the “grand hall.” Huge clusters of stalactites, which we had given names like the altar and organ pipes based on their imagined shapes, looked stunning. Enormous hanging stalactites decorated the high ceiling, and the whole scene was unbelievably grand and stunning by torchlight. In several places, the ground we walked on sounded hollow when we tapped it, and there were large amounts of decayed limestone mixed with fine black soil. After moving a little farther, we reached the end.
After our return from exploring the great cavern, we entered the smaller one; [B in the diagram;] its extent is limited, but the stalactites within were of great beauty and variety of forms; my attention was here attracted by the multitude of small bones mingled with dust, which lay near and about the entrance of this cavern; how they came in this situation merits enquiry, for here alone did I observe them; they appeared belonging to some animals of the Rodentia family, consisting of skulls and other portions of the skeleton, some, indeed nearly the whole, were in a perfect condition: near the spot I picked up a small mass of stalactite, which appeared to have been broken off from some portion of the cavern, but its exact position I could not discover, in which small bones, similar to[228] those scattered about, were imbedded. The specimen I preserved and sent to England.[85]
After we got back from exploring the big cave, we went into the smaller one; [B in the diagram;] it’s not very big, but the stalactites inside were incredibly beautiful and varied in shape. I was particularly drawn to the many small bones mixed with dust that were lying near the entrance of this cave; it’s worth investigating how they ended up there because I only saw them in this spot. They seemed to belong to some animals from the Rodentia family, consisting of skulls and other parts of the skeleton, some of which were almost completely intact. Nearby, I found a small piece of stalactite that looked like it broke off from somewhere in the cave, but I couldn’t figure out exactly where it came from, and it had small bones, similar to those scattered around, embedded in it. I kept the specimen and sent it to England.
The atmosphere of the inner chamber of the large cavern is at times so close and confined as to produce sickness and violent head-ache, and cause many to faint who visit it, but we experienced no inconvenience, for although a hot wind blew outside from the north-east in strong and oppressive gusts, the inside of the cavern was cool and agreeable. The length of the cavern may, at a guess, be one hundred and twenty yards, or even more; and the large entrance is[229] about sixty yards distant from the Murrumbidgee river. The view, from the front of the cavern, of the exterior country was beautiful: swallows’ nests, as well as the restless birds themselves, were numerous; and the “Currijong-tree” was also seen growing about the limestone ranges. The swamp oaks, or “Plow’y,” of the aborigines grew here in abundance, indicating by their presence the course of the river.
The atmosphere inside the big cave can sometimes feel really stuffy and tight, making people feel sick and giving them bad headaches, causing many visitors to faint. However, we didn’t have any issues; even though a hot wind blew outside from the northeast in strong, oppressive bursts, the inside of the cave was cool and pleasant. The cave is roughly about one hundred and twenty yards long or maybe even more, with the large entrance being about sixty yards away from the Murrumbidgee River. The view from the front of the cave was beautiful: there were plenty of swallow nests, along with the restless birds themselves, and you could also see the “Currijong-tree” growing around the limestone hills. The swamp oaks, or “Plow’y,” as the aborigines call them, grew here in abundance, marking the path of the river.
The aborigines will not venture into the dark recesses of the cavern for fear of the “dibbil-dibbil,” as they express it. In a small cave attached to this cavern a number of human bones had recently been found, which it was afterwards ascertained were those of a native female, and had been deposited here, (in accordance with a custom among the aborigines of placing the bodies of deceased friends and relations in caverns, hollow trunks of trees, &c.) about twenty years before.
The indigenous people won’t enter the dark corners of the cave because they’re afraid of the “dibbil-dibbil,” as they put it. In a small cave connected to this cavern, several human bones were recently found, which were later confirmed to belong to a native woman. These remains were placed here, following a custom among the indigenous people of putting the bodies of deceased friends and family in caves, hollow tree trunks, etc., around twenty years ago.
The black swans (Anas plutonia) were at certain spots numerous about the river; they lay several eggs of a light bluish tinge, but at this season the young birds were seen in the river, as also the young of the different species of wild ducks, teal, &c., which are numerous in the colony; although neither the young of the black swans or ducks can yet fly, still nature[230] has provided them with a rapidity of motion in the water which baffles pursuers: this excites surprise in those who witness the manner these little half-fledged creatures swim and dive, so as effectually to avoid their numerous enemies. A tyro, thinking it an easy task to capture them, “as they cannot fly,” enters the river for the purpose of taking some of the ducklings, but returns exhausted after a fatiguing chase, without procuring one to reward his trouble, marvelling, as he directs his steps homeward, completely crest-fallen, how the little imps could have escaped.
The black swans (Anas plutonia) were quite common in certain areas along the river; they laid a few eggs that were a light bluish color. At this time of year, the young swans could be seen in the river, along with the chicks of various species of wild ducks, teal, etc., which are plentiful in the colony. Even though neither the young black swans nor the ducklings can fly yet, nature has given them a speed in the water that confuses their predators. This surprises those who watch how these little half-fledged birds swim and dive, effectively escaping their many enemies. A novice, thinking it would be easy to catch them "since they can't fly," wades into the river to try to catch some ducklings but comes back exhausted after a tiring chase, having failed to catch even one. As he heads home, feeling defeated, he wonders how the little creatures managed to get away.
CHAPTER XII.
Native dogs—Their tenacity of life—Return to Yas Plains—The Australian raspberry—Native cherry-tree—The summer season—Tree hoppers—Their clamour—Gannets—Country about the Tumat river—Bugolong—The Black range—A storm—Vicinity of rivers—Native blacks—Their costume and weapons—Wheat-fields—Destructive birds—Winding course of the Murrumbidgee.
Native dogs—Their toughness in surviving—Back to Yas Plains—The Australian raspberry—Native cherry tree—Summer time—Tree hoppers—Their noise—Gannets—Area around the Tumat River—Bugolong—The Black Range—A storm—Regions near rivers—Indigenous people—Their clothing and tools—Wheat fields—Harmful birds—Curving path of the Murrumbidgee.
Three dingos, or native dogs, (the “Warragul” of the aborigines, Canis Australasiæ, Dem.[86]) were seen about the hills at “Gudarigby,” and the howling of the kangaroo dogs during the night, was the first indication of their prowling about; they are the wolves of the colony, and are perhaps unequalled for cunning. These[232] animals breed in the holes of rocks; a litter was found near Yas Plains, which the discoverer failed to destroy, thinking to return and catch the mother also, and thus destroy the whole family; but the “old lady” must have been watching him, for on his returning a short time after, he found all the little dingos had been carried away, and he was never able, although diligent search was made in the vicinity, to discover their place of removal. The cunning displayed by these animals, and the agony they can endure, without evincing the usual effects of pain, would seem almost incredible, had it not been related by those on whose testimony every dependence can be placed. The following are a few among a number of extraordinary instances.
Three dingos, or native dogs, (the “Warragul” of the aborigines, Canis Australasiæ, Dem.[86]) were spotted around the hills at “Gudarigby,” and the howling of the kangaroo dogs at night was the first sign of their presence. They're like the wolves of the region and are probably unmatched in cunning. These[232] animals breed in rock holes; a settler found a litter near Yas Plains but failed to destroy it, thinking he could return to catch the mother and wipe out the entire family. However, the “old lady” must have been keeping an eye on him because when he came back a short time later, he discovered all the little dingos had been taken away, and despite a thorough search in the area, he could never find out where they went. The cunning displayed by these animals and their ability to endure pain without showing typical signs is almost unbelievable, unless you hear it from people you can trust completely. Here are a few among several remarkable examples.
One had been beaten so severely that it was supposed all the bones were broken, and it was left for dead. After the person had walked some distance, upon accidentally looking back, his surprise was much excited by seeing “master dingo” rise, shake himself, and march into the bush, evading all pursuit.—One, supposed dead, was brought into a hut, for the purpose of undergoing “decortication;” at the commencement of the skinning process upon the face, the only perceptible movement was a slight quivering of the lips, which was regarded at the time as[233] merely muscular irritability: the man, after skinning a very small portion, left the hut to sharpen his knife, and returning found the animal sitting up, with the flayed integument hanging over one side of the face.
One had been beaten so badly that it was believed all their bones were broken, and they were left for dead. After walking a bit, when he happened to look back, he was surprised to see "master dingo" get up, shake himself off, and head into the bush, escaping all pursuit. One person, thought to be dead, was taken into a hut for the purpose of being skinned. At the start of the skinning process on the face, the only noticeable movement was a slight quivering of the lips, which was considered at the time as[233]just muscular twitching. The man, after skinning a tiny section, stepped outside to sharpen his knife, and when he came back, he found the animal sitting up, with the skin hanging off one side of its face.
Another instance was that of a settler, who, returning from a sporting expedition, with six kangaroo dogs, they met a dingo, which was attacked by the dogs, and worried to such a degree, that finding matters becoming serious, and that the worst of the sport came to his share, the cunning dingo pretended to be dead;—thinking he had departed the way of all dogs, they gave him a parting shake, and left him. Unfortunately for the poor dingo, he was of an impatient disposition, and was consequently premature in his resurrection, for before the settler and his dogs had gone any distance, he was seen to rise and skulk away, but on account of the rough treatment he had received, at a slow pace; the dogs soon re-attacked him, when he was handled in a manner that must have eventually prevented any resuscitation taking place a second time.
Another example involved a settler who, returning from a hunting trip with six kangaroo dogs, encountered a dingo. The dogs attacked the dingo and worried it so much that, realizing things were getting serious and that the worst of the encounter was his to bear, the clever dingo pretended to be dead. Thinking he had met his end like any other dog, they gave him a final shake and left. Unfortunately for the poor dingo, he was naturally impatient and rose too soon. Before the settler and his dogs had gone far, he was spotted getting up and sneaking away, but because of the rough treatment he had received, he moved at a slow pace. The dogs soon attacked him again, and he was treated in a way that surely would prevent any chance of revival a second time.
These instances may account for the fact why skeletons of the animals are not found in places where they have been left supposed dead. I have more than once been taken where one had been killed, as I desired to have a skeleton; but[234] no remains of the beast were visible in the majority of instances; and crows and hawks do not devour animals, bones and all, in this country.[87] The following anecdote proves that the “dingos,” although cowards when chances are against them, will, like the Chinese, stand battle when numbers and chance of victory are on their side. A native dog attacked a calf, which was driven by[235] a man having a kangaroo dog with him. The hound immediately set upon the dingo, but four more coming to the assistance of their comrade, they tore the kangaroo dog very severely; but the man, by aid of shouting and sticks, drove them away, after much difficulty.
These situations might explain why skeletons of animals aren't found in places where they've supposedly died. I've been taken to sites where animals had been killed because I wanted to get a skeleton, but[234] in most cases, there were no remains visible; plus, crows and hawks don’t completely eat animals here. [87] The following story shows that the “dingos,” while cowardly when the odds are against them, like the Chinese, will fight when they have the advantage in numbers and likely victory. A native dog attacked a calf that was being driven by a man with a kangaroo dog. The hound immediately went after the dingo, but four others came to back up their companion, and they seriously injured the kangaroo dog. However, the man managed to drive them off with shouting and sticks, but it took a lot of effort.
On the 26th of November I returned from “Gudarigby” to Yas Plains, by a longer but better road than that by which I came; passing through a fine open forest and luxuriant pasture land, the distance being eight or nine miles further than by scrambling over the ranges. The Rubus australis, or Australian raspberry, (char, mut’h, mut’h of the Yas natives,) was abundant. The fruit is small, devoid of flavour, but might, perhaps, be improved by cultivation. It may also be an interesting experiment to ascertain how far the Exocarpus cupressiforme, or native cherry-tree, may be made to produce a good edible fruit by grafting or culture. The greatest elevation I have seen this tree attain has been thirty to forty feet, and a diameter of a foot to a foot and a half: the fruit is insignificant, and almost tasteless. There is another species of Exocarpus abundant about Goulburn Plains, and other parts of the colony, shrubby, seldom attaining more than five or six feet elevation; bearing a white, instead of a red fruit, as in the[236] other species just mentioned. The Eucalypti trees were now covered with a profusion of white blossoms, attracting multitudes of parroquets, who revel in the sweets afforded by the nectaries.
On November 26th, I returned from “Gudarigby” to Yas Plains, taking a longer but better road than the one I came by; I went through a beautiful open forest and lush pastureland, adding about eight or nine miles to the distance compared to scrambling over the ranges. The Rubus australis, or Australian raspberry, (char, mut’h, mut’h as the Yas natives call it) was abundant. The fruit is small and lacks flavor but might be improved with cultivation. It could also be interesting to explore how well the Exocarpus cupressiforme, or native cherry-tree, can produce good edible fruit through grafting or cultivation. The tallest I’ve seen this tree grow is about thirty to forty feet, with a diameter of one to one and a half feet; its fruit is minimal and nearly tasteless. There’s another species of Exocarpus common around Goulburn Plains and other areas of the colony, which is shrubby and usually doesn’t grow more than five or six feet tall; it produces white fruit instead of red, like the other species mentioned. The eucalyptus trees were now covered in a wealth of white blossoms, attracting countless parrots that enjoy the sweetness provided by the nectar.
As the summer season was now fully set in, (December,) the previous silence of the woods was broken by the incipient, shrill, chirping noises which resounded over them, occasioned by the male Tettigoniæ, or tree hoppers, emerging from the larva into the winged state; the cases the fly had left, being seen on almost every tree or post. This genus is remarkable for the instrument with which it cuts grooves in the wood for the purpose of depositing its eggs. The musical organs, or drums, only found in the males, are not less interesting; and the best published account respecting them is that by Reamur, quoted in the very interesting work, entitled “Insect Miscellanies.” The aborigines call these insects “Galang, galang,” and formerly used them as food; first stripping off the wings, they ate them in the raw state; that is, as the native blacks told me at Yas, “when no white feller here, and black feller no get bread or yam.”
As summer was now in full swing, (December,) the previous silence of the woods was interrupted by the sharp, high-pitched chirping sounds that echoed throughout, caused by the male Tettigoniæ, or tree hoppers, transitioning from larvae to winged adults; their casings were visible on almost every tree and post. This group is known for the tool it uses to carve grooves in wood to lay its eggs. The musical organs, or drums, found only in the males, are equally fascinating; the best published information about them is by Reamur, mentioned in the captivating book titled “Insect Miscellanies.” The indigenous people refer to these insects as “Galang, galang,” and used to eat them; they would first remove the wings and consume them raw; which, as the native people told me at Yas, “when no white feller here, and black feller no get bread or yam.”
My notice was particularly directed by the natives to the drums in the male insects, as the means by which they produced their thrilling[237] sounds; at the same time adding, in their peculiar English, “Old woman Galang, galang, no got, no make a noise;” implying that the females do not possess these musical instruments. There are several species of this genus known in Australia. During rain, these insects are silent; but recommence their clamour on the reappearance of fine weather. The native blacks at Goulburn Plains told me that the manna produced by one of the Eucalypti trees, (E. mannifera,) was the excrement of this insect: this, probably, arose in their minds, from these insects appearing on the trees in the winged state, about the same time that the manna is secreted.
My attention was specifically directed by the locals to the drums in the male insects, which are how they create their exciting sounds; at the same time, they added, in their unique English, “Old woman Galang, galang, no got, no make a noise,” suggesting that the females don’t have these musical instruments. There are several species of this genus known in Australia. When it rains, these insects are quiet; but they start their noise again when the nice weather returns. The Indigenous people at Goulburn Plains told me that the manna produced by one of the eucalyptus trees, (E. mannifera), was the waste of this insect: this idea probably came from the fact that these insects appear on the trees in their winged form around the same time that the manna is secreted.
Several gannets had lately been shot, about the Murrumbidgee and Yas rivers, with plumage of a brownish black colour, bills and legs black: there was, also, a bird occasionally seen in this part of the colony, bearing a close resemblance to the swift, but only seen during the months of February and March, frequenting spots where the grass was on fire, to catch insects, &c. The aborigines of Yas name it “Kriolon,” or “Kriola.”
Several gannets have recently been shot around the Murrumbidgee and Yas rivers, featuring plumage that's a brownish-black color, with black bills and legs. There's also a bird sometimes spotted in this area of the colony that looks a lot like a swift, but it's only seen during February and March, hanging out in places where the grass is on fire to catch insects, etc. The local Aboriginal people of Yas call it “Kriolon” or “Kriola.”
On the 7th of December, I left Yas for the purpose of visiting the but little known country about the Tumat river. The roads were in excellent condition at this season, and the country[238] around resembled an extensive park. The grass was luxuriant and verdant, having not yet been parched by the summer heats; and travelling was now very agreeable. After passing “Durramgullen,” (a station belonging to Mr. Barber,) and Bowning Hill, or Mountain,[88] (a conspicuous object from all parts of the Yas Plains,) I arrived at “Bugolong,” a cattle station, at the distance of thirteen miles from Yas, belonging to Mr. Hunt, but better known as “Carrol’s Station,”[89] from the name of the overseer or stock-keeper in charge.
On December 7th, I left Yas to visit the lesser-known country around the Tumat River. The roads were in great condition at this time of year, and the area[238] looked like a vast park. The grass was lush and green, not yet dried out by the summer heat; traveling was quite pleasant. After passing “Durramgullen” (a station owned by Mr. Barber) and Bowning Hill or Mountain, which is a prominent landmark visible from all parts of the Yas Plains, I arrived at “Bugolong,” a cattle station thirteen miles from Yas that belongs to Mr. Hunt, but it's better known as “Carrol’s Station,” named after the overseer or stock-keeper in charge.
I remained here a short time to refresh the horse, as at this station there was abundance of fine grass. The roads were now good; but in the winter season, during wet weather, are almost impassable. The country in its general appearance is broken, but very picturesque; abounding in grass, but in most parts too moist for sheep, although excellent for cattle, which[239] fatten amazingly upon these “runs.” The “Black range” of mountains was passed at the “gap,” through which the road passes before arriving at this station. The waters, flowing from the east side of the “Black range,” fall into the Yas, and those from the west into the Murrumbidgee river; and the Yas empties or unites itself with the Murrumbidgee only a short distance from this station. I was soon again on my journey, being desirous of reaching “Jugiong” by the evening, from which I was now distant eighteen miles.
I stayed here for a bit to give the horse a break since there was plenty of nice grass at this station. The roads were in good condition now, but during winter and wet weather, they are nearly impossible to travel. The landscape is generally uneven but very scenic; it's full of grass, but in most areas, it's too wet for sheep, though it's great for cattle, which [239] gain weight impressively on these “runs.” We passed through the “gap” in the “Black range” of mountains, which is the route to this station. The streams on the east side of the “Black range” flow into the Yas, while those on the west flow into the Murrumbidgee River; the Yas merges with the Murrumbidgee just a short distance from this station. I was soon back on my way, eager to reach “Jugiong” by evening, which was now eighteen miles away.
Before I had proceeded many miles, some heavy clouds which had collected from the westward, poured down a deluge of rain, accompanied by violent peals of thunder and vivid lightning: the electric fluid burst with such crashing sounds, that I expected to see the trees shattered in ten thousand pieces by my side. Not having encumbered myself with a cloak, I was fully exposed to the pelting for nearly half an hour, when wind, rain, and accompaniments subsiding, the reappearance of the sun soon dissipated the moisture from the ground, as also from myself; and by the time I arrived at the end of my journey, my apparel was as dry as when I set out. Although this would have been in our English climate an occurrence injurious to health, yet[240] here it is rare that any ill effects arise from it; the same remark may equally apply to the custom of sleeping in the bush at night when travelling, from which no traveller has been known to sustain injury. The road continued excellent as I proceeded; but during the wet season is probably (being similar to that before passed over) nearly impassable. The feature of the country was open forest, abounding in luxuriant grass: occasionally a denser forest would vary the scene; the hills were thinly wooded, and the declivities carpeted with verdure.
Before I had gone many miles, some heavy clouds that had gathered from the west poured down a torrential rain, accompanied by loud thunder and bright lightning. The electric energy burst with such crashing sounds that I expected to see the trees shattered into a thousand pieces beside me. Since I hadn’t brought a cloak, I was completely exposed to the rain for nearly half an hour. When the wind and rain calmed down, the sun came back out and quickly dried the ground as well as me; by the time I reached the end of my journey, my clothes were as dry as when I started. Although this kind of weather would be harmful to health in our English climate, here it’s rare for anyone to suffer any negative effects from it. The same can be said for the practice of sleeping outdoors at night while traveling, which has never caused harm to any traveler. The road remained excellent as I went on, but during the wet season it’s likely nearly impassable, just like the previous route. The land featured open forests filled with lush grass; occasionally, a thicker forest would change the scenery, the hills were lightly wooded, and the slopes were covered in greenery.
At last, the gloomy appearance and peculiar growth of the “swamp oaks” indicated the vicinity of a creek, which emptied itself into the Murrumbidgee river; and, on ascending the hill near it, the ripe wheat field, and mud hovel appeared; and large “swamp oaks,” “water gum,” and other trees, directed my attention to the situation where the Murrumbidgee river flowed: this was the station named “Jugiong,” the property of Henry O’Brien, Esq.; and, descending the hill, I arrived at the dirty hut of the station, my only place of rest for the night, after a journey of thirty-six miles.
At last, the dreary look and odd growth of the “swamp oaks” signaled the nearby creek that fed into the Murrumbidgee River. As I climbed the hill next to it, I saw a ripe wheat field and a rundown hut. Large “swamp oaks,” “water gum,” and other trees caught my attention, leading me to the spot where the Murrumbidgee River flowed. This was the station called “Jugiong,” owned by Henry O’Brien, Esq. After descending the hill, I reached the shabby hut of the station, my only place to rest for the night after a thirty-six-mile journey.
I found in this, as in other instances, more animation and beauty in the vicinity of a river, than in other portions of the land; imparting[241] cheerfulness to the traveller, as well as to the whole animal creation. The numerous feathered tribe welcome him with songs and chirpings, rarely heard in the less watered and gloomy places, so much abounding in the colony: a livelier green is seen in the foliage of the trees; pasturage and flowering shrubs cast a beauty over the soil, and the journey about such places is less fatiguing, because it is more interesting and cheering. It was not long since that marked trees alone guided the traveller to these stations; whereas, now a well-beaten road, passable even for gigs, has been formed, making travelling upon it very agreeable.
I found, like in other cases, more vibrancy and beauty near a river than in other parts of the land, creating a sense of cheer for both travelers and all living creatures. The many birds greet him with songs and chirps that are rarely heard in the drier, gloomy areas that are so abundant in the colony. The leaves on the trees display a brighter green; pastures and flowering shrubs enhance the beauty of the land, and traveling through these places is less tiring because it’s more engaging and uplifting. Not long ago, only distinctive trees guided travelers to these spots; now, a well-traveled road that is even suitable for carriages has been established, making travel there very pleasant.
On my arrival at this station, I found a number of the native blacks collected about, all, even the ladies, in a state of nudity, “naked, but not ashamed:” some were busily employed in making rude spears, by sharpening the point of a long stick, which was afterwards hardened in the fire: they were preparing to hunt their “evening prey.” “Give them,” the men at the stations observe, “ever so much bread or meat, still they will hunt opossum and other game.” The spears they used, were twelve or fourteen feet in length. On a sunny day, when there is little wind, the water clear, and comparatively[242] tranquil, the aborigines go on the river in small bark canoes to spear fish, more particularly about the rocky parts of the river, and usually return with a large quantity: they also spear the “water-mole,” (Ornithorynchus,) if they observe any during the river excursion. Nothing comes amiss to the blacks for food: they may be said to devour “every living thing that runs upon the surface of the earth, or in the waters beneath.”
On my arrival at this station, I found a group of local Indigenous people gathered around, all of them, including the women, completely naked, “naked but not ashamed.” Some were actively making simple spears by sharpening the end of a long stick, which they later hardened in the fire. They were getting ready to hunt for their “evening meal.” “No matter how much bread or meat you give them,” the men at the stations say, “they will still go hunting for opossums and other game.” The spears they used were about twelve or fourteen feet long. On sunny days with little wind and clear, calm waters, the Aboriginal people take small bark canoes onto the river to spear fish, especially around the rocky areas, and they usually come back with a good catch. They also spear the “water-mole” (Ornithorynchus) if they spot any during their river outings. The Indigenous people are not picky about food; you could say they eat “every living thing that runs on the surface of the earth or lives in the waters below.”
I was examining the fine muscular structure, and the raised cicatrices, which were numerous over the arms and chest, of one of the natives, (and which he regarded as highly ornamental,) when, puzzled to ascertain the meaning of my curiosity, after I had finished, he whispered to the stock-keeper, if “he white feller gentleman ever see black feller before.” But as for procuring an examination of their phrenological organs, it was a labour of some difficulty, and even danger; for they seemed to regard it as witchcraft, or some magic ceremony: and when they even did submit, they evinced much fear, and preserved a very serious countenance during the operation, as if dreading the result; similar to young ladies, when under Deville’s hands for the same purpose, their secretiveness[243] and caution being overcome in some degree, by curiosity.[90]
I was looking at the fine muscular structure and the many scars that covered the arms and chest of one of the natives (which he considered to be very stylish) when, confused by my curiosity, he quietly asked the stock-keeper if “the white gentleman ever saw a black man before.” However, trying to examine their skull shapes was quite difficult and even risky because they seemed to think it was witchcraft or some kind of magic ritual. Even when they did agree to it, they showed a lot of fear and kept a serious expression, as if they were worried about the outcome—similar to young women when they’re with Deville for the same reason, their natural shyness and caution somewhat outweighed by their curiosity. [243]
The field of wheat at this station being just ripe, a man was obliged to be almost constantly on the watch, to prevent the “white cockatoos” from attacking and destroying it. These birds are named “Wagara,” or “Muruen,” by the aborigines: they were not yet very numerous, as the harvest was earlier than usual; but last year, I was told, the season was later,[244] and the crops were nearly destroyed, for they came in immense flocks; and although many were killed, it did not deter the others from attacking the grain. The reason given, why they were not now so numerous, was, that the young cockatoos were not sufficiently fledged to leave the nest; so the reaper’s song might be, “Fly not yet, little cockies;” for the old birds, rearing their progeny in a way to provide themselves with the necessaries of life, bring them in multitudes to attack a field of corn or grain, and are then so bold, as to be with great difficulty frightened away, although the deaths of hundreds may be the consequence; but, fortunately for the settler, the harvest was this season in a more forward state, and the little cockies not being in “full feather,” there was comparatively but few marauders.
The wheat field at this station was just ripe, so a man had to be almost constantly on guard to stop the “white cockatoos” from invading and ruining it. These birds are called “Wagara” or “Muruen” by the aborigines. They weren’t very numerous yet, as the harvest was earlier than usual; but last year, I was told, the season was later, and the crops were nearly destroyed because they came in massive flocks. Even though many were killed, it didn’t stop the others from going after the grain. The explanation for why they weren't as numerous now was that the young cockatoos weren’t quite ready to leave the nest; so the reaper’s song might be, “Fly not yet, little cockies.” The adult birds, raising their young to ensure they have what they need to survive, brought them in droves to raid a field of corn or grain. They are so bold that it’s very difficult to scare them away, even if it results in the death of hundreds. Luckily for the settler, the harvest was more advanced this season, and since the little cockies weren’t “fully fledged,” there were comparatively few raiders.
The way “the mob” of these screaming and destructive birds attack a field of grain, (or the cobs of corn in a maize field,) is to fly against, bear down the stalks with their weight, perch upon the fallen ears, and speedily destroy them.[91] Like all the parrot tribe, they construct no nest, but lay their eggs in a hollow branch or “spout” of a tree, clearing it of the rotten wood within,[245] except a small quantity at the bottom, on which the eggs are laid, and the young ones afterwards repose.
The way “the mob” of these loud and destructive birds attack a field of grain, or the cobs of corn in a maize field, is by flying in, weighing down the stalks, perching on the fallen ears, and quickly ruining them.[91] Like all parrots, they don’t build nests but lay their eggs in a hollow branch or “spout” of a tree, clearing out the rotten wood inside, except for a small amount at the bottom where the eggs are laid and the young ones later rest.[245]
It was related to me, that formerly such multitudes of parrots would beset a field of grain, as to oblige a settler to employ a number of men expressly to drive them away; and even then it was done with difficulty. This is now rare: which circumstance is not attributed to any depopulation of the “Polly” tribe, but from cultivation having become more extended; the parrot population being now divided in flocks about the different fields, when formerly they made their formidable attacks upon one or two only, and then in such numbers, that, left undisturbed for only a few hours, it would suffice to destroy the hopes of the settler, at all events for that season. It was computed that thirty or forty thousand of these birds were about the field at one time; and from what I saw, I do not consider the numbers were exaggerated. It is not only ripe grain that suffers from them, but, when it commences to vegetate, they assemble in immense flocks, to root up and devour it. The Loris are said to migrate from the Yas country in the summer, returning in the winter season: whether for food, or from what cause I could not ascertain.
I was told that in the past, huge swarms of parrots would invade a field of grain, forcing a farmer to hire several men just to scare them off; and even then, it was a tough job. Now, that's rare. This change isn't because the parrot population has declined, but because farming has expanded. The parrot population is now spread out in flocks across different fields, whereas before, they would make massive attacks on just one or two fields at a time, and if left alone for just a few hours, they could completely ruin a farmer's hopes for that season. It was estimated that there were thirty or forty thousand of these birds in the field at once, and based on what I saw, I don’t think those numbers were exaggerated. It’s not just mature grain that gets damaged; when crops start to grow, they gather in huge flocks to uproot and eat it. The Lorises are said to migrate from the Yas area in the summer and return in the winter; I couldn't find out if they do this for food or for another reason.
Near this station, (Jugiong,) the Murrumbidgee river takes a peculiar winding course, so as to form an extensive piece of excellent grazing land, almost into an island. By standing on the hill (marked A, in the following diagram,) the river is seen flowing on each side, after having made an extensive circuit.
Near this station, (Jugiong,) the Murrumbidgee River takes a peculiar winding path, forming a large area of great grazing land, almost like an island. From the hill (marked A in the following diagram), the river can be seen flowing on both sides after making a wide loop.
- A The Hill.
- B Murrumbidgee River.
- C Good grazing land.
- D Jugiong Station.
CHAPTER XIII.
Devoted attachment of Women—Remarkable instance of this, exemplified in the tale of an Australian savage—Journey resumed—Botanical productions—The Munne-munne range—Luxuriant plain—Mr. Warby’s farm—The bell bird—Junction of the Murrumbidgee and Tumat rivers—Native names of rivers—Soil—River cod—Aquatic fowl—The Tumat country—Fertility of the plains—Assigned servants—A mountainous range—The Murrumbidgee Pine—Geological character of the vicinity—Mr. Rose’s cattle station.
Devoted attachment of Women—Remarkable instance of this, exemplified in the story of an Australian indigenous person—Journey continued—Botanical wonders—The Munne-munne range—Rich plain—Mr. Warby’s farm—The bell bird—Junction of the Murrumbidgee and Tumat rivers—Indigenous names of rivers—Soil—River cod—Waterfowl—The Tumat area—Fertility of the plains—Assigned workers—A mountainous range—The Murrumbidgee Pine—Geological features of the area—Mr. Rose’s cattle station.
How agreeable it is at all times to see a strong feeling of attachment, more especially when conspicuous in a female. Who has read that beautiful tale, “Waverley,” and failed to admire this feeling, so well displayed by Flora M’Ivor towards her unfortunate brother! And other instances, equally beautiful and correct, are scattered over our literary productions, founded “on o’er true tales.” It is met with, emanating from the human heart, both in savage and civilized life; and it is correctly stated by an elegant writer, that “there is a latent intellectual force in woman, capable of being called into action only by circumstances[248] of the deepest moment, and on occasions of peculiar excitement:” and it is further observed, that “she who complains the airs of heaven visit her too roughly, will undergo, without a murmur, more acute sufferings than man may know: and the seeming heartless coquette, who wins our contempt at the assembly, will prove, in the hour of sorrow and affliction, a benign and ‘ministering angel.’” Perhaps some may feel disappointed when they find this digression only introduces a brief tale of one of that degraded race—an Australian savage, in whom this feeling was strong, and which occurred in this part of the colony—not in one of that amiable and gentle variety of the sex who grace the assemblies and parks, and form the domestic happiness in our native land.
How pleasant it is to witness a strong sense of attachment, especially when it shows itself in a woman. Who has read the beautiful story “Waverley” and not admired this feeling, so well expressed by Flora M’Ivor toward her unfortunate brother? Other equally beautiful examples are scattered throughout our literature, based on “too true tales.” This feeling comes from the human heart, found in both primitive and civilized life; as an elegant writer correctly states, “there is a latent intellectual force in women, capable of being activated only by circumstances of the deepest importance and on occasions of special excitement.” It is also noted that “she who complains that the elements treat her too harshly will endure greater suffering than a man can know without a word of protest: and the seemingly heartless coquette, who earns our disdain at social gatherings, will turn out to be a kind and ‘ministering angel’ in times of sorrow and trouble.” Some might feel let down to find this digression only leads to a brief story about one of that degraded race—an Australian savage—who had this feeling strongly, happening in this part of the colony—not in one of those amiable and gentle types of women who grace our social gatherings and parks, contributing to the domestic happiness in our homeland.
A female of one of the aboriginal tribes in the Murrumbidgee country formed an attachment and cohabited with a convict named Tallboy, who, becoming a bush-ranger, was for a long time sought after by the police for the many atrocities he had committed, but always eluded pursuit. This female concealed him with true native ingenuity, and baffled his pursuers—she would fish and hunt for him, whilst he remained secluded in the retreat she chose. She often visited the stock-keepers’ huts at the different stations, and whatever provision she[249] received from them was immediately conveyed to the unworthy object of her devoted attachment. Although many knew she was privy to his concealment, yet it was found impossible to elude her vigilance, by following her, and thus discover his retreat:—she evaded all attempts; and seemed ever watchful for his safety, probably knowing the fate that awaited him, if taken. Neither promises of rewards—enough to excite the cupidity of any individual, but one in whom a higher feeling was paramount—nor threats could induce her even to acknowledge she was acquainted with his place of concealment, much more betray it. Nay, it has occurred more than once, when there was a fear of discovery, that she has given voluntary information to the police of having seen him thirty or fifty miles distant, when, in fact, his place of concealment was in the immediate neighbourhood. The brute, however, manifested no kindred affection with this female, but would frequently beat and ill-use her.
A woman from one of the native tribes in the Murrumbidgee area became attached to and lived with a convict named Tallboy. He later became a bushranger and was hunted by the police for the many crimes he committed, but he always managed to escape capture. This woman cleverly hid him and outsmarted his pursuers—she fished and hunted for him while he stayed hidden in the place she chose. She often visited the stock-keepers’ huts at various stations, and anything she received from them was quickly taken to her unworthy partner. Although many people knew she was helping him hide, it was impossible to catch her by following her, as she evaded all attempts and always seemed vigilant for his safety, likely aware of the dire consequences he would face if caught. Neither promises of rewards—enough to tempt anyone but someone with strong principles—nor threats could persuade her to reveal she knew where he was hiding, let alone betray him. In fact, when there were fears of discovery, she sometimes even told the police she had seen him thirty or fifty miles away when his hideout was actually very close by. Unfortunately, Tallboy showed no affection for her and often beat and mistreated her.
Whilst she administered to him the refreshing cup of kindness, he bestowed on her misery in return. He had in one instance given way to his natural brutish disposition, by ill-treating the being who had done so much for him,—when he was on the verge of discovery, indeed had himself given up all hopes of escape,[250] when she again saved him, by engaging to point out to the police his place of retreat, and absolutely led them away, under that pretence, in a contrary direction, affording her paramour both time and opportunity to seek out a safer asylum. When she arrived with the police at the spot she had informed them he last was, he of course was not there, and a strict search in the vicinity was equally unsuccessful: she then left them to continue their pursuit after the criminal, pretending to know nothing further respecting him or his place of concealment. At last he was captured by venturing out too boldly during her absence, was tried, condemned, and expiated his offences on the scaffold at Sydney.
While she took care of him with a kind gesture, he made her suffer in return. There was a moment when he let his brutish nature take over, mistreating the one who had done so much for him—when he was on the brink of being discovered and had essentially lost all hope of escape. She saved him again by offering to tell the police where he was hiding and led them away in the opposite direction under that pretense, giving her lover both time and the chance to find a safer place. When she arrived with the police at the location she had said he was last seen, he wasn’t there, and a thorough search nearby was also fruitless. She then left them to continue their hunt for the criminal, pretending she didn’t know anything more about him or where he was hiding. Eventually, he was caught after he ventured out too recklessly while she was away, was tried, found guilty, and paid for his crimes on the gallows in Sydney.[250]
She wished to follow him, on hearing he was a prisoner; but that was impossible: so, reclaimed by her tribe, she was obliged to become an unwilling wife of one of the blacks. It is but too well known in what degradation the female sex are held among savage nations, so different from the deference and respect so justly given to that amiable and gentle portion of the creation in civilized life. This unfortunate female was ordered by her husband, whose word is law, to follow him, at a time when she was rendered incapable by illness:—on her hesitating, he struck her with savage barbarity with his tomahawk[251] so severely over the head and legs, that she fainted from loss of blood. She was found lying on the ground, and taken to the house of a settler residing on the banks of the Murrumbidgee river, and every kindness and attention shown her; but after lingering, suffering severe mental and bodily anguish, she expired. There is a son by this female and her convict paramour about three years old, living with the tribe, who are so attached to him, that for the present it has been found difficult to get him away from them, so that he may be brought up in a civilized state of society.
She wanted to follow him when she heard he was a prisoner, but that was impossible. So, taken back by her tribe, she had to become the unwilling wife of one of the men. It's well known how poorly women are treated among savage nations, which is so different from the respect and admiration given to women in civilized society. This unfortunate woman was ordered by her husband, whose word was law, to follow him when she was too sick to move. When she hesitated, he brutally struck her with his tomahawk[251] so hard on her head and legs that she fainted from blood loss. She was found lying on the ground and taken to the home of a settler on the banks of the Murrumbidgee River, where she received kindness and care. However, after suffering through intense mental and physical pain, she passed away. She had a son with her convict partner who is about three years old and is living with the tribe. They are so attached to him that it has been difficult to take him away so he can grow up in civilized society.
On the following morning I left Jugiong, and resumed my journey through a very interesting portion of country. The banks of the Murrumbidgee stream were adorned with large “swamp oaks,” (Plow’y of the aborigines,) magnificent water gum-trees, (Dad’ha and Yarra of the aborigines,) and immense quantities of a species of mallow, rising to the height of from two to six feet, and which at this time was profusely in flower, decorating the banks, mingled with other flowering plants. This mallow is named “Cumban” by the natives; and upon the banks, or in the vicinity of the river, is a species of Urtica, (“Cundalong” of the aborigines,) resembling the European species, “butter-cups:” the small red poppies, geranium, and other plants, similar to,[252] or closely allied to the European species, were abundant. After riding a distance of seven miles, “Cuney’s Station” was passed, situated at a fertile spot, called “Kitagarary Creek.”
On the next morning, I left Jugiong and continued my journey through a really interesting area. The banks of the Murrumbidgee River were lined with large swamp oaks (Plow'y in the aboriginal language), stunning water gum trees (Dad’ha and Yarra in the aboriginal language), and huge amounts of a type of mallow that grew two to six feet tall, which was in full bloom at the time, adding color to the banks along with other flowering plants. The natives call this mallow “Cumban.” Along the riverbanks or nearby, there’s a type of Urtica (known as “Cundalong” by the aborigines) that looks like the European species called “butter-cups.” There were also small red poppies, geraniums, and other plants similar to or closely related to European species, which were abundant. After riding seven miles, I passed “Cuney’s Station,” located in a fertile area called “Kitagarary Creek.”
Passing by the Munne-munne range, the scenery consisting of picturesque but broken country, thinly wooded, abounding in rich pasturage, the whole appeared a fine grazing land, some parts being also well calculated for sheep—the whole for cattle.
Passing by the Munne-munne range, the landscape featured beautiful yet rugged terrain, lightly wooded and filled with lush pastures. It all looked like excellent grazing land, with some areas particularly suitable for sheep—overall, it was perfect for cattle.
After leaving this range, an extensive, beautiful, and luxuriant plain or flat, surrounded in the distance by gradually-sloping verdant ranges of hills, was entered upon: this flat was carpeted by thick grass and gay flowers; and near a small creek, a quantity of plants with pink flowers, having at a distance some resemblance to our well-known “red clover,” attracted my attention: it seems to be of the natural family Ameranthaceæ, probably of the genus Nissanthes. Although the ground was strewed with flowering shrubs and plants, but very few appeared peculiar to this portion of the colony. The “kangaroo grass” (Anthisteria australis) was the most lofty and luxuriant among the native grasses,[92][253] covering the soil, about which different species of Eucalypti were scattered; among them the “Box tree” of the colony, (Berre of the natives,) “Bastard apple tree,” (Carbut of the natives,) “Bastard box tree,” (Bargan of the aborigines,) and “iron bark,” (“Mucker” of the natives,) were most numerous. At this season they were covered with a profusion of white blossoms, which attracted flocks of parroquets, to sip, like the puny humming-bird, nectar from the flowers. Occasionally the “Green wattle,” or “Wundua” of the natives, was seen loaded with its fragrant yellow blossoms; and also a few trees of the “Bum, billerang,” or Banksia rosmarinifolia.
After leaving this range, I entered an expansive, beautiful, and lush plain, surrounded in the distance by gently sloping green hills. This flat area was covered in thick grass and vibrant flowers. Near a small creek, I noticed many plants with pink flowers that, from a distance, looked somewhat like our familiar “red clover.” They seem to belong to the natural family Ameranthaceæ, probably of the genus Nissanthes. Although the ground was scattered with flowering shrubs and plants, very few were unique to this part of the colony. The “kangaroo grass” (Anthisteria australis) was the tallest and most lush among the native grasses, covering the soil, around which various species of Eucalypti were spread out. Among them, the “Box tree” of the colony (referred to as Berre by the natives), the “Bastard apple tree” (Carbut), the “Bastard box tree” (Bargan), and “iron bark” (known as “Mucker” by the natives) were the most numerous. At this time of year, they were covered in a profusion of white blossoms, attracting flocks of parrots to sip nectar from the flowers, just like tiny hummingbirds. Occasionally, the “Green wattle,” or “Wundua” as the natives call it, could be seen adorned with fragrant yellow blossoms, along with a few trees of the “Bum, billerang,” or Banksia rosmarinifolia.
I rode for a few miles through this fertile flat, which continued undiminished in picturesque beauty, until again the dark foliage of the “Plow’y,” or swamp oaks, indicated the proximity to the fine stream of the Murrumbidgee; and, arriving at its banks, crossed to the farm of Mr. Warby, called “Darbylara,” where I was glad to rest after a long and sultry ride of thirty miles. This farm, situated in a beautiful spot, is close to the junction of the Tumat and Murrumbidgee rivers.
I rode for a few miles through this rich, flat land, which continued to be stunningly beautiful, until the dark trees of the swamp oaks indicated I was near the Murrumbidgee River. When I reached the riverbanks, I crossed over to Mr. Warby's farm, called "Darbylara," where I was relieved to take a break after a long, hot thirty-mile ride. This farm, located in a lovely area, is close to where the Tumat and Murrumbidgee rivers meet.
On approaching the river, the feathered creation in mingled harmony animated the scene; the tinkling note of the “Bell-bird,” or “Gilbulla,” of the natives was heard, a certain harbinger[254] of the vicinity of water; and these birds were very numerous.[93] Perched on a lofty tree, the “razor-grinder” bird of the colonists may be heard uttering its peculiar sciz, scizaring notes, which so closely resembles the noise of the “razor-grinder’s machine,” as to render its appellation well deserved. The bird first commences with a rather prolonged whistling note, which is succeeded by the peculiar grinding notes, continued for some time without intermission, resembling in some degree the noise produced by the drums of the male Tettigoniæ, whose dinning notes resound through the woods during summer, almost to the exclusion of all other harmonious or inharmonious sounds.
As we approached the river, the colorful birds brought the scene to life in perfect harmony; we could hear the tinkling call of the “Bell-bird,” or “Gilbulla,” as the locals call it, a sure sign that water is nearby, and there were plenty of these birds around. Perched high in a tree, the “razor-grinder” bird, as the colonists named it, could be heard making its distinctive sciz, scizaring sounds, which closely mimic the clattering of a “razor-grinder’s machine,” making its name fitting. The bird starts with a somewhat drawn-out whistle, followed by those unique grinding notes, continuing for quite a while without a break, somewhat resembling the noise generated by the drums of the male Tettigoniæ, whose loud sounds echo through the woods in summer, nearly drowning out all other melodies or noise.
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I visited the spot, situated not many yards distant from the house, at which the junction of the Murrumbidgee with the Tumat river takes place. Many persons consider the latter to have the more direct course, and consequently to be the main stream which is continued to the sea, (according to the discovery of Captain Sturt,) and that the Murrumbidgee empties itself into the Tumat. Others differ from this opinion; but in point of fact, both streams unite at this place, and form[255] one continuous river, as seen in the accompanying diagram, the water supplied by each being nearly of equal proportions. The Tumat river (which I saw as high as Mr. Rose’s cattle station at “Been,” and a distance of twelve or fourteen miles beyond that station, making a distance from the junction of forty or fifty miles) was equal in breadth and depth of stream to the Murrumbidgee, had numerous creeks emptying their waters into it, and also swamps about its banks, overflown during floods, and even now absorbing a large quantity of water. Among other creeks which empty themselves into the Tumat is a fine stream, called by the aborigines the “Been,” or “Gheek,” from which[256] the station has received its name. The Tumat may probably rise from a mass of mountains to the southward, divided from “Monaro” or “Menero” Plains, by a lofty ridge of mountains. Neither the origin of this, or the Murrumbidgee river, however, is ascertained.
I visited the spot, located just a short distance from the house, where the Murrumbidgee River meets the Tumat River. Many people believe that the Tumat has a more direct flow and is therefore the main river that continues to the sea (according to Captain Sturt's findings), while the Murrumbidgee flows into the Tumat. Others disagree with this view, but in reality, both rivers converge at this point, forming[255] one continuous river, as shown in the accompanying diagram, with the water from each being nearly equal. The Tumat River (which I observed as far as Mr. Rose’s cattle station at “Been,” and up to twelve or fourteen miles beyond that, making a total distance from the junction of about forty or fifty miles) was comparable in width and depth to the Murrumbidgee, featuring numerous creeks that feed into it, as well as swamps along its banks that flood during rainy periods and continue to absorb large amounts of water. Among the other creeks flowing into the Tumat is a lovely stream called “Been” or “Gheek” by the Indigenous people, from which[256] the station gets its name. The Tumat likely originates from a range of mountains to the south, separated from the “Monaro” or “Menero” Plains by a high mountain ridge. However, the origins of both this river and the Murrumbidgee remain unknown.
It was stated to me in this part of the colony, that the natives call all large rivers Murrumbidgee,[94] and I certainly heard it applied by them equally to the Tumat and Murrumbidgee streams; but I found they usually name the river after the country through which it flows, so that on demanding the name of the river at different places, many names are bestowed upon it: a person unaware of this circumstance is surprised at the number of names the same[257] stream obtains. Thus, the Yas river at one part is called “Gondaroo” by the natives, and this occasioned many to suppose the correct name of the Yas river was “Gondaroo,” until it was ascertained that it received that appellation from the portion of country of the same name through which it passed; afterwards receiving the name of “Yas,” or “Yar,” when flowing through its plains: by the latter name, however, the entire stream is known to Europeans, which is a better method of nomenclature than that adopted by the natives. The Tumat at Mr. Warby’s farm was called “Bewuck,” and as a variety of the “river cod” receives the same native name, the river might either be named after the number of the fish found in it, or the fish from being found abundant in that particular part of the river; for a very short distance further up the stream, the aborigines bestow a different name upon it from the country through which it flows. I mention these circumstances, hoping some future traveller may have opportunities of further inquiry, confirming my statements if correct, or refuting them should they prove erroneous.
I was told in this part of the colony that the locals call all large rivers Murrumbidgee, and I definitely heard them use it for both the Tumat and Murrumbidgee rivers. However, I found that they usually name rivers after the areas through which they flow. So, when asking for the name of a river in different locations, you’ll get many different names for it. Someone who doesn't know this might be surprised by how many names the same stream has. For example, the Yas river is referred to as “Gondaroo” by the locals in one area, which led many to believe that the correct name of the Yas river was “Gondaroo,” until it was revealed that it got that name from the region of the same name that it flows through. Later, it was called “Yas” or “Yar” when it flowed through its plains. However, Europeans commonly know the entire stream by the name “Yas,” which is a more straightforward naming system than the one the locals use. The Tumat at Mr. Warby’s farm was called “Bewuck,” and since a type of “river cod” shares that name, the river might have been named after the abundance of that fish or simply because the fish are plentiful in that part of the river. Just a little farther up the stream, the aborigines give it a different name based on the land it passes through. I mention these points in the hope that some future traveler may have the chance to investigate further, confirming my statements if they are accurate or disproving them if they are not.
The sand in and about the banks of the Murrumbidgee river has a glittering appearance, which led many to report that gold dust[258] abounded; but those who made the assertion have yet to learn “that it is not all gold that glitters,” for on examination the glittering particles are found to be merely talc. When a well was about to be sunk, at a distance from three to four hundred yards from the banks of this river, opposite to, and not far distant from, Mr. Warby’s farm, at a depth of thirteen feet, in an alluvial soil, a quantity of charcoal was found, and at a further depth of twenty feet more was discovered.
The sand around the banks of the Murrumbidgee River has a shiny look, which led many to claim that there was a lot of gold dust[258]; but those who made this claim have yet to realize "that not everything that shines is gold," because upon closer inspection, the shiny particles turn out to be just talc. When a well was about to be dug, about three to four hundred yards away from the banks of this river, near Mr. Warby’s farm, a quantity of charcoal was found at a depth of thirteen feet in an alluvial soil, and more was discovered at an additional depth of twenty feet.
Abundance of “river cod” was taken from the river, and I had usually plenty of fine fish as long as I remained in this or the Tumat countries, in those parts adjacent to the fine rivers. Aquatic fowl were not less abundant, more especially the “Black duck,” or “Buddinbong,” of the natives; a species of teal, the “Towrodey” of the natives, and “Wood ducks,” (which from their peculiar note the aborigines name Ku-náruk, resembling the sound those birds utter,) all afforded an excellent meal, oftentimes even with the addition of green peas, as most of the stations have small vegetable gardens attached to them. The “Wild turkey” of the colony, Kumbul of the natives, (a species of bustard,) is occasionally seen about this part of the country and Yas Plains,[259] but they are so very shy, as to render it difficult to get within shot of them.
There was an abundance of "river cod" caught from the river, and I usually had plenty of good fish as long as I stayed in this area or the Tumat regions, near the beautiful rivers. Aquatic birds were just as plentiful, especially the "Black duck," or "Buddinbong," as the locals call it; a type of teal called "Towrodey" by the natives, and "Wood ducks," which the indigenous people refer to as Ku-náruk because of their unique call, all made for excellent meals, often with the addition of green peas, since most of the stations have small vegetable gardens. The "Wild turkey" of the colony, called Kumbul by the locals (a type of bustard), is occasionally spotted in this area and around Yas Plains,[259] but they are so incredibly shy that it's hard to get close enough to shoot them.
The following morning (December 9th) I proceeded through the “Tumat country.” On leaving Darbylara much swampy land was passed, varied by plains and hills, abounding in pasturage, in which the kangaroo-grass (Anthisteria australis) grew to the height of four feet, and numerous creeks emptying their waters into the stream of the Tumat. The numerous lagoons and flats, swamps or marshes, (for by all these names they seem equally known,) had a fresh green appearance, occasioned by the young reeds springing up, which are greedily devoured by cattle and horses, as in that stage of growth they are sweet, and contain abundance of mucilage; as they advance in growth, the verdure they possessed is succeeded by arid brown stems, surmounted by feathered blossoms, which wave and bend with a rustling noise to the breeze that sweeps by them. The road continued through a pleasing country, abounding in vales rich with vegetation, about which hills, thinly scattered with trees, but densely clothed with herbage, rose, of different forms and heights, varied by the “Swamp oaks,” “Water gum,” and other Eucalypti, which, by their greener[260] foliage, indicated the proximity and course of the Tumat river; or a reedy swamp would be seen near the banks of the stream, from which often some large cranes, with lead-coloured plumage, called “Gungaroo” by the natives, would arise. After riding a distance of eight miles, we arrived at a station named “Brungul,” the property of a Mr. Keighern, and were refreshed by some milk; indeed, the excellent milk that can always be readily procured at any of the stations in this luxuriant grazing part of the colony is a great comfort, with the additional ones of excellent butter, cheese, and damper.[95]
The next morning (December 9th), I traveled through the Tumat country. Leaving Darbylara, I crossed a lot of swampy land, mixed with plains and hills, rich in pasture where kangaroo-grass (Anthisteria australis) grew up to four feet tall, with many creeks flowing into the Tumat river. The many lagoons and flats, swamps or marshes—sometimes referred to by any of these names—looked fresh and green due to the young reeds sprouting up, which cattle and horses eagerly devour since they’re sweet at this growth stage and full of mucilage. As they grow taller, the greenery gives way to dry brown stems topped with feathery blossoms that flutter and rustle in the breeze. The road wound through a charming landscape, filled with fertile valleys surrounded by hills, sparsely scattered with trees but rich in grass. These hills were varied in shape and height, dotted with "Swamp oaks," "Water gums," and other Eucalypti, whose greener leaves indicated the nearby Tumat river’s path; often a reed-filled swamp could be seen near the riverbank, where large cranes with lead-colored feathers, called “Gungaroo” by the locals, would often take flight. After riding for about eight miles, we reached a station named “Brungul,” owned by Mr. Keighern, where we enjoyed some milk; the excellent milk that’s always available at any of the stations in this lush grazing area of the colony is a wonderful comfort, along with the added delights of great butter, cheese, and damper.
The flats or plains near the stations are seen animated by immense droves of cattle, revelling in all the luxury furnished by a rich herbage. This part of the colony may be correctly termed a land flowing with milk, and even, we may say occasionally, with honey, as the latter is sometimes procured by the native blacks from the hollow trunk of a tree; by watching the direction in which the bees fly when proceeding homeward, and following them, they thus discover[261] and rob the industrious insects of the “sweets of their life.”[96]
The fields or plains near the stations are lively with huge herds of cattle enjoying the abundance provided by lush grass. This part of the colony truly deserves the label a land flowing with milk, and we might even say sometimes with honey, as the local Indigenous people occasionally gather honey from the hollow trunk of a tree; by observing the direction in which the bees fly when returning home and following them, they manage to find and take the “sweets of their life.”[261]
I remarked with some degree of pleasure, that although most of the stations are solely under charge of assigned servants, (convict is an obsolete word in the colony,) yet the huts are[262] clean and well arranged. The men in most instances take care of the property entrusted to their charge, and are surrounded by every comfort; many of them (particularly those from the sister kingdom) have frequently assured me they never were so happy and well off before; and regarded their transportation as a blessing from Providence; and it certainly appeared to be a delightful change to many of the poor fellows, from the previous wretched lives they must have passed, both from their “unvarnished tales,” as well as what we know to be too true in unhappy Ireland.[97]
I noticed with some pleasure that, although most of the stations are entirely managed by assigned workers (the term "convict" is outdated in the colony), the huts are[262] clean and well organized. In most cases, the men take care of the property they’re responsible for and enjoy every comfort. Many of them (especially those from the sister kingdom) have told me they’ve never been so happy and well-off before; they see their relocation as a blessing from Providence. It definitely seems like a refreshing change for many of the poor guys compared to the miserable lives they must have lived, based on their "honest stories" and what we know to be painfully true about unhappy Ireland.[97]
Proceeding on my journey, the Tumat was occasionally visible; the road often leading away from it, to avoid the extensive reedy swamps which abound close to its banks, in some places, whilst in others fine meadow land, with profuse and rich herbage, about which herds of cattle[263] were feeding, was seen. The trees near the river, from being constantly refreshed by the water, had a vividness of foliage, which enlivened the prospect, and imparted a smiling appearance to the country: travelling was excellent; but the places now passed with so much facility, are, during the heavy rains in winter, overflown, and rendered nearly, if not totally impassable.
As I continued my journey, the Tumat was occasionally in sight; the road often diverted away from it to avoid the large reedy swamps that are common near its banks, while in other areas, there were beautiful meadows filled with lush grass where herds of cattle[263] grazed. The trees along the river, constantly nourished by the water, had vibrant foliage that brightened the landscape and gave the region a cheerful look: traveling was smooth; however, the areas that are easily traversable now become flooded and nearly impossible to cross during the heavy winter rains.
After crossing several creeks, (emptying themselves into the stream of the Tumat,) and riding about eight or ten miles, I arrived at a mountainous range, called “Mejungbury,” upon which were growing large quantities of a species of Callitrys, called the “Murrumbidgee pine” by the colonists, from having been seen first on the hills in the vicinity of that river: it is named Kara by the aborigines. The timber is described as close-grained and durable: the native blacks use it for fish-spears, on account of its lightness, which occasions it to float on the surface of the water: the white and rather fragrant gum-resin which exudes spontaneously in tears or drops from the trunk, is also used by them for several purposes; and the largest tree I saw about this range was thirty-five feet in elevation, and one to one and a half feet in diameter.
After crossing several creeks that flow into the Tumat stream and riding for about eight to ten miles, I reached a mountain range called “Mejungbury.” There were lots of a type of Callitris growing there, which the colonists refer to as the “Murrumbidgee pine” because it was first found on the hills near that river; the Aboriginal people call it Kara. The wood is noted for being close-grained and durable. The local Indigenous people use it for fish spears because it's lightweight, making it float on water. The white, slightly fragrant gum-resin that drips from the trunk is also used by them for various purposes. The largest tree I saw in this area was thirty-five feet tall and one to one and a half feet in diameter.
The geological character of the range upon which they grow, as far as I was capable of ascertaining, consisted of granite and quartz: they were readily distinguished from other trees on the same range, by their dark-green foliage and peculiar form. I collected several specimens of the tree in a state of fructification. The “Currijong-tree” was also occasionally seen about the range: it is named “Bundine” by the aborigines, who eat both the young roots and shoots of the tree, and use the bark in the manufacture of a small cordage, for nets, &c. Some of the roots are described to be a foot in circumference, like the stalk of a cabbage, consisting of medullary and fibrous substance, having a sweetish and agreeable taste.
The geological makeup of the range where they grow, as far as I could determine, was made up of granite and quartz. They were easily distinguished from other trees in the area by their dark green leaves and unique shape. I collected several samples of the tree when it was fruiting. The “Currijong-tree” was also sometimes spotted in the range; it’s called “Bundine” by the Aboriginal people, who eat the young roots and shoots of the tree and use the bark to make a type of cord for nets, etc. Some of the roots are said to be a foot in diameter, similar to a cabbage stalk, made up of a mix of soft and fibrous material, with a sweet and pleasant taste.
A station situated in a fine fertile flat, called “Bumboly,” the property of Mr. Shelly, was next passed; and a few miles further brought me to Mr. Rose’s cattle station, called “Been,” located in a fertile, picturesque situation, surrounded by verdant hills and wooded mountains; the Tumat river and a fine creek running through the estate: it is excellent in situation, and has capabilities for a valuable farm. I remained here a few days to examine this but little known country, as also to observe the objects of natural history, which abounded in the vicinity.
A station located on a fertile flatland called “Bumboly,” owned by Mr. Shelly, was the next stop; a few miles later, I arrived at Mr. Rose’s cattle station named “Been,” set in a beautiful area surrounded by green hills and wooded mountains, with the Tumat River and a lovely creek flowing through the property. It has a great location and potential for a valuable farm. I stayed here for a few days to explore this lesser-known region and to observe the natural history that was plentiful in the area.
CHAPTER XIV.
Wooded hills—Base of the Bugong mountains—Multitudes of the Bugong moths—Timber trees and granite rocks—Snow mountains—Method of collecting the moths—Use of these insects—Crows—Height of the Bugong mountains—The aborigines—Dread of ridicule in the females—Native fine arts—Lyre-bird of the colonists—Destruction of kangaroos and emus—The station of Been—Sanguinary skirmishes—A fertile plain—Cattle paths—Shrubs on the banks of the Tumat.
Wooded hills—Base of the Bugong Mountains—Swarms of Bugong moths—Timber trees and granite rocks—Snow-capped mountains—How to collect the moths—Uses for these insects—Crows—Height of the Bugong Mountains—The Indigenous people—Fear of ridicule among women—Native fine arts—Lyrebird of the settlers—Decline of kangaroos and emus—The Been station—Bloody conflicts—a fertile plain—Cattle trails—Shrubs along the Tumat River.
Near this station is a lofty table-mountain, rising above numerous wooded hills, varying in their degrees of elevation, as seen in the accompanying engraving: it forms the commencement of a mountainous range, extending in a south-west direction. It is named the “Bugong Mountain,” from the circumstance of multitudes of small moths, called Bugong by the aborigines, congregating at certain months of the year about masses of granite on this and other parts of the range. The[266] months of November, December, and January, are quite a season of festivity among the native blacks, who assemble from far and near to collect the Bugong; the bodies of these insects, contain a quantity of oil, and they are sought after as a luscious and fattening food. I felt very desirous of investigating the places where these insects were said to congregate in such incredible quantities, and availed myself of the earliest opportunity to do so.
Near this station is a tall flat-topped mountain, rising above many wooded hills, which vary in height, as shown in the accompanying illustration. It marks the start of a mountain range that stretches southwest. It’s called “Bugong Mountain” because large numbers of small moths, known as Bugong by the indigenous people, gather during certain months of the year around granite formations on this and other parts of the range. The months of November, December, and January are a festive time for the local indigenous communities, who come from far and wide to gather the Bugong; these insects have an oily content and are sought after as a delicious and nutritious food source. I was very eager to explore the areas where these insects were said to gather in such incredible numbers and took the first chance I had to do so.
I was prevented, by the unfavourable state of the weather, from undertaking the journey until the 12th of December, at dawn of which day, accompanied by a stock-keeper and some of the blacks, I commenced my excursion. The day was fine; and by taking a circuitous path on the declivities of the hills, we were able to ascend on horseback.[98] After riding over the lower ranges, we arrived a short distance above the base of the Bugong Mountain, tethered the horses, and ascended on foot, by a steep and rugged path, which led us to the first summit of the mountain; at this place, called Gúnundery by the natives, enormous masses of granite rock, piled one[267] upon another, and situated on the verge of a wooded precipice, excited our attention. An extensive and romantic view was here obtained of a distant, wooded, mountainous country.
I couldn't start my journey until December 12th due to bad weather. At dawn that day, I set out with a stock-keeper and a few locals. The weather was perfect, and by taking a winding path along the hillsides, we were able to ride our horses up. After covering some ground on the lower slopes, we reached a spot just above the base of Bugong Mountain. We tied up the horses and climbed on foot via a steep, rugged trail that took us to the first peak of the mountain. This area, known as Gúnundery by the locals, featured huge granite boulders stacked on top of each other, right at the edge of a forested cliff, which caught our attention. From this vantage point, we were treated to a breathtaking and picturesque view of a distant, forested mountain landscape.
This was the first place where, upon the smooth sides or crevices of the granite blocks, the Bugong moths congregated in such incredible multitudes; but from the blacks having recently been here, we found but few of the insects remaining.[99] At one part of this group of granite rocks were two pools, apparently hollowed naturally from the solid stone, and filled with cool and clear water; so, lighting a fire, we enjoyed a cup of tea previous to re-commencing our further ascent. On proceeding, we found the rise more gradual, but unpleasant from the number of loose stones and branches of trees strewed about: several of the deserted bark huts of the natives (which they had temporarily erected when engaged in collecting and preparing the Bugong) were scattered around. Shrubs and plants were[268] numerous[100] as we proceeded; but, with few exceptions, did not differ from those seen in other parts of the colony.
This was the first place where, on the smooth surfaces or cracks of the granite blocks, the Bugong moths gathered in such astonishing numbers; however, since the locals had recently been here, we found only a few of the insects left.[99] In one area of this group of granite rocks were two natural pools, formed from the solid stone, filled with cool, clear water; so we lit a fire and enjoyed a cup of tea before continuing our ascent. As we moved on, the incline was more gradual but unpleasant due to the many loose stones and fallen branches scattered about: several abandoned bark huts of the locals (which they had temporarily set up while collecting and preparing the Bugong) were spread around. There were many shrubs and plants[268] as we went along; but, with a few exceptions, they were similar to those found in other parts of the colony.
Near a small limpid stream, a species of Lycopodium grew so dense as to form a carpet over which we were able to walk. The timber trees towered to so great an elevation, that the prospect of the country we had anticipated was impeded. At last we arrived at another peculiar group of granite rocks, in enormous masses and of various forms: this place, similar to the last, formed the locality where the Bugong moths congregate, and is called “Warrogong[101]” by the natives: the remains of recent fires apprised us that the aborigines had only recently left the place for another of similar character a few miles further distant.
Near a small clear stream, a type of Lycopodium grew so thick that it created a carpet we could walk on. The trees were so tall that they blocked the view of the landscape we had hoped to see. Finally, we reached another unique cluster of granite rocks, in massive and varied shapes: this area, like the previous one, was where the Bugong moths gathered, and the locals call it "Warrogong[101]": the signs of recent fires indicated that the Indigenous people had just left this spot for another similar one a few miles away.
Our native guides wished us to proceed and join the tribe; but the day had so far advanced, that it was thought more advisable to return, because it was doubtful, as the blacks removed from a place as soon as they had cleared it of the insects, whether we should find them at the next group, or removed to others still further distant.
Our local guides wanted us to move on and join the tribe, but the day was getting late, so it seemed smarter to head back. It was uncertain since the locals left a spot as soon as they cleared it of insects whether we would find them at the next group or if they had moved to even further areas.
From the result of my observations, it appears that the insects are only found in such multitudes on these insulated and peculiar masses of granite; for about the other solitary granite rocks, so profusely scattered over the range, I did not observe a single moth, or even the remains of one. Why they should be confined only to these particular places, or for what purpose they thus collect together, is not a less curious than interesting subject of inquiry. Whether it be for the purpose of emigrating, or any other cause, our present knowledge cannot satisfactorily answer.[102] The view from this second group was[270] open to the southward, and was a continued series of densely-wooded ranges, differing in their degrees of elevation. When standing on these enormous masses of granite, I thought some of the most distant mountains, in a south-west direction, appeared, some covered and others streaked with snow: I was correct; for the beautiful clearness of the weather had afforded me a view of the “Snow Mountains,” the existence of which has been doubted by many. Whilst looking at them, one of the blacks came near me, and pointing in their direction, informed me, in English, it was snow.[103]
From my observations, it seems that the insects are only found in large numbers on these isolated, unique granite masses. Around the other solitary granite rocks, which are widely scattered across the range, I didn’t see a single moth or even the remains of one. It’s a curious and intriguing question why they are only found in these specific locations and what purpose brings them together. Whether it’s for migration or another reason, our current understanding doesn’t provide a satisfactory answer. [102] The view from this second group was[270] open to the south and revealed a continuous series of densely wooded ranges, varying in height. Standing on these massive granite formations, I noticed that some of the farthest mountains to the southwest seemed to be snow-covered in places, and I was right; the clear weather allowed me to see the “Snow Mountains,” whose existence many have doubted. While I was observing them, one of the locals approached me and, pointing in their direction, told me in English that it was snow. [103]
The Bugong moths, as I have before observed,[271] collect on the surfaces and also in the crevices of the masses of granite in incredible quantities: to procure them with greater facility, the natives make smothered fires underneath those rocks about which they are collected, and suffocate them with smoke, at the same time sweeping them off frequently in bushels-full at a time. After they have collected a large quantity, they proceed to prepare them, which is done in the following manner.
The Bugong moths, as I've mentioned before,[271] gather in huge numbers on the surfaces and in the cracks of the granite masses. To catch them more easily, the locals light smothered fires under the rocks where the moths are collected, using smoke to suffocate them while frequently sweeping them away in bushels. Once they've gathered a large quantity, they start preparing them, which is done as follows.
A circular space is cleared upon the ground, of a size proportioned to the number of insects to be prepared; on it a fire is lighted and kept burning until the ground is considered to be sufficiently heated, when, the fire being removed, and the ashes cleared away, the moths are placed upon the heated ground, and stirred about until the down and wings are removed from them; they are then placed on pieces of bark, and winnowed to separate the dust and wings mixed with the bodies: they are then eaten, or placed into a wooden vessel called a “Walbun, or Culibun,”[104] and pounded by a piece of wood into masses or cakes resembling lumps of fat, and may be compared in colour and[272] consistence to dough made from smutty wheat mixed with fat. The bodies of the moths are large, and filled with a yellowish oil, resembling in taste a sweet nut. These masses (with which the “Netbuls” or “Talabats” of the native tribes are loaded, during the season of feasting upon the “Bugong,”) will not keep above a week, and seldom even for that time; but by smoking they are able to preserve them for a much longer period. The first time this diet is used by the native tribes, violent vomiting and other debilitating effects are produced; but after a few days they become accustomed to its use, and then thrive and fatten exceedingly upon it.
A circular area is cleared on the ground, sized according to the number of insects being prepared. A fire is lit and kept burning until the ground gets hot enough. Once that's done, the fire is put out, the ashes are cleared away, and the moths are placed on the heated ground and stirred around until their down and wings come off. They are then put on pieces of bark and winnowed to separate the dust and wings from the bodies. The moths can either be eaten or put into a wooden container called a “Walbun or Culibun,” where they are pounded with a piece of wood into masses or cakes resembling lumps of fat, comparable in color and[272] texture to dough made from sooty wheat mixed with fat. The moth bodies are large and contain a yellowish oil that tastes like a sweet nut. These masses, which the “Netbuls” or “Talabats” of the local tribes carry during the feasting season for “Bugong,” spoil within a week, often even sooner. However, by smoking them, they can be preserved for much longer. The first time this food is consumed by the native tribes, it causes severe vomiting and other draining effects, but after a few days, they get used to it and thrive and fatten up significantly on it.
These insects are held in such estimation among the aborigines, that they assemble from all parts of the country to collect them from these mountains. It is not only the native blacks that resort to the “Bugong,” but crows also congregate for the same purpose. The blacks (that is, the crows and aborigines) do not agree about their respective shares, so the stronger decides the point; for when the crows (called “Arabul” by the natives) enter the hollows of the rocks to feed upon the insects, the natives stand at the entrance, and kill them as they fly out, and afford them[273] an excellent meal, being fat from feeding upon the rich Bugong. So eager are these feathered blacks or Arabuls after this food, that they attack it even when it is preparing by the natives; but as the aborigines never consider any increase of food a misfortune, they lay in wait for the Arabuls, with waddies or clubs, kill them in great numbers, and use them as food.
These insects are so highly valued by the Indigenous people that they come from all over to gather them from these mountains. It’s not just the native people who go after the “Bugong”; crows do too. The crows and the Indigenous people don’t agree on how to divide what they find, so the stronger ones settle the issue. When the crows (referred to as “Arabul” by the natives) enter the rock crevices to eat the insects, the natives wait at the entrance and kill them as they come out, providing themselves an excellent meal, since they’re fat from feasting on the rich Bugong. The crows are so eager for this food that they try to grab it even while the natives are preparing it. However, since the Indigenous people never see an increase in food as a bad thing, they lie in wait for the crows with clubs or sticks, kill them in large numbers, and use them as sustenance.
The Arabul is, I believe, not distinct from the common crow found on the low lands, and which is called “Gundagiar” or “Worgan” by the natives: the distinction, according to native report, is, that the “fat fellers,” or those who feed on the Bugong, are called Arabul, and the “poor fellers,” or those who pick up what they can get on the low lands, are designated by the latter names. About February and March the former visit the lowland, having become in fine plump condition from their luxurious feeding. The assemblage of so many different tribes of natives at this season about the same range, and for similar objects, causes frequent skirmishes to take place between them; and oftentimes this particular place and season is appointed to decide animosities by actual battles, and the conquered party lose their supply of Bugong for the season.
The Arabul, I think, is not different from the common crow found in the lowlands, which the locals call “Gundagiar” or “Worgan.” According to local reports, the “fat fellers,” or those that eat Bugong, are called Arabul, while the “poor fellers,” or those who scavenge for food in the lowlands, go by the other names. Around February and March, the former come down to the lowlands, having become nice and plump from their rich diet. The gathering of so many different tribes of locals at this time in the same area for similar reasons often leads to skirmishes between them; and sometimes, this specific place and time is set aside to settle grudges through actual battles, with the losing side missing out on Bugong for the season.
The height of the Bugong mountain may be[274] two thousand feet from its base, and upwards of three thousand feet above the level of the sea. The quantity of moths which may be collected from one of the granite groups, it is calculated would amount to at least five or six bushels. The largest specimen I obtained measured seven-eighths of an inch with the wings closed, the length of the oily body being five-eighths of an inch, and of proportionate circumference; the expanded wings measured one inch and three quarters across; the colour of the wings dark brown, with two black ocellated spots upon the upper ones; the body filled with yellow oil, and covered with down.[105]
The height of Bugong Mountain is about[274] two thousand feet from its base and more than three thousand feet above sea level. It's estimated that the number of moths collected from one of the granite groups would total at least five or six bushels. The largest specimen I found measured seven-eighths of an inch with its wings closed, while the oily body was five-eighths of an inch long, with a proportionate circumference. When the wings were expanded, they measured one inch and three-quarters across. The wings were dark brown with two black ocellated spots on the upper ones, and the body was filled with yellow oil and covered in down.
We returned by nearly the same route we came: the descent was however much more tedious than the ascent; but after slipping over stones, stumbling over innumerable logs that strewed the path, and a few other trifling mishaps, we rejoined our horses, and arrived at the station in the evening.
We took almost the same route back as we did coming here: however, the way down was much more tiring than the way up; but after slipping on stones, tripping over countless logs scattered along the path, and a few other minor mishaps, we reunited with our horses and got to the station by evening.
The aborigines manifested a strong desire to see the new “white feller” who had come among them, which it seemed was a rare occurrence in this secluded place: they were all eager for tobacco—some proof they were advancing towards civilization. Both males and females were in a state of nudity, wearing the opossum-skin cloaks only as a protection from the weather; and the septum naris had the usual perforation and ornament through it. Some of the females had tolerably pretty features, with dark hair, short, and having a natural curl, not, however, in any respect like the frizzled hair of the African negro, or the spiral twist of that race so closely allied to them—the Papuan, but that curled appearance often seen in the hair of European races. Many of the females wore the front teeth of the kangaroo as ornaments attached to their hair, and esteemed them for that purpose. The native weapons are clubs, spears,[106] the bomerang, and shields, which latter have rude ornaments carved with the incisor tooth of a kangaroo upon them.
The aboriginal people showed a strong curiosity to see the new "white feller" who had come to their remote area, which was apparently a rare event for them. They were all eager for tobacco, a sign that they were making progress towards civilization. Both men and women were mostly naked, wearing only opossum-skin cloaks for protection from the weather. The septum naris had the typical hole and ornament in it. Some of the women had fairly attractive features, with short dark hair that had a natural curl, not at all like the tightly curled hair of African people or the spiral curl of the Papuan, who are closely related to them, but resembling the curled hair often seen in European races. Many of the women adorned their hair with the front teeth of kangaroos, which they valued as decorations. The native weapons included clubs, spears, [106] boomerangs, and shields, which had crude designs carved into them using the incisor tooth of a kangaroo.
The numerals in the aboriginal language at this[276] place proceed as far as three. Thus: one, Metombul—two, Bulla—three, Bulla metong; and Biolong, which signifies any quantity.[107]
The dread of ridicule prevails to as extensive a degree among the females of this savage as among our more civilized races. One of the naked Venuses at this place was induced some time since by a European, during the absence of her tribe, to array herself in drapery; a petticoat was the portion of a lady’s dress selected, but the garment was as often thrown over the shoulders as around the waist. When the tribe returned it happened to be the latter, and they made most particular inquiries respecting the reason that she was so clothed—and whether she was ashamed to be naked, according to the custom of her forefathers? So much ridicule was levelled against her costume, that[277] being unable to parry their jokes, she threw the garment aside, and never afterwards resumed it; she then went about perfectly naked, innocent, and unconscious of shame.
The fear of being mocked is just as strong among the women of this tribe as it is among our more civilized societies. A while back, one of the naked women here was persuaded by a European, while her tribe was away, to wear some clothing; she chose a petticoat as part of a lady’s outfit, but she often wore it draped over her shoulders instead of around her waist. When her tribe returned, it happened to be when she had it draped, and they asked her why she was dressed that way—and whether she felt ashamed to be naked, like her ancestors. She faced so much ridicule for her outfit that, unable to handle their teasing, she discarded the garment and never wore it again; after that, she walked around completely naked, innocent, and unaware of any shame.
To express delight the natives utter a quick or rapid succession of whistling sounds. They have some idea of the fine arts, as I judged from some rude sketches made by a native lad in my presence. He took a piece of charcoal and sketched some figures upon a sheet of bark, which formed part of the roof of the low hut; blackee called them “white fellers,” and seemed much amused at the idea.
To show their happiness, the locals make a series of quick whistling sounds. They seem to have some understanding of the arts, based on some rough sketches made by a local boy while I watched. He grabbed a piece of charcoal and drew some figures on a piece of bark that was part of the roof of the small hut; he referred to them as “white people” and seemed entertained by the idea.
The “Native or Wood-pheasant,” or “Lyre bird” of the colonists, the “Menura superba” of naturalists, and the “Béleck, béleck,” and “Balangara” of the aboriginal tribes, is abundant about the mountain ranges, in all parts of the colony; the tail of the male bird is very elegant, but the remainder of the plumage in the male, and the whole of that of the female, is destitute of beauty. The tail of the male bears a striking resemblance, in its graceful form, to the harmonious lyre of the Greeks, from which circumstance it has received the name of the “Lyre bird” of Australia. The tail-feathers, detached entire from the bird, are sought for by collectors for their beauty, and are sold in the[278] shops of the zoological collectors at Sydney, in pairs, formerly at a cheap rate, as the birds then abounded in the mountain ranges of the Illawarra district; but now that the bird, from its frequent destruction, has become rare, these tails have attained a price of from twenty to thirty shillings the pair. About the ranges, however, of the Tumat country, where they have been seldom destroyed, they are seen more frequently; at this season of the year, (December,) it has its young; indeed this is the season that the young of all the wild animals are produced in the colony, and can consequently be procured with facility.
The "Native or Wood-pheasant," also known as the "Lyre bird" among colonists, the “Menura superba” for naturalists, and the "Béleck, béleck" and "Balangara" by indigenous tribes, is quite common in the mountain ranges throughout the colony. The male bird has a very elegant tail, but the rest of its plumage, as well as the entire plumage of the female, lacks beauty. The male's tail resembles the graceful lyre of the Greeks, which is how it got the name "Lyre bird" of Australia. Collectors seek the detached tail feathers for their beauty, and they are sold in the[278] shops of zoological collectors in Sydney, often in pairs. They used to be relatively cheap when these birds were abundant in the Illawarra mountain ranges, but due to frequent destruction, they have become rare, now selling for twenty to thirty shillings per pair. In the Tumat country ranges, where they have been less destroyed, they are seen more often; in December, which is when they raise their young, this season sees the young of all wild animals being born in the colony, making them easier to find.
It is much to be regretted that human beings are so eager to destroy, even to extermination, the races of animals useful or dangerous, which may be found in a new country. In the settled parts of the colony, the harmless kangaroos and emus are rarely seen, when they might easily be domesticated about the habitations. The same remark applies to the lyre pheasant. Why are they not domesticated, before, by extermination, they are lost to us for ever?
It’s really unfortunate that people are so eager to destroy, even entirely wipe out, animal species—whether they're useful or dangerous—found in new countries. In the established areas of the colony, the gentle kangaroos and emus are hardly ever seen, even though they could easily be domesticated around human homes. The same goes for the lyre pheasant. Why aren’t they domesticated before they are lost to us forever due to extermination?
The Lyre pheasant is a bird of heavy flight, but swift of foot. On catching a glimpse of the sportsman, it runs with rapidity; aided by the wings in getting over logs of wood, rocks, or[279] any obstruction to its progress, it seldom flies into trees, except to roost, and then rises only from branch to branch: they build in old hollow trunks of trees, which are lying upon the ground, or in the holes of rocks; the nest is formed merely of dried grass, or dried leaves, scraped together; the female lays from twelve to sixteen eggs of a white colour, with a few scattered light blue spots; the young are difficult to catch, as they run with rapidity, concealing themselves among the rocks and bushes.
The Lyre pheasant is a bird that's heavy when it flies, but quick on its feet. When it spots a hunter, it bolts quickly, using its wings to help it leap over logs, rocks, or[279] any other obstacles in its way. It rarely flies into trees except to roost, and even then, it just hops from branch to branch. They nest in old hollow tree trunks that are lying on the ground, or in rock crevices; the nest is simply made of dried grass or leaves pushed together. The female lays twelve to sixteen white eggs with a few light blue spots scattered on them. The chicks are tough to catch since they run fast and hide among the rocks and bushes.
The “Lyre pheasant” on descending from high trees, on which it perches, has been seen to fly some distance; it is more often observed during the early hours of the morning, and in the evenings, than during the heat of the day. Like all the gallinaceous tribe, it scratches about the ground and roots of trees, to pick up seeds, insects, &c. The aborigines decorate their greasy locks, in addition to the emu feathers, with the splendid tail-feathers of this bird when they can procure them.
The "Lyre pheasant," when it comes down from the tall trees where it perches, has been spotted flying for quite a distance; it’s more commonly seen in the early morning and evening than during the daytime heat. Like all game birds, it scratches around on the ground and in the roots of trees to find seeds, insects, etc. The local people adorn their oiled hair, along with emu feathers, with the beautiful tail feathers of this bird when they can get them.
The station of “Been” is situated on an extensive plain, or flat; is very wet during the winter season, from the flooded state of the Tumat river and adjoining creek; the soil, however, is not usually swampy. The river running down one part of the estate, and the “Been” or[280] “Gheek” flowing down in another direction, (emptying itself into the Tumat,) gives the flat a heart-shaped form. It is surrounded by lofty mountains, small fertile flats and thinly-wooded ranges, abounding in rich pasturage. Nature has made it a beautiful spot, and it is capable of much improvement from the labour of man. The aborigines, among the tribes in this part of the colony, having found out that by killing the cattle of the settlers, they can procure a larger supply of food with less trouble than by hunting, have commenced spearing cattle; it was this which formerly led to the sanguinary skirmishes with the Bathurst natives, the stock-keepers shooting the blacks, and they, in return, murdering any Europeans who fell in their way, the lives lost on both sides were numerous.
The “Been” station is located on a large flat area and gets very wet during the winter because of the flooding from the Tumat River and the nearby creek; however, the soil isn't usually swampy. The river flows through one part of the estate, while the “Been” or “Gheek” flows in another direction, joining the Tumat, which gives the area a heart-shaped shape. It's surrounded by tall mountains, small fertile flatlands, and lightly wooded ranges filled with rich pasture. Nature has made it a beautiful place, and there's a lot of potential for improvement through human effort. The local tribes have discovered that by killing the settlers' cattle, they can get more food with less effort than hunting, so they've started spearing cattle. This practice previously led to bloody conflicts with the Bathurst natives, where stock-keepers would shoot the Indigenous people, and in return, they would kill any Europeans they encountered, resulting in many lives lost on both sides.
About ten or twelve miles from this station there is a small fertile plain, or flat, called “Blowrin;” it abounds in rich herbage, and is surrounded by woody and verdant ranges of hills, with the Tumat river flowing through it, besides being irrigated by numerous rivulets. In the vicinity of this plain, small mountain rills would be seen gushing over the abrupt declivities into the vales beneath, refreshing the vegetation, so profuse about these spots. On the rich grassy plain, the “sparkling cowslip”[281] was profusely scattered, and a multitude of other flowers, vying with each other in beautiful tints, adorning the soil.
About ten or twelve miles from this station, there's a small fertile area called “Blowrin.” It's filled with lush greenery and surrounded by wooded, green hills, with the Tumat river running through it, along with several streams for irrigation. Near this plain, you can see small mountain streams rushing down steep slopes into the valleys below, nourishing the abundant vegetation in these spots. On the rich grassy plain, the “sparkling cowslip”[281] grew in abundance, along with a variety of other flowers, competing with each other in vibrant colors that decorated the soil.
The roads, or rather cattle-paths, to this plain, led through defiles of hilly and picturesque scenery; hills towered above us, clothed at some parts densely, and at others thinly, with various kinds of timber; a number of trickling streams ran murmuring through the vales, their banks covered with a luxuriant vegetation, while the rich pasturage afforded abundance of food for the herds of cattle located here, and for the kangaroos and emus, which are numerous in these valleys and ranges.
The paths, or more accurately, cattle trails, to this plain wound through rugged and beautiful landscapes; hills loomed over us, thickly forested in some areas and sparsely in others, with different types of trees. Several small streams flowed quietly through the valleys, their banks lush with vegetation, while the rich grazing land provided plenty of food for the cattle that lived here, as well as for the kangaroos and emus that are plentiful in these valleys and hills.
On the banks of the Tumat stream, shrubs of the genus, Pomaderris, Westringia, Grevillea, Veronica, and Acacia, were profusely in flower; and the flax plant, (Linum Australis?) called “Warruck” and “Brangara” by the natives, grew luxuriantly about the flat, attaining the height of from two to five feet, and the largest circumference of stem, half an inch. This plant, by cultivation, might form a valuable article of commerce, and could be procured in any quantity. The natives first pulling the bark from the stem, remove the epidermis from the flax, and dry it in the sun; they then manufacture it into small cord by rolling upon the thigh; (a similar[282] method is adopted by the New Zealanders when manufacturing their flax into twine;) it is afterwards employed in the formation of nets, and for a variety of other purposes.
On the banks of the Tumat stream, shrubs like Pomaderris, Westringia, Grevillea, Veronica, and Acacia were blooming abundantly; and the flax plant (Linum Australis?), known as “Warruck” and “Brangara” by the locals, grew lushly across the flatlands, reaching heights of two to five feet, with the thickest stem measuring half an inch in circumference. This plant, with cultivation, could become a valuable commercial product and can be found in large quantities. The locals first strip the bark from the stem, remove the outer layer from the flax, and dry it in the sun; then they turn it into small cords by rolling it on their thighs; (a similar[282] technique is used by the New Zealanders when making twine from their flax); it’s then used for making nets and various other purposes.
CHAPTER XV.
Kangaroo hunt—Ferocity of that animal—Use of its tendons—The culinary parts—Haunts of the kangaroo—A death struggle—Dissection of a kangaroo—Preservation of human fat—Ascent of trees in pursuit of game—Parrots and cockatoos—The emu—The native porcupine—Species of ophthalmia, termed the blight—Leave the Tumat country—Banks of the Murrumbidgee—Aborigines—Water gum-tree—Kangaroo rat—The fly-catcher—The satin bird—Sheep stations—Colonial industry.
Kangaroo hunt—The fierceness of that animal—Using its tendons—The edible parts—Kangaroo habitats—A fight to the death—Dissecting a kangaroo—Storing human fat—Climbing trees in search of game—Parrots and cockatoos—The emu—The native porcupine—Types of eye infections known as the blight—Leaving the Tumat region—Banks of the Murrumbidgee—Aboriginal people—Water gum trees—Kangaroo rat—The flycatcher—The satin bird—Sheep farms—Colonial industry.
On arriving at the plain, having the dogs with us, we started a kangaroo;[108] (the common[284] species, or Macropus major of Shaw; Kangurus labiatus, Geoff.;) the dogs pursued, but we stopped our horses, for a young kangaroo was lying tranquilly upon the grass, apparently unconscious of danger; the stock-keeper, who accompanied me, alighted and secured it. To prevent escape, he tied the hind legs, and then placed it upon the ground; the animal, however, contrived to make off, and we had some difficulty in re-capturing it. Occupied with the young, we forgot the old one, and, as the dogs returned unsuccessful from the chase, it must have either outrun them, or perished in the river which was near; for when closely pursued, these animals run towards a river, (when one is near,) and dash into it without hesitation. Should the water be deep, they instantly sink and perish; if shallow, they remain in it, keeping their pursuers at bay.
Upon arriving at the plain with the dogs, we spotted a kangaroo—the common species, or *Macropus major* of Shaw; *Kangurus labiatatus*, Geoff. The dogs chased after it, but we held back our horses because a young kangaroo was lying quietly on the grass, seemingly unaware of any danger. The stock-keeper who was with me got off his horse and caught it. To stop it from escaping, he tied its hind legs and set it down on the ground. However, the animal managed to get away, and we had a bit of trouble catching it again. While we were focused on the young kangaroo, we completely forgot about the older one. When the dogs returned from the chase without success, the older kangaroo must have either outrun them or ended up in the nearby river. When closely chased, these animals tend to run towards a river (if one is close) and jump into it without hesitation. If the water is deep, they sink and drown; if it's shallow, they stay in it to keep their pursuers at a distance.
The following anecdote was related to me[285] respecting an animal of this species. A man went out to hunt kangaroos, and having started a large male, the pursued animal took refuge in a water-hole, sufficiently shallow to enable him to keep his head and fore-paws above water, and here awaited the attack of the dog, which he soused fairly under water, when he came within reach. Pat, (for the gentleman was from the sister kingdom,) in a great rage at the threatened death of the dog, would have shot the kangaroo, but the gun missed fire; he then entered the water-hole “to bate the brains of the baste out” with the butt-end of the gun; but the “baste,” not fancying to be thus treated, turned from the soused and now senseless dog to his more formidable adversary, and a struggle took place, in which the man was often thrust under water, and victory was promising much in favour of the kangaroo, when some of Pat’s companions fortunately coming to his assistance, attacked and killed the animal with clubs, and rescued him in almost an insensible condition; on recovery he vowed not to hunt the “big bastes again.” This circumstance occurred some years since at Yas Plains, on its first settlement, and when kangaroos were exceedingly abundant. It is now a rare occurrence to[286] see one upon these plains. Happening to meet the hero of the above tale, (I mean the man, not the kangaroo,) I asked him how he felt when the beast hugged him; he replied, “Not very comfortable; he tumbled me about famously; they are mighty strong bastes, and don’t seem to like being meddled with.” Indeed, many persons when alone are afraid to face a large “old man” kangaroo. A man recently arrived in the colony, was sent after cattle; he returned in great terror, having, it appears, come suddenly on the ranges upon a kangaroo, as “large,” he said, “as a horse.” I asked him the colour of the animal; he replied that he did not recollect it; he only wished to get away from the beast, and running down the hill, was glad when he saw the animal warn’t following him; it is probable when he went down one part of the range, the animal, equally, if not more frightened, descended another. We passed over the ranges close to the stream of the Tumat, a rugged route, at some parts dangerous for horses, but the sure-footed animals carried us safely over places which would have astonished European horsemen.
The following story was told to me[285] about an animal of this type. A man went out to hunt kangaroos, and after starting a big male, the animal sought refuge in a waterhole that was shallow enough for it to keep its head and front paws above water. It waited there for the dog, which it submerged when it got close enough. Pat, (the guy was from the sister kingdom), furious at the idea of the dog being killed, tried to shoot the kangaroo, but the gun misfired. He then jumped into the waterhole to “beat the brains out of the beast” with the butt of the gun; however, the “beast,” not liking this treatment, turned from the drenched and now unconscious dog to its more dangerous opponent, leading to a struggle where the man was often pushed underwater. Victory seemed to favor the kangaroo when some of Pat’s friends came to help, attacking and killing the animal with clubs, rescuing him in an almost unconscious state. Once he recovered, he swore not to hunt the “big beasts” again. This incident happened several years ago at Yas Plains, when it was first settled, and when kangaroos were very common. Now it’s rare to[286] see one on these plains. When I happened to meet the hero of this tale, (the man, not the kangaroo), I asked him how he felt when the animal tackled him; he said, “Not very comfortable; it tossed me around a lot; they are really strong beasts and don’t seem to like being messed with.” In fact, many people are scared to face a large “old man” kangaroo when they’re alone. A man who recently arrived in the colony was sent after cattle and returned terrified, having unexpectedly come across a kangaroo, which he described as “as large as a horse.” I asked him what color it was; he couldn’t remember, saying he just wanted to get away from the animal. He ran down the hill and was relieved when he saw the kangaroo wasn’t following him; it’s likely that when he went down one part of the range, the animal, equally scared, descended another. We crossed the ranges near the Tumat stream, a rough route that was dangerous for horses in some areas, but the sure-footed animals managed to carry us safely over places that would have amazed European horsemen.
After leaving Blowrin Plain, we saw several kangaroos on the ranges; one was pursued, and[287] after a short chase overtaken and killed by the dogs. It was a female of the common species,[109] (the males of this species are called by the colonists “foresters,” the females “flyers.”) The weight of the animal was seventy-six pounds, but many have been killed in the neighbouring ranges weighing two hundred and twenty pounds: this specimen was conveyed to Been, where I dissected it.
After leaving Blowrin Plain, we spotted several kangaroos in the hills; one was chased and, after a short pursuit, caught and killed by the dogs. It was a female of the common species, [109] (the males of this species are referred to by colonists as “foresters,” while the females are called “flyers”). The animal weighed seventy-six pounds, but many have been hunted in the nearby hills weighing as much as two hundred and twenty pounds. This specimen was taken to Been, where I dissected it.
We returned through a picturesque and fertile country, watered by the Tumat river; many of the Grey cockatoos, with red crests, known by the native name of “Gang, gang,” were seen, and a beautiful white hawk was quietly perched upon the lofty dead trunk of a tree. The methods employed by the natives to capture kangaroos, is either driving them into a river and killing them with spears; or on observing one approaching, by remaining perfectly quiet, they are mistaken by the animals for the charred trunk of a tree, and fearlessly advancing, are speared or killed by clubs.[110]
We made our way back through a beautiful and productive area, fed by the Tumat River; we spotted several Grey cockatoos with red crests, known by the local name "Gang, gang," and a stunning white hawk was peacefully sitting on the high, dead trunk of a tree. The local methods for catching kangaroos involve either driving them into a river to kill them with spears or, when they see one approaching, staying perfectly still so the animals mistake them for a burned tree trunk. As the kangaroos confidently come closer, they end up getting speared or struck down with clubs.[110]
The tendons of the muscles about the tail of the kangaroo, and those of the legs of the emu, are converted into thread by the natives, who manufacture from it a neat net ornament, called “Bollombine.” One of these ornaments, made for me by a native female, of the tendons procured from the kangaroo, was executed in the following manner:—The longest tendons selected from the tail were laid in an extended position to dry in the sun; they were afterwards divided into threads; (when dry they are capable of producing threads of considerable fineness;) the cord intended for this ornament was made by two of these threads being rolled upon the thigh, additions being made until a sufficient length was obtained for the purpose required, usually extending to several yards. The netting process is executed in a manner somewhat similar to our own; the ornament, one inch and a-half in breadth, extends like a fillet[289] around the front part of the head, being tied behind by strings of the same material: it is worn by males and females, and coloured with red ochre or pipe-clay, according to the taste of the wearer; the stock-keepers value the tendons for whip-lashes, and say nothing can surpass them for durability.
The tendons from the kangaroo’s tail and the emu’s legs are turned into thread by the locals, who make a neat net decoration called “Bollombine.” One of these ornaments, created for me by a native woman from kangaroo tendons, was made like this: The longest tendons from the tail were laid out to dry in the sun. Once dried, they were split into threads; (when dry, they can create very fine threads); the cord for this ornament was made by rolling two of these threads on the thigh, adding more until the length was enough, usually several yards. The netting technique is somewhat similar to ours; the ornament, about one and a half inches wide, wraps like a band around the front of the head, tied at the back with strings made from the same material: it’s worn by both men and women and colored with red ochre or pipe clay, depending on the wearer’s preference; stock-keepers appreciate the tendons for whip laces, claiming nothing beats them for durability.[289]
The part of the kangaroo most esteemed for eating is the loins; and the tail, which abounds in gelatine, furnishes an excellent and nourishing soup; the hind legs are coarse, and usually fall to the share of the dogs. The natives (if they can be said to have a choice) give a preference to the head. The flesh of the full-grown animal may be compared to lean beef, and that of the young to veal; they are destitute of fat, if we except a little being occasionally seen between the muscles and integuments of the tail. The colonial dish called a steamer, consists of the flesh of this animal dressed, with slices of ham. The liver, when cooked, is crisp and dry, and is considered a substitute for bread; but I cannot coincide in this opinion.
The part of the kangaroo most valued for eating is the loins; the tail, which is rich in gelatin, makes an excellent and nutritious soup; the hind legs are tough and usually go to the dogs. The natives (if they have a choice) prefer the head. The meat of the adult animal is similar to lean beef, while that of the young one resembles veal; they lack fat, except for a bit that can sometimes be found between the muscles and skin of the tail. The colonial dish called a steamer is made from this animal's meat cooked with slices of ham. The liver, when cooked, is crispy and dry, and some people consider it a substitute for bread; however, I don't agree with that.
While visiting the “Blowrin Flat,” on hunting and other excursions, I frequently observed marks upon the grass where kangaroos had been herding; at one place the grass was beaten down, and a quantity of their fur strewed about[290] the ground, an indication of their having been recently engaged in active warfare, leaving behind them, like the Kilkenny cats, only some morsels of flue. Although we had many indications of these animals having visited the flat, we rarely saw them, except upon the ranges, particularly those spots where, the grass having been recently burnt, the young herbage was springing up.[111] It is usual for kangaroos to frequent the high land during the summer, seeking the more sheltered situations during winter.
While visiting "Blowrin Flat" on hunting trips and other outings, I often noticed marks in the grass where kangaroos had gathered. In one spot, the grass was flattened down, and there was a lot of their fur scattered around, showing that they had been involved in a lively skirmish, leaving behind, much like the Kilkenny cats, just some scraps of fur. Even though we had many signs of these animals having been on the flat, we rarely saw them, except in the hills, especially in areas where the grass had recently burned, making way for new growth. It’s common for kangaroos to stay in higher ground during the summer and seek out more sheltered spots in the winter.
The females are not permitted to eat the flesh of the kangaroo, for if they did (the selfish males observe) “our dogs would die;” nor are the women, it is said, allowed to eat the flesh of the “Bandicoot” (called Kudjun, Mandu, or Gorun, by the natives) until they have borne a child.
The women aren't allowed to eat kangaroo meat because, according to the selfish males, “our dogs would die.” They also aren't allowed to eat the meat of the “Bandicoot” (known as Kudjun, Mandu, or Gorun by the locals) until after they’ve had a child.
The dying kangaroo would afford a subject worthy of the inimitable pencil of Landseer, as it lies prostrate on that ground, where, but a few minutes before, it fed and gambolled, unconscious[291] of danger, moaning piteously under the unmerciful fangs of the hounds: its eyes, dim with tears, seeming to upbraid the hunter for his cruelty. No one can behold the tragic scene without feeling pangs of regret, as the dogs worry the animal until the hunter dismounts, and passing his knife across the creature’s throat, the crimson stream flows, and the fixed glassy eye indicates the termination of life.
The dying kangaroo would provide a subject worthy of the unmatched talent of Landseer, as it lies flat on the ground where, just minutes before, it grazed and played, unaware of the danger, moaning in agony under the merciless teeth of the hounds: its eyes, blurred with tears, seem to blame the hunter for his cruelty. No one can witness this tragic scene without feeling waves of regret as the dogs attack the animal until the hunter gets off his horse, takes his knife, and slashes the creature’s throat, causing a stream of crimson blood to flow, and the lifeless, glassy eye shows the end of life.[291]
One day, while hunting kangaroos over the ranges, we started a female, reposing during the heat of the day under a tree; she was soon seized and destroyed by the dogs. A short distance further on the same range, we came upon a large male kangaroo, which bounding away, we had a fine chase after him over stumps of trees, bushes, loose wood, and rocks, and found these impediments, over a naturally irregular ground, any thing but safe; but the horse I rode was accustomed to such places, and, being sure-footed, he carried me safe over all difficulties in sufficient time to witness the death-struggle. The kangaroo had been arrested in his progress by the hounds, on ascending a steep acclivity. When descending a hill these animals make surprising leaps, and bound with great speed also upon level ground; but when ascending a hill they are soon captured. The dogs had judiciously divided[292] their attack upon the large and now furious animal, two having seized each a hind leg, and firmly kept it down, as if instinctively knowing the danger of its claws; another firmly grasped the throat; the animal in return hugging him between his fore-paws; the fourth made his attacks upon any part where an opportunity offered.
One day, while hunting kangaroos in the hills, we came across a female resting under a tree during the heat of the day; she was quickly caught and killed by the dogs. A little further along the same range, we encountered a large male kangaroo. It took off, and we had an exciting chase over tree stumps, bushes, loose wood, and rocks. The rugged terrain wasn't exactly safe, but the horse I was riding was used to these conditions and was sure-footed, so he carried me safely through all the obstacles just in time to see the final struggle. The hounds had caught up with the kangaroo as it was climbing a steep slope. When going down a hill, kangaroos can jump impressively and move quickly on flat ground, but they are easily caught when going uphill. The dogs wisely split their attack on the large and now angry animal; two grabbed each of its hind legs and pinned them down, seemingly aware of the threat from its claws; one had a strong grip on its throat while the animal tried to embrace him with its front paws; the fourth dog attacked any part it could reach.
Although the kangaroos have so pretty and innocent a physiognomy, yet when attacked, and defending themselves in the “strife of death,” they display a fierceness of disposition which would not be supposed from their gentle nature. The “old man,” as a full grown male is called by the colonists, is really a formidable opponent when at bay, either for man or dogs; and although the engagement usually terminates against the unfortunate animal, yet the struggle is often violent and protracted before its death is accomplished. The object of our chase stood erect, braving the unequal contest, which he had endeavoured to, but could not, avoid; the victory was strongly disputed, and three of the hounds being young, I doubt whether it would have terminated in their favour, as they began to be exhausted, when the overseer, dismounting, overturned the animal, and keeping its hind legs down with his utmost strength, the dogs attacked[293] the throat, and its existence was soon terminated.
Although kangaroos have such a pretty and innocent appearance, when attacked and fighting for their lives, they show a fierceness that one wouldn’t expect from their gentle nature. The “old man,” as the colonists call a full-grown male, is actually a tough opponent when cornered, whether against humans or dogs. While the fight usually ends badly for the unfortunate animal, the struggle is often intense and drawn out before its death is achieved. The kangaroo we were chasing stood tall, facing the unfair fight that it tried to escape but couldn’t; the battle was fiercely contested, and with three of the hounds being young, I doubted it would end in their favor as they began to tire. Just then, the overseer dismounted, brought the animal down, and with all his strength, held its hind legs down while the dogs went for its throat, quickly ending its life.[293]
The weight of this animal was one hundred and sixty pounds. On the inner side of each knee-joint I observed a collection of several hundreds of worms,[112] long, thin, and of a white colour, inclosed in a cyst of cellular membrane, through which they could be seen. It was situated external to the knee-joint. I dissected a cyst as perfectly as possible, and placed them in spirits; at the same time regretting that I had no means of preserving the joint with the cyst attached entire. Similar worms are said to exist in the stomach and intestines of the animal. These cysts, I understand, are not uncommon; some persons have asserted that they have never killed a kangaroo without them, whilst others declare they are more common in males than in females,[113] and are found in two kangaroos out of three.
The weight of this animal was one hundred sixty pounds. On the inner side of each knee joint, I noticed a collection of several hundred long, thin, white worms enclosed in a cyst made of cellular membrane, through which they were visible. It was located outside the knee joint. I dissected a cyst as carefully as I could and placed the worms in alcohol, while also wishing I had a way to preserve the entire joint with the cyst attached. Similar worms are said to exist in the stomach and intestines of the animal. I understand these cysts are not uncommon; some people claim they have never killed a kangaroo without them, while others say they are more common in males than in females, and occur in two out of three kangaroos.
When examining the body of the kangaroo last killed, the attack of mosquitoes, horse-flies,[294] and others, nearly obliged us to abandon our game, for portions of the animal were almost immediately covered with white maggots, (the “blow flies” in this country are viviparous,)[114] and on the conclusion of my investigations, we were glad to take our departure, and leave the carcase to myriads of tormenting insects that were fast increasing from all directions. I observed the molar teeth of the two female kangaroos had a layer of metallic substance incrusting them, and could readily be knocked off; it resembles[295] the “golden teeth” often observed in sheep and other herbaceous animals.[115]
When we examined the body of the last kangaroo we killed, the swarm of mosquitoes, horseflies, [294] and others nearly made us give up our hunt, as parts of the animal quickly became covered with white maggots (the “blow flies” in this country are live-bearing). [114] After finishing my observations, we were relieved to leave and let the carcass be overtaken by the countless annoying insects that were rapidly arriving from all sides. I noticed that the molar teeth of the two female kangaroos were coated with a metallic substance that could easily be knocked off; it looks similar to the “golden teeth” often seen in sheep and other grazing animals. [115]
The aborigines have a custom of preserving human fat. I observed it among the Yas, Murrumbidgee, and other tribes. They show it with reluctance to Europeans. I could not ascertain the motive with certainty. Some said it was as a charm—others that it was used in the cure of diseases: that it is applied to the latter purpose I believe, from having seen it smeared over or near the place at which a patient complained of pain, or had received injury. The fat is not taken from particular individuals, that from any human body being considered equally efficacious. The aborigines, when young, have the foot arched, becoming flattened as they advance in years;[116][296] and the children, as among all savage, and perhaps even civilized, races, when able to provide for themselves, are careless of parental regard or protection.
The Indigenous people have a tradition of preserving human fat. I noticed this among the Yas, Murrumbidgee, and other tribes. They share it with reluctance when it comes to Europeans. I couldn't determine the exact reason for this practice. Some claimed it was for charms—others said it was used for healing diseases. I believe it serves the latter purpose because I've seen it applied to the area where a patient felt pain or had an injury. They don’t take fat from specific individuals; any human body fat is considered equally effective. The Indigenous people, when young, have arched feet, which become flattened as they get older;[116][296] and the children, like in many primitive, and maybe even civilized, societies, tend to neglect parental care and protection when they can take care of themselves.
It is surprising with what facility the natives ascend, in pursuit of game, trees of large circumference, without a branch to aid them except near the summit, merely by making small notches with their tomahawks upon the trunk, in which the feet are placed. I even saw a female ascend a lofty tree for the purpose of taking a nest of the “Juliong,” or Rose Hill parrot, from the hollow branch or “spout” of the tree: she brought down in safety five full-fledged young ones. The natives eat them, as they do all living things. The eggs of this species of parrot are of a light bluish colour, with small, pale, brown spots. The young of all the parrot tribe were now abundant. One evening a sound met my ears, resembling the harmonious voices of swine at a[297] distance; but it appeared the noise proceeded from a batch of young “Wagaras,” or cockatoos, in an adjoining tree, which were either disturbed by flying squirrels and opossums,[117] or, as a black “feller” observed, “’pose got no supper, merry hungry.”
It's surprising how easily the locals climb large trees in search of game, using only small notches made with their tomahawks for their feet, with branches only near the top. I even saw a woman climb a tall tree to get a nest of the “Juliong,” or Rose Hill parrot, from a hollow branch: she safely brought down five fully grown chicks. The locals eat them, just like they do with all living things. The eggs of this parrot species are light blue with small, pale brown spots. There were plenty of young parrots around. One evening, I heard a sound that resembled the harmonious voices of pigs in the distance, but it turned out to be a group of young “Wagaras,” or cockatoos, in a nearby tree, either disturbed by flying squirrels and opossums, or as a black local pointed out, “’pose got no supper, merry hungry.”
The Emu, or New Holland cassowary, (Casuarius Novæ Hollandiæ, Lath.) were abundant about this part of the colony, more particularly at a place not far distant, called “Naganbilly.” It is, however, to be regretted, that the birds are becoming rarer as settlements advance, as they could be readily domesticated. The same remark applies also to the kangaroo and other animals, against whom a war of extermination seems to have been declared. The emu is principally valued for its oil. The natives in this part of the colony call them “Gorin,” and “Berebine.” The skin of a full-grown bird produces six or seven quarts of oil, clear, and of a beautiful bright yellow colour: the method of extracting or “trying” the oil, is to pluck the feathers, cut the skin into pieces, and boil it; but the aborigines prefer the flesh with the skin upon it, regarding it, as the Esquimaux[298] do the flesh of whales and seals, as a highly luscious treat. The oil is excellent for burning; it produces no disagreeable smell: it is also considered a good liniment for sprains or bruises in horses and cattle, either alone, or when stronger stimulating properties are required, mixed with turpentine.
The emu, or New Holland cassowary, (Casuarius Novæ Hollandiæ, Lath.), were plentiful in this area of the colony, especially near a location called “Naganbilly.” Unfortunately, these birds are becoming less common as settlements expand, even though they can be easily domesticated. The same goes for kangaroos and other animals, which seem to be facing a concerted effort to wipe them out. The emu is mainly valued for its oil. The local people refer to them as “Gorin” and “Berebine.” The skin of a fully grown bird yields around six or seven quarts of clear, bright yellow oil. To extract or “render” the oil, the feathers are plucked, the skin is cut into pieces, and then boiled; however, the Indigenous people prefer the meat with the skin on, viewing it as a delicious delicacy, much like the Eskimos regard whale and seal meat. The oil is great for lighting; it doesn’t produce any unpleasant odor. It’s also seen as an effective liniment for sprains or bruises in horses and cattle, either on its own, or when combined with turpentine for a stronger effect.
The emu crops herbage like the cow or horse, and possesses great keenness of vision. The flesh is eaten by Europeans, and preferred by some to the kangaroo: the rump part is considered as delicate as fowl; the legs coarse like beef, but still tender: the fibula bone of the leg is used as an ornament by the natives. The best time to hunt these birds is at an early hour in the morning. They are swift of foot; but when once the dogs get up to them, they are speedily overthrown and dispatched. The formation of their nest is simple: they usually select a situation, in a scrub, upon the hills, where a space is scraped similar to those formed by brooding hens; sticks and leaves, which alone form the nest, are left round the cleared place: here the eggs are deposited without regard to regularity, the number varying from nine to thirteen; and it is a curious circumstance, that there is always an odd number; some nests having been discovered with nine, others with eleven, and[299] others again with thirteen. It is now ascertained beyond doubt that the eggs are hatched by incubation. They are of large size, and of a beautiful bluish green colour.
The emu grazes on vegetation like cows or horses and has excellent eyesight. Europeans eat the meat and some prefer it to kangaroo; the rump is considered as tender as chicken, while the legs are tough like beef but still tender. The leg bone, called the fibula, is used as decoration by the natives. The best time to hunt these birds is early in the morning. They are fast runners, but once the dogs catch up to them, they are quickly taken down and killed. Their nests are simple; they usually choose a spot in a thicket on the hills, where they scrape the ground much like brooding hens do. Sticks and leaves surround the cleared area, forming the nest. The eggs are laid without any particular order, with the number varying from nine to thirteen, and it's interesting that there is always an odd number; some nests have been found with nine, others with eleven, and some with thirteen.[299] It is now confirmed that the eggs are hatched through incubation. They are large and have a beautiful bluish-green color.
Among other extraordinary animals furnished to the naturalists in this interesting country, is the Echidna, or “native porcupine,” the Nickobejan and Jannocumbine of the natives. It inhabits mountain ranges, burrowing with extraordinary facility; and at this season (December) produces its young. It forms a link between Hystrix and Myrmecophaga, differing but little in external characters from the genera Manis and Myrmecophaga; a new genus has been therefore formed for it—Echidna, in the order Edentata, tribe Monotrema. It was named Myrmecophaga aculeata, by Shaw; at the same time that he considered the external character sufficiently distinct to place it in a new genus. He thus correctly describes the animal.
Among other amazing animals provided to the naturalists in this fascinating country is the Echidna, or “native porcupine,” known to the locals as Nickobejan and Jannocumbine. It lives in mountain ranges, burrowing incredibly easily, and during this season (December) gives birth to its young. It connects Hystrix and Myrmecophaga, differing only slightly in external features from the genera Manis and Myrmecophaga; a new genus has therefore been created for it—Echidna, in the order Edentata, tribe Monotrema. It was named Myrmecophaga aculeata by Shaw, who also recognized that the external characteristics were distinct enough to place it in a new genus. He accurately describes the animal.
“The whole upper parts of the body and tail are thickly coated with strong and sharp spines. The snout is long and tubular, having only a small rictus, or opening, at the tip, from whence is protruded a long, lumbriciform tongue, as in other ant-eaters. The nostrils are small, and seated at the extremity of the snout: the eyes are small and black, with a pale blue iris. It[300] burrows with great strength and celerity under ground when disturbed; it will even burrow under a pretty strong pavement, removing the stones with its claws, or under the bottom of a wall. During these exertions, its body is stretched or lengthened to an uncommon degree, and appears very different from the short or plump aspect which it bears in its undisturbed state.”
“The entire upper body and tail are covered with thick, strong, and sharp spines. The snout is long and tube-like, with only a small opening at the tip where a long, worm-like tongue extends, similar to other anteaters. The nostrils are small and located at the end of the snout; the eyes are small and black, with a pale blue iris. It[300] digs vigorously and quickly underground when disturbed; it can even burrow beneath a pretty sturdy pavement, moving aside the stones with its claws, or underneath a wall. During this process, its body stretches or elongates significantly, looking very different from the short and plump appearance it has when undisturbed.”
At Goulburn Plains, the natives brought me a young living specimen of this animal, which they had just caught upon the ranges: they called it “Jannocumbine,” and fed it upon ants and ants’ eggs. It was often taken to an ant-hill, to provide itself with food: from being so young, it had an unsteady walk, and was covered with short sharp spines, projecting above the fur. On expressing a fear to the natives of not being able to keep it alive, they replied that “it would not now die, as it had prickles on:” meaning, I suppose, that it could feed and provide for itself, not requiring the fostering care of its parents. On asking whether it was a male or female, they examined the hind feet for the spurs, and, seeing them, declared it to be a male. It sleeps during the day, running about and feeding at night. Its movements are tardy, the principal exertions being made when burrowing. When touched upon the under surface, or uncovered[301] parts of its body, or when attacked by dogs, it rolls, like the hedge-hog, into a spherical form, the prickly coat forming a good defence against the canine race, who have a decided aversion to have their noses pricked. When attacked, it has been known to burrow to a great depth in a surprising short period of time. I do not think that either this animal, from its coat not bearing caresses, or the large lizard, called Guana, from its repulsive form, will ever be admitted into the nursery of favourite animals by the ladies of the colony.
At Goulburn Plains, the locals brought me a young living specimen of this animal, which they had just caught in the hills. They called it “Jannocumbine” and fed it ants and ants’ eggs. It was often taken to an ant hill to find food for itself. Because it was so young, it walked unsteadily and was covered in short, sharp spines that stuck up above its fur. When I expressed my concern to the locals about not being able to keep it alive, they replied that “it wouldn’t die now since it had prickles,” meaning, I suppose, that it could feed itself and didn’t need its parents’ care. When I asked if it was male or female, they checked its hind feet for spurs and, seeing them, declared it to be a male. It sleeps during the day and runs around and feeds at night. It moves slowly, with its main efforts being when it burrows. When touched on its underside or exposed areas, or when attacked by dogs, it rolls up into a ball like a hedgehog, using its spiky coat as a good defense against dogs, which definitely dislike having their noses poked. When threatened, it can burrow to a great depth in a surprisingly short time. I don’t think that either this animal, as it doesn't like to be handled because of its coat, or the large lizard known as Guana, due to its unattractive shape, will ever become a favorite among the ladies of the colony’s nursery for pets.
The Echidna is eaten by the natives, who declare it to be “cobbong budgeree” (very good,) “and, like pig, very fat.” Europeans who have eaten of them, confirm this opinion, and observe that they taste similar to a sucking pig. This animal, when scratching, or rather cleaning itself, uses only the hind claws, lying in different positions, so as to enable it to reach the part of the body to be operated upon. The animal is pentadactyle, the two first claws of the hind feet being long, the first the longest; that of the great toe the shortest: they seem to have the power of erecting their spines, and, rolling themselves into a spherical form, making an excellent defence against many of their enemies.
The Echidna is eaten by the locals, who say it’s “cobbong budgeree” (very good) and “like pig, very fat.” Europeans who have tried it agree and note that it tastes similar to a sucking pig. When this animal scratches, or rather cleans itself, it only uses its hind claws, lying in different positions to reach the area it needs to groom. The animal has five toes, with the first two claws on its hind feet being long, the first being the longest and the claw of the big toe the shortest. They seem to be able to raise their spines and roll into a ball, which provides excellent protection against many of their enemies.
I consider there are two species of this genus[302] existing:—first, E. hystrix, Desm., or Spiny Echidna, which is found on the mountain ranges in the colony of New South Wales; and the second, E. Setosa, Desm., or Bristly Echidna, which is found more common in Van Dieman’s Land. The first species attains a large size: it is stated in our works of natural history as being the size of a hedge-hog: my young specimen was fully that. At “Newington,” the residence of John Blaxland, Esq., I had an opportunity of seeing a specimen full fourteen inches long, and of proportionate circumference: it fed upon milk and eggs, the eggs boiled hard and chopped up small, with rice; its motion was heavy and slow; it was of a perfectly harmless disposition. When disturbed from its place of retreat, it would feed during the day; but was difficult to remove from the cask in which it was placed, on account of its firmly fixing itself at the bottom: it feeds, by thrusting out the tongue, to which organ the food is attached, and then withdrawing it. Mine moved about, and drank milk at night, taking little other food. After keeping it for nearly seven months, I found it one morning dead.
I believe there are two species of this genus[302]: first, E. hystrix, Desm., or Spiny Echidna, which is found in the mountain ranges of New South Wales; and second, E. Setosa, Desm., or Bristly Echidna, which is more commonly found in Van Diemen’s Land. The first species can grow quite large: our natural history texts describe it as being the size of a hedgehog, which my young specimen certainly was. At “Newington,” the home of John Blaxland, Esq., I had the chance to see a specimen that was a full fourteen inches long and proportionately wide. It was fed milk and hard-boiled eggs that were chopped up small, along with rice; its movements were heavy and slow, and it had a completely harmless nature. When disturbed from its hiding place, it would eat during the day, but it was hard to get out of the cask where it was kept because it would cling firmly to the bottom. It ate by sticking out its tongue, which the food would stick to, and then pulling it back in. Mine would move around and drink milk at night, hardly eating anything else. After keeping it for almost seven months, I found it dead one morning.
There is an affection of the eye, which much prevails at this season of the year in the interior of the colony, attacking both European settlers[303] and natives, and is called by the colonists the “blight:” it occurs only during the summer season: the attack is sudden, no doubt proceeding from the bite of a gnat, or some other insect. I had an opportunity of witnessing a case of this malady, which occurred in a native. The integuments surrounding the orbit were puffed up so much, as totally to close the eye, which was found much inflamed, as in acute ophthalmia, and attended with symptoms, in some degree similar, with severe itching and pricking pain, as if sand had been lodged in it, with a profuse flow of tears. This disease seldom continues for more than three days, even if no remedy be applied. A spirit lotion has been found the most beneficial application. Last summer every individual at one of the farms was attacked by it in both eyes, occasioning temporary blindness, and much inconvenience was experienced from all being attacked at the same period.[118]
There's an eye condition that happens a lot during this time of year in the interior of the colony, affecting both European settlers[303] and natives, known by the colonists as "the blight." It only occurs in the summer. The onset is sudden, likely caused by the bite of a gnat or another insect. I had the chance to observe a case of this illness in a native. The skin around the eye was so swollen that it completely closed the eye, which was very inflamed, similar to acute ophthalmia, and had symptoms resembling it as well, including severe itching and a prickling pain, as if sand were in it, along with excessive tearing. This disease usually lasts no more than three days, even without treatment. A spirit lotion has proven to be the most effective remedy. Last summer, everyone at one of the farms was affected in both eyes, causing temporary blindness and a lot of inconvenience since everyone was hit at the same time.
On the 14th of December, I left the Tumat[304] country on my return to Yas. Day had just dawned when I commenced my journey; the sky was clear and serene; the rising sun gilded the summits of the picturesque mountains; the sparkling dew was not yet dispelled, and all nature looked refreshed; the atmosphere was cool and agreeable, and the birds chanted, as if to salute the rising orb with their early melody; the dark foliage of the swamp oaks, and a brighter vegetation, would indicate the proximity of the river, whose murmuring stream was occasionally heard, although its waters were not seen. But as the day advanced, it became more sultry; vegetation drooped with excessive heat; the feathered songsters ceased their carolling, and only a few herons, magpies, (“Karo” of the aborigines,) and crows, were visible. I arrived at Darbylara late in the afternoon.
On December 14th, I left the Tumat[304] country on my way back to Yas. I started my journey at dawn; the sky was clear and calm; the rising sun lit up the tops of the beautiful mountains; the sparkling dew was still there, and everything in nature looked refreshed; the air was cool and pleasant, and the birds sang as if to greet the rising sun with their morning songs; the dark leaves of the swamp oaks and brighter plants indicated that the river was nearby, with the soft sound of its waters occasionally heard, even though I couldn’t see them. But as the day went on, it became hotter; the plants wilted from the heat; the birds stopped singing, and only a few herons, magpies (known as “Karo” by the aborigines), and crows were around. I reached Darbylara late in the afternoon.
The banks of the Murrumbidgee were beautifully picturesque. How delightful it is in this country, so destitute of large streams, to sit under the overshadowing branches of the Eucalypti, near the river, watching the flights of wild fowl, engaged in catching the fish, with which this river abounds, or seeing the young amphibious blacks amusing themselves by throwing stones into the deep part of the stream, and diving in order to catch them before they reach the bottom. In this[305] amusement, they displayed much activity, and in nearly every instance succeeded in regaining the stone before it reached the bottom. The competition among them to catch it, was highly amusing.
The banks of the Murrumbidgee were incredibly scenic. It’s so enjoyable in this area, which lacks large rivers, to sit beneath the shaded branches of the eucalyptus trees by the river, watching the wild birds flying around and catching the abundant fish, or seeing the young kids playing by throwing stones into the deep part of the stream and diving to catch them before they hit the bottom. In this[305] activity, they showed a lot of energy, and in almost every case, they managed to retrieve the stone before it sank. The competition among them to catch it was very entertaining.
There were a number of the aborigines about this farm, who made themselves occasionally useful by grinding wheat, and other occupations; but no dependence can be placed upon their industry for they work when they please, and remain idle when they like; the latter being of most frequent occurrence; but they are encouraged for their valuable assistance in finding strayed cattle, as they track the beasts with an accuracy seldom or never attained by a European.
There were several Indigenous people around this farm who sometimes helped out by grinding wheat and doing other tasks. However, you can't really rely on them for consistent work because they choose when to work and when to be lazy, and the latter happens quite often. Still, they are appreciated for their useful skill in finding lost cattle, as they can track the animals with a precision that is rarely, if ever, matched by Europeans.
The river’s banks abounded in trees of enormous size, and were profusely embellished with elegant flowers. I saw a species of the Eucalyptus, called the “Water Gum,” full a hundred feet in elevation, and six or seven feet in diameter.[119][306] I also observed a swamp oak[120] growing from the trunk of one of these trees, having quite a parasitical character; the former being about twelve feet high, and the latter full forty, both in a flourishing condition. An animal, called “Water-rat” by the colonists, and Biddunong by the aborigines, burrowed in the banks; but I was not able to procure a specimen. There are also two species of the Kangaroo-rat found about this part of the colony; one called “Cannamung,” and the second, a larger species, called “Talbung” by the blacks.
The riverbanks were lined with huge trees and decorated with beautiful flowers. I spotted a type of Eucalyptus known as the “Water Gum,” standing about a hundred feet tall and six or seven feet wide.[119][306] I also noticed a swamp oak[120] growing from the trunk of one of these trees, which had a pretty parasitic nature; the swamp oak was around twelve feet high, while the Water Gum reached a full forty feet, and both were thriving. There was an animal called the “Water-rat” by the colonists and Biddunong by the Aboriginal people, burrowing in the riverbanks, but I couldn’t catch one. Additionally, there were two types of Kangaroo-rats in this area of the colony; one called “Cannamung” and the other, a larger species, referred to as “Talbung” by the Indigenous people.
About the river’s banks an elegant species of fly-catcher, “Birinberu” of the natives, was numerous, burrowing for some distance in the sand, where it lays its eggs, and produces young. It is about the size of a lark, of beautiful and varied plumage, migrating from this part of the country in the winter, and returning in the summer to build about its old haunts. I examined several of the burrows, which were situated on a sandy flat, near the river; the entrance was two inches and a half at its broadest diameter, continuing of a breadth seldom exceeding three inches, to the[307] length of three feet generally,—although some were even longer,—terminating in a space from six to eight inches broad, where the eggs are laid, no nest was constructed, and, on examining the first burrow, I found four young ones reposing upon the bare sand. I covered the burrow as well as possible, leaving the young ones to a mother’s care, who soon returned to her progeny. Other burrows contained from four to five white nearly round eggs. The length of these birds was ten inches from the beak to the two projecting tail feathers, which last were usually an inch and a half beyond the others: the irides were of a beautiful bright-red colour.
About the riverbanks, there was a graceful species of flycatcher known as “Birinberu” by the locals, and it was quite common. It burrowed deeply into the sand to lay its eggs and raise its young. It’s about the size of a lark and boasts beautiful, varied plumage. This bird migrates away during the winter and returns in the summer to rebuild near its old nesting places. I explored several of the burrows located on a sandy flat near the river; the entrance was two and a half inches wide at its widest point, usually narrowing to around three inches, extending up to three feet long—though some were even longer—ending in a space six to eight inches wide where the eggs are laid. No nest was built, and in the first burrow I examined, I discovered four young birds resting on the bare sand. I covered the burrow as best as I could, leaving the young to the care of their mother, who quickly returned to her offspring. Other burrows held four to five nearly round white eggs. These birds measured ten inches from beak to the two extended tail feathers, which were typically an inch and a half longer than the others; their irises were a striking bright red.
There are several species of birds seen here during the summer season, migrating in the winter, and others returning in the winter, and taking their departure in the summer. Observations upon the migration of birds in this colony would be interesting, as the accounts are often contradictory. The elegant “satin-bird,” (Ptilinorynchus of Temminck,) it is said, leaves the Murrumbidgee country during summer, returning in autumn: it is also mentioned, that the aborigines never kill this bird.[121]
There are several species of birds seen here during the summer, migrating in the winter, and others returning in the winter and leaving in the summer. Observing the migration of birds in this area would be fascinating, as the reports are often contradictory. The beautiful “satin-bird” (Ptilinorynchus of Temminck) is said to leave the Murrumbidgee region in the summer and return in the fall; it’s also noted that the Indigenous people never hunt this bird.[121]
Cattle and sheep stations now extend for some[308] distance down the Murrumbidgee probably as much as fifty miles. The following is a list of them, commencing from below Mr. Warby’s farm at Darbylara. At a distance of two miles from Darbylara, proceeding down the stream, is the
Cattle and sheep farms now stretch for quite a distance down the Murrumbidgee, likely up to fifty miles. Below is a list of them, starting from Mr. Warby’s farm at Darbylara. Two miles downstream from Darbylara, you’ll find the
| Miles. | Belonging to | |||
|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1st Station, | “Minghee,” | Mr. Warby, sen. | ||
| 2 | beyond, | 2d Station, | “Gundagiar,” | Mr. Hutchinson. |
| 5 | — | 3d Station, | “Willeplumer,” | Mr. Stuckey. |
| 4 | — | 4th Station, | “Kimo,” | Mr. Guise. |
| 3 | — | 5th Station, | “Wadjego,” | Mrs. Jenkins. |
| 4 | — | 6th Station, | “Nanghas,” | Mr. J. M’Arthur. |
| 8 | — | 7th Station, | “Jabtre,” | Mr. Ellis. |
| 2 | — | 8th Station, | “Wandubadjere,” | Mr. Thorn. |
| 10 | — | 9th Station, | “Kubandere,” | Mr. Tompson. |
| 10 | — | 10th Station, | “Billing billing,” | Mr. H. M’Arthur. |
The natives’ names of that part of the country where the stations are situated have been retained; the distance in miles is nominal.
The local names for that area where the stations are located have been kept; the distance in miles is just a formality.
The family at Darbylara are generally industriously employed in making butter and cheese, which is taken to Sydney for sale: they possess numerous herds of cattle, and the luxuriant pasturage about the farm fattens and enables the milch cows to furnish abundance of milk. From the industry displayed by this family, they deserve to realize an independence from their exertions.[309] Formerly flocks of sheep were kept about the farm; but from great losses being sustained among them, from a morbid propensity of destroying their progeny, they were given up, and more attention paid to this as a dairy farm, for which purpose no land could be better selected.
The family at Darbylara is usually busy making butter and cheese, which they take to Sydney to sell. They have a lot of cattle, and the rich pasture around the farm helps fatten the milk cows, providing plenty of milk. Because of their hard work, this family deserves to achieve independence from their efforts.[309] They used to keep flocks of sheep on the farm, but after suffering significant losses due to a tendency for them to destroy their offspring, they stopped that practice and focused more on dairy farming, for which this land is perfectly suited.
CHAPTER XVI.
Flocks of pelicans and grey parrots—Arrive at Jugiong—A busy scene—The harvest—Quails and Hawks—Mr. Hume’s farm—Domestic life among the settlers—Miss my way in the forest—Mr. Reddal’s farm—Disease called the Black Leg—Mr. Bradley’s residence at Lansdowne Park—Drooping manna trees—Christmas festival—Mr. F. M’Arthur’s farm—Aboriginal tribes—Native costume—Noisy revelry—Wild ducks and pigeons—Spiders.
Flocks of pelicans and gray parrots—Arriving at Jugiong—A busy scene—The harvest—Quails and Hawks—Mr. Hume’s farm—Daily life among the settlers—Getting lost in the forest—Mr. Reddal’s farm—A disease called the Black Leg—Mr. Bradley’s home at Lansdowne Park—Drooping manna trees—Christmas festival—Mr. F. M’Arthur’s farm—Aboriginal tribes—Native clothing—Loud celebrations—Wild ducks and pigeons—Spiders.
On leaving Darbylara, I proceeded to Jugiong by a different road from that by which I came, keeping near the Murrumbidgee river during the journey. Occasionally a flock of pelicans (“Guligalle” of the natives) were seen: this species has black and white plumage; the back and upper part of the wings being black, the remainder of the body white, with the bill and legs of a yellowish colour. Black swans (“Guniock” of the aborigines) were also seen; and among others of the “plumy tribe” that enlivened[311] the scenery, were flocks of grey parrots, and several other species of the same tribe; the bell-bird, razor-grinder, and coach-whip birds, were also occasionally seen or heard; the latter well named from its peculiar note, which accurately resembles the cracking of a whip. In the vicinity of this noble stream the scenery was beautiful; rich and luxuriant pasturage abounded, and the country had a cheerful and animated appearance. The river, during its course, occasionally forms pretty cascades, by falling over huge rocks that oppose its current.
Upon leaving Darbylara, I headed to Jugiong via a different route than the one I took to arrive, staying close to the Murrumbidgee River during the trip. From time to time, I spotted a flock of pelicans (known as “Guligalle” to the locals): this species has black and white feathers, with black on their backs and the top parts of their wings, while the rest of their bodies are white, and their bills and legs are a yellowish color. Black swans (called “Guniock” by the indigenous people) were also observed, along with various other “feathered creatures” that brightened up the scenery, including flocks of grey parrots and several other types from the same group; the bellbird, razor-grinder, and coach-whip birds were also sometimes seen or heard, with the latter aptly named for its distinct call, which sounds just like the snap of a whip. The area around this majestic river was stunning; lush, rich pastures were everywhere, giving the landscape a cheerful and lively vibe. Occasionally, the river creates lovely cascades as it tumbles over large rocks that block its path.
After riding four miles, a station belonging to Mr. Kennedy, called Kurongullen, gullen, was seen on the opposite side of the river; about a mile further distant, Mr. Lupton’s station of Guberolong was passed; and a further ride of eight miles, through a fertile picturesque country, brought me to Bulbábuck, a station the property of Mr. Henry O’Brien, where the men were busily occupied in cutting some fine fields of wheat. In the evening I reached Jugiong, and on the following day (10th December) arrived at Yas Plains.
After riding four miles, I saw Mr. Kennedy's station, called Kurongullen, on the opposite side of the river. About a mile further, I passed Mr. Lupton's station, Guberolong. Another eight miles through a beautiful, fertile countryside took me to Bulbábuck, which is owned by Mr. Henry O’Brien, where the workers were busy cutting some impressive wheat fields. In the evening, I arrived in Jugiong, and the next day (December 10th), I reached Yas Plains.
This was the busy season with the settlers, being both the wool and grain harvest. Shearing had commenced some time before; but many who had numerous flocks were still engaged in that profitable[312] occupation; the packing, sorting, screwing, and sewing in bales, occupying much time; wool being the staple article of the colony, and forming the principal riches of the settler. It is interesting for a stranger visiting the country at this period to view the processes of washing and shearing the animals—sorting, pressing, and packing the wool;—to often hear the terms of short and long staple wool, and to see the specimens of it arranged in small locks, showing the different degrees of fineness. If the shearing season is deferred, various grass seeds get into the wool, particularly those of the Anthisteria Australis, or kangaroo grass, one of the most abundant perhaps of the native grasses, frequently not only injuring the fleece, but, aided by its awns, penetrating even to the skin of the sheep. The Australian climate is admirably calculated for wool growing; the improvement of the fleeces during the late years, and the assorting of the wool by competent persons educated for the purpose in Germany, have produced for it so high a character in the London market, that the quantity exported from the colony is now great, and annually increasing: many of the settlers sell their wool to buyers in the colony, who speculate upon it, while others send it direct to agents in England.
This was the busy season for the settlers, as it was time for both the wool and grain harvests. Shearing had started some time ago, but many who had large flocks were still busy with that lucrative job; packing, sorting, bundling, and sewing bales took a lot of time. Wool was the main product of the colony and represented the primary wealth of the settlers. It's fascinating for a visitor to see the processes of washing and shearing the sheep—sorting, pressing, and packing the wool—and to frequently hear terms like short and long staple wool, as well as see the samples arranged in small locks, showcasing the different levels of fineness. If the shearing season is delayed, various grass seeds can get mixed into the wool, especially those of the Anthisteria Australis, or kangaroo grass, which is one of the most common native grasses. This can not only damage the fleece but, with its barbed awns, can even penetrate the skin of the sheep. The Australian climate is perfect for growing wool; recent improvements in the fleeces and the sorting of wool by skilled individuals trained in Germany have given it such a strong reputation in the London market that the amount exported from the colony has greatly increased each year. Many of the settlers sell their wool to local buyers who speculate on it, while others send it directly to agents in England.
The golden harvest also increases the business of the settler, usually occurring at the same time with the wool season, and the fields of grain around the scattered habitations render the scenery extremely rich. The prospect of the harvest this season was favourable both for its abundance and quality, although in some crops smut prevailed, the most were entirely free from it. It is a curious circumstance that self-sown wheat never smuts; that early sown is said to have little or none, and the wheat never smuts but when in blossom. I saw at one farm an ear of wheat from one of the fields, one side of which bore fine, healthy, and full grains, whilst the opposite side was entirely destroyed by smut. Wheat appears to suffer most. At one of the stations in the Tumat country the wheat suffered from smut, whilst barley and rye were perfectly free from it; and finer crops of the latter grain had never been seen. There are, I understand, many kinds of wheat that never suffer from smut in the colony; why are they not then sown in preference? The plan of trying different kinds of wheat and other grain, from various parts of the world, is worthy of attention, and would no doubt eventually confer much benefit, and add to the resources of the colony. There is a grain which the settlers have lately commenced to cultivate, called the “skinless[314] oat,” said to be brought from China, that yields greater returns than the usually cultivated kind.
The golden harvest also boosts the settler's business, typically happening around the same time as the wool season, and the fields of grain surrounding the scattered homes make the scenery really rich. The outlook for this harvest season looks good both in terms of quantity and quality, although some crops were affected by smut, most were completely free of it. Interestingly, self-sown wheat never gets smut; early-sown wheat is said to have little or none, and wheat only gets smut when it's in bloom. I saw at one farm an ear of wheat from one of the fields, where one side had healthy, full grains while the other side was totally ruined by smut. Wheat seems to suffer the most. At one of the stations in the Tumat country, the wheat was affected by smut, while barley and rye were perfectly clear of it; they had never seen finer crops of the latter grain. I understand there are many types of wheat in the colony that don’t get smut; why aren’t they planted more often? The idea of experimenting with different types of wheat and other grains from various parts of the world is worth considering and would likely bring benefits and enhance the colony's resources. There's a grain that settlers have recently started to grow, called the “skinless oat,” which is said to have come from China and produces better yields than the usual variety.
On riding through plains, &c. a number of quails are usually started by the dogs, and numerous eagle hawks, (Mollien of the natives,) and others of the same rapacious tribe, hover about for the purpose of darting upon the unfortunate quails when started; these hawks will also destroy and feed upon snakes, lizards, &c.
On riding through the plains, etc., a bunch of quails are usually flushed by the dogs, and several eagle hawks (known as Mollien by the locals) and other similar predatory birds circle overhead, ready to swoop down on the unfortunate quails when they're startled; these hawks will also kill and eat snakes, lizards, etc.
On the 23d of December I left Yas Plains for Sydney; in the evening I arrived at “Lomebraes,” or “Willowdalong,” the farm of Mr. John Hume, after a journey of twenty-two miles. This farm is situated close to a river, which I was surprised to find was the “Lachlan.” At this season it was merely a chain of shallow ponds, abounding with weeds, and even in the winter season, from the extent of the banks, it cannot attain any magnitude; probably by aid of tributary streams, it may in its course become a river of more importance. About this country the heat of the summer had not been so great as to parch up the land, which still maintained its verdure; but the utter want of variety in several parts of the colony, produces a tedious vacuity in the mind of the traveller when journeying over it.
On December 23rd, I left Yas Plains for Sydney; in the evening, I arrived at “Lomebraes,” or “Willowdalong,” the farm of Mr. John Hume, after a journey of twenty-two miles. This farm is located near a river, which I was surprised to discover was the “Lachlan.” At this time of year, it was just a series of shallow ponds full of weeds, and even in winter, due to the wide banks, it can't really become large; perhaps with the help of tributary streams, it could grow into a more significant river. About this area, the summer heat hasn't been so extreme that it dried up the land, which still retains its greenery; however, the complete lack of variety in several parts of the colony creates a monotonous emptiness for the traveler passing through.
A pleasing object in domestic life among the[315] settlers was the number of healthy, blooming children seen on the farms in the interior; their little plump forms, with the prevailing flaxen hair, cheerful and lively disposition, and rosy countenances, sufficiently indicated that bush fare did not disagree with them: living in the midst of excellent milk, and other wholesome food, with exercise, they are never cloyed by the trash usually given to children in large towns. Sickness is also rarer among the servants, from an inability to become inebriated; but tobacco is quite a necessary of life among them; few can undergo any labour without it, and many have told me that they would rather give up their rations than be deprived of tobacco; consequently no gift is more acceptable in the bush to a servant, for any assistance he may render to the traveller, than a present of tobacco, for money in the distant parts of the colony, is comparatively useless, and they care little or nothing about it.
A pleasing sight in everyday life among the[315] settlers was the number of healthy, happy children seen on the farms in the countryside; their little chubby bodies, with the common light-colored hair, cheerful and lively personalities, and rosy faces clearly showed that bush food suited them well: surrounded by plenty of fresh milk and other healthy foods, along with regular exercise, they aren't overwhelmed by the junk usually given to kids in big cities. Illness is also less common among the workers, as they can’t easily get drunk; but tobacco is very important to them; few can handle any work without it, and many have told me they would rather give up their food than go without tobacco; as a result, no gift is more appreciated in the bush by a worker for any help he provides to a traveler than a gift of tobacco, since money in the remote areas of the colony is pretty much useless, and they care very little about it.
On leaving “Lomebraes,” the morning following, I proceeded some distance on my journey, when thinking I could reach “Mut, mut, billy,” sooner by taking a nearer cut across the bush, I followed cattle-paths, until I missed my way; no trifle in the bush of New South Wales, where many, having lost themselves in the mazes of a forest, have[316] perished. However, after chancing the direction, I came to a settler’s hut, about three or four miles distant from Mr. Reddal’s farm, at Mut, mut, billy; I made inquiry of a man and woman, who were at that time busily engaged in opening a cow in the stock-yard, whether I was in the right road; after answering my inquiry in the affirmative, the man asked me if I had ever seen the disease called the “black leg,” which prevailed so much, and was still prevailing to some extent among the cattle in the colony, informing me that the cow had died of the disease, the first instance of it in this part of the country.
As I left "Lomebraes" the next morning, I traveled a bit on my journey. Thinking I could get to "Mut, mut, billy" faster by taking a shortcut through the bush, I followed cattle paths until I got lost; not a small issue in the bush of New South Wales, where many have lost their way in the thick forest and have perished. However, after guessing a direction, I stumbled upon a settler's hut about three or four miles from Mr. Reddal's farm at Mut, mut, billy. I asked a man and a woman who were busy working with a cow in the stockyard if I was on the right path. After confirming that I was, the man asked if I had ever seen the disease known as “black leg,” which was quite common and still somewhat prevalent among the cattle in the colony. He informed me that the cow had died from the disease, the first case of it in this area.
I felt gratified at having an opportunity of examining a case of this disease, of which I had only previously heard an account; so alighting, I entered the stock-yard, and examined the dead animal. Every part of the internal viscera was in a perfectly healthy condition, the stomach was distended with food, and there was nothing in the internal appearances exhibited to account for the death of the animal; but upon the thigh of the left hind leg, I perceived a swelling, and on the skin being laid back from it, an extent of dark extravasated blood was seen, and there was a similar state of extravasation upon one side of the neck: cutting through the fascia, the whole of the muscles, which had the appearances just[317] mentioned, were found saturated with black blood, even to the bone. I can make no better comparison of its appearance than by saying it seemed as if those parts of the body had been severely beaten or mashed.
I felt pleased to have the chance to examine a case of this disease, which I had only heard about before; so I got off and went into the stockyard to check out the dead animal. Every part of the internal organs looked perfectly healthy, the stomach was full of food, and there was nothing in the internal signs to explain the animal's death. However, on the thigh of the left hind leg, I noticed a swelling, and when I pulled back the skin, I saw a large area of dark pooled blood, and there was a similar pooling on one side of the neck. When I cut through the fascia, all the muscles in those areas—which looked just as I described—were found soaked with black blood, right down to the bone. The best comparison I can make for its appearance is that it looked like those parts of the body had been severely beaten or crushed.[317]
The animal I examined was a young cow; (the disease is said to attack principally the yearlings among cattle;) she had been perfectly well the preceding evening, but was found dead early in the morning; from the stomach being found distended with food, it could not have been long ill previous to its death. On arriving at the farm of Mut, mut, billy, I mentioned the circumstance to the overseer; he was alarmed at the disease having occurred so near, and expressed a fear of his cattle becoming attacked, as the disease was considered contagious; he asserted that none of his cattle had ever yet been affected, although he had heard of numbers dying in other districts from the disease.
The animal I examined was a young cow; (the disease is said to primarily affect yearlings among cattle;) she had been perfectly fine the night before, but was found dead early in the morning; since her stomach was distended with food, she couldn’t have been sick for long before her death. When I got to Mut's farm, I mentioned this to the overseer; he was worried about the disease being so close and feared that his cattle might get sick since the disease was thought to be contagious; he claimed that none of his cattle had been affected yet, although he had heard about many dying in other areas from the disease.
It was a few days after this, when staying at Goulburn Plains, that a gentleman arrived, who mentioned his having seen a case of the disease denominated the “black leg,” in the stock-yard of the farm at Mut, mut, billy, that morning, so from this circumstance the fears of the overseer, respecting the extension of the disease, were unfortunately realized. The Irish assigned[318] servants upon the estates where the disease has occurred, mention that it is not uncommon in Ireland, and is there considered contagious.[122] The mode of treatment adopted for its cure in that country is to bleed and rowel the cattle, and change the pasturage: it has been asserted that it was unknown in the colony until within the last twelvemonth; but some declare that it has existed, although not extensively, for a much longer period. Dr. Gibson informed me that the disease prevails principally among calves and yearlings, the first marked symptoms being a paralytic affection, the animal drawing the leg after it; a swelling and tenderness are then experienced about the affected parts, and usually a fatal termination ensues in twelve hours; bleeding relieves, and even has been known to cure cattle thus affected, if resorted to in time; but from the rapid progress of the disease, and among a large number of cattle, it is seldom observed until too late.
A few days later, while staying at Goulburn Plains, a gentleman arrived who mentioned he had seen a case of the disease called "black leg" in the stockyard of the farm at Mut, mut, billy that morning. This news unfortunately confirmed the overseer's fears about the spread of the disease. The Irish assigned servants on the estates where the disease has occurred say that it’s not uncommon in Ireland and is considered contagious there. The treatment used for it in that country involves bleeding and inserting rowels in the cattle and changing their pasture. It has been claimed that the disease was unknown in the colony until the last year, but some argue it has existed, although not extensively, for a much longer time. Dr. Gibson informed me that the disease mainly affects calves and yearlings, with the initial signs being a paralysis that causes the animal to drag the affected leg. After that, swelling and tenderness develop in the affected areas, often leading to death within twelve hours. Bleeding can alleviate symptoms and has even been known to cure affected cattle if done in time, but because the disease progresses rapidly and often affects a large number of cattle, it is usually noticed too late.
On the 24th of December I arrived at Lansdowne Park, (or, in the language of the country,[319] “Bungee.”) Goulburn Plains, the residence of Mr. Bradley; and although the days previous had been sultry and oppressive, this was so cold as to make it agreeable to see a large wood-fire blazing on the parlour hearth, giving the close of day the appearance of a Christmas-eve at home, although in this country it was the height of the summer season; but such atmospherical changes occasionally take place in the colony.
On December 24th, I arrived at Lansdowne Park, (or, as the locals say, [319] “Bungee.”) Goulburn Plains, the home of Mr. Bradley; and even though the previous days had been hot and sticky, this one was so cold that it felt nice to see a big wood fire roaring in the living room, giving the end of the day the vibe of a Christmas Eve back home, even though it was actually the middle of summer here; but such weather shifts can happen in the colony.
The elegant drooping manna-trees (Eucalyptus mannifera) were numerous, and at this season secreted the peculiar saccharine mucilaginous substance called manna, which, in greater or less quantities, was lying upon the ground beneath them, or upon their leaves, trunks, and branches, in small white flakes, resembling bits of starch. The taste of this secretion is sweet and mucilaginous, having a greater or less aperient effect on different individuals; it is quite a sweetmeat, and seems to consist of mucilage, sugar, and probably some magnesia: although it readily acts as an aperient on some persons, upon others it produces no effect; it does not dissolve in the sun, but, on the contrary, becomes dryer and of harder consistence, by exposure; rain dissolves it, but more secretion of it takes place after wet than during a continuance of dry weather. Many of the colonists supposed the[320] manna was secreted from the leaves of the tree, but from the foliage having a strong camphorated taste and odour, which the manna has not in the slightest degree, it was not probable; others again supposed it to proceed from the nectaries of the flowers, which are white, growing in clusters, and give to the tree a beautiful appearance when in bloom, attracting multitudes of parroquets. This tree, similar to the other Eucalypti, secretes a red gum, both spontaneously and in larger quantities, on incisions being made on the trunk. Birds and several insects feed upon the manna; among others the “Galang, galang,” as they are named in the language of the country, the “locust” of the colonists, of which insects, as I have before said, the aborigines declare it to be the excrement.
The elegant, drooping manna trees (Eucalyptus mannifera) were abundant, and during this season, they secreted a peculiar, sweet, sticky substance called manna, which was found in varying amounts on the ground underneath them, or on their leaves, trunks, and branches in small white flakes that looked like bits of starch. This secretion tastes sweet and gooey, having a different laxative effect on different people; it serves as quite a treat and seems to be made up of mucilage, sugar, and probably some magnesia. While it can act as a laxative for some, it doesn’t affect others at all; it doesn’t dissolve in the sun, but instead, it becomes drier and harder with exposure; rain dissolves it, but more of it is secreted after wet weather than during dry spells. Many of the colonists believed that the manna came from the leaves of the tree, but since the foliage has a strong camphor-like taste and smell, which the manna lacks entirely, that idea seemed unlikely; others thought it originated from the nectar in the flowers, which are white, grow in clusters, and give the tree a stunning appearance when in bloom, attracting countless parrots. This tree, like other Eucalypti, produces a red gum, both spontaneously and in larger amounts when the trunk is cut. Birds and various insects feed on the manna; among them is the “Galang, galang,” as they're known in the local language, the “locust” of the colonists, which the natives claim is the insect's droppings.
The tree is called in the aboriginal language “Bartoman,” and the manna is named “Cú ningaban;” it is collected and eaten by the natives. The growth of the tree, when young, is graceful and elegant; the bark is covered with a whitish powder, which readily rubs off upon the fingers, and the bark underneath is of a greyish colour; the bark of the “white gum” (Eucalyptus species) resembles this tree, but may be distinguished by not having a black butt like the manna-tree. On[321] examining the tree to ascertain positively from what part of it the manna was secreted, I found in several that the manna exuded in a liquid form in minute drops from the bark, and then concreted; on some it had oozed out and had concreted upon the trunk in large thin flakes; it exuded about the consistence of syrup, and in taste was sweet; when secreted from the branches it falls from those above, upon the leaves, &c. of others beneath, and upon the ground, where, during a plentiful season, a large quantity may be collected.
The tree is called "Bartoman" in the native language, and the manna is referred to as "Cú ningaban;" it's gathered and consumed by the locals. When the tree is young, it has a graceful and elegant growth; its bark is covered with a whitish powder that easily rubs off on your fingers, and the bark underneath is greyish. The bark of the "white gum" (Eucalyptus species) is similar to this tree, but it's easy to tell them apart since the manna tree doesn't have a black butt like the white gum. On[321] inspecting the tree to confirm where the manna came from, I found that in several cases, the manna oozed out in small drops from the bark and then hardened. In some instances, it had leaked out and solidified on the trunk in large, thin flakes; it oozed out with a syrup-like consistency and had a sweet taste. When secreted from the branches, it falls from those above onto the leaves and the ground below, where, during abundant seasons, a lot can be collected.
The rain that had fallen the day previous to my examination of these trees, and the heat of the sun causing a quantity of manna to exude from them, its mode of secretion could be more readily distinguished. It is usually secreted about the commencement of December; but it depends on the weather whether the secretion is in greater or less quantity: this season it was abundant.
The rain that fell the day before I examined these trees, along with the heat from the sun, caused a lot of manna to come out from them, making it easier to see how it’s released. It’s typically secreted around early December, but the amount depends on the weather: this season, it was plentiful.
The manna trees had commenced during the latter part of December, to throw off their outer bark; their trunks, therefore, had a ragged appearance, and the ground underneath was strewed with dried crisped pieces which had fallen off, leaving a smooth and handsome new bark in their place. The black cockatoos (“Womberong,” and “Bulowla”) were occasionally seen[322] in numbers, feeding upon the ripe cones of the Banksia, or “honeysuckles;”[123] and the smaller chattering parroquets were flying about, in hundreds, and revelling among the Eucalypti trees, which were now in flower; and, like to the humming-birds, they were extracting honey from the nectaries of the blossoms. On examining one that had been shot, the beak was covered, and the mouth filled, with honey, possessing the peculiar camphorated smell of the leaves and flowers of the tree, mingled with stamina; the stomach was filled with a dark, thick honey, among which some quantity of the stamina of the Eucalyptic flowers were mingled. The Blue Mountain parrot also sips the nectar from the flowers, as well as from peaches, &c. The natives, when they kill any of these birds, suck their beaks to extract the honey with which the mouth is usually filled, and also recover that collected in the stomach.
The manna trees started shedding their outer bark in late December, so their trunks looked ragged, and the ground below was covered with dried, crispy pieces that had fallen off, leaving a smooth and attractive new bark underneath. Black cockatoos (“Womberong” and “Bulowla”) were occasionally spotted in groups, feeding on the ripe cones of the Banksia, or “honeysuckles;”[123] and smaller chattering parrots were flying around in hundreds, enjoying themselves among the Eucalypti trees, which were now in bloom; like hummingbirds, they were sipping nectar from the flowers. When one was examined after being shot, its beak was coated, and its mouth was filled with honey, giving off the distinct camphor scent of the tree's leaves and flowers, mixed with pollen; the stomach was filled with dark, thick honey, which contained bits of the pollen from the Eucalyptic flowers. The Blue Mountain parrot also drinks nectar from the flowers, as well as from peaches, etc. The indigenous people, when they catch any of these birds, suck their beaks to get the honey that usually fills their mouths and also to retrieve the honey gathered in their stomachs.
The aborigines were now collecting about the farms in expectation of a feast at the ensuing Christmas festival. I went up to one who was busily engaged in making an opossum-skin cloak: he sewed the skins together with the fibres of the[323] bark of the “Stringy Bark” tree for thread, by first perforating holes in it with a sharp piece of bone, and then passing the thread through the holes as he proceeded. I asked him some questions, and then gave him a piece of tobacco: he asked for two piece tobacco, because “I merry busy, and you ask me much,” said blackee.
The Indigenous people were now gathering around the farms, looking forward to a feast for the upcoming Christmas festival. I approached one person who was focused on making an opossum-skin cloak: he sewed the skins together using the fibers from the bark of the “Stringy Bark” tree as thread. He first made holes in the bark with a sharp piece of bone and then threaded it through as he worked. I asked him a few questions and then gave him a piece of tobacco: he requested two pieces of tobacco, saying, “I’m really busy, and you’re asking me a lot,” said the man.
I visited “Northwood,” (distant about six miles from the Plains,) the neat farm of Mr. Francis M’Arthur, and afterwards rode across the plains to Dr. Gibson’s farm, at Taranna, which is situated near the “Soldier’s Flat;” this latter place consists of several small farms, of about a hundred acres each, which were granted by government to the discharged veterans. There were small bark huts erected upon the grants, and several ripe fields of grain and vegetable gardens about them.
I visited “Northwood,” located about six miles from the Plains, which is the tidy farm of Mr. Francis M’Arthur. After that, I rode across the plains to Dr. Gibson’s farm in Taranna, situated near “Soldier’s Flat.” This area consists of several small farms, each around a hundred acres, granted by the government to discharged veterans. There were small bark huts built on the grants, and a number of ripe fields of grain and vegetable gardens surrounding them.
The numerals among the aboriginal tribes of Goulburn Plains are as follows. One, Metong;—Two, Bulla;—Three, Bulla, metong;—Plenty, Nerang and Gorong.
The numbers among the indigenous tribes of Goulburn Plains are as follows: One, Metong; Two, Bulla; Three, Bulla, metong; Plenty, Nerang, and Gorong.
Christmas Day is regarded as a festival by the blacks who live near the habitations of the white men, it being customary at this period for the settlers to distribute among them provisions and spirits, with which they contrive to render[324] themselves perfectly happy. Several tribes had formed their encampment on and about the Plains, for the occasion, their huts had been speedily erected, by collecting the branches of trees, and lying over them sheets of bark, so placed as to form a shelter to windward; the fire being made in front. Some appeared in “native costume,” with an extra daub of red ochre, and the “bolombine” round the head; others wore tufts of the yellow crest of the white cockatoo, pending from their beards; but there were some who approximated to civilized society in dress, being arrayed in shirt, trowsers, and handkerchief;—and when thus cleanly “rigged out” in European finery, their personal appearance was not unprepossessing,—not that I mean to say they will bear away the palm for personal beauty.
Christmas Day is celebrated as a festival by the Black community living near the settlements of the white people. During this time, it’s common for the settlers to give them food and drinks, which they use to make themselves [324] feel perfectly happy. Several tribes set up their camps on and around the Plains for the occasion. They quickly built their huts by gathering tree branches and laying sheets of bark on top to create a windbreak, with a fire placed in front. Some dressed in “native costume,” with extra red ochre painted on their bodies and a “bolombine” around their heads; others had tufts of yellow crest from the white cockatoo hanging from their beards. However, there were some who dressed more like those in civilized society, wearing shirts, trousers, and handkerchiefs. When they were cleanly “dressed up” in European clothing, they didn’t look bad at all, although I’m not saying they would be considered particularly beautiful.
Some of the “black fellers” had merely a jacket, others only a shirt: the garments, however, were merely put on for the occasion, to be soon after laid aside, as they find clothing materially obstruct them when engaged in hunting or other expeditions. The putting on the European garments serves merely to gratify their vanity, making them look “like white feller,” as they express it. Having observed, to one who petitioned me for a pair of “inexpressibles,” to look[325] “like white feller,” that his father did not wear breeches; he replied, “My fadder no see white feller trowsers—if make a light (see) make get; but no white feller sit down this place when my fadder here.”
Some of the “black fellers” were just wearing a jacket, while others only had a shirt on. However, these clothes were only worn for the occasion and would soon be taken off because they find that clothing gets in the way when they're hunting or on other adventures. Putting on European clothes just satisfies their vanity, making them look “like white feller,” as they put it. When I pointed out to someone who asked me for a pair of “inexpressibles” that he looked “like white feller,” and mentioned that his father didn't wear pants, he replied, “My fadder no see white feller trowsers—if make a light (see) make get; but no white feller sit down this place when my fadder here.”
The “ladies” are conspicuous principally for their head gear; glowing in grease and red ochre, the ringlets of these “dark angels” were decorated with opossum tails, the extremities of other animals, and the incisor teeth of the kangaroo; some had the “Cambun” (“Bolombine” of the Tumat country,) or fillet daubed with pipe-clay bound round the forehead: this ornament is sometimes made from the stringy bark tree, as well as from the tendons of the kangaroo’s tail: lateral lines of pipe-clay ornamented the upper part of their faces, breast, and arms. Both men and women have raised cicatrices over the breast, arms, and back; but the forms of these personal decorations are various. They regarded with a degree of awe, a keyed bugle, with which a gentleman amused himself at this place: they called it the Cobbong (large) whistle; and were more pleased with the slow airs played upon it, than those of a lively and quick movement.
The “ladies” stand out mainly because of their headgear; glistening with grease and red ochre, the ringlets of these “dark angels” were adorned with opossum tails, the ends of other animals, and kangaroo teeth. Some had the “Cambun” (known as the “Bolombine” in the Tumat country), or a fillet smeared with pipe clay tied around their foreheads: this ornament can sometimes be made from stringy bark or from the tendons of a kangaroo’s tail. Lateral lines of pipe clay decorated the upper part of their faces, as well as their breasts and arms. Both men and women had raised scars on their breasts, arms, and backs, but the designs of these personal decorations varied. They regarded a keyed bugle, which a gentleman played for entertainment in this area, with a sense of awe; they called it the Cobbong (large) whistle and preferred the slow tunes played on it over the lively, fast-paced ones.
On the evening of Christmas Day we adjourned to the verandah: the scene was beautiful; the heavy clouds, which had previously obscured[326] the heavens, had passed away: the sun, about to set, cast a red glow over the beautiful scenery of fields of golden grain; numerous herds of cattle and flocks of sheep scattered over different parts of the extensive plains; the elegant, drooping, young manna trees, and the sombre foliage of the Banksia, or honeysuckle; the picturesque wooded hills, with declivities covered with verdure to the plains beneath, and the farthest view terminated by distant mountains, formed a splendid prospect.
On Christmas evening, we moved to the porch: the view was stunning; the heavy clouds that had been blocking the sky were gone. The setting sun cast a red glow over the beautiful landscape of golden grain fields; herds of cattle and flocks of sheep were scattered across the vast plains; the graceful, drooping young manna trees and the dark foliage of the Banksia, or honeysuckle; the picturesque wooded hills, with slopes covered in greenery leading down to the plains, and the distant mountains created a spectacular sight.
My attention was recalled from the enjoyment of this tranquil scene, by the noisy revelry of the blacks, whose approaches towards civilization were manifested by their getting intoxicated. The camp was now one scene of tumult and confusion: the huts, of a weak and temporary construction, were thrown down; the men, inebriated with “bull,” were chasing the women and children with sticks, who scampered away to escape the punishment awarded to their mockery: numerous curses, in English, proceeded from the lips of the inebriated blacks, being terms more expressive than any their limited language could afford. As the men swore, the women screamed and talked incessantly.
My attention was pulled away from enjoying this calm scene by the loud partying of the black people, whose moves toward civilization were shown by their drunkenness. The camp was now a scene of chaos and confusion: the huts, poorly built and temporary, were knocked down; the men, intoxicated on “bull,” were chasing the women and children with sticks, who ran away to avoid the punishment for their teasing: countless curses in English came from the mouths of the drunken men, using terms that were more expressive than anything their limited language could provide. As the men swore, the women screamed and talked nonstop.
One of them came to me the following morning, and said, “You ought give black feller[327] milliken, (milk,) bullock, and sheep, for white feller come up here, drive away opossum and kangaroo, and poor black feller get noting to patta (eat,) merry, merry, get hungry,”—a very true tale, thought I.
One of them came to me the next morning and said, “You should give the Black guy milk, bull, and sheep because the white guy comes up here, drives away the possum and kangaroo, and the poor Black guy gets nothing to eat, he's really hungry,”—a very true story, I thought.
Kangaroo rats, called in the native language “Kánaman,” were numerous about this place; they are lively playful little animals, and when in confinement will drink milk and eat manna with avidity; their fur is as fine as that of the larger species of kangaroo. It is said to be found abundantly about the “Stringy Bark” ranges, forming rude nests of the fibrous bark. At a beautiful spot on the Wollondilly, not far distant from the plains, and at a part of the river forming even at this, the summer season, a fine sheet of water, called “Karoa” by the natives,[124] the “Burriol,” or musk ducks, with their young, the “Gunarung,” or wood-ducks, as well as other kinds of waterfowl, were seen in great numbers; and occasionally, about the marshes, the native companion, or Curaduck of the aborigines.
Kangaroo rats, known in the local language as “Kánaman,” were plentiful in this area; they are lively, playful little creatures, and when kept in captivity, they eagerly drink milk and eat manna; their fur is as soft as that of the larger kinds of kangaroos. They are reportedly found in abundance around the “Stringy Bark” ranges, where they create makeshift nests from the fibrous bark. At a beautiful spot on the Wollondilly, not far from the plains, there is a part of the river that forms a lovely sheet of water even in the summer, known as “Karoa” by the locals. Here, numerous “Burriol,” or musk ducks, along with their young, and the “Gunarung,” or wood-ducks, as well as other types of waterfowl, were seen in large numbers; and occasionally, around the marshes, the native companion, or Curaduck, from the aboriginal people.
During this short excursion, a young black was stung by a wasp, and although he no doubt suffered severe pain, he yet disdained to utter a cry or a groan; he threw himself upon the ground, and rolled about, but no sound escaped his lips.
During this brief outing, a young Black boy was stung by a wasp, and even though he was clearly in a lot of pain, he refused to let out a cry or a groan; he threw himself on the ground and rolled around, but no sound came from his mouth.
The bronzed-winged pigeon, the “Obungalong” in the aboriginal language, was abundant at this season. It constructs, like the pigeon tribe generally, a rude nest of sticks upon the forked branches of a tree, and lays two or more white eggs.
The bronzed-winged pigeon, called "Obungalong" in the aboriginal language, was plentiful during this season. It builds a simple nest of sticks on the forked branches of a tree, laying two or more white eggs.
There is a spider which I frequently observed about Yas Plains, and also at other parts of the colony, which forms a den in the ground; the opening is about an inch in diameter; over this a lid is formed of web, incorporated with earth, and a web hinge, accurately filling the external aperture, which the animal can shut at pleasure. I have heard of a person who was accustomed to feed one of these insects; after feeding, it would enter the habitation, and shut down the lid, by drawing it close with one of its claws. It is nearly impossible to discover their habitations when the lid is closed, from its being so accurately fitted to the aperture.
There’s a spider that I often see around Yas Plains and other areas of the colony. It creates a den in the ground with an entrance about an inch wide. It covers this opening with a lid made of web mixed with dirt, and it has a web hinge that perfectly fits the outside opening, allowing the spider to close it whenever it wants. I heard about someone who used to feed one of these spiders; after being fed, it would go back into its home and close the lid using one of its claws. It’s nearly impossible to find their homes when the lid is shut because it fits so perfectly.
CHAPTER XVII.
Arrive at Wombat Brush—Animals called Wombat—Parched country—Road-side houses—Colonial English—Column to the memory of La Perouse—Death of Le Receveur—Sydney police-office—The Bustard—Botanic garden—The aborigines—King Dungaree—The castor-oil shrub—Diseases of Australia—New Zealanders—Australian ladies—Prejudice against travellers from Botany Bay—Anecdote—A fishing excursion—Cephalopodous animals—Conclusion of the author’s researches in this colony.
Arrive at Wombat Brush—Animals called Wombats—Dry land—Houses by the road—Colonial English—Column in memory of La Perouse—Death of Le Receveur—Sydney police station—The Bustard—Botanic garden—The Aboriginal people—King Dungaree—The castor-oil plant—Diseases in Australia—New Zealanders—Australian women—Bias against travelers from Botany Bay—Anecdote—A fishing trip—Cephalopod animals—Conclusion of the author’s research in this colony.
On the 30th of December I left Goulburn Plains, and arrived the same evening at Arthursleigh. On the day following I crossed the “Uringalle,” (more commonly known by the name of “Paddy’s river,”) and arrived at “Wombat Brush.” This tract of forest land was so named from being formerly frequented by a number of the animals called “Wombat,” but which are now rarely or never seen in the vicinity of the settlement, the whole having been nearly destroyed. About the Tumat and Murrumbidgee country I witnessed numerous burrows; and certain marks of the[330] animals indicative of their presence; but they can but seldom be seen, as they remain in the burrows during the day, coming out to feed at night.
On December 30th, I left Goulburn Plains and arrived that same evening at Arthursleigh. The next day, I crossed the “Uringalle,” which is more commonly known as “Paddy’s River,” and arrived at “Wombat Brush.” This area of forest was named because it used to be home to a number of animals called “Wombats,” but they are now rarely or never seen near the settlement, as their population has nearly been wiped out. Around the Tumat and Murrumbidgee regions, I saw a lot of burrows and some signs that indicated the animals were around, but they are seldom spotted since they stay in their burrows during the day and only come out to feed at night.
One of these animals kept at “Been,” in the Tumat country, alive and in a tame state, would remain in its habitation until dark; it would then come out, and seek for the keelers or milk vessels; and should none be uncovered, would contrive to get off the covers, bathe itself in the milk, drinking at the same time. It would also enter the little vegetable garden attached to the station, in search of lettuces, to which it evinced much partiality; if none could be found, it would gnaw the cabbage-stalks, without touching the foliage. Although numerous in the more distant parts of the colony, they are difficult to procure, from the great depth to which they burrow.
One of these animals kept at “Been” in the Tumat country, when alive and domesticated, would stay in its home until dark. Then it would come out to look for the milk containers. If it didn’t find any uncovered, it would figure out how to remove the covers, bathe itself in the milk, and drink at the same time. It would also go into the small vegetable garden at the station in search of lettuces, which it really liked; if none were available, it would chew on the cabbage stalks without touching the leaves. Although they are numerous in the more remote areas of the colony, they are hard to catch because of how deep they burrow.
Having passed the “ploughed ground,” Bong Bong, Mittagong range, &c. I continued, through a country parched by the summer heats, or having a burnt aspect, from the custom among the settlers or natives, of setting fire to the dried grass. The scorched and arid appearance of the land, as my journey led towards Sydney, was wretched, compared with the beautiful verdant plains and ranges I had left in the Tumat, Murrumbidgee, and Yas countries. The harvest was for the most[331] part reaped; a few scattered patches animated by the verdure of the young maize springing up, and the yellow flowers of the native “Jibbong,” (Persoonia sp.,) with a few other flowering shrubs, scattered about, was all that cheered the eye of the traveller on the journey. I arrived at Sydney on the 2nd of Jan. 1833.
Having passed the “ploughed ground,” Bong Bong, Mittagong range, etc., I continued through a land dried out by the summer heat, or looking burnt due to the practice among the settlers or locals of setting fire to the dried grass. The scorched and dry look of the land as I traveled toward Sydney was bleak compared to the beautiful green plains and ranges I had left behind in the Tumut, Murrumbidgee, and Yass regions. Most of the harvest had been gathered; a few scattered patches brought some life with the green of young maize sprouting up, and the yellow blooms of the native “Jibbong” (Persoonia sp.), along with a few other flowering shrubs spread out, were all that brightened the eye of the traveler on the journey. I arrived in Sydney on January 2, 1833.
The houses by the road side, on the approach to Sydney from Liverpool, or Paramatta, are very neat in their construction. A bark-hut near the “metropolis” is daily becoming rarer; they are speedily giving place to neat and even elegant verandah cottages. There are certainly an abundance of public-houses in the colony, and the neat, clean appearance of the attendants, as well as the interior of the inns, may vie with those in the mother-country. The signs of the taverns assume every variety, all but that of Temperance.
The houses along the road heading to Sydney from Liverpool or Paramatta are really well-built. Bark huts near the “metropolis” are becoming rare; they’re quickly being replaced by tidy and even stylish verandah cottages. There are definitely plenty of pubs in the colony, and the tidy, clean look of the staff, along with the interiors of the inns, can compete with those in the home country. The signs of the taverns come in every variety, except for that of Temperance.
It has often been mentioned by writers upon the United States of America, that a purer and more correct English is spoken in that country than in the “old country,” where it is corrupted by so many different provincial dialects. The remark respecting the United States of America will equally apply to Australia; for among the native-born Australians, (descended from European parents,) the English spoken is very pure; and it is easy to recognize a person[332] from home or one born in the colony, no matter of what class of society, from this circumstance.
It has often been pointed out by writers about the United States that a clearer and more accurate English is spoken there than in the “old country,” where it's mixed with so many different regional dialects. This observation about the United States also applies to Australia; among the native-born Australians (descended from European parents), the English spoken is very clear, and it's easy to identify someone from home or someone born in the colony, regardless of their social class, based on this fact.[332]
On a spot near the entrance to Botany Bay, (so named by Sir Joseph Banks, and “Sting Ray Bay,” from the number of that fish captured there by Captain Cook,) a neat column has been erected by Mr. Joshua Thorp, (at that time the government architect,) from a design by Mr. Cookney, to the memory of La Perouse; the expense of its erection being paid by a subscription from the officers of the French discovery ships, which visited the colony in 1824; the colonial government supplying convict labourers. It is situated on a little elevation not far from the place at which Captain Cook landed. The column is circular, standing on a pedestal, and surmounted by a sphere. Its elevation may be about fifteen feet. This was the last place whence intelligence was received from the indefatigable but unfortunate navigator. The inscriptions on the pedestal are in English and French, and as follow:—“This place, visited by Mons. de la Perouse in 1788, is the last whence any accounts of him were received. Erected in the name of France by M.M. de Bougainville and Ducampier, commanding the frigate La Thetis and the corvette L’Esperance, lying in Port Jackson. An. 1825.” About one hundred yards distant, inland from this column, near a red gum tree, are interred[333] the remains of Pere le Receveur, one of the naturalists attached to Perouse’s expedition, who died at Botany Bay, in 1788. On the red-gum tree was the following inscription, carved by one of the officers attached to Bougainville’s expedition:—“Prés de cet arbre. Reposent les restes, Du P. Le Receveur. Visité en Mars, 1824.”
On a spot near the entrance to Botany Bay, (named by Sir Joseph Banks, and “Sting Ray Bay” due to the many stingrays caught there by Captain Cook), a neat column has been built by Mr. Joshua Thorp (who was the government architect at that time) from a design by Mr. Cookney, in memory of La Perouse. The costs for its erection were covered by a subscription from the officers of the French discovery ships that visited the colony in 1824, with the colonial government providing convict laborers. It is located on a small rise not far from where Captain Cook landed. The column is circular, standing on a pedestal, and topped with a sphere. Its height is about fifteen feet. This was the last location where updates were received from the relentless but unfortunate navigator. The inscriptions on the pedestal are in English and French, as follows:—“This place, visited by Mons. de la Perouse in 1788, is the last from which any accounts of him were received. Erected in the name of France by M.M. de Bougainville and Ducampier, commanding the frigate La Thetis and the corvette L’Esperance, lying in Port Jackson. An. 1825.” About one hundred yards inland from this column, near a red gum tree, are buried[333] the remains of Pere le Receveur, one of the naturalists from Perouse’s expedition, who died at Botany Bay in 1788. On the red gum tree was an inscription carved by one of the officers from Bougainville’s expedition:—“Prés de cet arbre. Reposent les restes, Du P. Le Receveur. Visité en Mars, 1824.”
During the time that the French discovery ships, La Thetis and L’Esperance, lay at Port Jackson, this place was also visited by their commanders and officers; and search having been made for the exact spot where the remains of the naturalist were deposited, some of his bones were found, and over that spot a plain monument has been erected to his memory: on it was placed the following inscription:—“Hic jacet, Le Receveur, Ex. F. F. Minoribus, Galliæ Sacerdos, Physicus in Circumnavigatione Mundi Duce de la Perouse. Obiit die 17 Feb. Anno 1788.”
During the time that the French discovery ships, La Thetis and L’Esperance, were at Port Jackson, their commanders and officers also visited this place. A search was made for the exact location where the remains of the naturalist were buried. Some of his bones were found, and a simple monument has been erected in his memory over that spot. It has the following inscription: “Hic jacet, Le Receveur, Ex. F. F. Minoribus, Galliæ Sacerdos, Physicus in Circumnavigatione Mundi Duce de la Perouse. Obiit die 17 Feb. Anno 1788.”
The following account of the death of Le Receveur is given in Philipp’s Voyage to Botany Bay, &c. “During the stay of M. de la Perouse in Botany Bay, Father Le Receveur, who came out in the Astrolabe as a naturalist, died. His death was occasioned by wounds, which he received in the unfortunate rencontre at the Navigator’s Island.” A slight monument was erected to his memory. An inscription was placed on it similar to the preceding.
The following account of the death of Le Receveur is given in Philipp’s Voyage to Botany Bay, etc. “During M. de la Perouse's stay in Botany Bay, Father Le Receveur, who came on the Astrolabe as a naturalist, passed away. His death was caused by injuries he sustained during the unfortunate encounter at the Navigator’s Island.” A small monument was put up in his memory. An inscription was placed on it similar to the one before.
The Sydney police office daily produces a strange compound of characters; ludicrous scenes and incidents furnish abundance of aliment for the newspapers, who decorate many of the cases brought before the magistrate in so facetious a manner as to amuse their readers and sell the papers. The number of newspapers published in Sydney is very great, considering the small town, and many of them are well and ably conducted. The “Sydney Herald” is published twice a week; the “Sydney Gazette” three times; the “Sydney Monitor” twice; and there are other smaller papers published weekly.
The Sydney police department produces a daily mix of interesting characters; ridiculous scenes and incidents provide plenty of material for the newspapers, which cover many of the cases presented to the magistrate in such a humorous way that they entertain their readers and boost sales. The number of newspapers published in Sydney is quite large for such a small town, and many of them are well-run and professional. The “Sydney Herald” is published twice a week; the “Sydney Gazette” three times; the “Sydney Monitor” twice; and there are several other smaller papers published weekly.
At Paramatta I saw two tame specimens of the lesser Otis, or Bustard, the “Curlew” of the colony, which is abundant in this country; they were familiar with the man who was in the habit of feeding them, but averse to approach strangers. It is principally during the stillness of night that the peculiar melancholy cry and whistle of these birds are heard, seeming like the harbinger of death. While sitting one night by the bed-side of a young man, expiring from a decline, I heard the note of the bird, unbroken by any other sound; it came over my senses like a knell summoning the departing spirit to its last long home.[125]
At Paramatta, I saw two domesticated examples of the lesser Otis, or Bustard, known as the “Curlew” in the colony, which is plentiful in this country. They were used to the man who regularly fed them but kept their distance from strangers. It's mostly at night that you can hear their distinct, mournful call and whistle, sounding almost like a signal of death. One night, while sitting beside a young man who was dying from an illness, I heard the bird's call, clear and uninterrupted by any other noise. It filled my senses like a funeral bell, calling the departing soul to its final resting place.[125]
Among the attractions which Sydney presents to the visitor is the Botanic Garden, with its neat and tastefully arranged walks; it is, however, to be regretted, that this establishment, as a “botanic garden,” is not encouraged, it being, in fact, merely a government vegetable and fruit garden. Such an establishment would be most valuable as a nursery for the introduction of trees, shrubs, or plants, estimable either for timber, fruits, flowers, or dyes, and thus add to the resources of the colony; by its means how many valuable productions might be introduced: at present exotics are almost entirely confined to the gardens of a few intelligent settlers. Still there are several trees and plants introduced from New Zealand, the north-west, and other parts of Australia, Cape, &c. A fine healthy specimen of the “Adenanthos sericea” has been successfully introduced, (which is correctly figured in Labillardiere’s Plant. Nov.[336] Holl. Tab. 38,) which shows that shrubs, &c. from King George’s Sound (to which place this one is indigenous,) can be grown in perfection at Port Jackson.
Among the attractions that Sydney offers to visitors is the Botanic Garden, with its well-kept and beautifully arranged pathways. However, it's unfortunate that this place, as a "botanic garden," isn’t really supported; it’s essentially just a governmental vegetable and fruit garden. Such a facility could be incredibly valuable as a nursery for introducing trees, shrubs, or plants that are important for timber, fruits, flowers, or dyes, thereby enhancing the colony’s resources. Imagine how many valuable products could be introduced: right now, exotic plants are mostly limited to the gardens of a few knowledgeable settlers. Still, there are several trees and plants that have been brought in from New Zealand, the northwest, and other regions of Australia, Cape, etc. A robust specimen of the “Adenanthos sericea” has been successfully introduced (which is accurately illustrated in Labillardiere’s Plant. Nov.[336] Holl. Tab. 38), indicating that shrubs from King George’s Sound (where this plant is native) can thrive perfectly at Port Jackson.
In a pond the pretty white flowers and dark leaves of Damasonium ovatifolium were floating, and may be often seen swimming on the surface of the more tardy streams in the colony. The New Zealand flax plant does not appear to thrive well, nor has it yet flowered; the best plants I have seen were at the “Vineyard,” the residence of H. M’Arthur, Esq., who has planted it in a moister soil. The Karaka tree, (Corynocarpus lævigata,) of New Zealand, was in thriving condition, having reached the elevation of from six to nearly fourteen feet, and borne fruit.
In a pond, the lovely white flowers and dark leaves of Damasonium ovatifolium were floating and can often be seen gliding on the surface of the slower streams in the area. The New Zealand flax plant doesn't seem to grow very well and hasn't flowered yet; the healthiest plants I've seen were at the “Vineyard,” the home of H. M’Arthur, Esq., who has planted it in richer soil. The Karaka tree (Corynocarpus lævigata) from New Zealand was doing well, having grown to a height of six to nearly fourteen feet and produced fruit.
The New Zealand species of Dracæna, (or Tee of the natives of that country,) grows and flowers well not only in these gardens, but is frequently seen planted in front of the dwelling houses in and about Sydney; as also that lofty species of Araucaria, (A. excelsa,) commonly known by the name of Norfolk Island pine.[126] The Indian bamboo also grows very luxuriantly in the gardens, and in that part of the domain[337] near the government house. The Callistachys ovata, from King George’s Sound, was also in flower; it is an elegant shrub, having a silvery pubescence over the leaves, and bears handsome clusters of yellow flowers. The Hibiscus splendens, from Moreton Bay, was also in full bloom; its large and elegant pink flowers being full five inches in diameter. Numerous species of Eucalypti, Banksia, &c. from the interior of the colony, as also from Moreton Bay, and other portions of the Australian coast, were in a thriving state; and a species of Dracæna, bearing purple flowers, and brought from Moreton Bay, was in blossom.
The New Zealand species of Dracæna, (or Tee of the locals of that country), grows and flowers well not just in these gardens, but is often seen planted in front of homes in and around Sydney; as well as that tall species of Araucaria, (A. excelsa), commonly known as Norfolk Island pine.[126] The Indian bamboo also grows very well in the gardens, particularly in that part of the domain[337] near the government house. The Callistachys ovata, from King George’s Sound, was also in flower; it’s a lovely shrub with a silvery sheen on the leaves and shows off beautiful clusters of yellow flowers. The Hibiscus splendens, from Moreton Bay, was also in full bloom, with its large and elegant pink flowers measuring about five inches in diameter. Many species of Eucalypti, Banksia, etc., from the interior of the colony, as well as from Moreton Bay and other parts of the Australian coast, were thriving; and a species of Dracæna with purple flowers, brought from Moreton Bay, was also in bloom.
About Sydney, however, in January, the beauty of the floral kingdom had in some degree passed away: Melaleuca myrtifolia, Leptospermum, Xanthorrea hastile, and other species; Calicoma serratifolia; Gompholobium; Lambertia formosa; Isopogon anethifolius; Enokelia major and minor; Billardieria scandens; and a few others still remaining, covered with blossoms, to animate the scene with their varied tints and brilliancy of appearance. The shrubs of the Staphelia viridiflora were now in fruit; which, when ripe, is of a purplish black colour, having a sweetish taste, and is gathered and sold in the shops under the popular name of “five corners:” this name, no doubt, was applied[338] to it on account of the calyx projecting in five points above the fruit. The gardens are laid out in very neat order, and Mr. Richard Cunningham having arrived from England with an appointment as colonial botanist, it may be hoped from his known talent and assiduity that the colony will soon have a “Botanic Garden,” in lieu of a repository for turnips and carrots.
About Sydney, though, by January, the beauty of the floral kingdom had somewhat faded: Melaleuca myrtifolia, Leptospermum, Xanthorrea hastile, and other species; Calicoma serratifolia; Gompholobium; Lambertia formosa; Isopogon anethifolius; Enokelia major and minor; Billardieria scandens; and a few others still remained, covered in blossoms, brightening the scene with their diverse colors and striking appearance. The shrubs of the Staphelia viridiflora were now bearing fruit, which, when ripe, is a purplish-black color, has a sweetish taste, and is sold in shops under the popular name of “five corners:” this name was likely given because the calyx projects in five points above the fruit. The gardens are laid out in very neat order, and with Mr. Richard Cunningham arriving from England appointed as the colonial botanist, we can hope that, given his known talent and hard work, the colony will soon have a “Botanic Garden,” instead of just a place for turnips and carrots.
The aborigines are often seen about Sydney; but to me they appear, probably from their vicious habits, a far worse-looking race than those I had seen in the interior. The celebrated King Bungaree had recently ended his mortal career, as well as most of his tribe, none of them ever having been induced to settle and cultivate the soil for subsistence. It is related, that in the time of the government of General Macquarie there was an attempt made, by distributing seeds among them, to induce the natives to cultivate the ground: among the packets of seed sent for distribution were some which contained fish-hooks; these, together with the seeds, were given by the governor to the sable monarch, King Bungaree. Some time after the governor inquired of him whether the seeds had yet come up—“Oh berry well, berry well,” exclaimed Bungaree, “all make come up berry well, except dem fish-hooks, them no come up yet.”
The Aboriginal people are often seen around Sydney; but to me, they look like a much rougher group than those I had encountered inland, probably due to their problematic habits. The famous King Bungaree had recently passed away, along with most of his tribe, none of whom had ever been encouraged to settle down and farm the land for food. It was said that during General Macquarie's administration, there was an effort to get the natives to cultivate the land by distributing seeds to them: among the seed packets sent out were some that contained fish-hooks; these, along with the seeds, were given by the governor to King Bungaree. Some time later, when the governor asked him if the seeds had started growing, Bungaree replied, “Oh very well, very well, all come up very well, except those fish-hooks, they haven’t come up yet.”
The castor oil shrub (Ricinus communis) abounds in the colony both in a wild and cultivated state, thriving even in the most arid soils; yet the oil is still imported and sold in the colony at a high price, when by very little attention any quantity could be expressed from the seeds, not only for medicinal, but likewise for domestic purposes; such as burning in lamps; for which latter purpose it is used in some parts of South America, as well as by the Javanese and others. There are two methods employed to extract the oil—coction and expression; the first is performed by tying the seeds, previously decorticated and bruised, in a bag, and then suspending in boiling water until all the oil is extracted, and, rising to the surface of the water, is skimmed off.
The castor oil plant (Ricinus communis) is abundant in the colony, growing both wild and cultivated, and it thrives even in the driest soils. Still, the oil is imported and sold at a high price in the colony, even though with just a bit of effort, anyone could extract it from the seeds, which could be used for medicinal and household purposes, like fueling lamps. This oil is used for lamp burning in some parts of South America, as well as by the Javanese and others. There are two methods for extracting the oil—cooking and pressing. The cooking method involves tying the seeds, which have been shelled and crushed, in a bag and then suspending it in boiling water until all the oil is released and floats to the surface, where it can be skimmed off.
This mode of preparation is still preferred by many of the West Indian practitioners; but as the oil is apt to get rancid when thus prepared, it is now obtained, both at home and abroad, by subjecting the seeds to the press in the same manner as the almond. The oil obtained is equal to one-fourth of the weight of the seeds employed. The acrid principle is contained in the cotyledons, and not in the embryon, nor in the testa. It is of a volatile nature. Good expressed castor oil is nearly inodorous and[340] insipid; but the best leaves a slight sensation of acrimony in the throat after it is swallowed. It is thick, viscid, transparent, and colourless, or of a pale straw colour: that which is obtained by coction has a brownish hue; and both kinds, when they become rancid, thicken, deepen in colour to reddish brown, and acquire a hot, nauseous taste. It has all the chemical characters of the other expressed oils, except that it is heavier, and is very soluble in alcohol, and also in sulphuric ether.[127]
This method of preparation is still favored by many West Indian practitioners. However, since the oil tends to go rancid when made this way, it is now produced, both locally and internationally, by pressing the seeds similar to how almonds are processed. The oil extracted is about a quarter of the weight of the seeds used. The bitter component is found in the cotyledons, not in the embryo or the seed coat. It is volatile in nature. Good castor oil has almost no smell and is tasteless; however, the best kind leaves a mild burning sensation in the throat after swallowing. It is thick, sticky, clear, and colorless or a light straw color. The type obtained by cooking has a brownish tint, and both types become thick, dark reddish-brown, and develop a hot, unpleasant taste when they go rancid. It possesses all the chemical characteristics of other pressed oils, except it is denser and highly soluble in alcohol and sulfuric ether.[340]
Few diseases can be said to be produced by the climate of Australia: dissipation and numerous vices introduced from home have caused some to prevail extensively in the populous town of Sydney, but in the interior they are comparatively few. A number of persons perish from that fatal disease consumption; but I do not regard it as produced by the climate, as it invariably attacks persons from England, of dissipated habits, or of employments uncongenial to health. The vice of intemperance prevails extensively, and renders the bills of mortality much greater than could be supposed from the population and acknowledged salubrity of the climate.
Few diseases can be said to be caused by the climate of Australia: excess and various vices brought from home have led to some becoming widespread in the busy city of Sydney, but in the countryside, they are relatively few. Some people die from the deadly disease tuberculosis; however, I don’t consider it a result of the climate, as it usually affects people from England who have unhealthy lifestyles or jobs that aren't suited to good health. The issue of excessive drinking is widespread and contributes significantly to the mortality rates, which are much higher than one might expect given the population and recognized healthiness of the climate.
New Zealanders are now employed at Sydney as labourers, and are much esteemed for their[341] steady and sober habits: they are also careful of the money they earn:—as an instance, one of them, who had just returned to Sydney from a whaling voyage, on receiving his wages, placed the amount in the hands of a gentleman, from whom he drew occasionally, about ten shillings at a time, to purchase clothes, or any other necessary article.
New Zealanders are now working in Sydney as laborers and are highly regarded for their[341] consistent and responsible habits. They also handle their earnings carefully. For example, one of them, who had just come back to Sydney from a whaling trip, took his wages and handed the total over to a gentleman. He would then withdraw about ten shillings at a time to buy clothes or any other essentials.
The Australian ladies may compete for personal beauty and elegance with any European, although satirized as “corn-stalks” from the slenderness of their forms. It is true their reserve is great, but it proceeds from diffidence, for in family intercourse they are both animated and communicative. Their education, from a deficiency of good schools, was formerly much neglected, except they were sent to Europe for that purpose; but now that cause of complaint is removed by the establishment of several respectable seminaries and teachers; so the high degree of natural talent the Australian females really possess may now be improved by proper cultivation. Even among the male Australians there is a taciturnity proceeding from natural diffidence and reserve, not from any want of mental resources: this led one of their more lively countrymen to observe, “that they could do every thing but speak.”
The Australian women can hold their own in terms of beauty and elegance against any European, even if they’re teased as “corn-stalks” for their slim figures. While they may seem reserved, this comes from shyness; in family interactions, they are lively and talkative. Their education was often overlooked due to a lack of good schools, unless they went to Europe for that purpose. However, this issue has been addressed with the establishment of several reputable schools and teachers, allowing the natural talent of Australian women to be nurtured properly. Even among Australian men, there is a tendency to be quiet that stems from natural shyness and reserve, not from a lack of intelligence: one of their more outgoing countrymen noted, “they can do everything but talk.”
It has been said that formerly it was dangerous in England to inform a fellow-traveller of having just arrived from Botany Bay, as he will soon shun your acquaintance; but visitors from that country must, after the following anecdote, stand a worse chance in the celestial empire. A ship arriving at China from Australia, the commander, when asked by the Chinese where the ship came from, jocosely answered, “From New South Wales, where all the English thieves are sent.” The inhabitants of the empire, taking the joke seriously, reported this and every other ship which arrived from that country to the mandarin as “ship from thiefo country: one thiefo captain, three thiefo officers, twenty-five thiefo crew.” And when the Hooghly arrived with the late governor of New South Wales, it was—“One thiefo viceroy of thiefo country, with several thiefo attendants.” The thiefo viceroy’s lady landing at Macao, was not reported to the mandarin.
It has been said that it used to be dangerous in England to tell a fellow traveler that you just arrived from Botany Bay, as they would quickly avoid you. However, after hearing the following story, travelers from that place might have an even tougher time in the celestial empire. When a ship arrived in China from Australia, the captain jokingly told the Chinese that the ship came from New South Wales, “where all the English thieves are sent.” The inhabitants of the empire took this joke seriously and reported this and every other ship arriving from that place to the mandarin as “ship from thiefo country: one thiefo captain, three thiefo officers, twenty-five thiefo crew.” And when the Hooghly arrived with the former governor of New South Wales, they reported it as “One thiefo viceroy of thiefo country, with several thiefo attendants.” The thiefo viceroy’s lady, when she landed at Macao, was not reported to the mandarin.
One afternoon, a party was formed for a fishing excursion in Port Jackson: we took a seine with us, and pulled out to a fine bay or cove, called “Chowder Bay,” a picturesque little spot, and not far distant in the harbour from the north head at the entrance of Port Jackson. On the seine being hauled, immense numbers of the[343] Balistes, more commonly known by the name of “Leather Jackets,” from the great toughness of their skins, of various sizes were obtained. This fish is troublesome to hook-and-line fishermen, from biting their hook into two parts. It was probably this circumstance that caused the name of File-fish to be conferred upon them. Their flesh is not used by Europeans; but the blacks eat them. Several sting-rays (Trygon pastinaca? of Cuvier) were also caught, together with numerous specimens of Diodon; Sygnathus, and two species of Mullus; one was the Mullus barbatus, Linn., of a bright-red colour, “Le Rouget” of the French: this is the species said to be so celebrated for the excellence of its flavour, as well as the pleasure the Romans took in contemplating the changes of colour it experienced while dying.
One afternoon, we organized a fishing trip in Port Jackson. We took a seine net with us and headed out to a beautiful bay called “Chowder Bay,” a picturesque little spot not far from the north head at the entrance of Port Jackson. When we hauled in the seine, we caught a huge number of [343] Balistes, commonly known as “Leather Jackets,” because of the toughness of their skin, in various sizes. This fish is a pain for hook-and-line fishermen since it can bite through their hooks. That might be why they also got the name File-fish. Europeans don't eat them, but Indigenous Australians do. We also caught several stingrays (Trygon pastinaca? of Cuvier) along with many specimens of Diodon, Sygnathus, and two types of Mullus; one was the Mullus barbatus, Linn., which has a bright red color, known as “Le Rouget” in French. This species is famous for its excellent flavor and was also appreciated by the Romans for the color changes it went through while dying.
The “Cat-fish,” (Silurus,) said to have the power of stinging with the tentaculæ or feelers, which pend from about the external part of the mouth, large quantities of the Chœtodon fasciata, or Banded Chœtodon, and several species of bream, were caught in this and other coves so numerous in the splendid harbour of Port Jackson.
The “Cat-fish” (Silurus) is said to have the ability to sting with the tentacles or feelers that hang down from around its mouth. Large numbers of the Chœtodon fasciata, or Banded Chœtodon, along with several types of bream, were caught in this and other coves that are plentiful in the beautiful harbor of Port Jackson.
Several large cephalopodous animals, Loligo of Lamarck, Les Calmars of Cuvier, were frequently[344] taken in the seine. If taken in the hand alive, they would, with the succulent tentaculæ, draw the fingers of the person holding them towards their parrot-beaked mouths, and inflict a severe bite: they also discharge, when captured, a large quantity of thick black fluid, a very minute proportion of which suffices to render turbid a large quantity of water. Should this black liquid fall upon linen clothes, it produces a stain difficult, if at all possible, to be removed. It is from this fluid that the material known by the name of China or Indian ink, is manufactured. The ancients were also accustomed to use it as a writing ink, and esteemed the flesh as a delicacy. Most of the eastern natives, and those among the Polynesian islands, partake of it, and esteem it as food: they may be seen exposed for sale in the bazaars throughout India.
Several large cephalopod animals, like the Loligo from Lamarck and the Calmars from Cuvier, were frequently caught in the seine. If you handle them alive, their succulent tentacles will pull your fingers toward their parrot-like beaks and give you a painful bite. They also release a large amount of thick black fluid when captured, and even a tiny bit of it can make a lot of water cloudy. If this black liquid gets on linen clothes, it leaves a stain that is very hard, if not impossible, to remove. This fluid is used to make the material known as China or Indian ink. The ancients also used it as writing ink and considered the flesh a delicacy. Many eastern natives, as well as people from the Polynesian islands, eat it and regard it as food; you can often see it for sale in bazaars throughout India.
Having brought my researches in this colony to a conclusion for the present, I have to regret the limited portion of time I was able to devote to the investigation of its various natural productions, &c., so numerous and interesting in all portions of the great continent of Australia. The discoveries already made have been numerous; and, when it is considered that an immense tract of country still remains unexplored, many treasures[345] in every department of natural history may yet be looked for from this comparatively new and extraordinary portion of the globe.
Having wrapped up my research in this colony for now, I regret that I could only spend a limited amount of time exploring its various natural resources, which are so numerous and fascinating across the vast continent of Australia. The discoveries made so far are many; and when you consider that a huge area of the country is still unexplored, there are likely many treasures[345] in every field of natural history waiting to be found in this relatively new and remarkable part of the world.
To the botanist and zoologist, objects of peculiar interest are continually presenting themselves, not previously described, or indeed known in Europe. While a field of investigation might be opened by the geologist, the cultivation of which may be expected to repay his labours a thousand fold.
To botanists and zoologists, unique objects of interest are constantly emerging, not previously described or even known in Europe. While geologists might open up a new area of research, the effort put into it is likely to pay off many times over.
CHAPTER XVIII.
Leave Sydney—Rottenest Island—Colonial prospects—Voyage to Batavia—Prince’s Island—The Java coast—Anchor in Batavia roads—The river—Alligators—Streets of Batavia—M. Choulan’s tavern—Forests—Java ponies—A veterinary monkey—Public buildings—The traveller’s tree—Celebrated Javanese chief—Sketch of his life and actions—Exactions of the Dutch government—The orang-utan—Society in Batavia—Animals of Java—Doves—Dried specimen of the hippocampus.
Leave Sydney—Rottnest Island—Colonial opportunities—Voyage to Batavia—Prince’s Island—The Java coast—Anchor in Batavia roads—The river—Alligators—Streets of Batavia—M. Choulan’s tavern—Forests—Java ponies—A veterinary monkey—Public buildings—The traveler’s tree—Famous Javanese chief—Overview of his life and actions—Demands of the Dutch government—The orangutan—Society in Batavia—Animals of Java—Doves—Dried specimen of the hippocampus.
On the 14th of March I left Sydney, in the ship “Sir Thomas Munro,” for Batavia, taking the southern passage, the winds obliged us to pass round Van Dieman’s Land. On the 22nd, “Schouten’s Island” was seen bearing west by south, and “St. Patrick’s Head,” north-west by compass, about twenty-five miles distant; and on the 23rd, Cape Pillar bore west by south-half-south; and “Maria Island” north by west-half-west by compass; distant about thirty miles. We had to beat against strong westerly winds; and at noon, of the 22nd of April, D’Entrecasteaux Point bore east by north, distant about[347] twenty miles, and extreme of the land to the northward, north-east by compass. The appearance of the coast was sterile. On the 23rd, we passed “Cape Leeuwin.” When first seen, it had the appearance of a moderately high island, the land connecting it with the main being low, and not at that time visible from the deck.
On March 14th, I left Sydney on the ship “Sir Thomas Munro” headed for Batavia, taking the southern route. The winds forced us to go around Van Dieman’s Land. On the 22nd, we spotted “Schouten’s Island” to the west by south, and “St. Patrick’s Head” to the northwest, about twenty-five miles away. On the 23rd, Cape Pillar was located west by south-half-south, and “Maria Island” was north by west-half-west, about thirty miles distant. We struggled against strong westerly winds. At noon on April 22nd, D’Entrecasteaux Point was east by north, about twenty miles away, with the northern coastline extending northeast by compass. The coast looked barren. On the 23rd, we passed by “Cape Leeuwin.” When we first saw it, it looked like a moderately high island, but the low land connecting it to the mainland wasn’t visible from the deck at that time.
On the 26th, we were off “Rottenest Island,” which was of a moderate height, and most sterile appearance. The main land was sandy and scrubby: numerous fires were seen where land was clearing. A boat came off as we were endeavouring to beat into Gage’s roads, and came alongside, with two gentlemen in her. They could furnish us, however, with no news respecting the Dutch war, to attain information respecting which was the object of our wishing to touch at this place. In reply to our inquiries respecting the state of the new colony, they said it was rapidly progressing. Of the settlements at King George’s Sound and Port Augusta, the latter was reported as succeeding better than the former. There had been lately several arrivals with live stock from Hobart Town, and a brig, the “Dart,” from Sydney, was then standing in for Gage’s roads with a cargo of provision and live stock. Sheep at this period were selling from thirty to forty shillings each; flour from[348] twenty to thirty pounds per ton; and potatoes at the enormous price of twenty-five pounds per ton. It was expected, however, that in the course of another year the colony would be able to raise produce sufficient for its consumption. No vessels had been lost at Swan River since the first year, and with common precautions it was considered there was no risk.
On the 26th, we were off “Rottnest Island,” which was moderately high and looked very barren. The mainland was sandy and overgrown with scrub. We saw numerous fires where land was being cleared. A boat came over while we were trying to reach Gage’s roads and pulled up alongside us, carrying two gentlemen. Unfortunately, they couldn't give us any updates about the Dutch war, which was why we wanted to stop here. When we asked about the situation in the new colony, they said it was making good progress. Of the settlements at King George’s Sound and Port Augusta, the latter was doing better than the former. Recently, several boats had arrived with livestock from Hobart Town, and a brig, the “Dart,” was then sailing into Gage’s roads with food and livestock. During this time, sheep were selling for thirty to forty shillings each, flour for twenty to thirty pounds per ton, and potatoes at the staggering price of twenty-five pounds per ton. However, it was expected that within another year, the colony would be able to produce enough food for its own needs. No ships had been lost at Swan River since the first year, and with ordinary precautions, it was thought there was no risk.
At two P.M. we proceeded on our voyage to Batavia. On the 13th of May we had the south-east trade, in lat. 21° 15′ south, lon. 138° 13′ east. On the 4th of May we crossed from 108° 13′ to 106° 58′ east longitude, (in a run of eight days from Swan River,) being the track recommended by Horsburg, to look for the “Trial Rocks,” but did not see them.[128] On the 5th, several[349] tropic birds, of the roseate and white species, were about the ship, although we were then distant three hundred and seventy miles from “Christmas Island,” which was the nearest land.[129] On the 7th, boobies, frigate birds, and white and rose-coloured tropic birds, indicated the vicinity of “Christmas Island,” which was seen about midnight, by the light of the moon, bearing north-east by north, by compass, distant twelve or fourteen miles. On the 10th we were becalmed three or four miles off the south-west side of “Clapp’s Island,” which was low, densely wooded with cocoa-palms, and other trees, even to the water’s edge: a heavy surf rolled upon the sandy beach, and on reefs extending from each extremity.
At 2 PM, we set off on our journey to Batavia. On May 13th, we experienced the southeast trade winds at latitude 21° 15′ south, longitude 138° 13′ east. On May 4th, we crossed from longitude 108° 13′ to 106° 58′ east, completing an eight-day journey from Swan River. This path was recommended by Horsburg to search for the “Trial Rocks,” but we didn’t spot them.[128] On the 5th, several[349] tropic birds, both roseate and white, were flying around the ship, even though we were still 370 miles away from “Christmas Island,” the closest land.[129] On the 7th, we spotted boobies, frigate birds, and white and rose-colored tropic birds, which signaled that we were near “Christmas Island,” visible around midnight by moonlight, bearing northeast by north, and about 12 to 14 miles away. On the 10th, we were stuck for three or four miles off the southwest side of “Clapp’s Island,” which was low and thickly forested with coconut palms and other trees that reached right down to the water’s edge. A heavy surf crashed onto the sandy beach and on the reefs extending from either end.
Early in the morning, on the 11th, we were off the north-west side of “Prince’s Island,” and the land wind brought with it a delicious balmy fragrance; the extensive reef, running out a long distance from the south-west point,[350] on which a heavy surf broke, was distinctly seen. This island, low at one part, is high and mountainous at another. It was late in the afternoon before we had a clear view of its lofty peaked mountain. The island was densely wooded, having a picturesque and verdant appearance. During the morning, which was showery, we slowly coasted along the island, at about four or five miles distant. As the weather cleared up about noon, the scenery gratified the eye with its varied tints, refreshed by the genial showers, and recalled to my memory those gems of the ocean distributed over the Polynesian Archipelago.
Early in the morning on the 11th, we were off the northwest side of “Prince’s Island,” and the land breeze brought a delightful, soothing fragrance. The extensive reef extending far out from the southwest point, where heavy surf crashed, was clearly visible. This island, low in some areas, is high and mountainous in others. It wasn't until late afternoon that we finally got a clear view of its tall, pointed mountain. The island was thickly wooded, giving it a scenic and lush appearance. During the morning, which had some showers, we coasted slowly along the island, about four or five miles away. As the weather cleared around noon, the scenery pleased the eye with its varied colors, refreshed by the gentle showers, reminding me of those gems of the ocean scattered across the Polynesian Archipelago.[350]
As we proceeded along the Java coast, having the lofty Crokatoa Peak, and others of the adjacent islands in view, light and variable winds and calms, with adverse currents, rendered our passage slow and tedious, and often obliged us to anchor. We were, on these occasions, visited by canoes, with fowls, eggs, turtle, &c. The outline of this island is at some parts low, wooded, and uninteresting; whilst at others, lofty mountains rise one above the other, until the towering “Mount Karang” terminates the view. The varied tints of the vegetation, covering the mountains from the margin of the sea to the loftiest summits the eye could attain, had a[351] rich and beautiful appearance, as the setting sun cast its rays over the landscape. Occasionally the thatched Javanese habitations became visible, peeping from beneath a canopy of wood. Most Malay villages are buried amidst the foliage of tropical fruit and other trees, which form a cool and agreeable shelter; but such situations cannot be regarded as conducive to health.
As we traveled along the Java coast, with the impressive Crokatoa Peak and other nearby islands in sight, the light and shifting winds, along with calm spots and opposing currents, made our journey slow and tedious, often forcing us to anchor. During these times, we were visited by canoes bringing chickens, eggs, turtles, and more. The shape of this island is low and wooded in some areas, unremarkable in appearance, while in others, tall mountains rise one after another, culminating in the striking “Mount Karang” at the horizon. The diverse colors of the vegetation covering the mountains from the shoreline to the highest peaks the eye could see looked rich and beautiful as the setting sun illuminated the landscape. Occasionally, the thatched Javanese houses came into view, peeking out from under a leafy canopy. Most Malay villages are nestled among the greenery of tropical fruit and other trees, providing cool and pleasant shade; however, such locations cannot be deemed healthy.
After a tedious passage since making the Island of Java, we passed “Onrust Island,” which is the marine depôt, where ships are hove down and repaired; there are some neat buildings erected upon it, with rows of trees before them, in the usual Dutch style: but silence reigned; there was no bustle; and the black countenances of two sepoys were all the human beings visible. We anchored in Batavia Roads on the 21st; and the scene before us was a low wooded coast, lofty mountains in the distance; a few tiled houses, or native huts, scattered among the trees; and an extensive jetty, which is erecting on each side of the river: the town being built on a swamp, and planted with trees, was entirely concealed from the shipping in the roadstead.[130]
After a long journey since reaching the Island of Java, we passed “Onrust Island,” which is the marine depot where ships are docked and repaired. There are a few tidy buildings with rows of trees in front of them, typical of Dutch architecture, but it was very quiet; there was no activity, and the only people we could see were two sepoys with dark faces. We dropped anchor in Batavia Roads on the 21st, and the view in front of us was a low, wooded coastline with tall mountains in the distance; a handful of tiled houses or native huts were scattered among the trees, and there was a large jetty being constructed on both sides of the river. The town, built on a swamp and filled with trees, was completely hidden from the ships in the anchorage.[130]
The following day we passed up the river, by the boat being tracked: (the current running down at a rapid rate, preventing boats being pulled against it;) on each side an extensive wooden jetty was erecting, a great portion of which was now completed; it extended to the bar at the river’s entrance, with a breakwater in front, having a passage on each side for boats. The expense of the construction of this jetty is paid by a duty of five per cent. being levied upon the amount of duties on all imported goods. A number of native convicts were employed in driving piles, &c. to complete this very useful undertaking.
The next day, we moved up the river, with the boat being towed upstream (the strong current flowing down made it impossible to pull boats against it). On each side, a large wooden jetty was being built, a significant portion of which was already finished. It reached the bar at the river's entrance, with a breakwater in front and openings on either side for boats. The cost of building this jetty is covered by a five percent duty imposed on the duties of all imported goods. Several local convicts were working on driving piles and other tasks to finish this very helpful project.
On arriving at the Custom House, our boat was searched. Miserable houses lined the river on either side; cocoa-nut palms, and other trees, including the Thespesia populnea, were planted about the dwellings; masses of filth, dead and putrid bodies of dogs, hogs, and other animals, float down the river, impeding the boats in their passage: these carcases serve to feed the numerous alligators (Buáya of the Javanese) which infest the river in great numbers, but are useful in removing the putrefying substances, which would otherwise be destructive to health in this sultry climate.
Upon arriving at the Custom House, our boat was searched. Run-down houses lined the river on both sides; coconut palms and other trees, including the Thespesia populnea, were planted around the homes. Piles of garbage, along with the decaying bodies of dogs, pigs, and other animals, floated down the river, obstructing the boats as they passed through. These carcasses provided food for the many alligators (Buáya in Javanese) that swarm the river, but they help to eliminate the rotting material, which would otherwise be harmful to health in this humid climate.
The alligators are held sacred by the Javanese,[353] who consequently never destroy them: indeed, the good understanding seems mutual; for I observed native convicts working up to the waist in the water, not far from these voracious creatures, (reposing like logs on the surface of the water,) without fear or apprehension, injury from them never being experienced. Some say the alligators are too well fed with the offal and carcases coming down the river; others, that the reptiles have a respect for black skins; for should a European enter the river like the natives, he would be attacked by these formidable creatures. I saw a number of these reptiles, one morning, assembled about a dead buffalo, which had floated down the river near the bar; from the size of some of them, they must have survived several generations.
The Javanese hold alligators in high regard,[353] so they never harm them. It seems like there's a mutual understanding; I noticed local convicts working in the water up to their waists, close to these hungry creatures (lying motionless like logs on the water's surface) without any fear or concern, having never been harmed by them. Some people say the alligators are well-fed with the scraps and carcasses that wash down the river; others believe the reptiles have a preference for dark skin. If a European were to enter the river like the locals, these intimidating creatures would attack. One morning, I saw several of these reptiles gathered around a dead buffalo that had drifted down the river near the sandbar; judging by their size, some must have lived for several generations.
We landed near a row of neat houses, having trees planted in front, which conduced, in this sultry climate, to afford an agreeable shelter from the fervour of the sun: these buildings were principally occupied as stores and offices by the merchants. The streets of Batavia run for the most part in a north and south direction; are kept in neat order, regularly watered, and planted with rows of trees in the Dutch style; these formerly adorned the banks of canals, which intersected the streets, rendering the city as[354] pestilential a place as could be met with between the tropics. During the brief period the island was under the British government, the canals were filled up; the main stream of the “Grand River,” and its tributaries, alone remaining.
We landed next to a row of tidy houses with trees planted in front, which provided a nice shade from the intense heat in this humid climate. These buildings were mainly used as stores and offices by merchants. The streets of Batavia mostly run north and south; they are kept clean, regularly watered, and lined with trees in the Dutch style. These used to decorate the banks of canals that cut through the streets, making the city a[354] pretty unhealthy place to be in between the tropics. During the short time the island was under British rule, the canals were filled in, leaving only the main stream of the “Grand River” and its tributaries.
The houses in the city are spacious, but only used as offices and stores by merchants and others, on account of the insalubrity of the city during the night; having concluded business by four or five o’clock, P.M. they drive to their residences in the vicinity. On the afternoon of my arrival I drove out with Mr. Vidal, (a mercantile gentleman, resident in Batavia,) to Moolenfleet, about two miles from the city, passing on the road some mansions in the usual style of Dutch architecture, having gardens before them filled with various flowering shrubs and plants, among which the Hibiscus rosa chinensis, Poinciana pulcherrima, and Ixora, in full blossom, were conspicuous from the brilliancy of their colours.
The houses in the city are spacious, but they're mainly used as offices and stores by merchants and others because the city is unhealthy at night. After wrapping up their business by four or five o’clock, PM they head back to their homes in the area. On the afternoon I arrived, I went out with Mr. Vidal, a business guy living in Batavia, to Moolenfleet, which is about two miles from the city. On the way, we passed some mansions typical of Dutch architecture, with gardens in front filled with various flowering shrubs and plants. The Hibiscus rosa chinensis, Poinciana pulcherrima, and Ixora were especially eye-catching in full bloom, thanks to their bright colors.
We arrived at a tavern kept by a Monsieur Choulan, pleasantly situated at this place, but it is ill-conducted, (although the best and most respectable,) the proprietor having realized a fortune, does not consider it requisite to devote any further attention on those by whom he acquired it. Our after dinner display disappointed[355] me, from having heard and read so much of the delicious fruits of Batavia, both for flavour and variety; the dessert was miserable; the Rambutan (fruit of the Nephelium echinatum) or hairy fruit, (Rambut signifying hairy,) and some Mangoosteens,[131] were good; the oranges were insipid; and the “Sour-sop” (introduced from the West Indies) was the best fruit upon the table; indeed, I may observe with truth, that I hardly tasted a good fruit during my stay at Batavia, except the Pine-apple and Mangoosteen; but it seems that fruits arrive at perfection in particular districts of the Island of Java; there being one in which Mangoosteens abound; at another, where the land is cool and elevated, pears, apples, and strawberries are produced: every kind is cultivated about Batavia, but[356] none (excepting the pine-apple) attain excellence.
We arrived at a tavern run by a Monsieur Choulan, nicely located here, but it's poorly managed (even though it's the best and most reputable). The owner, having made a fortune, doesn’t feel the need to pay attention to those who helped him get it. Our post-dinner spread was disappointing, especially after hearing so much about the delicious fruits of Batavia, both in flavor and variety; the dessert was lackluster. The Rambutan (fruit of the Nephelium echinatum), or hairy fruit (Rambut means hairy), and some Mangoosteens were decent; the oranges were bland; and the “Sour-sop” (brought in from the West Indies) was the best fruit on the table. Honestly, I can say that I hardly tasted any good fruit during my time in Batavia, aside from the Pineapple and Mangoosteen. It seems that fruits reach their full potential in certain areas of the Island of Java; there’s one region where Mangoosteens are plentiful, and another cooler, elevated one that produces pears, apples, and strawberries. All types are grown around Batavia, but none (except for the pineapple) are truly exceptional.
The little Java ponies excited my attention, but these beautiful animals cannot endure much fatigue; they are purchased from thirty to one hundred and fifty Java rupees each; and if exported there is an export duty of nearly two pounds each: the residents are obliged to keep several of these animals, as there are always some incapable of duty from sickness. The Javanese consider that by keeping a species of monkey in the stable, the horses will not get sick, and should they become indisposed, Jacko possesses powers to cure them; the more valuable the monkey employed for the purpose, the more readily will the horses be cured, or the better will they be preserved in health. The Lampong monkey (brought from the Lampong Islands) is highly esteemed for this purpose by the superstitious Javanese for its qualities as a veterinary doctor.
The little Java ponies caught my attention, but these beautiful animals can't handle much fatigue. They sell for between thirty and one hundred fifty Java rupees each, and if exported, there's an export duty of nearly two pounds each. The locals have to keep several of these animals since some are always sick and can't work. The Javanese believe that keeping a type of monkey in the stable prevents the horses from getting sick, and if they do become ill, the monkey has the power to heal them. The more valuable the monkey used for this purpose, the quicker the horses will recover or stay healthy. The Lampong monkey (from the Lampong Islands) is particularly prized by the superstitious Javanese for its abilities as a veterinary helper.
A lad at one residence, who had charge of the horses, threatened to leave his master’s service, on some of the horses getting sick, unless a monkey was procured for the stable; one of the Lampong kind was consequently purchased to attend upon the sick quadrupeds. Soon after the monkey had been in attendance, the sick horses began to recover, and in a short time were declared fit for duty; thus proving (whatever[357] our grooms may think on the subject) that a monkey of the veterinary doctor species is an invaluable appendage to a stud of horses, and ought to be imported and bred by the Zoological Society for this express purpose.
A guy at one place who took care of the horses said he would quit his job if a monkey wasn't brought in for the stable, since some of the horses were getting sick. So, a Lampong monkey was bought to take care of the sick horses. Soon after the monkey started helping out, the sick horses began to heal, and before long they were declared ready for work. This demonstrates (no matter what[357] our grooms may think about it) that a monkey from the veterinary doctor variety is an essential addition to a horse stable and should be imported and bred by the Zoological Society for this specific purpose.
An accident, however, occurred shortly after the monkey had taken up his residence in the stable, which placed him on the sick list, and made him a subject of surgical care. Being tired of driving away the flies which tormented his patients, he sought for variety, and observing, in the horses’ tails, some grey hairs mingled with the black, to prevent the animals looking older than they really were, he began in the kindest manner to pluck them out. A kick, which laid poor Jacko prostrate at a distance, with a swollen physiognomy and fractured fore-arm, was the ungracious return made for this piece of service, thus reversing the old saying of “one good turn deserves another.”[132]
An accident happened shortly after the monkey settled into the stable, which put him on the sick list and required surgical attention. Tired of swatting away the flies that bothered his patients, he wanted to try something different. Noticing some grey hairs mixed with the black in the horse’s tails—so the animals wouldn't look older than they actually were—he began gently pulling them out. Unfortunately, a kick sent poor Jacko crashing to the ground, leaving him with a swollen face and a broken forearm. This ungrateful response completely flipped the old saying "one good turn deserves another."[132]
After dinner we drove round the vicinity, passed Weltervreden,[133] where are the barracks[358] for the troops; the situation is considered salubrious. There is also a fine building at this place, used as the state-rooms for the governor, and some part of it for government offices; opposite to this building, in the centre of the square, is a small column surmounted by a lion, erected in commemoration of the battle of Waterloo. I was much gratified during the drive with the neat appearance of the houses, most of which were surrounded by gardens, rendered both brilliant and fragrant, by tropical trees and shrubs, gay with the vivid colouring imparted by their blossoms; and as evening closed, the powerful and delicious odour of the tube-rose (which bears the appellation of “Intriguer of the night” among the Malays) communicated to us the information that those simple white liliaceous flowers were growing not far distant.[134]
After dinner, we drove around the area, passed Weltervreden,[133] where the barracks[358] for the troops are located; it's considered a healthy spot. There's also a nice building here that serves as the governor's state rooms, along with some government offices. In the center of the square across from this building, there's a small column topped by a lion, built to commemorate the Battle of Waterloo. I was really pleased during the drive to see the well-kept houses, most of which had gardens that were both vibrant and fragrant, thanks to tropical trees and shrubs, full of the vivid colors of their blooms; and as night fell, the strong and lovely scent of the tuberose (known as the "Intriguer of the night" among the Malays) reminded us that those simple white lily-like flowers were growing nearby.[134]
In a few of the gardens I remarked that curious, large herbaceous plant, called the “Traveller’s-tree;” (from a refreshing stream of limpid water gushing out from the stem when cut;)[359] it is rare, and not indigenous, I understand, to Java. I recollect first seeing this tree at the Mauritius, and think it was mentioned as having been brought from Madagascar. The native houses in the vicinity of Batavia are almost concealed by the luxuriant foliage of Cocoa-nut, Banana, Jack, and other tropical trees. A neat building we passed, I was informed, was the “English church,” and is under the direction of the Rev. Mr. Medhurst. After extending our drive round the “Kœnig,” or “King’s Plain,” we returned to our hotel.
In some of the gardens, I noticed that interesting, large herbaceous plant called the “Traveller’s-tree,” which has clear water flowing from its stem when cut. It’s rare and, as I understand, not native to Java. I remember first seeing this tree in Mauritius and I think it was said to have been brought over from Madagascar. The native houses near Batavia are almost hidden by the lush greenery of coconut, banana, jackfruit, and other tropical trees. We passed a tidy building that I was told is the “English church,” which is managed by Rev. Mr. Medhurst. After taking a drive around the “Kœnig,” or “King’s Plain,” we headed back to our hotel.[359]
In the billiard-room, I remarked a Javanese of diminutive stature, but stoutly formed, with a noble intellectual head; his manner was free and independent, but at the same time pleasing; he was accompanied by a young lad, (his brother-in-law.) This individual turned out to be no other than the celebrated chief Santot, or (as at present known by his assumed name) Ali Bassa; he was a leader of the rebellious party during the late insurrections, under Diepo Nagoro, and by going over to the Dutch, was the means of bringing the late Javanese war to a favourable issue; since that time he has held the rank of colonel in the Dutch service, with the command of eight hundred native troops, and had recently been sent on the expedition to[360] Padang, in Sumatra, where the Dutch are making strenuous efforts to conquer and oppress the natives.
In the billiard room, I noticed a small but solidly built Javanese man with a brilliant intellect; his demeanor was confident and independent yet charming. He was with a young boy, who was his brother-in-law. This person turned out to be none other than the famous chief Santot, or as he is currently known by his adopted name, Ali Bassa; he was a leader of the rebellious faction during the recent uprisings under Diepo Nagoro, and by siding with the Dutch, he helped bring the recent Javanese war to a successful conclusion. Since then, he has held the rank of colonel in the Dutch military, commanding eight hundred native troops, and was recently sent on the mission to[360] Padang in Sumatra, where the Dutch are making vigorous efforts to conquer and suppress the locals.
Santot (or Panjerang Ali Bassa Pranredo Dudjo) was attired in white trowsers, waistcoat, and a coat of blue cloth with gilt buttons; he wore also a turban, in the usual Javanese style; his brother-in-law was dressed in a blue cloth jacket and trowsers. The intellectual head, and intelligent countenance of Santot would induce one to regard him as a second Napoleon.
Santot (or Panjerang Ali Bassa Pranredo Dudjo) was dressed in white trousers, a vest, and a blue coat with gold buttons. He also wore a turban in the typical Javanese style; his brother-in-law was in a blue jacket and trousers. Santot's sharp mind and intelligent face would make anyone think of him as a second Napoleon.
As I have just stated, he was one of the leaders in the late rebellion, and made strenuous exertions to expel the oppressors of his country: this was nearly effected, when he attacked a Monsieur de l’Eau,[135] then a lieutenant commanding a small fortress in the interior of Java, with a small garrison of only twenty European soldiers, but who were well supplied with arms and ammunition. Ali Bassa made the attack with a strong force, but, after losing fifty men, he forwarded a message to Lieutenant[361] de l’Eau, to the effect, that if he would come alone to him, he would make conditions to surrender himself to the Dutch government; Lieutenant de l’Eau, with some confidence, ventured. On being introduced, Ali Bassa, who was seated on a mat, desired the lieutenant to sit down by him; and the interview terminated by Santot surrendering to him, on condition that he should not be beheaded. Having entered the Dutch service, he was sent, with the regiment of native troops under his command, to the seat of war in the island of Sumatra. The cause of his return to Batavia was a suspicion entertained by the resident at Padang, of his being in secret correspondence with the enemy, and the following stratagem was practised to convey him as a prisoner to Batavia.
As I just mentioned, he was one of the leaders in the recent rebellion and worked hard to drive out the oppressors of his country: this was almost achieved when he attacked a Monsieur de l’Eau, then a lieutenant in charge of a small fortress in the interior of Java, with a garrison of only twenty European soldiers who were well armed and supplied with ammunition. Ali Bassa launched the attack with a strong force, but after losing fifty men, he sent a message to Lieutenant[361] de l’Eau, saying that if he would come alone, he would negotiate terms for surrendering himself to the Dutch government; Lieutenant de l’Eau, feeling somewhat confident, took the risk. When they met, Ali Bassa, sitting on a mat, invited the lieutenant to sit beside him; the meeting ended with Santot surrendering to him on the condition that he wouldn’t be executed. After joining the Dutch service, he was sent, along with the regiment of native troops he commanded, to the frontlines in Sumatra. The reason for his return to Batavia was the resident in Padang suspecting him of secretly communicating with the enemy, and the following scheme was carried out to bring him back as a prisoner to Batavia.
Santot was stationed at some distance from Padang, with about eight hundred Javanese troops; and because he was not attacked by the natives at the time of the massacre, the Dutch at Padang suspected he must have had some knowledge of the preconcerted plan to destroy the European force. The resident, afraid to make any open charge against him, requested he would proceed to Java, at the urgent solicitations of the governor-general, to collect a large force, and return to conquer Sumatra. Upon[362] this representation he was induced to embark on board the government cruiser “Circe:” on landing at Batavia he was received by the resident and a guard of cavalry, and proceeded in the governor’s carriage, as he naturally supposed, to have an interview with his excellency; but instead of it, he was conveyed to the common gaol, and there confined in a dungeon, ignorant even of the charges against him; and none of his friends were permitted to visit him:—there he remained for several days on suspicion. He was liberated on its being represented to the governor-general that the resident of Padang was misinformed. It is said he is to return to Sumatra.
Santot was stationed some distance from Padang with about eight hundred Javanese troops. Since he wasn’t attacked by the locals during the massacre, the Dutch in Padang suspected he must have known about the planned attack to wipe out the European forces. The resident, afraid to make any direct accusations against him, asked him to go to Java at the urgent request of the governor-general to gather a large force and return to conquer Sumatra. Upon[362] this request, he was convinced to board the government cruiser “Circe.” When he landed in Batavia, he was greeted by the resident and a cavalry guard and assumed he would be taken to meet the governor. Instead, he was taken to jail and locked in a dungeon, completely unaware of the charges against him, and none of his friends were allowed to visit him. He stayed there for several days on suspicion. He was released after it was reported to the governor-general that the resident of Padang had been misinformed. It’s said he is set to return to Sumatra.
He seemed to enjoy the game of billiards, and was an expert player. His brother-in-law, who was second in command of the regiment, was at one time near falling a victim to the strict discipline Santot maintained in his army during the rebellion. Having issued orders against cock-fighting and every other species of gambling, on going unexpectedly round the camp, he found his brother-in-law with some other officers thus engaged: he ordered them out to be shot; three were instantly killed, and the brother-in-law was saved by the ball carrying away his turban, and producing a slight scalp wound, after which Santot pardoned him. Santot is a graceful horseman.[363] The troops under his command consist of cavalry and infantry; the former are described as being a fine body of troops; they are dressed in the Moorish costume, and armed with lances, sabres, carbines, and pistols. His army consisted of five thousand men.
He seemed to really enjoy playing billiards and was an expert player. His brother-in-law, who was second in command of the regiment, once came close to becoming a victim of the strict discipline Santot enforced in his army during the rebellion. After issuing orders against cockfighting and all forms of gambling, Santot made an unexpected round of the camp and found his brother-in-law with several other officers engaged in such activities. He ordered them out to be shot; three were killed on the spot, and the brother-in-law was spared when a bullet knocked off his turban, causing a minor scalp wound, after which Santot pardoned him. Santot is a skilled horseman.[363] The troops under his command include both cavalry and infantry; the cavalry is said to be a fine group of soldiers. They are dressed in traditional Moorish attire and armed with lances, sabers, carbines, and pistols. His army consisted of five thousand men.
Santot is not of noble family, although by his talents he has elevated himself to the rank of a prince of Java. He now holds the station and receives the pay of a colonel in the Dutch service. I saw some of his infantry, who were fine looking soldiers, attired in green turbans, blue uniform jacket and trowsers, and handkerchiefs round their waists.
Santot isn't from a noble family, but he's used his talents to rise to the rank of a prince of Java. He currently holds the position and receives the salary of a colonel in the Dutch service. I saw some of his infantry, who were impressive soldiers, dressed in green turbans, blue uniform jackets and trousers, with handkerchiefs wrapped around their waists.
The exactions of the Dutch government upon the natives have increased rather than diminished, in spite of all the lessons they have received; and the present system, if left unaltered, will eventually cause the loss of Java, if not the whole of their settlements in the eastern islands. At the present time much discontent prevails at Macassar and other places, which, together with the attempts at aggrandizement in Sumatra, where a severer opposition is experienced than could ever have been expected, throws enough upon their hands in this part of the world; and when the news arrived of the late rupture in Holland, it was fully expected by the Javanese that the English[364] would take the island; and the arrival in the roads of a British man-of-war (the Curaçoa) was almost hailed by them as a confirmation of the fact.
The pressures from the Dutch government on the locals have increased instead of decreased, despite all the lessons they've learned; and if the current system remains unchanged, it will eventually lead to the loss of Java, if not all their territories in the eastern islands. Right now, there’s a lot of dissatisfaction in Macassar and other areas, which, along with their ambitious efforts in Sumatra—where they face stronger resistance than expected—creates enough challenges in this part of the world. When news arrived about the recent conflict in Holland, the Javanese fully expected the English[364] to take control of the island; and the arrival of a British warship (the Curaçoa) was almost seen by them as confirmation of that.
The government trembled for Java when the news of war in Europe arrived; and the appearance of our men-of-war, the Magicienne, Wolf, &c. did not tend to allay their apprehensions. The Dutch vessels were sent off to Sourabaya, and remained there under the protection of the sloops of war, Helden and Amphitrite; so there was hardly a single Dutch vessel remaining in Batavia roads, the English and American flags almost alone waving. The government were engaged in erecting two turf batteries on the banks a short distance down the river, and planted cannon upon them, and mercantile affairs were almost suspended. It was expected that an embargo would have been laid by the Dutch on our ships in Batavia roads; but an order issued on this subject had reference only to their own vessels. The Calcutta and other papers were at this time filled with false and absurd statements relating to the Dutch force at Batavia, and seemed most eager to point out, even in the event of hostilities, in what manner they could most easily invade British property.[136]
The government was on edge about Java when the news of war in Europe came in; and the arrival of our warships, the Magicienne, Wolf, etc., didn't help ease their worries. The Dutch vessels were sent to Sourabaya, where they stayed under the protection of the war sloops, Helden and Amphitrite; so barely a single Dutch ship was left in Batavia waters, with the English and American flags almost exclusively flying. The government was busy building two earthen batteries along the riverbanks, setting up cannons on them, and business nearly came to a standstill. It was anticipated that the Dutch would impose an embargo on our ships in Batavia waters; however, an order issued about this only pertained to their own vessels. At that time, Calcutta and other newspapers were filled with false and ridiculous claims about the Dutch forces in Batavia and seemed all too eager to highlight, even if hostilities broke out, how easily they could invade British property.[136]
In consequence of the present unsettled state[365] of Holland, freights were difficult to be procured, although a large quantity of produce remained for shipment; but the owners were afraid to ship until news of a more settled state of European affairs arrived. Flour was scarce, and maintained a high price at Batavia. Malay boatmen are employed for ships’ boats in preference to the crew of the vessels, as the boat has to be tracked up the river, by which the Europeans would suffer much exposure to the sun. The natives, thus employed, are also spies of the custom-house, and are ever on the watch, when unsuspected,[366] and ready to convey information of any attempt to evade the duties.
Due to the current unstable situation[365] in Holland, it was hard to secure shipping, even though there was a lot of produce ready for shipment. However, the owners were hesitant to ship until they received word of a more stable European situation. Flour was in short supply and prices were high in Batavia. Malay boatmen were preferred for the ships' boats instead of the vessel crews, as the boat needed to be pulled up the river, exposing the Europeans to the harsh sun. The locals working in this capacity also acted as customs informants, always on the lookout, and ready to report any attempt to dodge the duties.[366]
At the residence of Mr. Davies I had an opportunity of seeing a living specimen of the orang-utan, which had been brought from Banjarmassing, on the south coast of Borneo. The animal was a male, and measured two feet four inches in height, being the first specimen I had seen alive. I was much pleased with its intellectual appearance as compared with others of the monkey tribe. He was seen to some disadvantage, as he was suffering from a severe cold; and not being found in the usual haunt, was at last discovered in one of the beds, enveloped in a sheet. When we uncovered him, he regarded us with a piteous countenance, as if to inform us he was indisposed,—his eyes were suffused with tears, cough, and skin very hot and dry, with a pulse at one hundred and twenty. (What is the natural standard of the healthy pulse in this animal?) He was evidently most desirous of being wrapped up, and did not care to be caressed by strangers, but turned his back upon them, hiding his head and face. His usual place of repose was on a mat in the verandah, but feeling ill, he thought he might claim greater indulgence, so took possession of one of the beds. The large anterior mass of brain gave a high[367] degree of intelligence to the animal’s countenance, although the face had not so much of the human character as is seen in the Simia syndactyla, or Ungka ape; but, concealing the lower portion of the countenance, the upper part and eyes beam with an intelligent expression. I observe it can thrust forward the lips in imitation of the action of kissing, but cannot give the impulse to them: neither does it lap liquid when in the act of drinking. When running about it often exercises its destructive propensity by destroying trees in the gardens of the houses in the vicinity; and some of the owners not evincing much partiality to the monkey tribe, threatened to shoot the aggressor; so, to save the life of the animal, a large bamboo cage was constructed, in which he was confined, but, born to freedom, he screamed with rage on being placed in it, and, exerting his muscular power, soon demolished the cage, and was then as quiet as before, being perfectly docile when at liberty, but savage under restraint.
At Mr. Davies's house, I had the chance to see a live orangutan that had been brought from Banjarmassing, on the south coast of Borneo. The animal was a male, standing two feet four inches tall, and it was the first one I had seen alive. I was quite impressed by its intelligent look compared to other monkeys. He looked a bit worse for wear since he was suffering from a severe cold, and instead of being in his usual spot, he was found in one of the beds, wrapped in a sheet. When we uncovered him, he looked at us with a sad expression, as if to let us know he wasn’t feeling well—his eyes were watery, he had a cough, and his skin felt very hot and dry, with a pulse of one hundred and twenty. (What is the normal pulse rate for this animal?) He clearly wanted to be bundled up and wasn’t interested in being petted by strangers, turning away to hide his head and face. Normally, he would rest on a mat in the verandah, but feeling unwell, he thought he could indulge himself by taking over one of the beds. The large front part of his brain gave him a highly intelligent look, although his face wasn’t as human-like as that of the Simia syndactyla, or Ungka ape; still, despite hiding the lower part of his face, his eyes and upper face conveyed a smart expression. I noticed he could stick out his lips as if trying to kiss, but he couldn't move them like that on command: he also didn’t lap up liquids when drinking. While moving around, he often displayed a tendency to cause destruction by damaging trees in nearby gardens, and some of the homeowners, not too fond of monkeys, threatened to shoot him. To protect the animal's life, a large bamboo cage was built, and he was put inside it. However, being naturally free, he screeched angrily when placed in the cage and, using his strength, quickly destroyed it, returning to his calm self. He was perfectly gentle when free but became aggressive when confined.
He sometimes made himself a nest in a large tree near the house, and, watching when any one approached with fruit or eggs, would come down and endeavour to steal them. He is fond of coffee, and runs eagerly after the servants to[368] procure it. The natives are very fond of the animal, and it appears more attached to them than to Europeans. Not being found in Java, it is regarded as a great curiosity; the natives assigning to it a superior degree of intelligence. The animal, having been presented to the commander of a ship to take to Europe, the servants declared, that it had overheard the conversation of its being about to migrate, and always appeared melancholy whenever this gentleman visited the house; adding also, that it was the cause of its present illness.
He sometimes made himself a nest in a big tree near the house, and, whenever someone approached with fruit or eggs, he would come down and try to steal them. He loves coffee and eagerly chases after the servants to get some. The locals really like the animal, and it seems more attached to them than to Europeans. Since it isn’t found in Java, it’s considered quite a curiosity; the locals claim it has a higher level of intelligence. When the animal was given to the commander of a ship to take to Europe, the servants said it had overheard their talk about moving and always looked sad whenever this man visited the house; they also mentioned that this was the cause of its current illness.
The engraving of this animal, in Dr. Abel’s work on China, was immediately recognized by the natives; and his interesting account accords with the generally observed habits. Excepting in intellectual development, I do not consider the orang-utan so closely resembles the human species as the Hylobates syndactyla, or Ungka ape, which walks more erect; and, in its internal anatomy, is more closely allied to the human race.
The illustration of this animal in Dr. Abel’s book on China was instantly recognized by the locals, and his fascinating description matches the habits that are commonly observed. Aside from intellectual development, I don’t think the orangutan resembles humans as much as the Hylobates syndactyla, or Ungka ape, which walks more upright and is more closely related to humans in terms of internal anatomy.
Being desirous of gaining some information respecting the usual height these animals attain, I consulted several persons who had visited Borneo, one of whom had been for some time a prisoner in the interior: the greatest elevation[369] the animal had been seen was four feet three or four inches; at first it was stated to be eight feet, but, on further explanation, it was found the animal had been measured with the arms elevated above the head, which of course made a material difference. Its most usual height is from two and a half to three feet, when erect. These animals can be procured with facility, at Borneo, for one or two dollars; but, if not procured young, little dependence can be placed on their surviving, as they become so strongly attached to their masters, that a separation will cause them to pine and die. The animal at Mr. Davis’s improved in health in a few days, but never evinced any inclination to cultivate the acquaintance of strangers; he was much attached to a Malay female, and a little Malay boy, who resided in the same house with him, and the latter was his principal playmate.
Wanting to find out the typical height these animals reach, I talked to several people who had been to Borneo, including one who had spent some time as a captive in the interior. The tallest the animal had been seen was four feet three or four inches; initially, it was said to be eight feet, but after some clarification, it became clear that the animal had been measured with its arms raised above its head, which made a significant difference. Its usual height is between two and a half to three feet when standing upright. These animals can easily be obtained in Borneo for one or two dollars; however, if they aren’t obtained when young, there's little chance they'll survive because they become so attached to their owners that separation will cause them to become depressed and die. The animal at Mr. Davis’s got healthier in just a few days, but never showed any interest in getting to know strangers; he was very attached to a Malay woman and a little Malay boy who lived in the same house with him, and the boy was his main playmate.
Society in Batavia is a dead letter; bachelors smoking and drinking parties are, in many instances, common; ruining the health, and occasioning the death of many, particularly strangers. The cause of frequent mortality is, in many instances, attributed to climate, that should be laid to the charge of imprudence. From the little I saw of the Batavian ladies, when returning from church in their gay equipages, they[370] were not particularly attractive; the majority were tinged with a dark hue, probably sun-burnt; few can talk any language but Javanese and Dutch; so there would be some difficulty for a stranger to judge of their intellectual powers. Bonnets not being fashionable in this country, an excellent view was afforded of their attractions. Some had four horses to their chariots, and a number of black servants perched up behind, according to the wealth or rank of the personage.
Society in Batavia is basically non-existent; parties with bachelors smoking and drinking are pretty common and often ruin the health of many, especially newcomers. The high mortality rate is frequently blamed on the climate, but it should really be attributed to carelessness. From what I saw of the Batavian ladies when they were coming back from church in their stylish carriages, they weren't particularly appealing; most of them had a dark complexion, likely from being sunburned. Few can speak any language other than Javanese and Dutch, which makes it tough for a stranger to assess their intelligence. Bonnets aren’t fashionable here, so their features were on full display. Some had four horses pulling their carriages, and quite a few black servants were positioned behind, depending on the wealth or social status of the person.
The Chinese are the principal artificers of the place, the Javanese preferring a military life; the Chinese are also the cultivators of the plantations and manufacturers of sugar, &c. Many of them may now be seen driving about in their carriages, possessed of great wealth, and owners of large estates, who arrived not many years since, pennyless; several large estates on the island are also owned by British subjects resident in England, having agents or superintendents here to look after them.
The Chinese are the main craftsmen in the area, while the Javanese tend to choose a military lifestyle. The Chinese also manage the plantations and produce sugar, among other things. Many of them can now be seen driving around in their carriages, quite wealthy and owning large properties, having arrived just a few years ago with nothing. Several large estates on the island are also owned by British citizens living in England, who have agents or managers here to oversee them.
Flowers, of delicious fragrance, are sold about the streets, to adorn the dark forms of the Javanese females, or lavish their fragrance upon the fairer Batavians, who are extravagantly fond of this article of luxury.
Flowers with a lovely scent are sold on the streets to beautify the dark complexions of Javanese women or to share their fragrance with the lighter-skinned Batavians, who have a great fondness for this luxury item.
The animals of Java are very numerous, the[371] island being rich in zoological and botanical productions; the small or Java rhinoceros is numerous about Ceram, in the district of Bantam; it is often shot, but all endeavours to procure living specimens have as yet failed. Tigers are also numerous, and consist of three species, the Matchan Itum, or black tiger; the Matchan Toetoel, or leopard; and the Matchan Loreng, or royal striped tiger.
The animals on Java are plentiful, as the[371] island is rich in both animal and plant life. The small Java rhinoceros is common around Ceram, in the Bantam region; it is often hunted, but attempts to capture living specimens have so far been unsuccessful. Tigers are also plentiful and include three species: the Matchan Itum, or black tiger; the Matchan Toetoel, or leopard; and the Matchan Loreng, or royal striped tiger.
There are two species of doves seen in great numbers about the habitations of the Javanese; one being small, the other of a delicate cream colour, with a narrow black semicircular mark about the neck. The small species (which is most esteemed) is called “Perkutut” by the Javanese, and the larger one “Puter.” Conversing with a Javanese about them, he appeared delighted to give me some account of his pets; seeing them attended with so much care I inquired the reason of their being such favourites, in preference to birds of far more beautiful plumage, so abundant on this magnificent and fertile island? In answer to my inquiry he informed me, that, “when these birds are kept about the house, it will not be destroyed by fire, or be liable to the depredations of thieves:” as an instance of their having this power, should I be sceptical on the subject, he gravely assured me that during the heavy[372] rains in Feb. 1832, when most of the houses were inundated, one was preserved from the flood by this bird being within, the water flowed round the habitation, but did not enter!
There are two types of doves commonly seen around the homes of the Javanese: one is small, and the other is a delicate cream color with a narrow black semicircular mark around its neck. The smaller type, which is preferred, is called “Perkutut” by the Javanese, while the larger one is referred to as “Puter.” When I spoke with a Javanese about these doves, he was thrilled to share some information about his pets. Noticing the care they received, I asked why they were such favorites over birds with much more beautiful feathers that are abundant on this stunning and fertile island. In response, he told me that “when these birds are kept in the house, it will not be destroyed by fire, nor will it be targeted by thieves.” As proof of their supposed powers, he seriously assured me that during the heavy rains in February 1832, when many houses were flooded, one house was saved from the water simply because this bird was inside; the water flowed around the house but did not come in!
When the birds are kept in a state of confinement, it is said by the Javanese, that they pass small green stones, sometimes one every week, and continuing for one or two years; these stones are much esteemed, valued as high as thirty and forty rupees each, and are set in rings, &c. The stones, according to native information, are always passed upon a Friday; (which is the Javanese Sunday;) some set as high a value upon their birds as fifty and one hundred rupees each. The natives never eat them; a European, at one time, shot some, and gave them to his Javanese servant to eat, not being aware of their veneration for them, but he would not touch them. Every Friday they take the birds out of the cages, wash them in rice-water, at the same time administering some small pills, (composed of such a multiplicity of medicinal ingredients, that my Javanese informant said, it would take too long a time to give me the names of the whole,) otherwise the birds would not live; for if they were not washed, and did not take the physic, they would have small white worms in the corner of the eyes and in the nostrils, which would soon destroy them.
When birds are kept in captivity, the Javanese say that they pass small green stones, sometimes one every week, and this can continue for one or two years. These stones are highly valued, priced at thirty to forty rupees each, and are often set in rings, etc. According to local knowledge, the stones are always passed on a Friday (which is the Javanese Sunday). Some people value their birds as much as fifty or even a hundred rupees each. The locals never eat them; there was even a time when a European shot some and offered them to his Javanese servant, not knowing they were held in such high regard, but the servant refused to eat them. Every Friday, they take the birds out of the cages, wash them in rice water, and also give them small pills made from so many medicinal ingredients that my Javanese informant claimed it would take too long to list them all; without this care, the birds wouldn’t survive. If they weren't washed and didn't take the medicine, they would develop small white worms in the corners of their eyes and nostrils, which would quickly lead to their demise.
“Yesterday,” (Friday,) said my amusing Malay informant, “I washed this bird, (the one then before us,) and gave him his physic.” He was so highly pleased at my taking an interest in his birds, that he presented me with a pair of the cream-coloured doves, which, he observed, “Would speak like a clock, every hour.”[137] The smaller species was the one, however, possessed of the preserving qualities against fire and flood. He apologized for not making me a present of it, and gave, in my opinion, the best of reasons that a married man could, which was—“his wife would not let him part with it.”
“Yesterday,” (Friday,) said my funny Malay friend, “I washed this bird, (the one right here,) and gave him his medicine.” He was so happy that I was interested in his birds that he gave me a pair of cream-colored doves, which he said, “Will sound like a clock, every hour.” [137] However, the smaller species was the one that had the ability to survive fire and flood. He apologized for not giving it to me as a gift and gave the best reason a married guy could, which was—“his wife wouldn’t let him give it away.”
I, however, so pleased my Malay friend, that he regretted I was about to leave Batavia so soon, as he would otherwise have shown me some more curiosities, and given me plenty of information on Javanese things, (probably, I thought, of a similar stamp to the foregoing, that is, more amusing than instructive). He brought me a dried specimen of the Hippocampus, carefully wrapped in paper; it was named Ecan Kudu, or horse-fish, (Ecan, signifying a fish, and Kudu, horse,) by the Malays, from its[374] being regarded by them as an excellent medicine for horses; they place it (without being pounded, or otherwise prepared) in the water, the horses drink, and consider it an excellent tonic for them.
I, however, made my Malay friend so happy that he wished I wasn't leaving Batavia so soon, as he would have shown me more curiosities and shared tons of information about Javanese culture (which I guessed would probably be just as entertaining as the previous stuff, but not very educational). He gave me a dried specimen of the Hippocampus, carefully wrapped in paper; it was called Ecan Kudu, or horse-fish (Ecan means fish, and Kudu means horse) by the Malays because they believe it’s a great medicine for horses. They put it in the water (without pounding or any other preparation), and the horses drink it, thinking it’s a great tonic for them.
I saw at Batavia a species of Gibbon, which is indigenous to Java, and had just been purchased, it was the Pithecus leuciscus, Desm., or Simia leucisca, Schreb. The natives call it the white ape, or Woa, woa, puteh; the fur being of a light greyish colour; face and ears, black; no tail; long arms; and a prehensile power of the feet.
I saw a type of Gibbon in Batavia that's native to Java and had just been bought. It's the Pithecus leuciscus, Desm., or Simia leucisca, Schreb. The locals call it the white ape, or Woa, woa, puteh; its fur is a light greyish color, face and ears are black, it has no tail, long arms, and its feet are strong enough to grasp things.
The Sumpitan, or blow-pipe, is an instrument upwards of six feet long; with which the Javanese propel small clay pellets from the mouth with such force as to kill birds and other animals; they are likewise used by the Javanese in warfare, to shoot the small poisoned arrows, (damhák,) which are about a foot in length, armed at one extremity with pith, and are propelled with surprising accuracy of aim.
The Sumpitan, or blowpipe, is a tool that’s more than six feet long. The Javanese use it to shoot small clay pellets from their mouths with enough force to kill birds and other animals. They also use it in warfare to shoot small poisoned arrows, called damhák, which are about a foot long, tipped with pith, and shot with remarkable accuracy.
CHAPTER XIX.
Leave Batavia and anchor off Hoorn Island—Islands about the Bengal Passage—Gingiong roads—Lofty aspect of the land—The coast—The golden mountain—Island of Sumatra—Aspect of the country—The lover’s leap—Village of Pedir—Ships of the Acheenese Rajah—Visit to the Rajah—Dense vegetation—Buffaloes—Ba Assan trees—Hall of reception—Interview with his Highness—Commercial negociations—Curiosity of the natives—The Areka or Betel-nut—Flowering shrubs and plants—Rice-planting—Return to the ship—A prohibition.
Leave Batavia and anchor off Hoorn Island—Islands near the Bengal Passage—Gingiong roads—Tall landscape—The coast—The golden mountain—Island of Sumatra—View of the land—The lover’s leap—Village of Pedir—Ships of the Acheenese Rajah—Visit to the Rajah—Thick vegetation—Buffaloes—Ba Assan trees—Reception hall—Meeting with his Highness—Business negotiations—Natives' curiosity—The Areka or Betel-nut—Flowering shrubs and plants—Rice planting—Return to the ship—A prohibition.
At daylight, on the 2nd of June, I left Batavia for the Pedir Coast, on the north-east part of the large island of Sumatra; and, about noon, it being calm, anchored off Hoorn Island, in the Great Channel. This island is a mere reef, or sand-bank, with trees of some elevation upon it, which impart a higher aspect to it than on landing it is in reality found to possess. The passage, by the western coast of Sumatra, was[376] tedious; light and variable winds and calms being very often experienced, although we kept some hundred of miles from the coast;[138] it was, therefore, not until the morning of the 28th of June, that elevated land was seen, being the islands about the “Bengal Passage,” which we entered about half past ten o’clock, A.M., having on one side the lofty wooded island of “Pulo Brasse,”[139] and “Pulo Nancie,” and opposite to them, the elevated island, rich in vegetation, of “Pulo Way.” “Pulo Rondo” was also visible in the distance.
At dawn on June 2nd, I departed from Batavia heading to the Pedir Coast on the northeast side of the large island of Sumatra. Around noon, with calm weather, we anchored near Hoorn Island in the Great Channel. This island is just a reef or sandbank with some tall trees that give it a more impressive look than it actually has once you land. The journey along the western coast of Sumatra was tedious; we often faced light and shifting winds and calm seas, even though we stayed several hundred miles away from the coast. So, it wasn't until the morning of June 28th that we finally spotted higher land, which consisted of the islands around the "Bengal Passage." We entered at about 10:30 A.M., seeing on one side the tall, forested island of "Pulo Brasse" and "Pulo Nancie," and across from them, the lush, elevated island of "Pulo Way." "Pulo Rondo" was also visible in the distance.
Our progress through the passage was but slow, with a moderate south wind; and a strong westerly current considerably impeded the vessel. On entering further in the passage, we became more under the influence of[377] the high land, and the breeze diminished. The weather was showery and unsettled, and the ship anchored in the evening in “Gingiong roads,” in eleven fathoms, about five or six miles distant from the wooded coast.
Our progress through the passage was slow, with a moderate south wind, and a strong westerly current greatly slowed the vessel down. As we went further into the passage, we were more affected by the high land, and the breeze lessened. The weather was rainy and unpredictable, and the ship anchored in the evening in “Gingiong roads,” in eleven fathoms, about five or six miles from the wooded coast.
The land had a lofty aspect, abounding in profuse vegetation, and was possessed of much romantic and picturesque beauty. Since we entered the passage, and proceeded along the coast, the mountains rose in peaked and various fantastic groups, forming the back view of the landscape; the low land, near the beach, was covered with timber; hills rose gradually one beyond another, terminated by lofty mountains, towering in the distance; the whole covered by a dense vegetation. At this time, the view was occasionally impeded by fleecy clouds passing over, giving afterwards an increased, animated appearance to the scene, by the refreshing showers they produced. At some distance from the main land, straggling rocks were sometimes seen, either rising solitary, or in clusters from the ocean’s depths; some covered with a scanty vegetation, whilst the bare summits and declivities of others had a volcanic character: around their bases, the breakers dashed furiously, and the white foam raged against those rugged sides, which had stood the violence of a thousand[378] tempests, serving as a place of refuge for boobies, tropic, and other oceanic birds, which here congregate and rear their progeny, free from molestation.
The land had an impressive look, full of lush greenery, and was rich in romantic and picturesque beauty. As we entered the passage and moved along the coast, the mountains appeared in peaked and various stunning formations, creating the backdrop of the landscape; the low land near the beach was filled with trees; hills gradually rose one after another, ending in towering mountains in the distance, all covered by dense vegetation. At this moment, the view was occasionally blocked by fluffy clouds passing overhead, which later added a lively feel to the scene with the refreshing showers they brought. A bit away from the mainland, scattered rocks were sometimes spotted, rising either alone or in clusters from the ocean depths; some were covered in sparse vegetation, while the bare tops and slopes of others showed a volcanic nature: around their bases, the waves crashed fiercely, and the white foam surged against those rugged sides, which had withstood the force of countless storms, serving as a haven for seabirds like boobies and tropicbirds, which gather here to raise their young, free from disturbance.[378]
The coast, as we proceeded, maintained its picturesque character, the high land being clothed with timber, and the low coast trending between the more elevated parts, of a somewhat similar character to some portions of the island of Java and other islands of the Indian Archipelago, was profusely covered with vegetation. On “Pulo Way,” several clear, and apparently cultivated patches of land were visible, and smoke of fires; but no habitations could be perceived. Most of the island was a dense jungle, seeming only calculated as a refuge for wild animals in the midst of its wilderness of luxuriant vegetation. The coast off which we had anchored this evening, was, for the most part, low; except the land being elevated as it rose from the “Point Pedro,” but it was not of such a verdant character as the mountainous coast we had previously passed during the day. The low land, however, abounded in trees; among which, the cocoa-nut palm was both numerous and conspicuous.
The coast we traveled along kept its beautiful scenery, with the higher land covered in trees and the lower coast winding between the more elevated areas, somewhat resembling parts of Java and other islands in the Indian Archipelago, richly filled with vegetation. On “Pulo Way,” we could see several clear patches of land that looked cultivated, with smoke from fires rising, but there were no signs of homes. Most of the island was a thick jungle, seeming more like a refuge for wild animals amid its lush vegetation. The coast where we anchored this evening was mostly low, except for higher land near “Point Pedro,” which wasn’t as green as the mountainous coast we passed earlier in the day. However, the low area was filled with trees, especially the coconut palms, which were both plentiful and noticeable.
The following morning, at sunrise, the atmosphere was delightfully cool and refreshing; and the land-breeze brought off with it a delicious[379] fragrance. At daylight, we weighed, passed “Point Pedro,” and then the vessel sailed at a distance only of three miles from the shore, in from twelve to fourteen fathoms water, which afforded an excellent view of the varying features of the Acheenese coast, as we proceeded. During the early part of the morning, the towering, peaked summit of the “Golden Mountain” was visible and perfectly clear; but as the day advanced, it became capped with clouds: it was elevated far above the mountains in the vicinity, and seems situated some distance inland. The west side of the mountain was clothed with wood to the summit, and exhibits nothing in its aspect from which the name of “Golden” could be supposed to be derived; but, as the Malays term it the “Gonnong Mas,” or Golden Mountain, it has probably obtained the appellation from them on account of gold having been found upon it; and the English name is merely a translation of the Malay. The eastern side of the mountain has a similar densely wooded appearance from the base to the summit, as just mentioned of the western.
The next morning, at sunrise, the air was pleasantly cool and refreshing, and the land breeze carried a lovely fragrance. At dawn, we set sail, passed “Point Pedro,” and then the ship traveled just three miles from the shore, in waters that were twelve to fourteen fathoms deep, offering a great view of the changing landscape of the Acheenese coast as we moved along. Early in the morning, the tall, pointed peak of the “Golden Mountain” was clearly visible; but as the day went on, it became covered with clouds. It stood much higher than the nearby mountains and seemed to be positioned some distance inland. The western side of the mountain was completely wooded up to the peak, showing nothing about it that would suggest why it’s called “Golden.” However, since the Malays call it “Gonnong Mas,” or Golden Mountain, it likely got that name from them because gold has been discovered there; the English name is just a translation of the Malay term. The eastern side of the mountain has a similarly dense forest covering from the base to the peak, just like the western side.
The morning was fine and clear; and as we sailed along the high picturesque coast of this portion (north-east) of the beautiful island of Sumatra, with light and variable winds[380] from west-south-west to north-west, it was extremely agreeable; but, at the same time often caused me to feel regret that I could not revel amidst the botanical and other natural productions the coast and adjacent hills seemed to produce in profusion. Besides the elevated “Golden Mountain,” there were many of great height, some of a saddle form, and the crateric summits of others imparted additional importance to the beautiful romantic scenery around them.
The morning was lovely and clear, and as we sailed along the scenic coastline of this part (northeast) of the beautiful island of Sumatra, with light and shifting winds from the west-southwest to the northwest, it was very pleasant. However, it often made me feel regret that I couldn't enjoy the rich variety of plants and other natural wonders that the coast and nearby hills seemed to offer in abundance. In addition to the towering "Golden Mountain," there were many other tall peaks, some shaped like saddles, and the crater tops of others added to the stunning romantic scenery surrounding them.
The hills became less wooded as we advanced to the eastward, and lost much of their tropical character. This peculiar feature of the country was, however, occasionally resumed—a sandy beach, upon which large trees were scattered, with a few thatched habitations of the natives, peeping from the dense foliage of the trees which grew about, with the cocoa-nut palms waving their feathered branches above them—this again gave the tropical character to our view; but the receding hills terminating in mountainous country, now but thinly covered with vegetation, varied the landscape, and it possessed little to remind the stranger of inter-tropical scenery.
The hills became less forested as we moved east, losing much of their tropical vibe. However, this unique aspect of the area occasionally returned—a sandy beach scattered with large trees and a few thatched huts of the locals peeking out from the dense foliage around them, with coconut palms swaying their feathery branches above. This brought back some of the tropical feel to our view, but the distant hills leading into a mountainous region, now only lightly covered in vegetation, changed the landscape, providing little to remind an outsider of the scenery found in tropical regions.
It was soon after noonday, when we passed the bluff point, named in the charts, the “Lover’s Leap,” and the coast beyond maintained, for[381] some distance, similar features to that we had passed, excepting some portions which had an increase of picturesque beauty: the receding hills were not so elevated; white cliffs, bare of shrubs or any kind of vegetation, rose almost perpendicularly from the beach about the “Lover’s Leap;” but still further eastward, the coast again abounded in trees. Hills rose above hills, having, in part, a cleared appearance; but, in general, vegetation was most abundant. Lofty mountains formed the distant prospect; above the whole of which, the “Golden Mountain” reared its peaked summit, terminating the rich and varied landscape in an extremely beautiful manner.
It was soon after noon when we passed the bluff called “Lover’s Leap” on the maps, and the coastline beyond continued to show similar features for a while, except for some areas that had an added picturesque charm: the hills receding weren't as high; white cliffs, bare of shrubs or any kind of plants, rose almost straight up from the beach near “Lover’s Leap;” but further east, the coast was again filled with trees. Hills stacked on top of each other, some of which looked cleared; but overall, the vegetation was really lush. Tall mountains made up the distant view; above it all, the “Golden Mountain” stood with its pointed peak, beautifully capping off the rich and varied landscape.
From the few houses and canoes seen about this part of the coast, there seems to be a paucity of inhabitants, and no cultivation of the land was visible. The natives, however, may live in the fertile valleys, a short distance from the sea-coast, and concealed from our view. The wind and current being adverse, it was impossible for the ship to make any progress, and we therefore anchored about seven P.M. in twelve fathoms, a few miles to the eastward of the “Lover’s Leap.”
From the few houses and canoes spotted along this part of the coast, it seems there aren't many people living here, and there was no sign of land being farmed. However, the locals might be living in the fertile valleys not far from the coast, hidden from our sight. With the wind and current against us, it was impossible for the ship to move forward, so we anchored at around 7 PM in twelve fathoms, a few miles east of “Lover’s Leap.”
The next day we proceeded along the coast, the features of which were similar to that before described; but beyond “Pedir Point,” the country[382] assumed a more populous and cultivated appearance: cocoa-palms abounded on the beach; thatched houses of the natives were numerous, and canoes and larger boats were busily fishing; the whole aspect of the coast was animated and picturesque. From light winds and calms, and strong adverse currents, we were often obliged to anchor, and did not reach the anchorage off the village of Pedir until the afternoon of the subsequent day (the 1st of July).
The next day, we continued along the coast, which looked similar to what I described earlier; but beyond “Pedir Point,” the area became more populated and cultivated: cocoa palms lined the beach; there were many thatched houses belonging to the locals, and canoes and larger boats were actively fishing; the entire coastline looked lively and picturesque. Because of light winds, calm seas, and strong opposing currents, we often had to anchor, and we didn’t arrive at the anchorage near the village of Pedir until the afternoon of the next day (July 1st).
The situation of “Pedir” is an extensive, fertile flat, interspersed with low verdant hills, and the distance terminating in lofty mountains, covered most profusely with vegetation. The village of “Pedir” (from which some extent of coast, to the eastward, has been named by Europeans the “Pedir Coast”) is situated a short distance up a small and narrow river: the residence of the rajah, and a portion of the village, could be distinguished from the shipping in the roadstead. The plain through which the river flows, and upon the banks of which the village of Pedir is situated, is an extensive flat, or, for the most part, a series of marshes abounding in rice plantations, and extending to some distance inland, apparently terminated by a dense jungle and ranges of mountains towering one above the other; to the westward it becomes hilly, trending[383] out towards “Pedir Point;” and to the eastward terminates in lofty mountains, at some distance. This description is given from the appearance of the country as seen from the anchorage. The whole line of coast has a beautiful and luxuriant character, abounding in cocoa-nut, areka, and other palms; and beneath the trees the thatched roofs of native houses are occasionally seen.
The area of “Pedir” is a wide, fertile flatland dotted with low green hills, stretching out to high mountains that are lush with vegetation. The village of “Pedir” (from which some of the coastline to the east has been called the “Pedir Coast” by Europeans) is located just a short distance up a small, narrow river: you can spot the rajah's residence and part of the village from the ships in the harbor. The plain through which the river flows, where the village of Pedir is situated, is mostly a flat area or a series of marshes filled with rice fields, extending far inland, seemingly ending at a thick jungle and towering mountain ranges; to the west, it becomes hilly, leading to “Pedir Point,” and to the east, it culminates in high mountains in the distance. This description comes from how the land looks from the anchorage. The entire coastline has a beautiful and vibrant character, filled with coconut, areca, and other palm trees; and beneath the trees, you can occasionally see the thatched roofs of local houses.
Some vessels, belonging to the rajah of Acheen, were at anchor off “Pedir;” and others, having English colours flying, off the villages further to the eastward. The ships belonging to the Acheenese rajah were designated “men of war;” but a “grab,” among the number, was the only one originally the property of his highness, for it had just conquered the barque, at whose peak the Acheenese colours waved, but which had been the property of the rajah of Trumong, who resided on the west coast of Sumatra, and with whom the Acheenese monarch was at war: the remaining one under the Acheenese flag, was an English brig, of Penang, last from the Maldive Islands, with a cargo of dried fish: she was seized for trading in arms and ammunition with a rajah on the coast, who was at the time hostile to the king of Acheen. I shall have occasion to return to the latter affair at another part of this work.
Some ships belonging to the rajah of Acheen were anchored off “Pedir,” while others, displaying English flags, were near the villages further east. The vessels belonging to the Acheenese rajah were called “men of war,” but among them, only one “grab” originally belonged to him; it had just captured the barque that was flying the Acheenese colors, which had previously been owned by the rajah of Trumong, who lived on the west coast of Sumatra and was at war with the Acheenese monarch. The other ship under the Acheenese flag was an English brig from Penang, recently arrived from the Maldive Islands with a load of dried fish. It was seized for trading arms and ammunition with a rajah on the coast who was hostile to the king of Acheen. I will return to that situation later in this work.
The vessels were rigged in the European style, appeared of English build, and carried guns like merchant ships. They hoisted a huge, broad, red pennant, and the Acheenese ensign, the field of which was red, the central ornaments of a white colour.
The ships were built in the European style, looked like they were English-made, and had guns like merchant vessels. They raised a large, wide red flag and the Acheenese flag, which had a red background with white symbols in the center.
Soon after we anchored, an old moorman came off to the ship, from the rajah, and arrangements were made to accompany him on shore the next morning to pay our respects to his highness.
Soon after we anchored, an old dockworker came to the ship from the rajah, and plans were made to go ashore with him the next morning to pay our respects to his highness.
On the morning of the following day, I accompanied Mr. Henry Fearon, (the supercargo), and the commander, on a visit to the shore, to have an interview with the rajah; one of his attendants having previously been on board, bearing a multitude of salaams from his highness, and intimating that he would be happy to receive the gentlemen arrived in the ship. At the entrance of the river, we crossed the bar, upon which a surf is continually breaking, more violently at low water, or when the sea breeze blows fresh, than at high water.[140] At this time there was comparatively but little surf, so we passed without getting wet. We then entered the small winding river, which, although deep at some parts, suddenly[385] shoaled at others, except the channel was kept, which usually had a sufficient draught of water for light boats; but an inexperienced person had better have a native to pilot him, which prevents the annoyance of continually getting the boat perched upon spits and sand-banks. The course of the river is very serpentine; and after entering it, the banks are covered with shrubs and plants, forming a dense vegetation, among which Acanthus ilicifolia, covered by a profusion of cærulean blossoms and other flowering shrubs, were numerous, as also the Achrosticum aureum, and other ferns. Native houses appeared mingled with the graceful, waving bamboo, cocoa palms, plantains, and other trees.
On the morning of the next day, I went with Mr. Henry Fearon, the supercargo, and the commander to the shore to meet the rajah. One of his attendants had previously come aboard, offering many greetings from his highness and indicating that he would be pleased to welcome the gentlemen from the ship. At the river's entrance, we crossed the bar, where waves are constantly crashing, especially more forcefully at low tide or when a strong sea breeze is blowing, than at high tide. At that time, there was relatively little surf, so we passed through without getting wet. We then entered the small winding river, which has deep parts but suddenly becomes shallow in others, except for the channel, which usually has enough depth for light boats. However, it's better for someone inexperienced to have a local pilot, as that avoids the hassle of getting the boat stuck on sandbars and shallows. The river's course is very winding, and after we entered it, the banks were lined with shrubs and plants, creating a thick vegetation cover, including many Acanthus ilicifolia adorned with a wealth of blue blossoms and other flowering shrubs, along with Achrosticum aureum and other ferns. Native houses appeared alongside the elegant, swaying bamboo, coconut palms, plantains, and other trees.
After proceeding a short distance up the river, we arrived at the small village of Pedir, which is a collection of thatched Malay habitations. Herds of buffaloes were refreshing themselves in the stream, and had a strange appearance when seen with only the head above water. The natives informed us that alligators were numerous in the river. We did not observe any during the time we remained at Pedir; and from the buffaloes not being attacked, it is probable they are not numerous about the lower part of the river. After bathing, the buffaloes not being troubled with many of the projections called[386] hairs, had their hides covered with a thick coating of blue mud, which preserved them from the attacks of insects. Those on the banks, both old and young, stood, with their ludicrous physiognomies, staring at us as we passed them. A number of the small humpbacked Bengal breed of cattle were also observed feeding about the plain.
After moving a short way up the river, we reached the small village of Pedir, which consists of thatched Malay houses. Herds of buffalo were cooling off in the stream, and they looked strange with only their heads above the water. The locals told us that there were many alligators in the river. We didn’t see any during our time in Pedir, and since the buffaloes weren’t being attacked, it’s likely that alligators aren’t common in the lower part of the river. After swimming, the buffaloes, not bothered by many of the projections called[386] hairs, had their hides coated with a thick layer of blue mud, which protected them from insect bites. Those on the riverbanks, both young and old, stood with their comical faces, staring at us as we walked by. We also spotted several small humpbacked Bengal cows grazing in the field.
On leaving the ship, arms had been placed in the boat as a precautionary measure on this coast, where the natives are reported to be oftentimes unable to distinguish between meum and tuum; but on landing they were left in the boat, and our Jacks, not having the fear of the natives, or of a reprimand from their commander, before their eyes, took a morning’s walk about the village, leaving the boat, together with our weapons, under charge of a boy, which proved the precaution was needless, as the arms, reposing at the bottom of the boat, were in this instance equally as effective as if they had been in the hands of the men.
On leaving the ship, weapons were put in the boat as a precaution on this coast, where the locals are said to often struggle to tell the difference between meum and tuum; but when we landed, they were left in the boat, and our crew, not fearing the locals or any reprimand from their commander, took a morning stroll around the village, leaving the boat, along with our weapons, in the care of a boy. This turned out to be a needless precaution, as the weapons, resting at the bottom of the boat, were just as effective in this situation as if they had been in the hands of the men.
After landing, we were conducted through an extensive bazaar, planted with several shady trees, called Ba, assan, by the natives; the closeness of their foliage and extending branches affording an agreeable shelter from the fervour of the sun’s rays: the market seemed well supplied.
After landing, we were led through a large bazaar filled with several shady trees, called Ba assan by the locals; the dense foliage and spreading branches provided a nice shelter from the heat of the sun: the market looked well-stocked.
We were conducted from this to the “Hall of Reception” for strangers, which was a small room, elevated a short distance above the ground, opened on all sides, with an ornamental projecting roof: the ascent to it was by a rude bamboo ladder, like an approach to a hay-loft; but as the rajah ascended by the same staircase, of course we could not complain. On entering the room, we found some chairs of European manufacture, standing on four legs, but most of them minus arms, backs, &c. In these we were requested to seat ourselves until the rajah arrived. Some coarse mats were also laid upon the floor in the centre of the room—or perhaps cage would be a better nomenclature than room, for it was more like the latter than the former.
We were led from this to the “Hall of Reception” for visitors, which was a small room elevated a bit off the ground, open on all sides, with a decorative overhang. The way up was a rough bamboo ladder, similar to getting into a hayloft; but since the rajah climbed up the same staircase, we couldn’t really complain. Upon entering the room, we found a few European-style chairs with four legs, though most of them were missing arms, backs, etc. We were asked to take a seat in these chairs until the rajah arrived. Some rough mats were also laid out on the floor in the center of the space—or perhaps “cage” would be a more accurate term than “room,” as it resembled the former more than the latter.
We waited patiently the arrival of the rajah for some time, surrounded and gazed at by several old, grave-looking, bearded Moormen, who remained silent, as their organs of mastication were almost incessantly engaged in chewing the “betel,” their teeth being blackened, and lips become of a brick-red colour, from the use of this masticatory: it is said that it is a good stomachic, causing the breath to be always sweet; and the assertion may be correct, for the breath of natives who are in the habit of chewing the aromatic compound is agreeable; but the[388] discoloration of the teeth and mouth caused by its use, gives a disagreeable appearance to those who habituate themselves to it. Whilst delayed by the rajah, we were regaled by the pure and refreshing juice from some green cocoa-nuts: at length his highness arrived.
We waited patiently for the rajah's arrival for a while, surrounded and watched by several serious-looking, bearded Moormen, who stayed silent as they were almost constantly chewing “betel.” Their teeth were blackened, and their lips had turned a brick-red color from using this chew. It's said to be good for digestion and keeps the breath fresh; that might be true since the breath of those who chew this aromatic mixture is pleasant. However, the staining of their teeth and mouth gives an unpleasant look to those who do it regularly. While we waited for the rajah, we enjoyed the pure and refreshing juice from some green coconuts. Finally, his highness arrived.
He was a young man of very dark, but handsomely-formed features, (darker by two shades than the Malays,) about five feet five or six inches in height, of slender form, and attired in the usual native Sarong; a yellow silk Sandalong, or sash, around the waist, in which a Kris, of handsome manufacture, was placed; a close Baju, or jacket, with plated buttons in front; upon his head a turban of white cloth, without any decorations; and gold bangles around his wrists and ancles: his attendants were almost all Moormen, or natives of Bengal and Madras; many from the latter countries, and others, of that extraction, born at this place. The rajah, although born here, had the appearance of being of Bengal parentage. The grave old gentlemen around were the principal spokesmen on affairs of business.
He was a young man with very dark, but handsome features, darker than the Malays by two shades, standing about five feet five or six inches tall, with a slim build. He wore the typical native Sarong; a yellow silk Sandalong, or sash, around his waist, where he kept a beautifully made Kris; a fitted Baju, or jacket, with decorative buttons in front; and on his head, he had a plain white turban with no embellishments. He also wore gold bangles on his wrists and ankles. Most of his attendants were Moormen, or natives from Bengal and Madras; many were from the latter regions, while others of that heritage were born here. Although the rajah was born in this place, he looked like he had Bengali roots. The serious older gentlemen around were the main speakers when it came to business matters.
It was the object of Mr. Fearon to purchase a cargo of Areka-nut[141] for the China market, for[389] which object he had brought dollars, opium, iron, lead, and steel. Most of the bearded gentlemen were traders in the Areka-nut; but a tall, thin, elderly, and shrewd old man, was the principal agent in the transactions between Mr. Fearon and the rajah, for the latter, like most rajahs, had but little to say on the affair, and from being young, had merely to approve of whatever was done. This agent, whom we designated “Minister of the Board of Trade,” proved to be uncle to the present rajah; this circumstance accounted for his having so much to do with the government affairs. After some common-place conversation, the commercial business was introduced; samples, or musters, of the quality of the nuts were shown; and an arrangement was entered into between the parties for the delivery of three thousand peculs in ten days, at the rate of one and a-half dollars the pecul, iron, steel, lead, and dollars, being given[390] in exchange, at prices then agreed upon. This contract was ratified by the old trading minister, placing the right-hand of the supercargo into that of the rajah, repeating, as they remained with joined hands, the terms assented to; all agreements are made in the name of the rajah, and are written and signed by both parties. They had abundance of opium, as much, they informed us, as seven hundred chests unsold; it had been purchased at seven hundred dollars the chest, (the cost price at Batavia at this time,) but the Areka-nut had been delivered in exchange, at the rate of one dollar the pecul.[142]
Mr. Fearon aimed to buy a shipment of Areka nuts for the China market, and to achieve this, he brought dollars, opium, iron, lead, and steel. Most of the bearded gentlemen were Areka nut traders; however, a tall, thin, elderly, and sharp old man acted as the main agent in the dealings between Mr. Fearon and the rajah. The rajah, like many others, didn’t have much to say about the deal and, being young, merely approved whatever was done. This agent, whom we called the “Minister of the Board of Trade,” turned out to be the uncle of the current rajah, which explained his significant involvement in government matters. After some casual conversation, they got into the business details; samples of the nut quality were shown, and an agreement was made for the delivery of three thousand peculs in ten days at a rate of one and a half dollars per pecul, with iron, steel, lead, and dollars exchanged at previously agreed prices. The old trading minister confirmed the contract by placing the supercargo’s right hand in the rajah’s, repeating the agreed terms as they shook hands; all agreements are made in the name of the rajah and are documented and signed by both parties. They mentioned having plenty of opium available, reportedly seven hundred unsold chests, purchased at seven hundred dollars per chest (the cost price at Batavia at that time), but the Areka nuts were exchanged at a rate of one dollar per pecul.
After the commercial affairs had been settled, the rajah, ministers, and merchants, accompanied us about, and in the vicinity of the village, followed by a nondescript rabble. My collecting plants and insects amused some and puzzled others, and all were desirous of ascertaining for what purpose I required them; whether we had[391] any flowers in our country? whether they were to feed animals? and the insects for birds on board the ship? but when at last they were informed I was a “curer of diseases,” they remained perfectly satisfied that I collected them for medicinal purposes, and without making another inquiry on the subject, resumed their almost perpetual conversation on the Areka or betel-nut. On the way the rajah gathered a plant, (Chenopodium family?) and giving it to me, said it was medicinal, and called by the Malays “Gunche, maju,” (signifying shirt-buttons,) and the name was probably applied to it from the elevated buds having some resemblance to them. The plant is used by the natives in the form of decoction, as an internal remedy for various diseases; and, as far as I could understand them, was possessed of emetic properties. It is a small plant, and grows abundantly on the banks of the Paddy fields, and on most of the waste land about the village.
After the business dealings were wrapped up, the rajah, ministers, and merchants accompanied us around the area, followed by a mixed crowd. My collection of plants and insects entertained some and puzzled others, and everyone wanted to know why I needed them; if we had any flowers in our country, if they were for feeding animals, or if the insects were for the birds on the ship. But when they finally learned I was a “curer of diseases,” they were completely satisfied that I collected them for medicinal use, and without asking any more questions on the topic, they returned to their almost constant chatter about the Areka or betel nut. On the way, the rajah picked a plant (from the Chenopodium family, perhaps?) and handed it to me, saying it was medicinal, calling it “Gunche, maju” (meaning shirt-buttons), likely due to the elevated buds resembling buttons. The locals use the plant as a decoction for various ailments, and as far as I understood, it has emetic properties. It’s a small plant that grows abundantly along the edges of rice fields and on most of the wasteland around the village.
Among a profusion of other flowering shrubs and plants was the Cassia occidentalis, (Bandram of the natives,) several species of Solanum; the pretty Vinca rosea, or rose periwinkle, Datura fastuosa, the fruit of which the natives told me would cause madness if eaten; it was named by them Tropungo; several species of Convolvoli;[392] a species of Senecio, with a number of others, wild and cultivated, some of which exhaled fragrant odours; and a multitude of butterflies and other insects, vieing with one another in brilliancy and harmony of colours, flew about in apparent enjoyment of the fervent tropical sun, among the profusion of flowers which strewed the ground. The Jatropha curcas, or Bánawa of the natives, was planted, as well as the bamboo, for fences; rice-fields were numerous, but this being the dry season, the fields were dry, and the harvest collected, the variety of succulent and other plants that sprung up about them, afforded excellent feeding for the numerous herds of cattle rambling about.
Among a wealth of other flowering shrubs and plants was the Cassia occidentalis (known as Bandram by the locals), several species of Solanum, the lovely Vinca rosea or rose periwinkle, and Datura fastuosa, which the locals warned could cause madness if eaten; they called it Tropungo. There were several species of Convolvoli;[392] a type of Senecio, along with many others, both wild and cultivated, some of which released pleasant scents. A multitude of butterflies and other insects competed with each other in brightness and color, fluttering around in what seemed like bliss under the intense tropical sun, amidst the abundance of flowers covering the ground. The Jatropha curcas, or Bánawa as the locals referred to it, was planted, along with bamboo for fencing. Rice fields were plentiful, but during this dry season, they were parched, and the harvest had been collected. The variety of juicy and other plants that sprouted around them provided excellent grazing for the many herds of cattle wandering by.
During the rainy season, which occurs from about November to nearly the termination of the month of February, the planting of rice takes place; the fields, for the most part dry at the present time, are then overflown; the season of the rice harvest usually occurs in April. The country, although flat, had a pleasing fertile aspect, and when the vivid green or golden yellow of the rice plantation was added, its beauty must be still further increased.
During the rainy season, which lasts from around November to almost the end of February, rice is planted; the fields, mostly dry now, become flooded. The rice harvest typically happens in April. The landscape, while flat, has a nice fertile look, and when you add the bright green or golden yellow of the rice fields, its beauty is even more enhanced.
The rajah, his followers, and the merchants, appear to be all Moormen, either natives of, or descendants from, those born in Hindostan. The[393] bazaar trade appears for the most part also to be monopolized by them; the Malays seem the tillers of the soil, or subordinates, in other respects. The Hindostanee natives, or their descendants, are evidently the conquerors of the coast, and of course the heads of government are of that race. The rajah made Mr. Fearon a present of a small bullock, cocoa-nuts, plantains, sugar-canes, &c., and accepted an invitation to visit the ship the day following, when it would be requisite, from their professing the Mahometan creed, that “all pigs should be kept from grunting,” or getting an afternoon’s liberty.[143] About noon, taking leave of the rajah and his party, we returned on board.
The rajah, his followers, and the merchants all seem to be Moormen, either natives of or descendants from those born in Hindostan. The[393] bazaar trade also seems mostly monopolized by them; the Malays appear to be the farmers or in lower positions in other areas. The Hindostanee natives, or their descendants, are clearly the rulers of the coast, and naturally, the leaders of government are from that background. The rajah gave Mr. Fearon a small bullock, coconuts, plantains, sugar canes, etc., and accepted an invitation to visit the ship the following day, when it would be necessary, due to their Muslim beliefs, that “all pigs should be kept from grunting,” or getting an afternoon off.[143] Around noon, after saying goodbye to the rajah and his group, we returned on board.
At this place no canoes came off to the ship with fish, fowls, fruit, &c., for sale; none but those on business came to the ship, and Mr. Fearon was advised by the rajah not to allow any to do so. This appeared strange, as off the other villages to the eastward of Pedir, goats, fruit, fowls, yams, &c., were brought off for sale; but we afterwards had good reason for suspecting that some of the rajah’s followers were[394] desirous of supplying the ship, placing their own prices on the articles, allowing a per centage to his highness, and thus contrived to have a prohibition placed on canoes coming alongside.
At this place, no canoes came to the ship with fish, birds, fruit, etc., for sale; only those on business came to the ship, and Mr. Fearon was advised by the rajah not to allow any to do so. This seemed odd, as from the other villages to the east of Pedir, goats, fruit, chickens, yams, etc., were brought for sale; but we later had good reason to suspect that some of the rajah’s followers wanted to supply the ship, setting their own prices on the goods, giving a cut to his highness, and so managed to enforce a ban on canoes coming alongside.
CHAPTER XX.
Visit from the young Rajah—Native weapons—Costume—The “trading minister” and his boy—Inspection of the ship by the natives—Population of the Pedir district—Rambles on the coast—King Crabs—Land crabs—Ova of fish—Soldier crabs—Their food—The Rajah’s house—Cocoa-nut water—Habitations in the Rajah’s inclosure—The fort—The bazaar—Banks of the river—Plants—Native fishing—Fruits—The country farther inland—Vegetation—The Eju Palm—A fine plain.
Visit from the young Rajah—Local weapons—Outfit—The “trading minister” and his son—Natives inspecting the ship—Population of the Pedir area—Exploring the coast—King crabs—Land crabs—Fish eggs—Soldier crabs—Their diet—The Rajah’s residence—Coconut water—Homes within the Rajah’s enclosure—The fort—The market—Riverbanks—Plants—Local fishing—Fruits—The land further inland—Vegetation—The Eju palm—A beautiful plain.
On the afternoon of the following day we had the honour of a visit from the young rajah; he came off in one of the large native boats, seated upon a platform on the stern, in the oriental fashion. Having no state-boat he came in this, which was merely one of the usual cargo, or fishing boats, which are large and spacious, with a small deck or platform at the after-part. Many of the rowers were attired in scarlet[396] jackets, some having, and others being deficient in sleeves, and all seemed to have dressed themselves in their best apparel; all wore elegant krisses, for the whole of the natives, whether of the Malay or Hindostanee races, wear the Kris or the Klawang, (a kind of short sword,) and are seldom or never seen without: the manufacture of these weapons varies both in the blades and handles, and all the varieties are designated by distinct native names; from the form of the blades severe wounds must be caused by them, and many of the natives wore scars obtained by them in their private quarrels. The handles were formed of whale’s teeth, or buffalo horn; and the sheaths of various beautiful woods, of which a kind of satin-wood seemed to have the preference; the wood is said not to be luted together (nor has it the appearance of being so) in the construction of the sheath, but is hollowed in an ingenious manner from a solid piece, and is very liable to split with the least blow; they are tastefully ornamented with a kind of tatauing, or carving, performed with a small knife, into which, after the carving is completed, some black pigment is rubbed, which gives an increased effect to the decoration. They place a high value on the krisses and klawangs, and they are usually ornamented with gold or silver, according[397] to the rank and wealth of the owner. The cutting portion of the blade is formed of steel, the remainder of iron; the temper of the weapons is not good, being extremely brittle.
On the afternoon of the next day, we had the honor of a visit from the young rajah. He arrived in one of the large native boats, sitting on a platform at the stern, in the traditional style. Since he didn't have a state boat, he used this one, which was just a regular cargo or fishing boat, spacious with a small deck at the back. Many of the rowers wore scarlet jackets, some with sleeves and some without, and they all seemed to have dressed in their best clothes. They all carried elegant krisses because all the natives, whether Malay or Hindustani, wear the Kris or Klawang (a kind of short sword) and are rarely seen without them. The craftsmanship of these weapons varies in both the blades and handles, with each type having its own native name. The shape of the blades can inflict serious wounds, and many of the natives displayed scars from past fights. The handles were made of whale's teeth or buffalo horn, and the sheaths were crafted from beautiful woods, with a type of satin-wood being particularly popular. The wood is said to be crafted from a single piece rather than glued together, and it is quite fragile, easily splitting with the slightest impact. They are tastefully decorated with a kind of carving done with a small knife, which is then enhanced with black pigment to bring out the design. They place great value on the krisses and klawangs, which are often embellished with gold or silver according to the owner’s rank and wealth. The cutting edge is made of steel, while the rest is iron, but the overall quality of the weapons is poor, as they tend to be very brittle.
The rajah was attired in the same apparel as on our interview yesterday, but his followers formed, in dress, a motley group. There was a fine looking lad, about fourteen years of age, who came with the party; he was step-brother to the rajah, or, as we were informed by a Moorman who spoke some English, “one father, two mothers, rajah, and this boy;” he was dressed in a scarlet jacket, decorated with gold lace, a handsome kris, and wore gold bangles around his ancles. The young rajah ran about the ship, seeming to enjoy all he beheld; mistook the sow (who behaved remarkably well on this occasion, neither grunting nor giving any indications of the suspicious family to which she belonged, but set upon her haunches gazing unmeaningly at the visitors, who held her race in abhorrence) for a kind of dog; and was delighted with the turkies, which he had never seen before. A pair of the birds were presented to him, and also a sheep, at which he was much gratified.
The rajah was dressed in the same outfit as during our meeting yesterday, but his followers were a colorful mix in their clothing. There was a good-looking boy, around fourteen years old, who came with the group; he was the rajah's step-brother, or as a Moorman who spoke some English told us, “one father, two mothers, rajah, and this boy;” he wore a scarlet jacket adorned with gold lace, carried a nice kris, and had gold bangles around his ankles. The young rajah ran around the ship, seeming to enjoy everything he saw; he mistook the sow (who was surprisingly well-behaved, neither grunting nor showing any signs of the suspicious family she came from, but sitting back and staring blankly at the visitors, who typically detested her kind) for some sort of dog; and he was thrilled by the turkeys, which he had never seen before. A pair of the birds was given to him, along with a sheep, which pleased him greatly.
Our thin spare friend, the “trading minister,” and also a train of attendants and merchants,[398] accompanied the rajah; the former antiquated personage brought with him his son, a little boy about four or five years old; he was a keen, black-eyed little fellow, wore a Moorman’s cap elegantly worked with gold lace, on his little shaved cranium; a scarlet jacket and trowsers, a number of gold and silver bangles about his wrists and ancles, and an amulet or charm (which consists of a sentence from the Koran, written and placed in a case, to protect the wearer from injury—the priests make a good harvest in this kind of traffic, which appears to me strictly analogous to the African fetishes) pended from his neck; the dark diminutive creature chattered incessantly, and was inquisitive about every thing it saw; appeared devoid of fear, and was quite tame, suffering itself to be handled with impunity.
Our skinny, spare friend, the “trading minister,” along with a group of attendants and merchants, accompanied the rajah. The old minister brought his son, a little boy about four or five years old; he was a sharp, black-eyed kid and wore a Moorman’s cap elegantly embroidered with gold lace on his little shaved head. He had on a red jacket and trousers, several gold and silver bangles around his wrists and ankles, and an amulet or charm (which includes a phrase from the Koran, written and placed in a case, to protect the wearer from harm—the priests make a good profit from this kind of business, which seems to me similar to the African fetishes) hanging from his neck. The small, dark child chatted nonstop and was curious about everything he saw; he seemed completely unafraid and was quite tame, allowing himself to be handled without a fuss.
After all our sable visitors had concluded their rambles over, and inspection of, the ship, they were invited into the cuddy, seated round the table, and cabin biscuit and cheese were placed before them. They evinced some partiality to the former, by devouring large quantities themselves, and passing supplies to the numerous attendants who could not feed at the table; they could not be induced thus publicly to taste wine or beer, being against[399] the Mahometan creed, but preferred cocoa-nut water, which they said “is our wine and beer;” but few would refuse either wine or spirits in private.
After all our dark-skinned visitors had finished their walks around and inspection of the ship, they were invited into the cabin, where they sat around the table, and we served them cabin biscuits and cheese. They showed a preference for the biscuits, devouring large amounts themselves and passing supplies to the many attendants who couldn’t eat at the table. They wouldn’t drink wine or beer publicly, as it goes against the Muslim faith, but preferred coconut water, which they referred to as “our wine and beer.” However, few would say no to wine or spirits in private.
I amused them with some drawings; among others they recognized that of the Pearly Nautilus, but said it was rarely procured at this place, but was occasionally seen off the coast. They named it “sea shrimp,” Udang laut; (Udang, shrimp; and laut, sea;) they were not acquainted with the Orang Utan, of which I showed them an engraving, but immediately knew that of the Hylobates syndactyla, or “Ungka” ape, which, they observed, was found in the woods of the interior of this island, but was very difficult to capture alive.
I entertained them with some drawings; among others, they recognized the one of the Pearly Nautilus, but mentioned that it was rarely found here and was sometimes seen off the coast. They called it "sea shrimp," Udang laut; (Udang means shrimp; and laut means sea); they weren’t familiar with the Orang Utan, which I showed them in an engraving, but they immediately recognized the Hylobates syndactyla, or “Ungka” ape, which they pointed out was found in the woods of the island's interior but was very hard to catch alive.
The rajah having remained for some time on board, retired with his attendants to the boat, and returned on shore, under a salute of three guns from the ship, which compliment he also received on coming on board. The rajah of Pedir is related to the king of Acheen, and the territory is tributary to the Acheenese ruler. The population of the Pedir district, (which does not extend far along the coast, but to some distance inland,) is stated to be 100,000, and has several petty rajahs tributary to it; but they appear all petty rajahs along this coast, paying homage and tribute to the Acheenese king.
The rajah stayed on board for a while before taking his attendants to the boat and heading back to shore, accompanied by a salute of three gunshots from the ship, which he also received when he first came on board. The rajah of Pedir is related to the king of Acheen, and his territory pays tribute to the Acheenese ruler. The population of the Pedir district, which doesn’t stretch far along the coast but goes some distance inland, is estimated to be 100,000. It has several minor rajahs who pay tribute to it, but they all seem to be minor rajahs along this coast, bowing to the Acheenese king.
Often during the cool evenings, I amused myself by wandering about the extensive beach on this coast, to observe and collect such marine productions as might be interesting; a great number of dead shells strewed the beach, but living shells, or those containing the soft parts, were rare. Observing an antenna of some crustaceous animal projecting from the moist sand, left by the receding of the tide, I pulled it, and drew out two fine king crabs, jointed together by their under surfaces, and thus united burrow in the sand; they are called “Ecan, mimi” by the Javanese, and, on this coast, they are named “Moi, moi.” The male is larger than the female; they are eaten by the Javanese, but on this coast they are not eaten, although the natives observe the Chinese are fond of them.[144] The females lay their eggs in the sand, after carrying them for some time, and, in about the second month, the young are produced; these animals are perfectly harmless; they crawl rapidly, and when touched draw the upper part of the shell a little inwards; and, as they move, the long antenna bears a resemblance to a tail. When placed on the back, they find much difficulty in regaining their natural position.
Often during the cool evenings, I entertained myself by strolling along the vast beach on this coast, looking for and collecting interesting marine life. The beach was scattered with many dead shells, but living ones—those containing soft parts—were rare. I noticed an antenna from some crustacean poking out of the damp sand left by the receding tide. I tugged on it and pulled out two beautiful king crabs, which were joined together at their undersides and burrowed in the sand. The Javanese call them “Ecan, mimi,” while on this coast, they’re known as “Moi, moi.” The male is larger than the female; Javanese people eat them, but they aren’t consumed here, although locals see that the Chinese enjoy them. The females lay their eggs in the sand after carrying them for a while, and about two months later, the young are born. These creatures are completely harmless; they move quickly and, when touched, retract the top part of their shell slightly. As they crawl, their long antennae resemble a tail. When flipped onto their backs, they struggle to return to their natural position.
Land crabs[145] were numerous, as were also the shells of the genera Cytherea, Tellina, Mactra, Conus, Oliva, Cypræa, Harpa, Dolium, Murex, Turbo, Nerita, and Dentalium; but although this was an indication of the number about the coast, yet but very few were procured in which the living animals were found. Among these was a number of the Venus, and small species of Voluta: the latter buried themselves with rapidity in the sand; the natives call them “Dunkin.” Almost buried in a deep black mud, among which the roots of mangrove trees abounded, the trees having been cut down, I found a number of white bodies growing from a piece of rotten wood, and being each about an inch in length,[146] and three-eighths of an inch in breadth, containing a watery fluid, called “Sepur” by the natives; they were not, however, eaten or used for any purpose by them. I preserved several specimens in spirits.
Land crabs[145] were plentiful, and so were the shells of the genera Cytherea, Tellina, Mactra, Conus, Oliva, Cypræa, Harpa, Dolium, Murex, Turbo, Nerita, and Dentalium; but despite this indicating their abundance along the coast, very few were collected that contained the living animals. Among them were several of the Venus and small species of Voluta: the latter quickly buried themselves in the sand, which the locals call “Dunkin.” Almost submerged in deep black mud, where the roots of mangrove trees were plentiful, I discovered several white bodies growing from a piece of decaying wood, each about an inch long[146] and three-eighths of an inch wide, filled with a watery fluid known as “Sepur” by the locals; however, they were neither eaten nor used for any purpose by them. I preserved several specimens in spirits.
A great number of the Pagurii, hermit or soldier crabs, of different sizes, were running about[402] the beach; two large specimens, that I found, had each taken possession of the Dolium perdix, or partridge shell, to which they were as firmly attached as if in their natural habitation. The crustaceous portion of these animals is of a beautiful lilac colour, the softer parts yellow, and the antennæ of a dark red colour; the natives call them by the general name of “Sepo;” the smaller kind inhabit Murices, Trochi, Neritæ, Helices, Lymneæ, Cerethii, and other univalve shells. In some instances I saw large shells of Harpa, &c., inhabited by very small animals of this kind, moving their heavy and cumbrous dwelling slowly and with difficulty; there were some of a red, and others of a sea-green colour, but the larger were invariably of a beautiful lilac. May not this change of colour depend upon their age?
A large number of the Pagurii, hermit or soldier crabs, of various sizes, were scurrying around[402] the beach; I found two large ones that had each claimed a Dolium perdix, or partridge shell, and they were as firmly attached to it as if it were their natural home. The hard parts of these animals are a beautiful lilac color, the softer parts are yellow, and their antennae are a dark red. The locals refer to them collectively as “Sepo.” The smaller ones live in Murices, Trochi, Neritæ, Helices, Lymneæ, Cerethii, and other univalve shells. In some cases, I saw large shells of Harpa, etc., occupied by very small animals of this kind, slowly and awkwardly moving their heavy shells; some were red, while others were sea-green, but the larger ones were always a striking lilac. Could this change in color be related to their age?
The Pagurii feed upon dead animals, fish, and all kinds of offal, as well as vegetable matter, such as skins of plantains, remains of cocoa nuts, fruits, &c. I have often observed a number of these creatures of various sizes congregated about a dead and putrid fish, and it is ludicrous, on disturbing them in the midst of their feast, to see them marching away, jumbling and overturning one another in the hurry, causing a[403] clattering noise to proceed from the collision of their burrowed coverings; and should they not be able to escape capture they draw themselves closely into the shell, closing the aperture so firmly, by crossing the claws over the entrance, as to render it impossible to extract them without breaking the shell to pieces. Thus secured, they remain immoveable and apparently dead, and may be kicked or thrown about, without giving any indications of life; but danger passed, they emerge partly from the shell as before, and move briskly away. The natives use them occasionally, but rarely, as food.
The Pagurii eat dead animals, fish, and all kinds of scraps, as well as plant material like plantain skins, leftover coconut, fruits, etc. I've often seen a group of these creatures of different sizes gathered around a dead and decaying fish, and it’s hilarious when you disturb them during their meal to watch them scramble away, bumping into each other in their rush, creating a clattering sound from their shells crashing together. If they can’t escape, they pull themselves tightly into their shells, sealing the opening so securely by crossing their claws over it that it’s impossible to get them out without breaking the shell. Once they’re locked inside, they stay completely still and look dead, and you can kick or toss them around without seeing any sign of life. But once the danger has passed, they peek out of their shells like before and move away quickly. The locals use them as food now and then, but not very often.
It is not an improbable supposition, that the ova of these curious crustaceous animals are deposited in the empty shells lying upon the beach; and the changes these crustacea undergo is one of the most interesting subjects of investigation which could engage the attention of a practical naturalist. It is a curious fact that, no matter whatever form the univalve shell may have, the posterior or soft parts of the animal inhabiting it are accommodated to it; thus causing persons not accustomed to observe the changes of natural objects to regard this as the original inhabitant; and it is oftentimes difficult to persuade them of the reverse: the posterior portion of the animal being naked, and the anterior crustaceous,[404] the former evidently requires some protection.
It’s not unlikely to think that the eggs of these interesting crustaceans are laid in the empty shells found on the beach; and the transformations these crustaceans go through is one of the most fascinating topics of study for a practical naturalist. It’s a curious fact that, regardless of the shape of the univalve shell, the soft parts of the animal living in it adapt to that shape; this leads people who aren’t used to observing the changes in natural objects to assume this is the original inhabitant. It can often be hard to convince them otherwise: the soft part of the animal is exposed, while the front part is crustaceous, and the softer part clearly needs some protection.[404]
One morning (having previously received a general invitation) I visited the rajah at his habitation: the situation was an extensive plot of ground, containing numerous houses in the usual Malay style of building, being the residences of the rajah, his wives, and attendants; the whole enclosed by lofty waving bamboos, forming a close and impenetrable fence; and the interior planted with a number of fruit trees and flowering shrubs. The entrance was by a gateway, over which was a small room, in which his highness receives visitors, or wiles away a leisure hour in smoking, talking, or sleeping. I ascended to it by a bamboo ladder, and found myself in a cool but dirty room, containing a small bed, over which a mat was laid; the curtains about it seemed to have remained in ignorance, since they came from the loom, of the application of water. Some carved boxes, (one of which served me for a seat,) a native shield, and a few other trumpery articles, constituted the furniture of the apartment. And here I was received in a cordial manner by the rajah.
One morning (after getting a general invitation), I visited the rajah at his place. It was a large area with several houses built in the typical Malay style, serving as homes for the rajah, his wives, and attendants. The whole area was surrounded by tall, swaying bamboos, creating a tight and impenetrable fence, and the inside was planted with various fruit trees and flowering shrubs. The entrance was through a gateway, above which was a small room where his highness welcomes visitors or spends his free time smoking, talking, or napping. I climbed a bamboo ladder to reach it and found myself in a cool but dirty room with a small bed covered by a mat; the curtains around it looked like they hadn’t been washed since they were brought from the loom. A few carved boxes (one of which I used as a seat), a native shield, and some other trivial items made up the room’s furniture. I was warmly welcomed by the rajah here.
His highness was attired in a common Madras cloth sarong and sandalong, which, like the curtains, seemed never to have undergone ablution;[405] he wore, in lieu of a turban, the usual particoloured Moorman’s cap or cupia, which merely covered the top of his head. The personal appearance of the rajah reminded me of the tribe of animals they abhor for uncleanness—I allude to the hog, of which he informed us there were plenty wild, if we were desirous of hunting them.
His highness was dressed in a simple Madras cloth sarong and sandalong, which, like the curtains, seemed never to have been washed;[405] he wore, instead of a turban, the usual colorful Moorman’s cap or cupia, which only covered the top of his head. The rajah's appearance reminded me of the type of animals they consider unclean—I’m referring to the hog, about which he told us there were plenty wild, if we were interested in hunting them.
Cocoa-nut water was introduced, being the usual beverage in the country, and proving both wholesome and refreshing. The cocoa palm abounds, and they have numerous varieties. The Malay name for the nut is Kalapas; in the Acheenese language the tree is called Ba, hu, (ba signifying tree, and hu cocoa-nut,)—a ripe nut, Hu, massa,—and a green one, Hu, mudar.[147] This palm forms a beautiful and picturesque object in the tropical landscape. In the Appendix I purpose giving an account of this valuable, ornamental, and useful palm, and the various uses for which it is employed in the different countries where it abounds.[148]
Coconut water was introduced as the standard drink in the region, and it turned out to be both healthy and refreshing. The cocoa palm is plentiful, with many varieties. In Malay, the nut is called Kalapas; in Acheenese, the tree is referred to as Ba, hu, (ba meaning tree, and hu cocoa-nut)—a ripe nut, Hu, massa—and a green one, Hu, mudar.[147] This palm creates a beautiful and striking image in the tropical landscape. In the Appendix, I plan to provide an account of this valuable, decorative, and useful palm, along with its various uses in the different countries where it thrives.[148]
The habitations in the rajah’s inclosure were raised from the ground, (which is the usual Malay style of constructing houses,) and were ascended by means of rude bamboo ladders. They are formed, for the most part, of bamboo, and thatched with palm leaves; but one of larger size and neater style was the immediate residence of the rajah and his wives; the young rajah having, as we were informed, two concubines, eighteen years of age each,—and a child, now four years old, betrothed to him as his intended wife. Near the habitations the cocoa, plantain, orange, mango, and custard apple trees grew, shading them by the grandeur and profusion of their foliage. There was also a house (which from the commencement, being now in frame, appeared intended to be of some extent,) which had been commenced by the old rajah not long before his death; but the building was obliged to be discontinued by the young rajah, on his succession, from a want of the necessary funds for its construction.
The houses in the rajah’s enclosure were elevated off the ground, which is the typical Malay way of building homes, and accessed via rough bamboo ladders. Most of them were made of bamboo and had thatched roofs made of palm leaves; however, one larger and better-designed house was specifically for the rajah and his wives. The young rajah was said to have two concubines, both eighteen years old, and a four-year-old child who was betrothed to him as his future wife. Around the houses, there were cocoa, plantain, orange, mango, and custard apple trees that provided shade with their lush and abundant leaves. There was also a house that seemed to be intended to be quite spacious, which the old rajah had started shortly before his death; however, the young rajah had to halt its construction upon taking over due to a lack of necessary funds.
At one part of the inclosure a bamboo ladder ascended to a little elevation, which brought us to a plank, over which we passed into the fort adjoining the residence of the rajah, and was mounted with several large brass guns, most of which had the arms of the East India Company[407] upon them. The fort was built of stone, elevated about sixteen or eighteen feet from the ground, covered over with a thatch of palm leaves, and having a look-out house upon the summit. There were lamps, which are lighted after dark, and remain so during the night, a sentinel being also stationed there. From some large rents in the walls of the fort, it was evident that the concussion of the guns, if fired off, (which they had not yet been,) would bring the whole fabric down about their ears: the minister and “authorities” thought the same, and said a stronger fort was to be built, when a sufficient number of stones calculated for the purpose could be collected.[149] Although abundance of cocoa-nut water was given us to drink, yet nothing was offered us to eat; by which I should infer, they conceived white people lived, like humming birds, upon suction.
At one point in the enclosure, a bamboo ladder led up to a small elevation, which took us to a plank that allowed us to cross into the fort next to the rajah's residence. The fort was fitted with several large brass cannons, most of which displayed the emblem of the East India Company[407]. It was made of stone, raised about sixteen or eighteen feet off the ground, topped with palm leaves, and featured a lookout tower at the top. There were lamps that were lit after dark and stayed on throughout the night, with a guard also stationed there. Some large cracks in the walls of the fort made it clear that firing the cannons—though they hadn’t been fired yet—could cause the entire structure to collapse. The minister and the "authorities" shared this concern and mentioned that a stronger fort would be built once enough stones suitable for it could be gathered. Although we were given plenty of coconut water to drink, we were not offered any food, which made me conclude that they thought white people survived, like hummingbirds, on sucking.
On leaving the rajah’s place, my guides took me again to the bazaar, where it appears to be a custom to take strangers: this I attribute to their Mahometan prejudices, of not being desirous of receiving Christians under their roofs. Here mats were placed, so that I might be[408] seated, and gazed at, like a curious animal, by a large crowd of natives of all classes and orders, who, from the eagerness they evinced, and the crowds which assembled around us upon these occasions, seemed to regard Europeans as curiosities. However, instead of waiting to be gazed at, I amused myself by wandering over the bazaar, which was plentifully supplied with sugar-canes, plantains, rice, cucumbers, dried fish, sere, (the leaf of the piper betel,) the Areka nut, or Pinong, cut up ready for mastication, and a quantity of live stock, as small bullocks, ducks, fowls, &c. &c.
After leaving the rajah's place, my guides took me back to the bazaar, which seems to be a place where strangers are brought; I think this is due to their Muslim beliefs, as they aren't keen on having Christians inside their homes. Mats were set up for me to sit on, and I was stared at like some kind of odd animal by a large crowd of locals from all backgrounds. Their eagerness and the crowds that gathered around us made it clear they viewed Europeans as curiosities. Instead of just sitting there and being observed, I entertained myself by exploring the bazaar, which was well-stocked with sugar canes, plantains, rice, cucumbers, dried fish, betel leaves, Areka nuts, chopped and ready to chew, and a variety of livestock, like small bullocks, ducks, chickens, etc.
From the bazaar I walked down by the banks of the river, upon the raised paths which intersected the numerous marshes, which now, during the dry season, abounded in luxuriant grass and other herbaceous plants, affording fine feeding for the numerous bullocks (of the small hunch-backed Bengal breed) and buffaloes, which roamed about. During the rainy season the whole of this flat is planted with rice, which, together with the scattered picturesque habitations, and groups of palms and other trees, form, by their combination, a very pleasing landscape. Upon the banks of the river was the Acrostic humaureum, or “Ongpi” of the natives, as well as the “Ba, jurugu,” or Acanthus ilicifolius, covered with[409] a profusion of blue flowers; and brilliant butterflies and other insects flew about the rich vegetation, which was so profusely strewed about. Surrounding a hut near the river was the “Sekar,” a species of Pandanus, the younger leaves of which several women were engaged in collecting: they are bleached by soaking in water, and afterwards exposing them to the heat of the sun. Being thus prepared, they manufacture them into various kinds of coarse mats.
From the market, I walked along the riverbanks on raised paths that cut through the many marshes, which, during the dry season, were filled with lush grass and other plants, providing great grazing for the numerous small hunch-backed Bengal bulls and buffaloes that wandered around. In the rainy season, this entire flat area is planted with rice, and together with the scattered charming homes and groups of palm trees and other vegetation, it creates a really lovely landscape. Along the riverbank were the Acrostic humaureum, or “Ongpi” as the locals call it, as well as the “Ba, jurugu,” or Acanthus ilicifolius, covered in a profusion of blue flowers; vibrant butterflies and other insects fluttered among the rich vegetation that was spread all around. Surrounding a hut near the river was the “Sekar,” a type of Pandanus, and several women were busy collecting the younger leaves: they bleach them by soaking in water and then drying them in the sun. Once prepared, they make various kinds of coarse mats from them.
The Thespesia populnea, profusely covered with its large yellow flowers, and called “Onseran” by the natives, was very common about their habitations, forming usually a portion of the fence around their gardens. A leafless species of the Euphorbiaceæ family, which they named “Bugar,” was also growing plentifully in the hedges: they did not use it medicinally, but said, if the juice was taken internally, it would produce violent pain and excessive vomiting. Having arrived at a fisherman’s station, we crossed over a creek in one of the large fishing boats, in which the seine was very large, and manufactured from the fibres of the trunk of a palm, (which I shall hereafter have occasion to mention,) this fibrous material is known by the common name of “black coir;” it is strong, elastic, and very durable.
The Thespesia populnea, abundantly adorned with its large yellow flowers and referred to as “Onseran” by the locals, was quite common around their homes, usually forming part of the fence around their gardens. A leafless type of the Euphorbiaceæ family, which they called “Bugar,” also thrived in the hedges. They didn’t use it for medicine, but mentioned that consuming its juice could cause intense pain and severe vomiting. After reaching a fisherman’s area, we crossed a creek in one of the large fishing boats, which carried a very large seine made from the fibers of a palm trunk (which I will mention again later); this fibrous material is commonly known as “black coir.” It is strong, flexible, and highly durable.
A number of natives were fishing upon the[410] banks of the river with their peculiar hand-nets, called “Gniap:” this net is of a similar appearance, but of course smaller, to that used in the “Sarambeau fishing rafts,” at Manilla, of which there is a very correct figure in the Voyage of La Perouse, 8vo. Engl. ed. vol. ii. p. 322. On examining the contents of the baskets, which were rudely formed from the spathe of the Areka palm, they were found to contain only a few small fish, prawns, and biongs, or crabs. On their success, my native attendants informed me, the fishermen depend for their daily meal. During the rice and betel nut harvest, they earn their subsistence by cutting and threshing the former, and gathering and shelling the latter; but when the season for those productions has passed, they depend upon the fish caught with the hand-net, as a subsistence for themselves and families.
A group of locals was fishing along the[410]riverbanks using their unique hand-nets, called “Gniap.” This net looks similar, but is obviously smaller, than those used in the “Sarambeau fishing rafts” in Manila, which is accurately depicted in the Voyage of La Perouse, 8vo. Engl. ed. vol. ii. p. 322. Upon checking the baskets, which were roughly made from the spathe of the Areka palm, we found they contained only a few small fish, prawns, and biongs, or crabs. My local guides told me that the fishermen rely on their catch for their daily meals. During the rice and betel nut harvest, they make ends meet by cutting and threshing rice and gathering and shelling betel nuts. But once that season is over, they depend on the fish caught with their hand-nets to support themselves and their families.
I stood by one of them to see “a haul:” after a short time had elapsed, the heavy net was raised, and contained only a solitary fish and a few crabs. The nets were baited with crabs’ claws, tied about different parts. On a marsh near this spot a flock of two kinds of crane was feeding; one species small and white, and named “Ecuar,” the other much larger, of a greyish colour, and named “Ngnar, ngnar,” by the natives.
I stood beside one of them to check the catch: after a little while, the heavy net was pulled up, revealing just one fish and a few crabs. The nets had crabs' claws tied to various parts as bait. Nearby, in a marsh, a group of two kinds of cranes was feeding; one type was small and white, called "Ecuar," while the other was much larger and greyish, known as "Ngnar, ngnar" by the locals.
Fruit was at this season scarce, a few guavas,[411] plantains, and “jack,” was all that could be procured; but during the season, mangoosteens, a variety of plantains and bananas, oranges, pine-apples, mangoes, and other tropical fruits, could be procured in abundance. Having ranged about the Pedir Rajah’s district, near the sea coast, I returned on board in the evening with the collection I had made.
Fruit was scarce during this season. I could only find a few guavas, plantains, and jackfruit; however, at other times of the year, mangoesteens, different types of plantains and bananas, oranges, pineapples, mangoes, and other tropical fruits were plentiful. After exploring the Pedir Rajah’s district near the coast, I returned to the ship in the evening with the collection I had gathered.
Among the natives that occasionally came on board with the cargo boats, as well as those seen on shore, consisting of different races of Hindoostan, Malays, &c. there were several with the African features and hair; none of whom, however, were well-formed or handsome men, but still seemed to possess great muscular power. They were of that African race designated the “Black Arabs,” who are shipped as seamen on board vessels at Bushire and other places in the Persian Gulf. When I was looking at this variety of the human race, one of the rajah’s followers said he was the property of the rajah, and he would sell him to me, if I wanted him. As I did not require a specimen of that kind, I declined this very obliging offer. The land and sea breezes were for some days very regular, and at others extremely irregular, varying also in their degree of strength. The range of the[412] thermometer, during the short period I remained on this coast, was from 79° to 88°.[150]
Among the locals who occasionally came on board with the cargo boats, as well as those seen on shore, which included various races from India, Malays, etc., there were several individuals with African features and hair. None of them were particularly well-built or handsome, but they seemed to have significant muscular strength. They belonged to the African group referred to as the “Black Arabs,” who are hired as sailors on ships in Bushire and other locations in the Persian Gulf. While I was observing this variety of people, one of the rajah’s attendants mentioned that he was the property of the rajah and offered to sell him to me if I was interested. As I didn’t need a specimen like that, I politely declined his generous offer. For several days, the land and sea breezes were quite consistent, while at other times they were very unpredictable and varied in strength. The temperature range during the brief time I spent on this coast was between 79° and 88°. [412]
Early one morning, a party was formed, to endeavour to obtain a view of the country further inland. On landing at the village of Pedir, we were met by the old trading minister, who accompanied us. The houses of the natives were constructed of bamboo, raised, like all the Malay residences, upon strong posts, a short distance from the ground, and the ascent to the rooms above, was by bamboo ladders. The habitations are covered with a thatch, formed from the leaves of different kinds of palms; and the dwellings are cool. This quality, so desirable in sultry climates, is given to them by gardens surrounding the habitations, filled with trees, imparting a refreshing verdure; and from the blossoms delightful odours were exhaled. Among the more elevated kinds, were the graceful and majestic cocoa-nut, and the straight Areka palm, (Areka catechu,) surmounted by its tuft of dark-green foliage, and its long pendent clusters of orange-coloured fruit, of an oval form.
Early one morning, a group set out to explore the countryside further inland. When we arrived at the village of Pedir, we were greeted by the old trading minister, who joined us. The locals lived in houses made of bamboo, elevated like all Malay homes on sturdy posts a short distance above the ground, with access to the rooms above via bamboo ladders. The homes were covered with thatch made from various types of palm leaves, which kept them cool. This desirable quality in hot climates came from gardens surrounding the houses, filled with trees that provided refreshing greenery, and delightful scents wafted from the flowers. Among the taller trees were the graceful and majestic coconut palm and the straight Areka palm (Areka catechu), topped with its tuft of dark-green leaves and long hanging clusters of oval-shaped orange fruit.
The Artocarpus incisa, or Jack-tree, the broad-leaved[413] plantain, the mango, orange, lime, and occasionally, but rarely, the bread-fruit trees, (A. integrifolia,) ornamented the garden. That most elegant as well as largest of the gramineous plants, the bamboo, (“Triang” of the natives,) was abundant, as fences about many of the dwellings, (as well as the Erythrina corollodendron, or Mangkudu of the natives; the Jatropha curcas, or “Bánawa” of the natives,[151]) and in distinct clumps; the Piper betel trailed up some of the trees, and the Abrus precatorius, (Anasagar of the natives,) with its pods, containing small, but beautiful crimson seeds, hung in festoons from the bushes in the jungle, and a Diosma, called Un grupuum by the natives, was abundant and fragrant; the Manihot (Jatropha manihot) was also seen; and although I was informed the root was prepared and eaten, the shrub did not seem to be extensively planted. The Carambola-trees (Averrhoa carambola) were numerous, and called Boslemang. A quantity of the fruit was observed laid upon a raised bamboo platform, spread out to dry in the sun, and the natives appeared fond of eating them in a raw[414] state, as well as using them in many of their curries, and other dishes.
The Artocarpus incisa, or Jackfruit tree, the broad-leaved plantain, mango, orange, lime, and occasionally, though rarely, the breadfruit trees (A. integrifolia), decorated the garden. The most elegant and largest of the grass plants, bamboo (known as “Triang” to the locals), was plentiful, acting as fences around many of the homes, along with the Erythrina corollodendron, or Mangkudu as called by the locals; the Jatropha curcas, or “Bánawa” to the locals; and in distinct clumps. The Piper betel crept up some of the trees, and the Abrus precatorius (known as Anasagar locally) had its pods, containing small but beautiful crimson seeds, hanging in festoons from the bushes in the jungle. A fragrant plant called Diosma, known as Un grupuum by the locals, was plentiful. The Manihot (Jatropha manihot) was also present; although I was told the root was prepared and eaten, the shrub didn’t seem to be widely cultivated. The Carambola trees (Averrhoa carambola) were numerous and referred to as Boslemang. I noticed a bunch of the fruit laid out on a raised bamboo platform drying in the sun, and the locals seemed to enjoy eating them raw, as well as incorporating them into various curries and other dishes.
About some of the native habitations, that large and elegant palm, the Borossus gomutus of Loureiro, the Saguerus pinnatus of the Batavian Transactions, and the Cleophora of Gœrtner, was planted: it is the “Anau” of the Sumatrans; was called at this place “Eju” and “Doh” by the Javanese: it is valued on account of excellent toddy being extracted from it; but more especially for the black fibres collected from the trunk, about the bases of the petioles of the fronds; which fibrous substance resembles somewhat in its appearance, as well as elasticity, horsehair; and it is highly esteemed for the manufacture of rope used for their seines, vessels, &c.; the very thick fibres, the natives say, the Moormen resident here use as pens, and call them “Puré Eju:” it is probably the same tree from which the fibres, called Cabo-negro by the Spaniards, are procured at Manilla, and from which they also manufacture rope.
About some of the local settlements, that large and elegant palm, the Borossus gomutus of Loureiro, the Saguerus pinnatus from the Batavian Transactions, and the Cleophora of Gœrtner, was planted: it is known as the “Anau” by the Sumatrans; here it was referred to as “Eju” and “Doh” by the Javanese. It's valued for the excellent toddy extracted from it; but more so for the black fibers collected from the trunk, around the bases of the petioles of the fronds. This fibrous material looks similar to horsehair in both appearance and elasticity, and it's highly regarded for making rope used for their nets, boats, etc. The very thick fibers, the locals say, are used by the Moormen living here as pens and are called “Puré Eju.” It's likely the same tree from which the fibers, referred to as Cabo-negro by the Spaniards, are sourced in Manila, and from which they also produce rope.
We continued our ramble over a fine plain, terminated in the distance by palms: bamboos, the broad-leaved plantain, and other elegant trees were seen, ornamenting some lonely habitation, the roof just appearing above the dense foliage. This plain at one season of the year is covered[415] with rice-fields; but was now dried up: the stubble of the former harvest remained, and the whole was covered by an abundance of herbage, affording feeding for herds of cattle. A number of various species of Grylli were hopping about the fields, and were caught by the native boys for my entomological collection: they called them, in the language of the country, “Daruar,” and these insects are eaten by the natives.
We kept walking across a beautiful plain, which was bordered in the distance by palm trees. Bamboos, broad-leaved plantains, and other graceful trees were visible, decorating a secluded home with its roof just peeking above the thick greenery. This plain is filled with rice fields during one season of the year, but right now it was dry; the remnants of the last harvest were still there, and everything was covered in plenty of grass, providing food for herds of cattle. Different kinds of crickets were jumping around the fields, and local boys were catching them for my insect collection. They called them “Daruar” in their language, and the locals eat these insects.
CHAPTER XXI.
Country about Pedir—“White Lions”—The rajah’s habits—A decision—Ornaments for the ear—Female curiosity—The rajah’s horses—War between the rajah of Acheen and the rajah of Trumong—A native’s account of the quarrel—Purchase of betel-nut—The Areka-nut—Trade in that article—Anecdote—A Chittagong brig—Dried fish—Beautiful appearance of the Golden Mountain—Assemblage of the mountains—Tornados—The fire king and his demons—Yamora—Burial-ground—Large tree—Small crabs—Game called Mein Achu—Leprosy—Party of natives—The Viverra musanga—Applications for medicine—Rajah of Putu—His retinue—Object of his visit.
Country about Pedir—“White Lions”—The rajah’s habits—A decision—Ornaments for the ear—Female curiosity—The rajah’s horses—War between the rajah of Acheen and the rajah of Trumong—A native’s account of the quarrel—Purchase of betel-nut—The Areka-nut—Trade in that article—Anecdote—A Chittagong brig—Dried fish—Beautiful appearance of the Golden Mountain—Assemblage of the mountains—Tornados—The fire king and his demons—Yamora—Burial ground—Large tree—Small crabs—Game called Mein Achu—Leprosy—Party of natives—The Viverra musanga—Applications for medicine—Rajah of Putu—His retinue—Object of his visit.
The country about Pedir, as far as I had an opportunity of seeing it, was very picturesque, abounding in a luxuriant, natural vegetation, as well as in a state of cultivation. The native habitations are almost hidden by cocoa-nut, plantain, areka, eju, jack, and other trees; fragrant odours were exhaled from the multitude of flowers which strewed the surface of the ground;[417] and a variety of profuse vegetation was spread over the face of nature. The soil is rich, and the numerous vegetables (among which the purple and white yams are abundant) planted in the gardens of the natives, are most prolific.[152] The habitations, as I have before noticed, are raised upon posts, which I should suppose, in these marshy situations, are intended to guard against the miasmata which must rise from the surface of the ground after the rains, and to the influence of which the inhabitants would be much exposed, if their dwellings were not placed on an elevated site. The plain is beautiful, and the back-ground of the landscape is terminated by mountains, varying in elevation, and extending in a direction principally from east to west;[153] sometimes covered by fleecy clouds, and at others, glowing in the varying and beautiful tints of a setting sun, which cast its expiring rays, undimmed by a cloud, over the towering masses.
The area around Pedir, as far as I could see, was very scenic, filled with lush, natural vegetation and farmland. The native homes are almost concealed by coconut, plantain, areca, eju, jackfruit, and other trees; sweet smells wafted from the many flowers scattered across the ground;[417] and a variety of abundant plants covered the landscape. The soil is rich, and the numerous vegetables (like the plentiful purple and white yams) grown in the locals' gardens are very productive.[152] The homes, as I mentioned earlier, are built on stilts, which I assume in these wet areas are meant to protect against the miasma that can rise from the ground after it rains, as the residents would be quite vulnerable if their houses weren't raised. The plain is beautiful, and the backdrop of the landscape is framed by mountains, varying in height, stretching mainly from east to west;[153] sometimes shrouded in fluffy clouds and other times glowing with the changing and stunning colors of a sunset, which casts its fading light, unclouded, over the towering peaks.
After walking in the vicinity of the village,—for our guides evinced no desire of taking us[418] further inland,—we were desired to enter a house to rest ourselves: by an invitation to enter, is only meant being seated in the verandah; for we did not, or rather were not permitted to, intrude ourselves into any other parts of the dwelling. At this place cocoa-nut water was again offered as a refreshment. We requested to be taken further in the interior of the country; but, although a refusal was never given, yet we found we were invariably taken, by other paths, back to the place from whence we came. We became at last, from this and other circumstances, convinced that our Moor friends were fearful of exposing themselves to the krisses of the “Hill people,” from whom they appear to have conquered some portion of the country, establishing themselves as traders.
After walking around the village—since our guides didn’t seem interested in taking us further inland—we were invited to rest in a house. However, this invitation only meant we could sit on the porch; we were not allowed to enter any other parts of the home. Here, we were offered coconut water as a refreshment again. We asked to go deeper into the countryside, but while we were never outright refused, we always ended up taking different paths back to where we started. Eventually, we came to realize that our Moor friends were likely afraid of encountering the krisses of the “Hill people,” from whom they seemed to have taken some land, establishing themselves as traders.
We returned after a short ramble, and were conducted into the bazaar, and seated with a semicircle of the natives before us, all staring quietly and decorously at the “white lions.” From this place we adjourned to the fort, near the rajah’s residence, where we waited for the appearance of his highness, who had not yet risen from his couch. The old minister gave us some account of the rajah’s habits; one of which was, that he lies in bed until three P.M., except when there is any particular business,[419] such as the arrival of a ship, to induce him to rise earlier; and he does not retire to rest until three A.M., after smoking a pipe of opium. The old gentleman must have been guilty of an exaggeration, when he stated that the rajah would smoke a ball of opium in four days. His highness is only eighteen years of age, and has not at present the appearance of an opium smoker: it must have been the quantity consumed by the rajah and his numerous followers that was meant, the whole of which was placed to the rajah’s account. Pipes of opium were offered to us to regale ourselves, but of course were refused.[154]
We came back after a short walk and were taken into the bazaar, where we sat in front of a semicircle of locals, all quietly and respectfully staring at the “white lions.” From there, we moved to the fort near the rajah’s residence, where we waited for his highness to appear, as he had not yet gotten out of bed. The old minister shared some details about the rajah’s habits, one being that he stays in bed until 3 PM, unless there's something important, like the arrival of a ship, that makes him get up earlier; and he doesn’t go to bed until 3 A.M., after smoking a pipe of opium. The old man must have exaggerated when he said the rajah would smoke a ball of opium in four days. His highness is only eighteen years old and doesn't seem like an opium smoker at the moment; it must have been the amount used by him and his many followers that he was referring to, which was all counted toward the rajah's account. Pipes of opium were offered to us for enjoyment, but of course, we declined.
After some delay, the rajah came to visit us, having just risen from his couch, unwashed, and attired in unclean garments. He shook hands, in the European manner, with the party; and then, having but little to say, from want of some other employment, he amused himself with my insect boxes, and the insects placed in them transfixed by pins: this led to an explanation of my professional pursuits, and its collateral branches; but as the subject was rather beyond his comprehension, he became attracted from it to a[420] cloth cap worn by one of the party, about which there was much discussion, the result of which was, that the rajah and his followers came to the important decision, that it would make a very good pocket or case for containing betel-nut, and the accompanying articles required to be used with it. Being heartily tired, we were happy to escape from the royal presence; and the boat being ready, we returned on board.
After a bit of a wait, the rajah came to see us, having just gotten up from his couch, unwashed and dressed in dirty clothes. He shook hands in the European way with everyone and, with little to say and no other tasks to occupy him, played around with my insect boxes and the pinned insects inside them. This led to a discussion about my professional work and its related fields, but since it was a bit beyond his understanding, he got distracted by a cloth cap one of the group was wearing. This sparked a lot of conversation, resulting in the rajah and his followers concluding that it would make a great pocket or case for holding betel-nut and the other things needed to use with it. Feeling quite tired, we were glad to leave his royal presence, and when the boat was ready, we went back on board.
All the women had the lobes of the ears enormously distended, from wearing, when very young, round pieces of wood, polished and ornamented, or rolls of leaves in them: the richer classes wear large ornaments of gold and silver: the old women have the lobes hanging down to a great length, but without ornament; that they formerly had placed them in the lobes was evident by the distended orifices, which, having lost their elasticity, prevented their retention as before. The poorer classes are content with neatly polished and ornamented round pieces of wood, or a roll of the plantain or some other kind of leaf, as a substitute for those of gold and silver worn by the higher and richer classes. The lower class of females were usually attired in cotton cloth sarongs, and the cabaya, passing over the head, of a black colour, or other dark patterns. As we passed their dwellings, they[421] came forth, with the usual feminine curiosity, to view the strangers: indeed, we appeared to be as much objects of curiosity among them, as I had before been when landing upon many of the unfrequented islands of the Polynesian Archipelago; and the natives, that arrived in the boats with Areka-nut, from the villages on the coast, seemed to regard us as wonders, and surrounded the entrance of the poop-cuddy at meal-times, as if to satisfy themselves how such animals fed.
All the women had their earlobes significantly stretched out from wearing, when they were very young, polished and decorated wooden discs or rolls of leaves. The wealthier classes wear large gold and silver ornaments. The older women have earlobes that hang down quite a bit, but without any decoration; it was clear that they had once worn ornaments, as shown by the stretched holes, which had lost their elasticity and could no longer hold anything in place. The poorer classes are satisfied with neatly polished and decorated wooden discs or rolls made from plantain or other leaves, as a substitute for the gold and silver worn by the wealthier people. The lower-class women usually dressed in cotton cloth sarongs and a cabaya that passed over their heads, in black or other dark patterns. As we walked by their homes, they came out, with their usual feminine curiosity, to see the newcomers. We seemed to be just as much of a curiosity to them as I had been when I landed on many of the remote islands in the Polynesian Archipelago; and the locals who came in boats with Areka-nut from the coastal villages regarded us as wonders and gathered at the entrance of the poop-cuddy during mealtimes, as if they wanted to see how we ate.
We had an offer of some of the rajah’s horses to ride about the village: at first it was thought that some dun cows, with horns cut off close to the head, and a preternatural erection of the ears, were the animals offered; but it appears they were real ponies: if we had ridden them, however, it must have been without any saddle or bridle, for there were no articles of that description to be procured at Pedir.
We were offered some of the rajah’s horses to ride around the village: at first, it was believed that some gray cows, with their horns cropped close to their heads and unusually erect ears, were the animals on offer; but it turns out they were actual ponies. If we had ridden them, though, it would have been without any saddle or bridle, since there were no supplies like that available in Pedir.
The barque at present at anchor in Pedir roads, under the Acheenese flag, was captured from the rajah of Trumong, on the west coast of Sumatra, by the man-of-war grab belonging to the rajah of Acheen: the cause of it was this:—the Trumong rajah is tributary to the king, or rajah, of Acheen: he had not paid tribute for three years; and on its being demanded, the Trumong rajah returned for answer, that he intended[422] paying it with iron balls; war was therefore declared against this rebellious rajah, and the barque was captured by the following stratagem: the commander of his Acheenese majesty’s grab fell in with the barque at sea, assured her commander that all differences had been adjusted between the two rajahs, and requested him to come on board. The captain of the barque unsuspectingly accepted the invitation, taking presents with him. On stepping upon the deck of the grab, himself, crew, and presents were detained, and a boat, with a number of men well armed, sent on board the barque; and having secured the guns, hauled down the Trumong rajah’s colours, and hoisted those of his Acheenese majesty, the vessels will sail, in company, for Acheen in a few days.
The ship currently anchored in Pedir roads, flying the Acheenese flag, was seized from the rajah of Trumong on the west coast of Sumatra by a warship belonging to the rajah of Acheen. The reason for this was that the Trumong rajah, who owes tribute to the king of Acheen, hadn’t paid it for three years. When the tribute was demanded, the Trumong rajah replied that he intended to pay it with iron balls; thus, war was declared against this rebellious rajah. The ship was captured using the following trick: the commander of the Acheenese warship came across the barque at sea, assured its captain that all disputes between the two rajahs had been settled, and invited him to come aboard. The captain of the barque, unsuspecting, accepted the invitation and took some gifts with him. Once he stepped onto the deck of the warship, he, his crew, and the presents were detained. A boat with several armed men was sent to the barque, where they secured the guns, took down the Trumong rajah’s colors, and raised those of his Acheenese majesty. The ships will set sail together for Acheen in a few days.
A Madras native, who spoke a little English, amused us with his version of the affair. “I belong, and barque belong, to the rajah of Trumong. Acheen rajah and my rajah make war; Trumong rajah plenty dollars, and go buy ships at Pulo Penang, to fight rajah Acheen. Acheen rajah very poor, one day buy ship, in a month want sell, because very poor—Acheen rajah no good, no pay Lascars—Trumong rajah, my king, pay well, plenty dollars. My barque got seven guns and twelve Lascar men. The grab send a[423] boat and ask ‘whose barque this?’ My captain say, ‘rajah Trumong’s;’ then grab’s men take prisoners, and say, ‘barque belong now to Acheen rajah;’ so he pull down colours—our colours before white and black—now Acheen colours red and white.”
A guy from Madras, who spoke a bit of English, entertained us with his take on the situation. “I belong, and the ship belongs, to the rajah of Trumong. The Acheen rajah and my rajah are at war; the Trumong rajah has a lot of money and goes to buy ships at Pulo Penang to fight the Acheen rajah. The Acheen rajah is very poor—he buys a ship one day and wants to sell it a month later because he's really poor—Acheen rajah doesn’t treat his Lascar crew well—my king, the Trumong rajah, pays well, with plenty of money. My ship has seven guns and twelve Lascar crew members. The grab sends a boat and asks, ‘Whose ship is this?’ My captain says, ‘It belongs to rajah Trumong;’ then the grab’s men take us prisoners and say, ‘The ship belongs to the Acheen rajah now;’ so they pull down our flag—our flag was white and black—now it’s the Acheen flag, which is red and white.”
The quantity of betel-nut agreed for (three thousand peculs) was sent on board; and a further agreement entered into for three thousand peculs more, to be delivered in a few days after. Opium, at nine hundred dollars the chest, was taken in part payment: this was a high price, but netted to the sellers a profit of only ninety-five Java rupees, or forty-seven dollars; from the large quantity in the market at this place, it was with the greatest difficulty it could be disposed of even at that price: the dollars to be given in addition must have been the principal inducement, for opium had been purchased from the Penang brig, “Calder Bux,” at seven hundred and seventy dollars the chest; but we afterwards found only one dollar the pecul, or rather laxar, had been paid by that vessel, which will account for their giving in barter a higher price for the opium.
The shipment of betel nut agreed upon (three thousand peculs) was loaded on the ship, and another agreement was made for an additional three thousand peculs to be delivered a few days later. Opium was accepted as part of the payment at nine hundred dollars per chest. This price was high, but it only gave the sellers a profit of ninety-five Java rupees, or forty-seven dollars. Due to the large supply available at this location, it was extremely challenging to sell even at that price. The additional dollars being offered were likely the main incentive, as the opium had been bought from the Penang brig, “Calder Bux,” at seven hundred seventy dollars per chest. However, we later discovered that only one dollar per pecul, or rather laxar, was paid by that vessel, which explains why they were willing to barter a higher price for the opium.
On the second agreement being made, the rajah and suite came on board to ratify it, which, after some disputes and discussions with all[424] parties, was effected by the supercargo of the ship.
On the second agreement being made, the rajah and his group came aboard to finalize it, which, after some arguments and discussions with everyone involved, was carried out by the ship's supercargo.
The principal article of exportation from this coast is Areka-nut, and a small quantity of rice; the latter, however, appeared of an inferior quality, and one-and-a-half dollar a pecul was demanded as the lowest price; the vessel would be required to furnish bags for the rice, as there are none manufactured on the coast, and a delay of the vessel would be also required to procure it. Areka-nut must, therefore, be regarded as the principal article of trade, as it is to be purchased cheap, and of a quality as excellent as in any part of the Eastern islands, or Cochin China.
The main export from this coast is Areka-nut, with a small amount of rice; however, the rice seemed to be of lower quality, and the minimum price asked was one-and-a-half dollars per pecul. The ship would need to provide bags for the rice since none are made locally, and it would also have to wait to get them. Therefore, Areka-nut should be seen as the primary trade item, as it can be bought cheaply and is of as good quality as that found in any other part of the Eastern islands or Cochin China.
The Areka palm is the Areka catechu of botanists; it is a palm of elegant growth, rising with a very erect and small stem to the height of forty or even sixty feet, the summit terminating in a tuft of dark-green foliage; the circumference of the trunk is seldom more than one-and-a-half to two feet, when of early growth of dark-green, and when old of a dark-grey colour; the circles formed by the clasping petioles of the fronds being very visible upon it: the tree bears fruit only once during the year, at which period the tree, with its long bunches of orange oval-shaped fruit, pendent from the[425] upper part of the trunk, contrasted by the dark-green foliage, has a beautiful appearance. The Areka-nut, when planted, takes three years to arrive at a sufficient size to produce fruit; the wood of this palm is used at this place for a variety of purposes.
The Areka palm is the Areka catechu in botanical terms; it’s a slender palm that grows straight up to heights of forty to sixty feet, topped with a cluster of dark green leaves. The trunk usually measures only one and a half to two feet in circumference. When young, it has a dark green color, and as it ages, it turns dark gray; the rings left by the overlapping leaf stems are quite noticeable on it. The tree only produces fruit once a year, at which time its long bunches of orange, oval-shaped fruits hang from the upper part of the trunk, creating a striking contrast against its dark green leaves. The Areka nut, when planted, takes three years to grow large enough to bear fruit; the wood from this palm is used for various purposes in this region.
The fruit grows in long pendulous clusters, each about the size of a small hen’s egg; the external covering is thick, fibrous, covered by an orange-coloured epidermis; and on the thick fibrous husk being cleared away, the nut is discovered surrounded by its own immediate epidermis, which often proves difficult of removal. The nut is conical, but varies in some, having an elevated apex and small base, and others a large base and very slightly elevated apex. One nut is the natural produce of each fruit, although sometimes double or triple nuts are found, anomalies often met with in the vegetable kingdom.[155]
The fruit grows in long hanging clusters, each about the size of a small egg. The outer layer is thick and fibrous, covered by an orange-colored skin. When you peel away the thick fibrous husk, you find the nut, which is wrapped in its own thin skin that can be hard to remove. The nut is cone-shaped but can vary; some have a pointed top and a small bottom, while others have a wide bottom and a slightly raised top. Each fruit typically produces one nut, but occasionally you may find double or triple nuts, which are anomalies often seen in the plant world.[155]
Many of the common drinking and baling utensils in the boats are made from the spathe of the Areka palm; and I have frequently seen a vessel for holding water made from it, which was not dissimilar to those made by the Australian natives from the bark of the Eucalypti trees; they use the flower spathe also for nailing[426] upon the bottoms of their boats. May, June, and July, are the months for collecting the nuts. They had loaded nine ships this season; but forty vessels, of all sizes, have been freighted in one season, for Pinang, &c., from whence it is exported to China, Madras, and other parts of continental India.
Many of the common drinking and baling utensils on the boats are made from the spathe of the Areka palm; and I have often seen a container for holding water made from it, which is pretty similar to those made by the Australian natives from the bark of the Eucalyptus trees; they also use the flower spathe to nail onto the bottoms of their boats. May, June, and July are the months for collecting the nuts. They loaded nine ships this season; however, forty vessels of all sizes have been freighted in one season for Pinang, etc., from where it is exported to China, Madras, and other areas of continental India.[426]
The nuts vary in size; their quality, however, does not at all depend upon this property, but upon their internal appearance when cut, intimating the quantity of astringent matter contained in them. If the white, or medullary portion, which intersects the red or astringent part be small, has assumed a bluish tinge, and the astringent part is very red, the nut is considered of good quality; but when the medullary portion is in large quantity, the nut is considered more mature, and not possessing so much astringency, is not esteemed so valuable.
The nuts come in different sizes; however, their quality doesn't depend on this feature, but rather on their internal appearance when cut, indicating the amount of astringent matter they contain. If the white, or fleshy part, which lies between the red or astringent part is small, has a bluish tint, and the astringent part is very red, the nut is deemed to be of good quality. But when the fleshy part is large, the nut is seen as more mature and not having as much astringency, making it less valuable.
The quantity of nut produced on this coast is stated to be eighty thousand peculs. When there is no immediate demand for this article, it is not shelled, but preserved in the husk, as it is considered not to be so liable to be destroyed by the worm in that state; but although this is the opinion of the natives on the coast, yet I have seen nuts destroyed totally by the worm while in the husk, in the space of two months. The[427] produce of the first month, or month-and-a-half, amounting usually to forty thousand peculs, the natives informed us is exported; and the second gathering, amounting to about the same quantity, is consumed in the country. The nuts were brought on board the ship in large boats, (originally built and employed as fishing vessels, except when required for this employment, they are from three to four tons burthen each, and are to be purchased for twenty or twenty-five dollars,) in bulk, and Manilla mat-bags, and are taken on board the ships in bulk. The quantity of Areka-nut imported by the Chinese, amounts to forty-five or forty-eight thousand peculs annually, exclusive of that brought from Cochin China, the amount of which is not known; in 1832, from a failure of the usual supply of nuts from Cochin China, forty-eight thousand peculs, imported from other places, sold so high as four dollars and three-quarters the pecul; the price it usually fetches in the China market is from two to three and three-quarter dollars the pecul. The principal consumption of the nut as a masticatory (in conjunction with the leaf called betel, produced from a vine, the Piper betel) is in the provinces of Quang, ton, (Canton, of Europeans,) Quang, si, and Che, keang, and may be seen, exposed for sale, on[428] little stalls about the suburbs of Canton, with the other additional articles used in the preparation; it is also used as a mordant for coarse dyes. The Areka-nuts brought from Cochin China are considered by the Chinese the best imported. This may, however, arise from prejudice in favour of the production of a country so nearly allied to them, to that introduced by foreigners. In the central provinces of Hoo, kwang, and Kang, si, the nut is, after being bruised and pounded, mixed with the green food of horses as a preventive against a diarrhœa, to which that kind of food sometimes subjects them. It was likewise mentioned to me by a Chinese, that it is used as a domestic medicine in the north of China, small pieces being boiled; the decoction is administered in various visceral affections.
The amount of nuts produced on this coast is said to be eighty thousand peculs. When there's no immediate need for this product, it's not shelled but kept in the husk, as it's believed to be less prone to being damaged by worms in that condition. However, although that's the view of the locals, I've seen nuts get completely ruined by worms while still in the husk within two months. According to the locals, the harvest from the first month or month-and-a-half usually totals around forty thousand peculs for export, while the second harvest, which is about the same amount, is consumed locally. The nuts are brought onto the ship in large boats—originally designed as fishing vessels—unless needed for this purpose, with a capacity of three to four tons each, available for purchase at twenty to twenty-five dollars. They are taken aboard the ships in bulk, often in Manilla mat bags. The amount of Areka-nut imported by the Chinese totals about forty-five to forty-eight thousand peculs each year, not counting what comes from Cochin China, which is an unknown quantity. In 1832, due to a shortage of the usual nuts from Cochin China, forty-eight thousand peculs imported from other areas sold for as high as four dollars and three-quarters each. The price in the China market typically ranges from two to three and three-quarters dollars per pecul. The main use of the nut as a chew (along with a leaf called betel from the Piper betel vine) is in the provinces of Quang, ton (Canton to Europeans), Quang, si, and Che, keang, where it can be found for sale at small stalls in the suburbs of Canton, alongside other items used for preparation. It’s also used as a mordant for coarse dyes. The Areka-nuts from Cochin China are regarded by the Chinese as the best imports, possibly due to a bias favoring a neighboring country's product over that from foreigners. In the central provinces of Hoo, kwang, and Kang, si, the nut, once bruised and pounded, is mixed with horses' green food to prevent diarrhea, which that type of food can sometimes cause. A Chinese person also told me that it’s used as a home remedy in northern China, where small pieces are boiled, and the decoction is given for various internal issues.
A cargo of this article generates so much heat as to raise the thermometer in the hold forty degrees above that on the deck; and from this circumstance, and the quantity of steam generated, the crew are prevented from sleeping between decks.
A load of this material creates so much heat that it raises the thermometer in the hold by forty degrees compared to the deck; because of this, and the amount of steam produced, the crew can’t sleep between the decks.
The Areka-nut is commonly known by the very prevailing Malay name of Pinang, or Pinong, but in the Acheenese language it is called Pénu, and the tree Ba, penu; Ba, signifying tree, is usually prefixed to the specific[429] name, as Un, signifying plant, is prefixed to the name of a plant.
The Areka-nut is widely recognized by its prevalent Malay names Pinang or Pinong, but in the Acheenese language, it's referred to as Pénu, and the tree is called Ba, penu; Ba, meaning tree, is usually added before the specific[429] name, just as Un, meaning plant, is used before the name of a plant.
The ripe Areka-nut is called also Pénu, massa, and the green Pénu, mudr; the Gambir, used with the Betel, Gambé; the Betel-leaf, Ránu; the Chunam, Gapu; the tobacco, Bákun.
The ripe Areka nut is also known as Pénu, massa, and the green one is called Pénu, mudr; Gambir, which is used with Betel, is Gambé; the Betel leaf is Ránu; Chunam is Gapu; and tobacco is Bákun.
The rajah of Pedir claims ten per cent. as a duty levied in kind upon all the Areka-nut disposed of to ships arriving in his territory; and, besides this, his subjects are obliged to dispose of the nuts to the ship, at the price he or his ministers have agreed upon with the supercargo.[156]
The rajah of Pedir charges a ten percent duty on all the Areka nuts sold to ships that come to his territory. Additionally, his subjects must sell the nuts to the ship at the price that he or his ministers have agreed upon with the supercargo.[156]
The red colour, produced by chewing the Betel-leaf, in combination with the Areka-nut, lime, &c., is not produced by them when used separately. The mastication of the “Betel” is considered very wholesome by those who are in the habit of using it: it may be so, but the black appearance it gives to the teeth, although it is said to be an excellent preserver of them, together with the brick-red lips and mouth, give[430] any thing but an agreeable appearance.[157] Its use certainly does not impart additional beauty to the native females, who habituate themselves to an equal extent to those of the opposite sex.[158]
The red color that comes from chewing Betel leaf, along with Areka nut, lime, etc., isn't produced when these ingredients are used separately. People who regularly chew Betel consider it very healthy; it might be, but the dark stains it leaves on teeth, even though it's said to be great for preserving them, along with the brick-red lips and mouth, definitely don’t create a pleasant look. Its use surely doesn’t enhance the beauty of native women, who tend to use it just as much as men do.
There was an old native of Madras, a Moorman, forming one of the rajah’s attendants on board, whose duty it was to visit ships, and report their arrival to his highness, and also to attend the ship daily to see the cargo taken on board; this individual had one of his hands rendered useless by a blow from a Klawang, or Malay sword. Besides the scar resulting from this wound, there was an unreduced dislocation of the carpal extremity of the ulna, and a fracture of the radius, which, being disunited, an artificial joint had been formed: the cause of this personal injury, he said, proceeded from an attack made upon a vessel he was in, by one belonging to the rajah of Acheen, in which[431] several people were killed. This individual, being on board one morning, although professing in external appearances the Mahometan creed, expressed a desire of having a tumbler of the stimulating beverage denominated “grog,” if it could be administered without its being seen; proving that his religious scruples were not so strong in private as his veneration for public opinion, or a fear of losing caste. A stiff glass of grog was, therefore, prepared for him, which the old withered disciple of Mahometanism regarded with glittering eyes. There was also on board another Mussulman, whose duty it was to take account of the cargo as it came to the ship, and report the quantity to the rajah; the sinner was about to raise the glass to his mouth, exclaiming, “What would the other man say if he was to see me now?” when the old saying was verified, of “there is many a slip between the cup and the lip;” for the scribe was, at the same instant, seen descending, and there was only time to conceal the glass before he was close to him. The old fellow stroked his whiskers, and began seriously to talk about opium; and as the white turbaned man saw him clear out from below, the long-sought enjoyment was obliged to be postponed.
There was an old local from Madras, a Moorman, who was one of the rajah’s attendants on board. His job was to check on arriving ships and report to his highness, as well as to monitor the loading of cargo daily. This man had one of his hands rendered useless by a blow from a Klawang, or Malay sword. Besides the scar from this injury, there was an unhealed dislocation of the wrist and a fracture of the radius that hadn’t healed properly, leading to the formation of an artificial joint. He claimed this injury resulted from an attack on a ship he was on by a vessel belonging to the rajah of Acheen, during which several people were killed. One morning, while he was on board, despite appearing to follow the Mahometan faith, he expressed a desire for a glass of the strong drink known as “grog,” if it could be given to him unnoticed; showing that his religious beliefs weren’t as strong in private as his concern for public opinion, or fear of losing his caste. A stiff glass of grog was then prepared for him, which the old, frail follower of Mahometanism eyed eagerly. There was also another Muslim on board whose job was to keep track of the cargo as it arrived at the ship and report the amounts to the rajah; this sinner was about to raise the glass to his lips, exclaiming, “What would the other man think if he saw me now?” when the old saying about “there being many slips between the cup and the lip” was proved true; for at that moment, the scribe was seen coming down, and there was just enough time to hide the glass before he got too close. The old man stroked his whiskers and started talking seriously about opium, and as the man in the white turban saw him come out from below, the long-awaited drink had to be postponed.
A Chittagong brig, commanded by a black[432] Portuguese, anchored in the roads, on the 10th of July, from the Maldive islands, bound to Penang, with a cargo of dried fish and some tortoiseshell, which had been procured in exchange for rice; his object was to dispose of his cargo in exchange for dollars and Betel-nut at this place. The dried fish was the Bonito cut into small pieces. The Maldive natives prepare it in the following manner:—A long slice is cut from each side of the fish, and these again are divided into two parts, so that each fish is divided into four pieces; it is then boiled for a short time in salt water, after which it is smoked and placed in the sun to dry; it then becomes extremely hard, and resembles, when broken, a piece of wood, having a reddish appearance at the fractured parts: after it has been soaked, it is used for curries and other native dishes.
A Chittagong brig, led by a black[432] Portuguese, dropped anchor on July 10th in the roads, having come from the Maldive Islands and heading to Penang. It was carrying a load of dried fish and some tortoiseshell, which had been traded for rice. The goal was to sell his cargo for dollars and betel nut here. The dried fish was the Bonito cut into small pieces. The Maldive locals prepare it like this: they cut a long slice from each side of the fish, then split those slices in half, resulting in four pieces per fish. It's then boiled briefly in saltwater, smoked, and left out to dry in the sun. Once dried, it becomes very hard and looks like wood, with a reddish hue at the broken edges. After soaking, it's used in curries and other local dishes.
The “Golden Mountain” is a very conspicuous and beautiful object from the anchorage; but it ought to be mentioned, that, from this position, two mountains are seen to the westward, one towering to a peak, and densely wooded, the other, anterior to it, is a lofty rounded hill: the first is the one known to Europeans as the “Golden Mountain;” the second, or rounded mountain, is not named in the charts, but it may be called the “Pedir[433] Mountain.” The “Golden Mountain” is called by the natives Yamori, and the other Yamora; the first the natives designate as the father, the second the mother (probably of all the little mountains about them).
The "Golden Mountain" is a really noticeable and beautiful sight from the anchorage; however, it should be noted that from this vantage point, you can see two mountains to the west. One rises sharply to a peak and is covered in dense forest, while the other, in front of it, is a tall, rounded hill. The first one is known to Europeans as the "Golden Mountain," and the second, or rounded mountain, isn't named on the maps, but we can call it the "Pedir[433] Mountain." The "Golden Mountain" is referred to by the locals as Yamori, and the other as Yamora; the locals refer to the first as the father and the second as the mother (likely of all the smaller mountains around them).
The natives state, that once every year the mountains come together, occasioning rain, thunder, lightning, earthquakes, and violent storms; the Urong Salle, or Fire King, then sits upon the mountain, surrounded by hideous demons, enjoying the noise and uproar occasioned by the conflict of the elements; the winds blow in violent tornados; the thunder is so loud as to occasion the earth to tremble under the feet of the terrified inhabitants: the rain causes tremendous mountain torrents, inundating habitations and plantations, carrying all before them in their impetuous course, and spreading devastation around. In the midst of this dreadful conflict of the elements, the mountains meet with a horrible crash. As the forked lightning plays around them, the Urong Salle, or Fire King, surrounded by his satellites, laughs and sports in the scene; the mountains remain united for a minute, when they again separate, regaining their former position. No person dare ascend the hill at any time, for there sits the Fire King and his demons, and should any mortal cast his[434] eyes upon him, that instant he would be struck with blindness.
The locals say that once a year the mountains come together, causing rain, thunder, lightning, earthquakes, and violent storms. The Urong Salle, or Fire King, sits on the mountain, surrounded by frightening demons, enjoying the noise and chaos created by the clash of the elements. The winds blow in fierce tornadoes; the thunder is so loud that it makes the ground shake beneath the feet of the terrified people. The rain creates massive mountain torrents, flooding homes and fields, sweeping everything away in its powerful path and causing destruction everywhere. Amid this terrifying clash of nature, the mountains meet with a horrible crash. As the forked lightning dances around them, the Urong Salle, or Fire King, along with his followers, laughs and plays in the chaos. The mountains stay joined for a moment before they separate again, returning to their original positions. No one dares to climb the hill at any time, for that is where the Fire King and his demons dwell, and if anyone happens to look at him, they would be instantly struck blind.[434]
Yamora is stated to be distant, inland from Pedir, two days’ journey travelling on foot, and Yamori is the same distance from the other mountain; not, however, as the crow flies, but it would take that period of time to reach it, from the winding and difficulties of the road. From this account there is every reason to suppose that earthquakes and volcanic eruptions are occasionally felt upon this coast. As far as we could ascertain, there was no appearance of a burning volcano existing in either of the mountains just mentioned; they were both densely clothed with vegetation, more especially the “Golden Mountain.”
Yamora is said to be far away, about two days' walk from Pedir, and Yamori is the same distance from the other mountain; however, it's not a straight line, and it takes that long to get there because of the winding and challenging roads. From this description, it seems likely that earthquakes and volcanic eruptions are occasionally felt along this coast. As far as we could tell, there were no signs of an active volcano on either of the mountains mentioned; both were thick with vegetation, especially the “Golden Mountain.”
Near the banks of the river, a short distance up, is an uninclosed native burial-ground; the graves had a stone or piece of wood placed both at the head and foot: there were several trees of Hibiscus tiliaceus, Tamarindus Indica, and a very large one, called Ba, Glumpong by the natives, (Sterculia fœtida, Linn.) which was described by them as being poisonous, producing violent vomiting and pains in the head, if the fruit be eaten. I subsequently saw it, planted about the fences in the village. There were two of these fine, lofty, and spreading trees in the burial-ground, and I procured specimens[435] both of the flowers and fruit: the former grew in clusters upon erect spikes, with the corolla of a dark red, mixed with yellowish green. They have a handsome appearance, but diffuse so fœtid a smell around, as soon to fill a room with the exceedingly disagreeable effluvia. The fruit is kidney-shaped; the trees were sixty or seventy feet in height, and from eight to ten feet in circumference.
Near the riverbanks, just a short distance up, there's an open native burial ground. The graves had stones or pieces of wood placed at both the head and foot. There were several trees of Hibiscus tiliaceus, Tamarindus Indica, and a very large one, called Ba, Glumpong by the natives, (Sterculia fœtida, Linn.), which they described as poisonous, causing severe vomiting and headaches if the fruit is eaten. I later saw it planted around the village fences. There were two of these impressive, tall, and wide-spreading trees in the burial ground, and I collected specimens[435] of both the flowers and the fruit: the flowers grew in clusters on upright spikes, with dark red petals mixed with yellowish-green. They look beautiful, but they emit such a foul smell that it quickly fills a room with an extremely unpleasant odor. The fruit is kidney-shaped; the trees were sixty to seventy feet tall and eight to ten feet around.
A piece of sandal wood, of good quality, was brought off to the ship by one of the natives; he stated that large quantities of it could be procured, as the tree grew abundantly in the mountains. He gave it the usual Indian appellation of Chandana.[159]
A piece of high-quality sandalwood was brought to the ship by one of the locals; he mentioned that large amounts could be obtained since the tree grew abundantly in the mountains. He referred to it by the common Indian name Chandana.[159]
In some brackish pools I collected several small living species of the Cerethium; and about the banks a great number of a small crab, remarkable from one of the claws being greatly disproportioned to the size of the other parts of the animal, and entirely different in colour. When I first beheld them, I mistook them for small crabs running away with the claws of larger ones. They are difficult to catch, from[436] the exceeding rapidity of their motions, and escape, on the slightest movement or noise being made, into their subterraneous dwellings in the sand. The body and feet of the animal are bluish black, with a few white marks across, and the large claw is of a light or occasional darker red colour. The natives call them Biong, po. They are seen in great numbers about the pools, but are not eaten by the natives. I procured several specimens, which I preserved in spirits. On being placed in strong rum, they survived for the space of full three minutes; and if more than one was placed in the same bottle, they would fight and pull the claws off each other in their death agonies.
In some brackish pools, I found several small living species of Cerethium; and along the banks, I saw a lot of a small crab that was notable because one of its claws was really disproportionate to the size of its other body parts and completely different in color. At first, I mistook them for small crabs scurrying off with the claws of larger ones. They are hard to catch due to how quickly they move, and they escape into their underground homes in the sand at the slightest sound or movement. The body and legs of these animals are bluish-black, with a few white markings, and the large claw is a light or occasionally darker red color. The locals call them Biong, po. They are found in large numbers around the pools but are not eaten by the locals. I collected several specimens, which I preserved in alcohol. When placed in strong rum, they managed to survive for about three minutes; and if more than one was put in the same bottle, they would fight and tear each other's claws off during their final struggle.
Near the village, several boys were playing a game with Areka-nuts, called Mein-achu, in some degree resembling our game at marbles. Four nuts were piled up in form of a pyramid, twelve such forming a row; a nut was then fillipped off with some degree of force against the heaps, from a distance of about three yards. If the thrower succeeds in destroying one of the pyramids, he renews his throw at the others, always at the distance where his nut remained, until he misses, when the next player takes his turn: the game thus continuing until all the pyramids are thrown down.
Near the village, several boys were playing a game with Areka nuts called Mein-achu, which is somewhat similar to our game of marbles. They stacked four nuts in a pyramid shape, with twelve making up a row. A nut was then flicked away with some force at the piles from about three yards away. If the thrower manages to knock down one of the pyramids, he gets to throw again at the others, always from the spot where his nut landed, until he misses, at which point the next player takes their turn. The game continues this way until all the pyramids are knocked down.
I was much surprised a few days since, while passing a house in the vicinity of the village, to see apparently a European lad, of about six years of age; and on examining him closer, found his skin of a white colour, thinly scattered over with small light-brown patches. On passing the same house again, I made inquiry on the subject, and then had an opportunity of seeing two others, who were females,—one about sixteen or eighteen years of age, the other an infant just able to run about. They were described to us as children of native Malay parents, of the usual colour of their race; but we did not see them, as they had gone a short distance into the country. The children were named Ceté, Theté, and Cebreté. They had a plump appearance; flaxen hair, light-blue eyes; and the boy and young woman were slightly covered with scattered small brown patches; but the infant had not a blemish on its integument. The natives could give no reason for this variety; they looked upon it as curious, but did not seem, as far as I could ascertain, to regard it as a disease. They have the flat nose of the Malay, but otherwise would be considered the offspring of European parents, the skin being in some degree freckled. It ought certainly to be regarded as[438] a variety of, if not actually the disease called, leprosy.[160]
A few days ago, I was quite surprised while passing a house near the village to see what looked like a European boy, around six years old. Upon closer inspection, I noticed his skin was white, lightly speckled with small light-brown patches. When I walked by the same house again, I asked about it and got a chance to see two girls: one about sixteen or eighteen, and the other a toddler just starting to walk. They were said to be the children of local Malay parents, who had the typical skin color for their ethnicity, but we didn’t see them since they had gone a short distance into the countryside. The children were named Ceté, Theté, and Cebreté. They looked chubby, had flaxen hair and light blue eyes; the boy and young woman had some small brown patches scattered across their skin, while the infant had no blemishes at all. The locals couldn’t explain this difference; they found it curious but didn’t seem to view it as a disease. They had the flat noses typical of Malays, but otherwise, they would be considered the children of European parents, with their skin being somewhat freckled. It should definitely be seen as[438] a variation of, if not actually a form of the disease called leprosy.[160]
I met several natives going into the interior; they were all well armed with krisses, klawangs or Malay swords, spears, and blunderbusses or musquets; the country in the interior being described as in a very unsettled state. Some of the spears were about six feet long, resembling walking-staves, covered above by a wooden sheath, similar to the other part of the weapon, and ornamented with rims of silver; the upper part, or sheath, being taken off, displays the head of the spear.
I encountered several locals heading into the interior; they were all well-armed with krisses, klawangs, or Malay swords, spears, and blunderbusses or muskets, as the region in the interior was described as being quite unstable. Some of the spears were around six feet long, looking like walking sticks, covered above with a wooden sheath similar to the rest of the weapon, and decorated with silver rims; when the upper part, or sheath, is removed, it reveals the head of the spear.
I purchased a specimen of the Viverra musanga, similar to one I had before procured at Java, for half a rupee; although very wild with strangers, it was exceedingly domesticated with its master, following him like a cat, as he walked along the path: they called him, on this coast, as at Java, “Mussang.”
I bought an example of the Viverra musanga, similar to one I had previously gotten in Java, for half a rupee. Although it was very wild around strangers, it was super friendly with its owner, following him like a cat as he walked down the path. They called it “Mussang” on this coast, just like in Java.
This specimen was very little larger than one[439] I had before procured; but they attain, I was informed, the size of our domestic cat, living, in the wild state, upon the summits of the trees, eating fruit, and catching birds as their food. The animal is very fond of sugar-cane, plantain, rice, and the flesh of fowls, and will also kill and eat those troublesome insects, the cock-roaches. It, however, became so very savage on board, that I was obliged at last to destroy it.
This specimen was only slightly larger than one[439] I had gotten before; but I was told they can grow to the size of a domestic cat, living in the wild among the treetops, eating fruit and catching birds for food. The animal really enjoys sugar cane, plantains, rice, and chicken, and it will also hunt and eat those pesky cockroaches. However, it became so aggressive on board that I eventually had to put it down.
I was frequently applied to by the natives, when sick, to administer medicines to them. There were several suffering from different kinds of tumours; one, near the nose, I offered to remove; but although the person promised to come on board for the purpose, I afterwards heard he was afraid, and altered his mind. Among many patients was a little girl, belonging to a Moorman, suffering from Diarrhœa mucosa: her body had been rubbed entirely over with a mixture of turmeric, sandal-wood, and oil, as a remedy for the disease. The yellow appearance—the usual indication of sickness—was not the result, as may have been expected, of some disease, but merely a daubing over the body of the above-mentioned composition,—this being the remedy for all diseases. The common Hindoo application of cow-dung and turmeric is frequent for external wounds or bruises, and[440] considered a very efficacious remedy. Cutaneous diseases were very numerous, and the native applications proved very inefficacious in removing them.
I was often approached by the locals when they were sick to give them medicine. Several were suffering from various types of tumors; one near the nose, I offered to remove. However, even though the person promised to come on board for the procedure, I later learned he was too scared and changed his mind. Among the many patients was a little girl, belonging to a Moorman, who was suffering from Diarrhœa mucosa: her body had been completely covered with a mixture of turmeric, sandalwood, and oil as a treatment for the illness. The yellow color—typically a sign of illness—wasn't due to any disease as one might expect, but rather just from being smeared with the aforementioned mixture, which they believed was a cure for all ailments. The common Hindu practice of using cow dung and turmeric is often used for external wounds or bruises, and is considered a very effective remedy. Skin diseases were quite common, and the traditional remedies used by the locals were largely ineffective in treating them.[440]
I had an opportunity of seeing another rajah—the rajah of Putu (a village and district not far distant, on the sea coast). He was ill-looking in person, and carried with him the appearance of being addicted to opium-smoking. He was attired in a sarong of a handsome pattern, the borders of which were woven with gold threads. These sarongs are the manufacture of the country, and are sold at high prices. The rajah was tall and young, and was attended by a numerous retinue, attired in red cloth jackets ornamented with gold lace, and handsome sarongs: others could only wear a cotton baju, or jacket. They were armed with spears, klawangs, krisses, and old rusty blunderbusses. The object of his visit to this place, was to pay his respects to the old queen (grandmother of the present rajah) of Acheen, who was residing at Pedir, and was about to embark in a few days in the Acheenese grab for Acheen, and was described as being an excellent old lady.
I had a chance to see another rajah—the rajah of Putu (a village and district not far away, on the coast). He looked unhealthy and seemed to have a habit of smoking opium. He wore a beautiful patterned sarong, with borders made of gold threads. These sarongs are made in the country and are sold for high prices. The rajah was tall and young, accompanied by a large entourage dressed in red jackets decorated with gold lace and elegant sarongs; others wore only a cotton baju, or jacket. They were armed with spears, swords, krisses, and old rusty guns. He had come to pay his respects to the old queen (the grandmother of the current rajah) of Acheen, who was living in Pedir and was about to set sail in a few days on the Acheenese grab for Acheen, and she was said to be a wonderful old lady.
(See page 13, vol. i.)
(See p. 13, vol. 1.)
A method has since been mentioned to me, by which the colours of the flowers of plants are well preserved. The process was this:—The paper being first heated before the fire, or in an oven, the plant recently gathered is placed between the hot sheets, and pressed. It is requisite, however, that the paper, in the same heated state, be renewed at intervals, on account of the expressed juices from the stalks and leaves fermenting, which might otherwise injure the plants.
A method has been shared with me for preserving the colors of flower petals effectively. The process is as follows: First, heat the paper over a fire or in an oven, then place the freshly picked plant between the hot sheets and press it. However, it's important to change the paper at intervals while it's still hot, because the juices released from the stems and leaves can ferment, which could damage the plants.
There is also a method of preserving plants in flower, by which their natural form, as well as colours, can be preserved. It consists in placing the plant in a jar, and pouring fine sand upon it, until the whole plant is covered: it is then to be placed, still kept in the jar, into an oven; after which, being taken out, and the sand removed, the plant is found preserved both in its form and colour.
There’s also a way to preserve flowering plants that keeps their natural shape and colors intact. This involves putting the plant in a jar and covering it completely with fine sand. Then, while it's still in the jar, you place it in an oven. After taking it out and removing the sand, the plant will be preserved in both its shape and color.
FOOTNOTES
[2] In summer, Horsburgh states that the north-east winds prevail, and a south-west current sets through the channel, between Madeira and the Desertas. The current along the south side of Madeira and the Desertas mostly sets to the leeward in strong gales; but at the conclusion of a gale, it sometimes changes suddenly, and sets contrary to the wind.
[2] In summer, Horsburgh notes that the north-east winds are dominant, and a south-west current flows through the channel between Madeira and the Desertas. The current along the south side of Madeira and the Desertas usually moves downwind during strong gales, but at the end of a gale, it can suddenly shift and flow against the wind.
[3] They are called “Guinea Ships” by the old navigators, from their floating like a vessel on the water, and from having very probably been first seen in great numbers about the coast and gulf of Guinea.
[3] They are referred to as “Guinea Ships” by the old navigators, because they appear to float like a vessel on the water, and likely because they were first spotted in large numbers around the coast and gulf of Guinea.
[4] Mr. John Fuge, of Plymouth, informed me that he captured a specimen of the Physalia pelagica, in the Catwater, (Plymouth Sound,) a few years since, in the month of August; it was floating upon the surface of the water, and living when caught; he placed it in a glass globe of sea water, and preserved it for three weeks. The only motion he observed in the animal, was an occasional contraction and elongation of the beaked end of the bladder portion of the animal, and the tentaculæ were also drawn up and thrust forward.
[4] Mr. John Fuge, from Plymouth, told me that he caught a specimen of the Physalia pelagica in Catwater (Plymouth Sound) a few years ago in August. It was floating on the water's surface and was alive when he caught it. He put it in a glass globe of seawater and kept it for three weeks. The only movement he noticed in the creature was a periodic contraction and elongation of the beaked end of the bladder part, and the tentacles were also drawn in and pushed forward.
[5] Physalis tuberculosa, P. megalista, P. elongata, and P. pelagica, are the species given by Lamarck. (Sur les Animaux sans Vertèbres, tom. ii. p. 478.)
[5] Physalis tuberculosa, P. megalista, P. elongata, and P. pelagica are the species listed by Lamarck. (Sur les Animaux sans Vertèbres, tom. ii. p. 478.)
[6] On the 5th of April, 1834, in latitude 29° 17′ north, and longitude 42° 57′ west, temperature of the atmosphere 68° to 72°, I caught in my towing net a very fine specimen of Physalis pelagica, adorned with the usual beautiful tints, but not so vivid as I have usually seen them. The specimen was the largest I had before witnessed. During the month of April, 1834, I observed specimens of this mollusca as far north as latitude 38° 32′ north, and longitude 34° 30′ west. The lowest range of the thermometer being 58°, and highest 72°. In March, 1831, I had seen them as far north as the latitude of the Azores or Western Islands. Often when we had very strong westerly winds, with a heavy sea running at the time, I saw them; yet not, to use a nautical expression, “furling sail” and sinking; this was sufficient to prove the absurdity of the opinion that they collapse and sink during stormy breezes. I have frequently seen them capsized by a wave, but almost instantly after regain their natural position.
[6] On April 5, 1834, at a latitude of 29° 17′ north and longitude 42° 57′ west, with temperatures ranging from 68° to 72°, I caught a really nice specimen of Physalis pelagica in my towing net. It had the usual beautiful colors, but they weren’t as vibrant as I had typically seen. This specimen was the largest I had ever come across. During April 1834, I spotted these mollusks as far north as latitude 38° 32′ north and longitude 34° 30′ west. The minimum temperature was 58°, and the maximum was 72°. In March 1831, I had seen them as far north as the latitude of the Azores or Western Islands. Often, during very strong westerly winds with heavy seas, I observed them; however, they didn’t, to put it in nautical terms, “furl sail” and sink. This was enough to show the ridiculousness of the idea that they collapse and sink during stormy weather. I frequently saw them flipped over by a wave, but almost immediately afterward, they would right themselves.
[8] “The largest tree in the world is the Adansonia or Baobab tree, the trunk of which has been found with a diameter of thirty feet; but its height is not in proportion. It is emollient and mucilaginous in all its parts. The leaves dried and reduced to powder constitute Lalo, a favourite article with the Africans, which they mix daily with their food, for the purpose of diminishing the excessive perspiration to which they are subject in those climates; and even Europeans find it serviceable in cases of diarrhœa, fevers, and other maladies. The fruit is, perhaps, the most useful part of the tree. Its pulp is slightly acid and agreeable, and frequently eaten; while the juice is expressed from it, mixed with sugar, and constitutes a drink which is valued as a specific in putrid and pestilential fevers.”—Hooker’s Bot. Mag. 2792.
[8] “The largest tree in the world is the Adansonia, or Baobab tree, which has a trunk with a diameter of thirty feet; however, its height doesn't match that size. Every part of it is soft and gelatinous. The leaves, when dried and powdered, are known as Lalo, a popular item among Africans, which they regularly add to their food to help reduce the excessive sweating they experience in those climates. Even Europeans find it helpful for issues like diarrhea, fevers, and other ailments. The fruit is probably the most beneficial part of the tree. Its pulp is mildly tangy and pleasant, often eaten, while the juice is extracted, mixed with sugar, and made into a drink that is regarded as effective for treating putrid and pestilential fevers.”—Hooker’s Bot. Mag. 2792.
“The dried pulp is mixed with water, and administered in Egypt in dysentery. It is chiefly composed of a gum, like gum senegal, a sugary matter, starch, and an acid, which appears to be malic.”—Delile Cent. 12. Quoted in Lindley’s Int. to the Nat. Syst. of Botany.
“The dried pulp is mixed with water and used in Egypt for treating dysentery. It mainly consists of gum, similar to gum Senegal, along with sugar, starch, and an acid that seems to be malic.” —Delile Cent. 12. Quoted in Lindley’s Int. to the Nat. Syst. of Botany.
[9] (In June, 1831.) “Canary orchilla fetches in the London market from 270l. to 290l. per ton, while that which is brought from Madeira fetches only 140l., and Barbary not more than from 30l. to 45l. The total quantity imported in 1829, amounted to 1,813 cwt. or 90½ tons.”—“Archil is generally sold in the form of cakes, but sometimes in that of moist pulp.”—M’Culloch’s Dict. of Commerce.
[9] (In June, 1831.) “Canary orchilla sells in the London market for between 270l. and 290l. per ton, while the one from Madeira only goes for 140l., and the Barbary variety sells for only between 30l. and 45l. The total amount imported in 1829 was 1,813 cwt. or 90½ tons.”—“Archil is usually sold in the form of cakes, but sometimes it’s available as moist pulp.”—M’Culloch’s Dict. of Commerce.
[10] At the time of our arrival a Portuguese brig was lying in the bay, having a cargo of this weed on board, which was estimated at a low calculation to be worth 30,000l.
[10] When we arrived, a Portuguese brig was anchored in the bay, carrying a load of this weed, which was estimated to be worth at least £30,000.
[11] “The dyer’s lichen was first exported from the islands of the Archipelago to Venice, Genoa, France, and England, for the use of the dyers. Towards the commencement of the last century it was discovered in the Canary Islands, and was soon placed among the regalia of the Spanish crown. This excited the attention of the Portuguese, who collected it without restriction in the Cape de Verd Islands, Madeira, Porto Santo, and the Azores. In the year 1730, the Jesuits asked of King John V. the privilege of collecting the Hervinha secca; but the crown took the advantage into its own hands, and farmed the right of collecting it. At a later period the lichen was ceded to the mercantile company of Gram Pará and Maranhâo; and, lastly, in the year 1790, the government again took this branch of commerce under its own care, because it had declined considerably under the bad management of the company. At present the exportation is small; but more considerable, however, from the Cape de Verd Isles.” (See I. Da Silva Feijó, in the Memorias Economicas da Acad. de Lisboa, vol. v. 1815, p. 143.)—Spix and Martius Travels in Brazil, vol. i. p. 125.
[11] “The dyer's lichen was first exported from the islands of the Archipelago to Venice, Genoa, France, and England for use by dyers. At the beginning of the last century, it was discovered in the Canary Islands and soon became part of the regalia of the Spanish crown. This caught the attention of the Portuguese, who collected it freely in the Cape Verde Islands, Madeira, Porto Santo, and the Azores. In 1730, the Jesuits requested permission from King John V to collect the Hervinha secca; however, the crown took control and leased the collection rights. Later, the lichen was handed over to the trading company of Gram Pará and Maranhâo; and ultimately, in 1790, the government reassumed control of this trade as it had significantly decreased due to the company's poor management. Currently, the export is limited but somewhat more significant from the Cape Verde Islands.” (See I. Da Silva Feijó, in the Memorias Economicas da Acad. de Lisboa, vol. v. 1815, p. 143.)—Spix and Martius Travels in Brazil, vol. i. p. 125.
[14] It would be interesting, but at the same time difficult, to ascertain where one particular species commences and another terminates, and the extent of their range. In the summer season they are found off the Cape of Good Hope, Port Jackson, and even on the banks of Newfoundland; and I have good authority for asserting that in the month of August, in even more than one year, they have been seen in Plymouth Sound.
[14] It would be interesting but also challenging to figure out where one species begins and another ends, as well as how far they range. In the summer, they can be found near the Cape of Good Hope, Port Jackson, and even along the shores of Newfoundland. I’ve heard from reliable sources that during August, in more than one year, they have been spotted in Plymouth Sound.
[15] My journal remarks the atmosphere to have been very chilly during the day, but much milder in the evening; the range of the thermometer during the day being from 49° to 56°.
[15] My journal notes that the atmosphere was quite chilly during the day, but much milder in the evening; the temperature range throughout the day was from 49° to 56°.
[16] How will this accord with the geographical distribution of the mollusca by Péron and Leseur? After studying the Holothuria Medusæ, and other congeners of delicate and changeable forms, they came to the conclusion that each kind has its place of residence determined by the temperature necessary to support its existence. Thus, for example, they found the abode of Pyrosoma atlanticum to be confined to one particular region of the Atlantic Ocean.—Voy. aux Terres Aust. tom. 1, p. 492, quoted in Lyell’s Principles of Geology, vol. ii. pp. 111, 112.
[16] How will this align with the geographic distribution of mollusks by Péron and Leseur? After examining the Holothuria Medusæ and other similar delicate and variable forms, they concluded that each species has its own habitat determined by the temperature needed for its survival. For instance, they discovered that Pyrosoma atlanticum is limited to a specific area in the Atlantic Ocean.—Voy. aux Terres Aust. tom. 1, p. 492, quoted in Lyell’s Principles of Geology, vol. ii. pp. 111, 112.
[17] Albicores, bonitos, and dolphins, often follow the ship for several days in succession; we had occasion to note an albicore that was marked on the back by some sharp instrument, leaving a large sear by which it could readily be recognized. It was first seen in 3° north latitude, and following the ship to latitude 11° south, a distance of eight hundred and forty miles.
[17] Albacores, bonitos, and dolphins often follow the ship for several days in a row; we noticed one albacore that had a noticeable mark on its back from some sharp object, leaving a big scar that made it easy to identify. It was first spotted at 3° north latitude and followed the ship down to 11° south latitude, covering a distance of eight hundred and forty miles.
[19] Respecting the name given to this bird, it has been observed, that the first Portuguese navigator called them, the boobies, and other sea-birds, alcatros or alcatras. Dampier applied this name to an actual kind; Grew changed it to albitross, and Edwards into albatross. The French name these birds mouton du cap. There are a number of species enumerated; but it will require frequent and cautious observation previous to the determination of a new one, as they vary so much in plumage from sex and age.
[19] In keeping with the name given to this bird, it has been noted that the first Portuguese navigator referred to them as boobies, while other sea birds were called alcatros or alcatras. Dampier used this name for a specific type; Grew changed it to albitross, and Edwards turned it into albatross. The French call these birds mouton du cap. There are several species listed, but it will take regular and careful observation to identify a new one, as their plumage varies significantly by sex and age.
[22] This bird is evidently aided by its long wings as well as tail in directing its flight: they are never seen to soar to any great height, and are often observed to change their course, by turning the wings and body in a lateral direction, and oftentimes, when raising themselves, would bend the last joint of the wings downwards.
[22] This bird clearly benefits from its long wings and tail when it comes to flying: they are never seen soaring very high and are often noticed changing direction by turning their wings and body to the side. They frequently bend the last joint of their wings downwards when they take off.
[23] Cuvier enumerates five species; but at the same time says, “On a observé divers albatrosses plus ou moins bruns ou noirâtres, mais on n’a pu encore constater jusqu’à quel point ils forment des variétés ou des espèces distinctes.”—Regne Animal, tom. i. p. 555.
[23] Cuvier lists five species; however, he also states, “Various albatrosses have been observed that are more or less brown or blackish, but it has not yet been confirmed to what extent they are distinct varieties or species.”—Regne Animal, vol. i. p. 555.
[24] The building was originally erected as a theatre, at a very great expense, and after its completion the governor, at that time General Darling, refused to grant a licence for dramatic performances, in consequence of which it was fitted up as a spacious hotel. On the present Governor, General Burke, granting permission for theatrical entertainments, a portion of the building has reverted to the original purpose for which the whole had been erected.
[24] The building was initially built as a theater, at a huge cost, and after it was finished, the governor at that time, General Darling, refused to issue a license for stage performances. As a result, it was converted into a spacious hotel. When the current Governor, General Burke, allowed theatrical events, part of the building went back to the original purpose for which it was constructed.
[25] “It is at least certain that on this microscopic character of the equal existence of cutaneous glands on both surfaces of the leaf, depends that want of lustre which is so remarkable in the forests of New Holland.”—Sketch of the Botany of the Vicinity of Swan River, by R. Brown, Esq. F.R.S., published in the Journal of the Royal Geographical Society of London, vol. i. 1830, 1831.
[25] “It is at least certain that the microscopic feature of the equal presence of skin glands on both sides of the leaf is what causes the noticeable lack of shine found in the forests of New Holland.”—Sketch of the Botany of the Vicinity of Swan River, by R. Brown, Esq. F.R.S., published in the Journal of the Royal Geographical Society of London, vol. i. 1830, 1831.
[28] I remarked that the wood of a species of Banksia, (I believe dentata,) which was used for firewood, was of a beautiful red colour, and when split in a longitudinal direction displayed a curious interlaced appearance; it had an astringent taste when chewed, staining the saliva of a dark reddish colour, and I think it would be worth trying if a dye would be furnished by it.
[28] I noticed that the wood of a type of Banksia, (I think it’s dentata), which was used for firewood, had a beautiful red color. When split lengthwise, it showed a fascinating interlaced pattern; it had a bitter taste when chewed, turning the saliva a dark reddish color, and I think it would be worth seeing if it could be used as a dye.
[29] The Kennedia is called the “woodbine” by some of the shepherds in the colony, who use a decoction of its leaves as a lotion for scabby sheep, and they declare it is a cure for that disease; but their declarations of the curative properties of the plant is not borne out by the experience of others, who have found it quite useless as a remedy for that disease.
[29] The Kennedia is referred to as “woodbine” by some shepherds in the colony, who use a brew made from its leaves as a lotion for scabby sheep, claiming it's a cure for that ailment. However, their claims about the plant's healing properties are not supported by the experiences of others, who have found it completely ineffective as a remedy for that condition.
[30] Among the Psittaceæ tribe is the Psittacus Novæ Hollandiæ, curious as being one of the parrot tribe, seen and mentioned by Captain Cook, but is a very rare species in the present known parts of the colony,—(it is, more correctly, a species of cockatoo, and which, I believe, Mr. Vigors has; or intends, to place in a new genus,)—and has not been seen even in those portions of the colony visited by Cook. The specimen in the collection, is one among a few of this species that was seen at Wellington Valley a few years since, during a prevailing drought, and since that period they have not been seen in that or any other known part of the colony. I heard at Yas Plains, that it was not uncommon at some seasons of the year to observe birds, before unknown to the colonists, appear, and soon after again disappear, and are, perhaps, never seen again until years after, and often not at all.
[30] Among the Psittaceæ tribe is the Psittacus Novæ Hollandiæ, which is interesting because it’s one of the parrot species that Captain Cook saw and mentioned, but it’s very rare in the parts of the colony that are known today. (More accurately, it’s a species of cockatoo, and I believe Mr. Vigors has plans to classify it under a new genus.) It hasn’t even been seen in the areas of the colony that Cook visited. The specimen in the collection is one of the few of this species that was spotted at Wellington Valley a few years ago during a drought, and since then, they haven’t been seen there or anywhere else in the colony. I heard at Yas Plains that during certain times of the year, birds previously unknown to the colonists appear and then quickly disappear again, sometimes not to be seen for years, or often, not at all.
[31] It would also be desirable to have the cases made in such a manner, as to be opened if required, and a closer inspection of the specimens obtained, which is often requisite for scientific examinations. To George Macleay, Esq. the museum is indebted for many valuable species of birds, which he had collected during his arduous journey in the exploration of the course of the Murrumbidge river, in the expedition under Captain Sturt.
[31] It would also be great to have the cases designed so that they can be opened if needed, allowing for a closer examination of the specimens, which is often necessary for scientific studies. The museum owes a debt of gratitude to George Macleay, Esq. for many valuable bird species he collected during his challenging journey exploring the Murrumbidgee River on the expedition with Captain Sturt.
[32] Captain Cook observes, “Of this plant, there are two sorts; the leaves of both resemble those of flags, but the flowers are smaller, and their clusters more numerous: in one kind, they are yellow; and in the other, a deep red.” This plant is also indigenous to Norfolk Island, which, in its vegetation, partakes more of New Zealand than the Australian continent. Captain Cook observes, that at Norfolk Island, “we observed many trees and plants, common at New Zealand, and, in particular, the flax plant, which is rather more luxuriant here than in any part of the country.”
[32] Captain Cook notes, “There are two types of this plant; the leaves of both are similar to those of flags, but the flowers are smaller and more numerous: one type has yellow flowers, while the other has a deep red.” This plant is also native to Norfolk Island, which has vegetation that is more similar to New Zealand than to the Australian continent. Captain Cook mentions that at Norfolk Island, “we saw many trees and plants that are common in New Zealand, particularly the flax plant, which is quite more lush here than in any other part of the country.”
[33] Captain George Harris, R. N., C. B., and member for Grimsby, in the present parliament, has recently been manufacturing rope and cables of the phormium tenax, or New Zealand flax; and instead of tar, substitutes a solution of gum, or some such substance, (principally, we suspect, the caoutchouc or Indian rubber,) by which, it is contended, the rope is rendered stronger, more pliant, and less liable to part in short bends, turns, or clinches, and being stronger, smaller ropes than those now in use will answer for ships’ rigging; the consumption of hemp, of course, diminishes in proportion—we say hemp, because the solution will also impart to the hemp the qualities we have named. If, however, a substitute is to be found for hemp and tar, we are rendered independent of the Russian trade in these articles;—a most desirable object, should the state of Europe at any time involve us in a difference with that nation. The bogs and rough ground of Ireland, all our African possessions and West Indian islands, and New South Wales, are particularly adapted to the culture of the phormium tenax. Captain Harris was here on Monday, and superintended the making of a 14½ inch cable, which is to be tried on his Majesty’s ship Rainbow. A trial is also to be made of the relative strength of the phormium tenax and hemp in this yard, in a few days, for which a piece of 14½ inch cable has been expressly manufactured. The price of hemp per ton is £38; that of the phormium tenax £28. Of the experiments that have been made at Woolwich, by order of the Admiralty, the following are the results:—
[33] Captain George Harris, R.N., C.B., and member for Grimsby in the current parliament, has recently started producing rope and cables using phormium tenax, or New Zealand flax. Instead of tar, he uses a solution of gum or a similar substance (we suspect it’s mainly caoutchouc or Indian rubber) which supposedly makes the rope stronger, more flexible, and less likely to break in tight bends, turns, or clinches. With improved strength, smaller ropes than those currently in use will be sufficient for ship rigging, which will reduce the consumption of hemp. We mention hemp because this solution will also enhance the qualities of hemp. If a substitute for hemp and tar is found, we would be less reliant on Russian supplies of these materials—something very desirable if the situation in Europe ever puts us at odds with that nation. The bogs and rough terrain of Ireland, along with our African colonies, West Indian islands, and New South Wales, are well-suited for growing phormium tenax. Captain Harris was here on Monday, overseeing the production of a 14½ inch cable that will be tested on His Majesty’s ship Rainbow. A comparison of the strength of phormium tenax and hemp will also be conducted in this yard in a few days, for which a 14½ inch cable has been specifically produced. The cost of hemp per ton is £38, while phormium tenax costs £28. According to the experiments conducted at Woolwich, as ordered by the Admiralty, here are the results:—
| T. | cwt. | lbs. | |
|---|---|---|---|
| A 4½ inch rope of the old sort broke at a strain of | 3 | 8 | 40 |
| 4 inch phormium, with the solution | 5 | 10 | 0 |
| 4 inch bolt rope, Italian yarns, present sort | 4 | 15 | 0 |
| 4 inch ditto, with the same yarns, with the preserving solution | 6 | 8 | 56 |
| 4 inch common rope | 5 | 7 | 56 |
| 4 inch hempen rope, with coal or mineral tar | 3 | 7 | 56 |
| 4 inch phormium, with the solution | 5 | 16 | 70 |
The strongest proof is thus given of its strength. Its power, however, to resist wet, and its durability, are yet to be ascertained.—Hampshire Telegraph.
The strongest evidence of its strength is therefore provided. Its ability to withstand moisture and its durability still need to be determined.—Hampshire Telegraph.
[34] The following was mentioned to me as the origin of the name given to this point. Governor Phillip, at an early period of the colony, formed a pic-nic party to proceed up the Paramatta river, and a person was sent on before to prepare kangaroo steaks. They landed at this point, and having regaled themselves, the gentlemen, following the maxims of John Hunter, laid down upon the grass, and aided digestion by falling asleep; the ladies finding themselves deserted began to propose winning gloves, and therefore kisses were taken, and on their awaking the forfeit was demanded, and of course not refused. Before leaving the place the governor wished some name to be bestowed upon the point, and one of the ladies being requested to do so, in consequence of the occurrence just mentioned, named it “Kissing Point.”
[34] I heard that this is the story behind the name of this spot. Early on in the colony, Governor Phillip organized a picnic to go up the Paramatta River, and someone was sent ahead to get kangaroo steaks ready. They landed at this spot, and after enjoying their meal, the gentlemen, following John Hunter's advice, laid down on the grass and helped their digestion by taking a nap. The ladies, feeling abandoned, started to suggest playful games, which led to kisses being exchanged, and when the men woke up, they were asked for the agreed-upon forfeit, which they of course accepted. Before leaving the area, the governor wanted to give the point a name, and one of the ladies, asked for a suggestion because of the earlier events, named it “Kissing Point.”
[35] This creek, commonly called the Paramatta river, is a creek or inlet of the sea from Port Jackson; the true river, which is very small, falls into this creek at Paramatta.
[35] This creek, often referred to as the Paramatta River, is an inlet from the sea at Port Jackson; the actual river, which is quite small, flows into this creek at Paramatta.
[36] Boyams are the roots of different genera and species of the Orchideæ family; some are called, by the colonists, “double or single boyams,” according to the appearance of the roots, and they all form an article of food among the aboriginal tribes.
[36] Boyams are the roots of various genera and species from the Orchideæ family; some are referred to by the colonists as “double or single boyams,” depending on the appearance of the roots, and they are all a food source for the indigenous tribes.
[37] The dimensions of the large specimen were as follows:
[37] The measurements of the large specimen were as follows:
| Feet. | Inch. | |
|---|---|---|
| From the vertex of the head to the tip of the tail | 2 | 3 |
| Breadth across the shoulders | 0 | 3 |
| Length of the tail | 0 | 11½ |
| Breadth of the loins | 0 | 3²⁄₈ |
| Length of the fore-leg to the claws | 0 | 6⅝ |
| hind leg to do. | 0 | 7⅜ |
| Length of the head to the snout | 0 | 4 |
| Length of the ear | 0 | 2½ |
The tail is naked underneath from its extremity to within five inches of the base, and is prehensile.
The tail is bare underneath from the tip to about five inches from the base, and it can grasp things.
The colour of the male specimen was greyish; a short fine fur covers the back, being also continuous of the same colour to within four inches of the tail; after which the fur becomes longer, more glossy, and of a black colour; the fur on the abdomen was of a yellowish white colour; near the feet the fur is short, of a dirty yellow colour, with brownish patches; the colour is similar under the chin, throat, and angles of the jaw; the upper part of the ears is nearly bare; the thumbs of the hind feet have no claw, but the fore-feet are pentadactyle, and armed with sharp claws; the four toes of the hind-feet are also armed with claws, the first dividing into two phalanges, each having a claw. The young specimen differed from this only in having a yellowish tinge mixed with the grey over the back, legs, and abdomen; angles of the jaw and throat of a brownish yellow; the under portion about the eyes and upper part of the head of a yellowish colour.
The male specimen was a grayish color; a short, fine fur covers the back, extending in the same color within four inches of the tail; after that, the fur becomes longer, shinier, and black. The fur on the abdomen is a yellowish-white color; near the feet, the fur is short, dirty yellow, with brown patches. The color is similar under the chin, throat, and jawline. The tops of the ears are almost bare; the thumbs of the hind feet lack claws, but the front feet have five toes, each equipped with sharp claws. The four toes on the hind feet also have claws, with the first one splitting into two phalanges, each having a claw. The young specimen only differed by having a yellowish tint mixed with the gray on the back, legs, and abdomen, with the jawline and throat being brownish-yellow; the skin around the eyes and upper part of the head are yellowish.
[38] The Hobart Town Colonist of Oct. 12, 1832, contains the following paragraph respecting the capability of the opossum fur being used in manufactures.
[38] The Hobart Town Colonist from October 12, 1832, includes the following paragraph about the potential of opossum fur being used in manufacturing.
“We have been favoured with the sight of a pair of mittens spun and knit by Mrs. M’Kenzie, of the Lower Clyde, from the fur of the opossum. In texture and appearance they very much resemble the best sort of Angola mittens, but to us they appear of superior quality. The pair that we saw are now in the possession of Mr. Gordon, of Forcett, to whom they were presented by Mr. M’Kenzie.”
“We’ve had the pleasure of seeing a pair of mittens made by Mrs. M’Kenzie from the Lower Clyde, knitted from the fur of the opossum. In texture and appearance, they closely resemble the best kind of Angola mittens, but to us, they seem to be of higher quality. The pair we saw is now owned by Mr. Gordon of Forcett, who received them as a gift from Mr. M’Kenzie.”
[39] Besides the vine, other fruit-tree cuttings blossom and even bear fruit in a very short period of time. I saw a peach cutting, in a garden near Sydney, about six inches long, which had been planted only ten days, and was covered with a profusion of blossoms.
[39] Besides the vine, other fruit tree cuttings bloom and even produce fruit in a very short time. I saw a peach cutting, in a garden near Sydney, about six inches long, that had only been planted for ten days and was covered with a ton of blossoms.
[40] The box-tree of the colonists (Eucalyptus, sp.) is used in the colony for the spokes and fellies of wheels, and the “apple-tree” (Angophora lanceolata) for the naves.
[40] The box-tree of the colonists (Eucalyptus, sp.) is used in the colony for the spokes and rims of wheels, and the “apple-tree” (Angophora lanceolata) for the hubs.
[44] It has been stated frequently to me, that the females destroying their offspring allege as a reason, that they are too much trouble to carry about: however, it is well known, that, as their children become older, they evince much attachment towards them.
[44] I've often heard it said that the females who abandon their offspring claim it's because they're too much trouble to carry around; however, it's well known that as their children grow older, they show a lot of affection towards them.
[45] This is not confined to the Australian natives, for it also occurs in Polynesia. Spix and Martius also observe, in their Travels in Brazil, (Eng. Trans. 8vo. vol. ii. p. 241,) “We did not meet with any deformed persons or cripples among the Indians; for which reason, some people believe that they put them to death immediately after their birth.”
[45] This isn't just limited to the Australian natives; it also happens in Polynesia. Spix and Martius also note in their *Travels in Brazil* (Eng. Trans. 8vo. vol. ii. p. 241), “We didn’t encounter any deformed individuals or disabled people among the Indians; for this reason, some believe they are killed right after birth.”
[47] Those philanthropic individuals who think to change the habits of these savage tribes, expecting those who have lived from the earliest period of their existence on the produce of the chase, to abandon their wandering life, and settle down to cultivate the soil—an employment to which they are quite unaccustomed—can never have reflected how difficult, even in our boasted civilized state, it is to change habits acquired in early childhood. “Men,” observes Hartley, in his Essays on Man, (page 190,) “are brought to any thing almost sooner than to change their habit of life, especially when the change is either inconvenient or made against the force of natural inclination, or with the loss of accustomed indulgences. It is,” he continues, “the most difficult of all things to convert men from vicious habits to virtuous ones, as every one may judge from what he feels in himself as well as from what he sees in others.” “It is almost,” says Paley, after making the above quotation in his Evidences of Christianity, “like making men over again.”
[47] Those generous people who believe they can change the habits of these primitive tribes, expecting those who have lived off hunting since the dawn of time to give up their nomadic lifestyle and settle down to farm—an activity they are completely unaccustomed to—clearly haven’t thought about how hard it is, even in our so-called civilized society, to change habits formed in childhood. “People,” notes Hartley in his Essays on Man, (page 190), “will adapt to almost anything faster than they will change their way of life, especially when the change is inconvenient, goes against their natural tendencies, or requires giving up familiar comforts. It is,” he adds, “the toughest challenge of all to shift people from bad habits to good ones, as anyone can see in themselves as well as in others.” “It’s almost,” Paley says after quoting this in his Evidences of Christianity, “like trying to remake people entirely.”
[48] At New Zealand the placenta is named “fenua,” which word signifies land. It is applied by the natives to the placenta, from their supposing it to be the residence of the child: on being discharged, it is immediately buried with great care, as they have the superstitious idea that the priests, if offended, would procure it; and, by praying over it, occasion the death of both mother and child, by “praying them to death,” to use their own expression.
[48] In New Zealand, the placenta is called “fenua,” which means land. The locals use this term for the placenta because they believe it is where the child resides. Once delivered, it is buried immediately and with great care, as they hold a superstitious belief that if the priests feel insulted, they could take it and, by praying over it, cause the death of both the mother and the child, by “praying them to death,” as they say.
[49] At New Zealand the women are attended, during labour, by their husbands; but, if it is a difficult labour, they suppose the spirits to be angry, and therefore send for the Tohunga, or priest. On the arrival of the Tohunga, he strides over and breathes on the woman, and then, retiring to a short distance, sits down and prays to the spirits; if the labour terminates favourably, it is looked upon as resulting from the influence of the Tohunga in averting the anger of the spirits; but should the termination be fatal, the priest is considered to have incurred the displeasure of the spirits, and lost his influence.
[49] In New Zealand, women are supported during labor by their husbands; however, if the labor is difficult, they believe the spirits are angry, so they call for the Tohunga, or priest. When the Tohunga arrives, he approaches the woman and breathes on her, then steps back to a short distance, sits down, and prays to the spirits. If the labor ends well, it’s seen as a result of the Tohunga’s influence in calming the spirits' anger; but if it ends badly, the priest is thought to have upset the spirits and lost his power.
[51] Distance of miles in travelling in the interior of the colony is nominal, and the time occupied in riding the distance is usually taken into consideration; some stages seem often to be over and others under-calculated. “Shepherd’s miles,” it is a saying in the colony, “are short, those of stockmen long.”
[51] The distance in miles when traveling through the interior of the colony is minimal, and the time it takes to ride that distance is usually considered; some routes often feel longer while others feel shorter than estimated. It’s often said in the colony that “shepherd’s miles are short, while stockmen’s miles are long.”
[52] The different trees of the Eucalyptus genus are confused, and require botanical arrangement: many, termed species, are merely varieties; and the botanical characters of but few species are accurately known.
[52] The various trees of the Eucalyptus genus are mixed up and need proper classification; many that are called species are actually just varieties, and only a few species have their botanical characteristics well understood.
[55] The “swamp oak” bears much resemblance to the larch. I know not why this and other species of the casuarina trees have received the colonial appellation of “oaks,” as forest-oak, swamp-oak, she oak, &c., as they have not the slightest resemblance to that tree in external character, unless the name may have been given from some similarity in the wood.
[55] The “swamp oak” looks a lot like the larch. I don’t understand why this and other types of casuarina trees have been called “oaks,” such as forest-oak, swamp-oak, she oak, etc., since they don’t resemble oak trees at all on the outside, unless the name comes from some similarity in the wood.
[56] The granite soil at Bolam is said to injure the teeth of the sheep, the teeth of young sheep being as much worn down by it as in other soils is often seen in the old sheep.
[56] The granite soil at Bolam is said to damage the teeth of the sheep, with young sheep's teeth wearing down just as much from it as is often observed in older sheep.
[57] In February, 1833, the ship “Prince Regent” arrived at Port Jackson, from England, with emigrants and a general cargo; she was immediately placed under quarantine, on account of the small-pox having occurred at two distinct periods on board the vessel during the passage. The vessel was not released from her unpleasant situation until the commencement of March, having been, previous to her release, thoroughly fumigated, and the clothes of all the infected persons burnt and washed at the quarantine station, before being admitted into the cove of Sydney.
[57] In February 1833, the ship “Prince Regent” arrived at Port Jackson from England, carrying emigrants and general cargo. It was immediately put under quarantine due to smallpox outbreaks that happened twice during the journey. The ship was not allowed to leave quarantine until the beginning of March, and before it was released, it was thoroughly fumigated. The clothes of all the infected people were burned and washed at the quarantine station before they were allowed into the cove of Sydney.
[58] This is not uncommon among savage nations; the introduction of dysentery at Otaheite, or Tahiti, was attributed to Vancouver; and in Beechey’s interesting narrative we are told that the Pitcairn islanders had imbibed similar notions with regard to shipping calling at their island, of leaving them a legacy of some disease. Mr. Hamilton Hume, (the well-known Australian traveller,) who accompanied Captain Sturt in his expedition to the northward, says the natives were suffering severely from this eruptive malady, when they arrived among them, and numbers had died, and many more were still dying, from its virulence. The description of the disease he gave me accords in most points with that given by Dr. Mair.
[58] This is not unusual among primitive societies; the outbreak of dysentery in Tahiti was blamed on Vancouver; and in Beechey's engaging account, we learn that the Pitcairn islanders held similar beliefs about ships visiting their island, thinking they brought them a legacy of disease. Mr. Hamilton Hume, the famous Australian explorer, who joined Captain Sturt on his northern expedition, noted that the locals were suffering greatly from this skin disease when they arrived, with many having died and more still dying from its severity. The description of the illness he shared with me matches closely with what Dr. Mair described.
[60] We tasted some excellent ale which had been brewed on the farm, and it was gratifying to find that so wholesome a beverage could be made by the colonists. The hop thrives well in this part of the colony, and I understand succeeds even better on the farms at the Hunter’s River.
[60] We enjoyed some great ale that had been brewed on the farm, and it was satisfying to see that such a healthy drink could be produced by the colonists. The hops grow well in this area of the colony, and I hear they do even better on the farms by the Hunter’s River.
[61] This pass in the mountain range was discovered by Mr. Hamilton Hume, (in the expedition made to the south-west of Australia, by those enterprising travellers, Messrs. Hovell and Hume,) and from which the important discovery of Yas (or according to the aboriginal pronunciation, Yar) Plains was made.
[61] This mountain pass was found by Mr. Hamilton Hume during the expedition to the southwest of Australia, led by the adventurous travelers, Messrs. Hovell and Hume, which led to the significant discovery of Yas (or, as pronounced by the Aboriginal people, Yar) Plains.
[62] Derived from two Malay words, Kayu puti, signifying “white wood;” (Kayu, wood; puti, white). The mode of preparing the oil is as follows:—“The leaves are collected in a hot dry day, and put into thoroughly dry bags, in which, nevertheless, they soon spontaneously heat and become moist, as if macerated in water. They are then cut in pieces, infused in water, and left to ferment for a night, after which they are distilled. The quantity of oil they yield is very small, scarcely more than three fluid drachms being obtained from two bags of leaves.”—Rumphius.
[62] Derived from two Malay words, Kayu puti, meaning "white wood;" (Kayu means wood; puti means white). The process for preparing the oil is as follows: “The leaves are gathered on a hot, dry day and placed into completely dry bags, in which they quickly start to heat up and become moist, as if soaked in water. They are then chopped into pieces, soaked in water, and left to ferment overnight, after which they are distilled. The amount of oil produced is very small, with hardly more than three fluid drachms obtained from two bags of leaves.”—Rumphius.
“When newly drawn it is very limpid, pellucid, and volatile; and Rumphius says, smells strongly of cardamoms, but is more pleasant. On account of the high price of real Caju puti oil, it is said to be often adulterated with oil of turpentine, and coloured with resin of milfoil.”—Thompson’s London Dispensary, 8vo. page 416.
“When it's freshly made, it’s very clear, transparent, and light; and Rumphius mentions that it has a strong cardamom scent, but is more pleasant. Because of the high cost of genuine Caju puti oil, it’s said to often be mixed with turpentine oil and dyed with milfoil resin.”—Thompson’s London Dispensary, 8vo. page 416.
[63] At New Zealand a pit is dug in the ground, in which some stones are placed, and a fire lighted upon them, and suffered to remain until they are well-heated; after the fire is removed, water is thrown over the stones, and damp leaves placed also upon them, which causes much steam to arise; the meat, potatoes, &c., are then placed into this oven, enveloped in leaves, and the whole entirely covered with earth; it remains for nearly an hour, when the cooking process is found to be completed.
[63] In New Zealand, a pit is dug in the ground where some stones are placed, and a fire is lit on top of them, allowing the stones to get really hot. After the fire is put out, water is poured over the stones, and damp leaves are also added, creating a lot of steam. The meat, potatoes, etc., are then placed into this oven, wrapped in leaves, and everything is covered with earth. It stays like this for nearly an hour, and then the cooking is done.
[64] Among the Coroados Indians in the interior of Brazil, “it is very common for several families to quit their abodes and settle where new fruits are ripening, or where the chase is more productive.”—Spix and Martius Travels in Brazil, 8vo. Eng. Trans. vol. ii. p. 248.
[64] Among the Coroados Indians in the interior of Brazil, “it’s pretty common for several families to leave their homes and move to where new fruits are ripening, or where hunting is better.” —Spix and Martius Travels in Brazil, 8vo. Eng. Trans. vol. ii. p. 248.
And why, we may ask, do the inhabitants of civilized countries emigrate? It may be answered, to gain recompence for their labour, and to be able to maintain themselves and families. Yet we blame savages for acting upon the same principle, their wants causing them to lead a wandering life.
And why, we might ask, do people from developed countries move away? One answer is to earn a living for themselves and their families. Yet we criticize indigenous people for doing the same thing, as their needs drive them to live a nomadic life.
[65] It is also recorded of the Coroados Indians in the interior of Brazil, according to Spix and Martius, “When they carry on war, their leader is the best hunter, he who has killed the greatest number of Enemies, Ounces, &c., and has the greatest share of cunning. At home his commands are not attended to—every body commands at home, according to his own pleasure.”—Travels in Brazil, 8vo. Eng. Transl. vol. ii. p. 245.
[65] It is also noted about the Coroados Indians in the interior of Brazil, according to Spix and Martius, “When they go to war, their leader is the best hunter, the one who has killed the most enemies, jaguars, etc., and has the most cunning. At home, his commands are not followed—everyone commands at home based on their own preferences.”—Travels in Brazil, 8vo. Eng. Transl. vol. ii. p. 245.
[66] This fish is of the family of perches, and probably the same as described by the French naturalists, as a new genus, under the name of Gryptes Brisbanii.
[66] This fish belongs to the perch family and is likely the same as described by French naturalists as a new genus, under the name of Gryptes Brisbanii.
[67] The aborigines are expert fishermen; and I have seen them capture a number of fish, when Europeans trying near them have not had even a nibble. About the Fish river, the aborigines have a novel manner of fishing—by placing a bait at the end of a spear, when the water is clear, and on the fish approaching, they transfix it with much expertness.
[67] The Indigenous people are skilled fishermen, and I've seen them catch a lot of fish while Europeans nearby haven’t even gotten a bite. Around the Fish River, the Indigenous people have a unique way of fishing—by putting bait on the end of a spear when the water is clear, and when the fish come close, they skillfully spear it.
[68] The black cockatoo (of which at present there are only two species known) feeds on the larvæ of insects, or seeds of the Banksia, Hakea, and even those of the Xanthorrhœa, or grass tree.
[68] The black cockatoo (currently, there are only two known species) feeds on insect larvae, as well as the seeds of Banksia, Hakea, and even those of the Xanthorrhœa, or grass tree.
[71] Forest scenery in Australia is of a very dull character: with all my admiration of the vegetable kingdom, I could find but very little that was interesting in their appearance, unless flowering shrubs and plants were in profusion.
[71] The forest scenery in Australia is pretty bland: despite my appreciation for nature, I found very little that caught my eye unless there were plenty of flowering shrubs and plants.
[72] The settlers in Australia, as in America, call wheat, barley, &c. grain; and when Englishmen speak of corn-fields, they consider he alludes to maize, which is alone called corn in this country. This often leads to mistakes in conversation.
[72] The settlers in Australia, like those in America, refer to wheat, barley, etc., as grain; and when English people talk about cornfields, they mean maize, which is the only thing called corn in this country. This often results in misunderstandings in conversations.
[74] The patients are persons only under the employ of government, or assigned servants of the settlers; for the latter the master pays a shilling daily for a month, or as many days less as the man may remain in the hospital; but should he remain longer than a month, no further charge is made.
[74] The patients are only people working for the government or assigned staff for the settlers; for the latter, the employer pays a shilling a day for a month, or for however many days the person stays in the hospital, but if they stay longer than a month, there’s no extra charge.
[76] The following is the definition of a clergyman, as once given by one of the aborigines: “He, white feller, belonging to Sunday, get up top o’ waddy, pile long corrobera all about debbil debbil, and wear shirt over trowsel.”
[76] The following is the definition of a clergyman, as once given by one of the natives: “He, the white guy, belongs to Sunday, gets on top of the stick, puts a lot of music around the devil, and wears a shirt over pants.”
[77] The largest specimen measured—
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ The biggest specimen measured—
| Inch. | |
|---|---|
| Length of the body | 4½ |
| Length of the claw | 3⁶⁄₈ |
| Breadth of the shield | 1⅜ |
| Breadth of the claw | 1⅛ |
| Breadth of expanded tail | 1⅞ |
| Length of the anterior antennæ | 4²⁄₈ |
| Length of the posterior antennæ | 1½ |
The colour of the upper part of the body, in the large specimens, was brownish green; the upper part of the claws blueish green, occasionally mottled; under surface, whitish; joints, red. The smaller specimens had the upper surface of the body of a dark green colour, claws blueish green and mottled: several of the females had a quantity of ova in the usual situation.
The upper body color in the larger specimens was brownish-green; the upper part of the claws was bluish-green, sometimes mottled; the underside was whitish; and the joints were red. The smaller specimens had a dark green upper body, with bluish-green and mottled claws. Several of the females contained a number of eggs in the typical area.
[78] In March the season commences, at Sydney, for “cray-fish,” which are caught in large quantities, and of enormous size, about the sea-coast, and are hawked about the streets at a cheap rate; therefore, in this colony, cray-fish abound in the sea, and lobsters in the river.
[78] In March, the season begins in Sydney for "crayfish," which are caught in large quantities and can be huge in size along the coastline. They're sold in the streets at affordable prices. So, in this region, crayfish are plentiful in the sea, and lobsters are found in the river.
[79] Both the black and brown snakes take to the water on the appearance of danger; indeed they evidently procure their food from the banks of streams, and may be considered both land and water snakes.
[79] Both the black and brown snakes dive into the water when they sense danger; in fact, they clearly get their food from the edges of streams, so they can be classified as both land and water snakes.
[80] From the following paragraph, copied from the “Sydney Herald” newspaper, the bite of this reptile does not prove so immediately fatal as had been represented to me.
[80] From the following paragraph, copied from the “Sydney Herald” newspaper, the bite of this reptile isn’t as instantly deadly as I had been led to believe.
“The overseer of Mr. Cox, at Mulgoa, a few days since, was bitten by a yellow snake. The piece was cut out, but the unfortunate man still remains in a dangerous state.”—October 25th, 1832.
“The overseer of Mr. Cox, at Mulgoa, a few days ago, was bitten by a yellow snake. The section was removed, but the unfortunate man is still in a critical condition.” —October 25th, 1832.
[82] For an account of this unnatural fact, and the supposed cause that produced it, see a separate account in the Appendix, at the end of the second volume.
[82] For details on this unusual fact and the supposed cause behind it, refer to the separate account in the Appendix at the end of the second volume.
[83] This occasioned a lady at home to declare, that of all the wonderful productions of Australia, she thought nothing could equal the “feathered donkey.”
[83] This led a lady at home to state that, of all the amazing things from Australia, she believed nothing could compare to the “feathered donkey.”
[84] From secondary limestone rocks on Yas Plains, about one mile and a-half distant from the river, I collected large masses of what appears to be fossil Rotularia.
[84] From the secondary limestone rocks on Yas Plains, about one and a half miles from the river, I collected large pieces of what looks like fossil Rotularia.
[85] The fossil bones found in the cave at Wellington Valley refer to eight species of animals, of the following genera:—
[85] The fossil bones discovered in the cave at Wellington Valley belong to eight species of animals from the following genera:—
| Dasyurus, or Thylacinus. | |
| Hypsiprymnus, or Kangaroo Rat. | |
| Phascolomys | one species. |
| Kangaroo | two, if not three species. |
| Elephant | one species. |
| Halmaturus | two species. |
Of these eight species, four belong to animals unknown to zoologists; viz.
Of these eight species, four belong to animals that zoologists have never encountered; namely,
- Two species of Halmaturus.
- One species of Hypsiprymnus.
- One species of Elephant.
- Kangaroo—three species not easily ascertained.
- Dasyurus is doubtful, no head having been found.
Edinburgh Journal.
Edinburgh Journal.
[86] But little doubt exists in the minds of naturalists that this animal is not indigenous to Australia; its not being met with in Van Dieman’s Land (when all the other genera peculiar to Australia are found there) will rather tend to confirm the hypothesis.
[86] However, naturalists have little doubt that this animal is not native to Australia; its absence in Van Dieman’s Land (where all the other species unique to Australia are found) will likely support the hypothesis.
[87] The Australian dog never barks; and it is remarked by Mr. Gardiner, in a work entitled the “Music of Nature,” “that dogs in a state of nature never bark; they simply whine, howl, and growl: this explosive noise is only found among those which are domesticated. Sonnini speaks of the shepherds’ dogs in the wilds of Egypt as not having this faculty; and Columbus found the dogs which he had previously carried to America, to have lost their propensity to barking. The ancients were aware of this circumstance. Isaiah compares the blind watchmen of Israel to these animals—‘they are dumb, they cannot bark.’ But, on the contrary, David compares the noise of his enemies to the dogs round about the city. Hence the barking of a dog is an acquired faculty—an effort to speak, which he derives from his associating with man. It cannot be doubted, that dogs in this country bark more, and fight less, than formerly. This may be accounted for by the civilization of the lower orders, who have gained a higher taste in their sports and pastimes, than badger-baitings and dog-fights; and it may with truth be asserted, that the march of intellect has had its influence even upon the canine race, in destroying that natural ferocity for war which (happily for the world) is now spent more in words than in blows.”
[87] The Australian dog never barks; as noted by Mr. Gardiner in his book titled “The Music of Nature,” “dogs in the wild don’t bark; they just whine, howl, and growl. Barking is a sound found only in domesticated dogs. Sonnini mentions that the shepherds’ dogs in the deserts of Egypt lack this ability; and when Columbus brought dogs to America, he found that they had lost their tendency to bark. The ancients recognized this, too. Isaiah likens the blind watchmen of Israel to these animals—‘they are mute, they cannot bark.’ However, David compares the clamor of his enemies to the dogs surrounding the city. Therefore, barking is a learned behavior—an attempt to communicate, developed through their association with humans. It is clear that dogs in this country bark more and fight less than they used to. This can be attributed to the improvement of the lower classes, who have adopted more refined interests in their leisure activities than just badger-baiting and dog-fighting; and it can truthfully be said that the advancement of knowledge has impacted even the dog population, reducing their inherent aggression for battle, which (thankfully for the world) is now expressed more through words than through violence.”
[88] Upon this mountain, and some other parts of the hilly country in the vicinity, but not, I believe, very common, is a species of kangaroo rat; (“Narru” of the aborigines;) but I was not sufficiently fortunate to procure a specimen.
[88] On this mountain, and in a few other areas of the hilly countryside nearby, there’s a kind of kangaroo rat (called “Narru” by the locals), but I wasn’t lucky enough to get a sample.
[89] Most of the stations in the interior have the native names of the place given them; but they are often better known by the name of the stock-keepers in charge, as in the above instance, to which many others might be added.
[89] Most of the stations inland have the local names assigned to them; however, they are often more commonly known by the names of the stock-keepers in charge, similar to the example mentioned, with many others that could be included.
[90] When on one occasion the head of a native was under examination, a gentleman present asked the wondering black, “if he knew what was doing to his head?” Blackee answered in the negative. “Why you will no more be able to catch kangaroos or opossums.” No sooner was this said, than the black started away in anger, seized and flourished his spear, exclaiming, “What for you do that? What for you do all the same that!” And the unfortunate manipulator of savage craniums, as also his companion, began to be apprehensive, that the practice of the science was in a high degree dangerous among uncivilized beings.
[90] Once, when a native’s head was being examined, a gentleman in the room asked the confused man, “Do you know what’s happening to your head?” The man replied that he didn’t. “Well, you won’t be able to catch kangaroos or possums anymore.” As soon as he heard this, the native became angry, grabbed his spear, and shouted, “Why are you doing that? Why are you doing all of this?” The unfortunate person examining the head, along with his companion, started to feel that practicing this kind of science was extremely dangerous around uncivilized people.
On another occasion, the temporal muscle was found unusually large in the head of a native black under investigation: this was remarked by the phrenologist to a gentleman who stood near him, at the same time squeezing it, and saying to blackee, “Cobbong (large) this.” “Ah!” exclaimed the black as he made off at a rapid pace, “me now see what you want; you want patta,” (eat) and escaped as quickly as possible from the ravenous cannibal appetite he supposed the phrenologist to possess.
On another occasion, the temporal muscle was found to be unusually large in the head of a native black being investigated. The phrenologist pointed this out to a gentleman nearby, while also squeezing it and saying to the black man, “Cobbong (large) this.” “Ah!” the black man exclaimed as he took off quickly, “I see what you want; you want patta,” (to eat) and he escaped as fast as he could from what he thought was the phrenologist's ravenous cannibal appetite.
[92] The Murrumbidgee natives call grass by the general name of “Narluk,” but they bestow different names on distinct species. Those among the native blacks, who have pretensions to an acquaintance with the English language, call our hair grass.
[92] The Murrumbidgee locals refer to grass with the general term “Narluk,” but they have specific names for different types. Those among the Indigenous Australians who claim to know some English call our hair grass.
[93] The plumage of this bird is green; legs and bill of an orange colour, with an orange mark under the eye; irides brown. Length of the male specimen seven inches and a-half. Its food is insects.
[93] This bird has green feathers; its legs and beak are orange, with an orange mark under its eye; the irides are brown. The male measures seven and a half inches long. It feeds on insects.
[94] The following extract, from the introduction to “Tuckey’s Unfortunate Expedition to explore the River Congo,” is curious as coinciding, as regards another portion of the globe, with the above remark.
[94] The following excerpt from the introduction to “Tuckey’s Unfortunate Expedition to explore the River Congo” is interesting because it aligns, in relation to another part of the world, with the remark mentioned above.
“He named it” (alluding to Diego Cam) “the Congo, as that was the name of the country through which it flowed; but he afterwards found that the natives called it the Zaire, two names which, since that time, have been used indiscriminately by Europeans. It now appears that Zaire is the general appellative for any great river, like the Nile in North Africa, and the Ganges in Hindoostan; and that the native name of the individual river in question is Moienzi enzaddi, or the river which absorbs all other rivers.”—Introduction, page xi.
“He named it” (referring to Diego Cam) “the Congo, since that was the name of the country it flowed through; but he later discovered that the locals called it the Zaire, names which have since been used interchangeably by Europeans. It now seems that Zaire is the general term for any large river, similar to the Nile in North Africa and the Ganges in India; and that the local name for the specific river in question is Moienzi enzaddi, or the river that absorbs all other rivers.” —Introduction, page xi.
[95] “Damper” is merely a cake of flour and water, or milk, baked in the ashes; it is the usual mode of bread-making in the bush; it is sweet, wholesome, and excellent eating.
[95] “Damper” is just a bread made from flour and water, or milk, baked in the ashes; it's the typical way of making bread in the outback; it's sweet, nutritious, and really tasty.
[96] The Americans employ several well-known methods to track bees to their hives. One of the most common, though ingenious modes, is to place a piece of bee-bread on a flat surface, a tile for instance, surrounding it with a circle of wet white paint. The bee, whose habit it is always to alight on the edge of any plane, has to travel through the paint to reach the bee-bread. When, therefore, she flies off, the observer can track her by the white on her body. The same operation is repeated at another place, at some distance from the first, and at right angles to the bee line just ascertained. The position of the hive is thus easily determined, for it lies in the angle made by the intersection of the bee lines. Another method is described in the Philosophical Transactions for 1721. The bee-hunter decoys, by a bait of honey, some of the bees into his trap; and when he has secured as many as he judges will suit his purpose, he encloses one in a tube, and, letting it fly, marks its course by a pocket compass. Departing to some distance, he liberates another, observes its course, and in this manner determines the position of the hive, upon the principle already detailed. These methods of bee-hunting depend upon the insect’s habit of always flying in a right line to its home. Those who have read Cooper’s tale of the “Prairie,” must remember the character of the bee-hunter, and the expression of “lining a bee to its hive.”—Insect Architecture, pp. 145, 146.
[96] Americans use several well-known methods to track bees back to their hives. One of the most common, yet clever methods, is to put a piece of bee-bread on a flat surface, like a tile, and surround it with a circle of wet white paint. The bee, which always lands on the edge of any flat surface, needs to go through the paint to reach the bee-bread. Therefore, when it flies away, the observer can trace it by the white paint on its body. This same process is repeated at another location, some distance from the first, at a right angle to the bee's flight path just established. The hive's location is then easily determined, as it lies at the intersection of the bee lines. Another method is described in the Philosophical Transactions from 1721. The bee hunter lures some of the bees into a trap with honey; once he has captured as many as he needs, he places one in a tube and, after releasing it, tracks its flight with a pocket compass. After moving a distance away, he releases another, observes its flight, and determines the hive's location based on the previously explained principle. These bee-hunting methods rely on the insect's behavior of always flying directly back to its home. Anyone who has read Cooper's tale of the "Prairie" will remember the character of the bee hunter and the phrase "lining a bee to its hive."—Insect Architecture, pp. 145, 146.
[97] When travelling as a stranger in the most secluded part of the colony, and sometimes obliged to seek refuge for the night in a hut, of whom the person in charge and those about him, were convicts, or having to depend upon them for directions as to the road, having my watch and other property with me, I never missed the most trifling article, and always found them ready and willing to afford every assistance: there are, of course, always exceptions among a multitude; but I state the result of my own experience, after travelling upwards of six hundred miles in the colony.
[97] When traveling as a stranger in the most remote part of the colony, sometimes having to find shelter for the night in a hut run by convicts, or relying on them for directions, I always had my watch and other belongings with me, and I never lost even the smallest item. They were always ready and willing to help me. Of course, there are always exceptions among a large group, but this is based on my own experience after traveling over six hundred miles in the colony.
[98] A small species of Xanthorrhœa, or yellow gum tree, called Modandara by the aborigines, was abundant on the ranges. The bases of the young leaves of this plant are eaten by the natives, and the taste is agreeable.
[98] A small species of Xanthorrhœa, or yellow gum tree, known as Modandara by the indigenous people, was common on the hills. The bases of the young leaves of this plant are consumed by the locals, and they find the taste pleasant.
[99] Mr. Hamilton Hume informed me that the Bugong is found also by the aborigines inhabiting the country about the Snow Mountains, to the southward; forming their principal food during the summer. These insects are said to ascend from the lowland to the more elevated spots, only during the summer season.
[99] Mr. Hamilton Hume told me that the Bugong is also found by the Aboriginal people living near the Snow Mountains to the south, where it serves as their main food source during the summer. These insects are said to move from the lowlands to higher areas only in the summer.
[100] Among the botanical specimens collected in this part of the country, were Eryngium, resembling vesiculosum; Utricularia dichotoma, (with blue, and also a variety with white flowers,) in the swamps; Drosera peltata; and species of the following genera:—Westringia; Grevillea; Croton; Convolvulus; Leptospermum; Dillweynia; Malva; Linum; Brownea; Davisea; Juncea; Loranthus; Cyperus; Veronica; Senecio; Callytris; Centaurea; Sida, &c. &c.
[100] Among the plant specimens collected in this part of the country were Eryngium, similar to vesiculosum; Utricularia dichotoma, (with blue flowers and also a variety with white flowers) found in the swamps; Drosera peltata; and species from the following genera:—Westringia; Grevillea; Croton; Convolvulus; Leptospermum; Dillweynia; Malva; Linum; Brownea; Davisea; Juncea; Loranthus; Cyperus; Veronica; Senecio; Callytris; Centaurea; Sida, etc. etc.
[101] This second group was situated on a gradually declining part of the mountain, in many parts densely wooded; but from which we commanded a fine view of the continuous range to a great distance.
[101] This second group was positioned on a gently sloping part of the mountain, mostly covered in dense woods; however, it offered us a great view of the continuous range stretching far into the distance.
[102] Captain Cook mentions, that at Thirsty Sound, on the coast of New South Wales, he found an incredible number of butterflies; so that, for the space of three or four acres, the air was so crowded with them, that millions were to be seen in every direction, at the same time that every branch and twig was covered with others that were not upon the wing: and Captain King observes, (Survey of the Coasts of Australia, vol. i. p. 195,) “Here, (Cape Cleveland,) as well as at every other place that we had landed upon within the tropic, the air is ‘crowded’ with a species of butterfly, a great many of which were taken. It is, doubtless, the same species as that which Captain Cook remarks as so plentiful in Thirsty Sound. The numbers seen by us were indeed incredible; the stem of every grass tree, (Xanthorrhœa,) which plant grows abundantly upon the hills, was covered with them; and on their taking wing, the air appeared, as it were, in perfect motion. It is a new species; and is described, by my friend Mr. W. S. Macleay, under the name of Euploea hamata.”
[102] Captain Cook mentions that at Thirsty Sound, along the coast of New South Wales, he encountered an astonishing number of butterflies. For about three or four acres, the air was so filled with them that millions could be seen in every direction, while every branch and twig was covered with others that were not flying. Captain King notes (Survey of the Coasts of Australia, vol. i. p. 195), “Here, (Cape Cleveland,) as well as at every other place we landed upon in the tropics, the air is ‘crowded’ with a type of butterfly, a large number of which were caught. It is undoubtedly the same type that Captain Cook mentioned as being so abundant in Thirsty Sound. The numbers we observed were truly unbelievable; the stem of every grass tree, (Xanthorrhœa), which grows abundantly on the hills, was coated with them; and when they took flight, the air seemed to be in constant motion. This is a new species, and is described by my friend Mr. W. S. Macleay, under the name of Euploea hamata.”
[103] The atmosphere, sultry on the plain below, was cold upon this mountain, although the sun shone brilliantly. I was told, that last year, in December, (one of the summer months in the colony,) some snow fell, in a small quantity, at this place.
[103] The air was hot and humid on the flatlands below, but it was cold on this mountain, even with the sun shining brightly. I heard that last December, which is one of the summer months in the colony, a little bit of snow fell here.
[105] When the natives about the Murrumbidgee river heard, on my return, that I had visited the “Bugong Mountain,” they expressed great delight, and wished to see what I had collected. On showing them the few insects I had, they recognized them instantly; but I thought there was a feeling of disappointment at their curiosity only, not appetites, being gratified by my little entomological collection.
[105] When the locals around the Murrumbidgee River heard, upon my return, that I had visited "Bugong Mountain," they were really excited and wanted to see what I had gathered. When I showed them the few insects I collected, they recognized them right away; however, I sensed a hint of disappointment that their curiosity was only satisfied, and not their appetites, by my small collection of insects.
[106] The spears are six to twelve feet long; the shorter are made of reed pointed with hard wood; the longer are rude sticks sharpened at the extremity. They use a throwing-stick, similar to the one seen among the natives in the vicinity of Sydney and other parts of the colony.
[106] The spears range from six to twelve feet long; the shorter ones are made of reed tipped with hard wood, while the longer ones are rough sticks sharpened at the end. They use a throwing stick, similar to the ones seen among the locals around Sydney and other areas of the colony.
[107] According to Spix and Martius, “The Coroados Indians in the interior of Brazil have their language, in respect to numbers, very imperfect. They generally count only by the joints of the finger, consequently only to three; every greater number they express by the word ‘many.’ Their calculation of time is equally simple—merely according to the returning season of the ripening of the fruits, or according to the phases of the moon,—of which latter, however, they can express in words only the appearance, without any reference to the cause.”—Travels in Brazil, 8vo. Eng. Transl. vol. ii. p. 255.
[107] According to Spix and Martius, “The Coroados Indians in the interior of Brazil have a very limited way of counting. They usually only count up to three using the joints of their fingers; any number beyond that they refer to as 'many.' Their way of tracking time is similarly straightforward—they only keep track of the seasons for when fruits ripen or the phases of the moon, which they can describe but can't explain the reasons for.”—Travels in Brazil, 8vo. Eng. Transl. vol. ii. p. 255.
[108] The natives name the kangaroo “Bundar and Wumbuen,” but have separate names for each species. At Goulburn Plains the red species is called “Eran and Warru;” and, although the language of the different tribes vary in other respects, there is often a similarity of the names of animals among them, each having two or three distinctive appellations, which may have been the cause of so much confusion existing among this genus of the mammalia; for Mr. Ogilby, who devoted much time and research to the marsupial quadrupeds of Australia, correctly observes respecting the kangaroos, “They are at present involved in the greatest confusion, and are mentioned in catalogues in the most vague and general, as often incorrect terms, without any distinguishing marks. No department of Australian mammalogy has given me so much trouble as the history of the kangaroos; in none have I arrived at a less satisfactory conclusion.” I only regret that the brief sojourn made in Australia, would not permit me to investigate the subject to the extent I desired. From what I observed there does not appear so much difficulty to ascertain the different species, as has been supposed.
[108] The locals call the kangaroo “Bundar and Wumbuen,” but they have different names for each species. At Goulburn Plains, the red species is referred to as “Eran and Warru.” Although the languages of the various tribes differ in other ways, the names for animals often show similarities, with each having two or three distinct names. This may have contributed to the confusion surrounding this group of mammals. Mr. Ogilby, who spent a lot of time and research on Australia’s marsupial quadrupeds, rightly points out about the kangaroos, “They are currently in a state of great confusion and are listed in catalogues using vague and often incorrect terms, without any specific identifying features. No area of Australian mammalogy has been as challenging for me as the study of kangaroos; I have reached no satisfying conclusions.” I only wish that my short stay in Australia had allowed me to explore the topic as deeply as I wanted. From what I observed, identifying the different species doesn’t seem to be as difficult as thought.
[110] A ludicrous instance of this mistake once occurred (and it may be said there is scarcely an individual who has travelled in the bush but has made a similar mistake although, perhaps, not to the same extent.) A settler lost himself in the bush, and thinking he saw a native at a distance, he hailed with the usual “Cu, he; cu, he,” (which can be heard at a great distance, and is borrowed from the natives,) until he made the woods resound; but receiving no reply, he galloped up to the object, and then discovered it was merely a charred stump of a tree; so this may be some apology for the poor kangaroos.
[110] A ridiculous example of this error happened once (and it’s safe to say there’s hardly anyone who has traveled through the bush that hasn’t made a similar mistake, even if not to that extent.) A settler got lost in the bush, and thinking he saw a native in the distance, he called out with the usual “Cu, he; cu, he,” (which can be heard from far away and comes from the natives) until he echoed through the woods; but when he got no response, he rode over to the object and realized it was just a charred stump of a tree; so this might be some excuse for the poor kangaroos.
[111] These animals, like the cattle, frequent those places where the grass, having been recently burnt, they meet with the sweet young herbage. This may account for our finding them so numerous about those situations, in preference to the plain, although the latter seemed to offer the temptation of more luxuriant but coarser feeding.
[111] These animals, like the cows, often go to areas where the grass has been recently burned, where they find the tender young shoots. This might explain why we see so many of them in those spots instead of the fields, even though the fields seem to offer the lure of more abundant but rougher food.
[112] They are mentioned in the catalogue of the museum of the London Royal College of Surgeons, “Preparations of Natural History in Spirit,” Fasc. 1, part 4, p. 37, as a doubtful species of Filaria. “Filaria Macropi majoris.”
[112] They are listed in the catalog of the museum of the London Royal College of Surgeons, “Preparations of Natural History in Spirit,” Fasc. 1, part 4, p. 37, as an uncertain species of Filaria. “Filaria Macropi majoris.”
[114] The maggots can be produced alive from the parent fly by pressure upon the lower part of the abdomen; the annoyance of these flies is great during the summer season; depositing their progeny upon every thing, even blankets. Specimens of natural history, in the preparation of which arsenical soap had been used, the larva of this fly has been deposited, and found lying dead in clusters, from the effects of the poison. This renders dissection so difficult during the hot season of the year, and for some portions of the anatomy it is the only time for examining them in the recent state. I have even seen game “blown” a minute after it has been killed. During my journey, a man at one of the stations complained to me of a dull pain in his ear, and as if something was moving in it; he first felt it after sleeping in a hut a few nights previous. By pouring brine into the ear, a large white maggot crept out, and afterwards some smaller ones. The ear being well washed out, he suffered no more pain or inconvenience; no wound or disease of the ear appeared to exist.
[114] The maggots can be produced alive from the parent fly by pressing on the lower part of the abdomen; these flies are a real nuisance during the summer, laying their eggs on everything, even blankets. When preparing specimens for natural history where arsenical soap has been used, I’ve found this fly's larvae dead in clusters due to the poison. This makes dissection really difficult during the hot months, and for some parts of the anatomy, it’s the only time you can examine them freshly. I've even seen game “blown” just a minute after it was killed. On my journey, a man at one of the stations complained to me of a dull pain in his ear, feeling as if something was moving in it; he first noticed it after sleeping in a hut a few nights before. By pouring brine into his ear, a large white maggot crawled out, followed by several smaller ones. After thoroughly washing out the ear, he had no more pain or discomfort; there were no signs of a wound or disease in the ear.
[115] On the surface of the tooth there is sometimes deposited a substance termed the tartar of the teeth. It frequently assumes a yellow colour, with a smooth surface, in the ox and the sheep, and has been ignorantly considered as gold derived from the pasture. It is merely a precipitation from the saliva. Berzelius found it to consist of earthy phosphate, 79.0; mucus not yet decomposed, 12.5; peculiar salinary matter, 1.0; and animal matter, soluble in muriatic acid, 7.5 = 100.0.—An. Phil. vol. ii. p. 381.—Quoted in Fleming’s Philosophy of Zoology, vol. ii. p. 166.
[115] Sometimes, a substance known as tartar forms on the surface of teeth. It often appears yellow and has a smooth texture in cattle and sheep, and has been mistakenly thought to be gold from their pasture. In reality, it’s just a buildup from saliva. Berzelius found that it contains 79.0% earthy phosphate, 12.5% undecomposed mucus, 1.0% unique salty substances, and 7.5% animal matter that dissolves in muriatic acid, totaling 100.0%. —An. Phil. vol. ii. p. 381.—Quoted in Fleming’s Philosophy of Zoology, vol. ii. p. 166.
[116] It is remarked (in a pamphlet of a Journey of Discovery to Port Philip, New South Wales, by Messrs. Hovel and Hume, Sydney. 8vo. 1831, undertaken in 1824 and 1825,) that “the impressions of the feet of the aboriginal natives may be readily distinguished from those of Europeans, by the narrowness of the heel, the comparative broadness of the fore part of the foot, the shortness of the toe, and a peculiar bend of the internal edge of the foot inwards, (a form very probably incident to the method employed by these people in climbing trees,) and the smallness of the entire impression, compared with that of an European.”
[116] It is noted (in a pamphlet about a Journey of Discovery to Port Phillip, New South Wales, by Messrs. Hovel and Hume, Sydney. 8vo. 1831, which took place in 1824 and 1825,) that “the footprints of the Aboriginal natives can easily be distinguished from those of Europeans by the narrowness of the heel, the relatively wide front part of the foot, the shortness of the toes, and a unique inward bend of the inner edge of the foot (a shape likely related to how these people climb trees), as well as the overall smaller size of the footprint compared to that of a European.”
[117] The common opossum is called by the aborigines, in this part of the country, “Wille,” and “Wadjan;” the ring-tailed opossum, “Bokare,” and “Kindine.”
[117] The common opossum is referred to by the indigenous people in this region as “Wille” and “Wadjan;” the ring-tailed opossum is called “Bokare” and “Kindine.”
[118] The men at one of the farms, when occupied in shearing, complained of a small green-coloured fly annoying them exceedingly, by flying about their eyes; so much so, as frequently to oblige them to discontinue their labour: an itching sensation of the eyes followed, and it seemed, to use their own words, “as if they were about to have an attack of the blight.”
[118] The men at one of the farms, while shearing, complained about a tiny green fly that was really bothering them by buzzing around their eyes. It was so distracting that they often had to stop working. They experienced a strong itching sensation in their eyes, and it felt, as they put it, “like they were about to have an attack of the blight.”
[119] Alluding to large trees, I heard a person, who had fully persuaded himself of the fact, endeavour to impress his auditors with the belief that a tree existed upon the estate of the Van Dieman’s Land Company nine hundred feet high!!! This gigantic vegetable production would certainly beat “Raffle’s flower,” or “Crawford’s root,” and must be very valuable if only as a gigantic curiosity.
[119] Referring to massive trees, I overheard someone, who was completely convinced of it, trying to convince his audience that there was a tree on the estate of the Van Dieman’s Land Company that was nine hundred feet tall!!! This enormous plant would definitely outdo “Raffle’s flower” or “Crawford’s root,” and it must be extremely valuable, if only as an impressive oddity.
[120] An excellent ley for soap, is made from the “swamp oak,” when burnt; and a ley is also procured at the island of Tahiti, in the South Seas, from the Casuarina equisetifolia for a similar purpose.
[120] A great lye for soap is made from the burnt “swamp oak,” and lye is also obtained on the island of Tahiti in the South Seas from the Casuarina equisetifolia for a similar use.
[122] The “black leg” is evidently the disease among the cattle, known in Ireland as the “crippawn,” a kind of paralytic affection of the limbs, which generally ends fatally; the customary course is by bleeding, and changing them to a drier pasture.
[122] The “black leg” is clearly a disease affecting cattle, known in Ireland as the “crippawn,” a type of paralysis in the limbs that usually results in death; the usual treatment involves bleeding and moving them to a drier pasture.
[123] Called honeysuckle by the colonists, because the flowers secrete a quantity of honey, which is attractive to the natives, and the numerous parroquets, when the trees are in bloom.
[123] Known as honeysuckle by the colonists because the flowers produce a lot of honey, which attracts the locals and the many parrots when the trees are in bloom.
[124] The name of the native that accompanied me was “Buru, birrima,” which he said he received from the name of the place where he was born. This appears a common method among the aborigines of bestowing names upon persons, as well as from any personal defect. The native name of Mr. Bradley’s farm is “Bungee,” and his little child born there will usually be known by that name among the aborigines.
[124] The name of the native who accompanied me was “Buru, birrima,” which he said he got from the place where he was born. This seems to be a common way for the Indigenous people to give names to individuals, often based on their birthplace or any personal traits. The native name of Mr. Bradley’s farm is “Bungee,” and his little child born there is usually known by that name among the Indigenous people.
[125] There is also at Batavia a bird which emits a melancholy scream and whistle during the night; it is called by the Javanese “Borong Matee,” or “Death bird,” and is regarded by them, as well as by some of the European residents, as a bird of ill-omen; and its note is supposed to indicate the approaching death of some individual. I was informed, that the decease of a gentleman at Batavia was indicated some time before by one of these birds uttering its melancholy screams, and hovering near the dwelling, and this was mentioned by a European, who credited the superstitious idea that these birds were ominous.
[125] In Batavia, there’s also a bird that lets out a sad scream and whistle at night; the Javanese call it “Borong Matee,” or “Death bird,” and both the locals and some European residents see it as a bad omen. Its call is believed to signal the impending death of someone. I was told that the death of a man in Batavia was foretold when one of these birds let out its sorrowful cries while hovering near his home, and this was reported by a European who believed in the superstition that these birds brought bad luck.
[126] Governor King, when at Norfolk Island, cut down one which measured, after it was felled, two hundred and twenty-eight feet long, and eleven feet in diameter.
[126] Governor King, while on Norfolk Island, chopped down a tree that measured two hundred and twenty-eight feet in length and eleven feet in diameter after it was cut down.
[127] Thompson’s London Dispensatory. 8vo. p. 532.
__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Thompson’s London Dispensatory. 8vo. p. 532.
[128] The Trial Rocks are thus mentioned in the “Lives and Voyages of Drake, Cavendish, and Dampier,” published in the Edinburgh Cabinet Library, page 448.
[128] The Trial Rocks are mentioned in the “Lives and Voyages of Drake, Cavendish, and Dampier,” published in the Edinburgh Cabinet Library, page 448.
“Dampier intended once more to attempt New Holland in about 20°. Here he found soundings at forty fathoms, but did not see the land; and steered westward, to search for the Trial Rocks, (so named from an English ship called the Trial having been wrecked upon them many years before,) which were supposed to lie in this parallel, and about eighty leagues westward of the coast. But Captain Dampier was sick, and unable to maintain perpetual watch himself, and the officers inefficient and careless, so that this important point was not ascertained.”
“Dampier planned to try New Holland again at about 20°. He found water at forty fathoms but didn’t see the land, so he headed west to look for the Trial Rocks, named after an English ship called the Trial that had wrecked there many years earlier. These rocks were believed to be located in this area, about eighty leagues west of the coast. However, Captain Dampier was ill and couldn’t keep a constant watch himself, and the officers were ineffective and careless, which meant this crucial detail wasn’t confirmed.”
[129] These are certainly the most delicate and beautiful of the oceanic birds; their peculiar shrill, raucous note indicates their presence about the ship; hovering over the vessel, or darting into the water in pursuit of prey, and as the sun shines upon the chaste and elegant plumage of the white species, or the rosy-tinted feathers of the red species, or phœnicurus, their beauty is increased.
[129] These are definitely the most delicate and beautiful ocean birds; their unique sharp, harsh call signals their presence around the ship. They hover over the vessel or dive into the water to catch their prey, and as the sunlight shines on the pure, elegant feathers of the white species, or the pinkish feathers of the red species, or phœnicurus, their beauty shines even brighter.
[130] Some ships, seeking freights, anchor outside the roads, by which it seems the port charges are saved; and then anchor in the roadstead, if they consider there is a sufficient inducement for them to remain at this port.
[130] Some ships, looking for cargo, drop anchor outside the harbor, as it looks like they can save on port fees; then they anchor in the harbor if they think there’s a good reason to stay at this port.
[131] The “far-famed Mangoosteen” is certainly an agreeable fruit, but still I cannot join the various writers who have lavished such praises upon it—it may be want of taste in me; and probably the fruit will still retain “its luscious qualities, surpassing all other fruits in the world, combining the excellence of the whole;” but I must candidly confess that I am not so great an admirer of this or other tropical fruits, although I at the same time allow many to have excellent flavour, yet none can bear comparison with the delightful acidulated European fruits; and the Mangoosteen is even, in my opinion, beneath the orange or pine-apple, although still a very agreeable fruit.
[131] The “well-known Mangosteen” is definitely a nice fruit, but I can't agree with the many writers who have praised it so highly—it might just be my lack of taste; and maybe the fruit still keeps “its luscious qualities, surpassing all other fruits in the world, combining the excellence of the whole;” but I must honestly admit that I’m not a huge fan of this or other tropical fruits. While I recognize that many have great flavor, none can compare to the enjoyable tartness of European fruits; I even think the Mangosteen is not as good as the orange or pineapple, even though it’s still a pretty nice fruit.
[132] At Singapore, observing one of these monkeys in a stable, I inquired if Java horses were kept there; the answer was in the affirmative; so Jacko was probably imported with the horses to keep them in health.
[132] In Singapore, while watching one of these monkeys in a stable, I asked if they kept Java horses there; the answer was yes, so Jacko was probably brought along with the horses to help keep them healthy.
[134] This plant emits its fragrant smell powerfully after sunset, and has been “observed in a sultry evening, after thunder, when the atmosphere was highly charged with electric fluid, to dart small sparks, or scintillations of lucid flame, in great abundance from such of its flowers as were fading.”—Edin. Philos. Journal, vol. iii. p. 415.
[134] This plant releases its strong fragrance after sunset and has been “seen on a hot evening, after a thunderstorm, when the air was full of electric energy, to emit small sparks or flashes of bright flame in large quantities from the flowers that were wilting.”—Edin. Philos. Journal, vol. iii. p. 415.
[135] This officer, now a captain in the army, and by all accounts an excellent and brave soldier, I saw at the same time at this hotel, where he at present resided; he appeared attached to Santot, and they conversed much together; he had lately returned from the Sumatran coast, having been recently employed in the war in the interior of that island.
[135] I saw this officer, now a captain in the army and widely recognized as an excellent and courageous soldier, at the hotel where he was currently staying. He seemed close to Santot, and they talked a lot together. He had just returned from the Sumatran coast after being involved in the war in the interior of that island.
[136] The following paragraph appeared in one of the Calcutta journals, and was copied into most of the India papers:—“A passenger who came round from Batavia has favoured us with the following intelligence relative to the Dutch squadron, &c. In Batavia roads there were—one line-of-battle ship, mounting sixty guns; three large frigates; four brigs and smaller vessels of war, all well armed and manned. In the canal there were—twenty gun-boats, mounting two long brass guns each. All the troops were marching in from the interior, and the fortifications were placed in a complete state of defence. A large frigate was lying at Sourabaya, well manned and armed. If the Dutch should determine on making reprisals, a few days’ sail would take them to Lintin, where they might seize British property to an immense amount.”
[136] The following paragraph appeared in one of the Calcutta journals and was copied into most of the India papers:—“A passenger who arrived from Batavia has shared the following information regarding the Dutch squadron, etc. In Batavia harbor, there was—one battleship, armed with sixty guns; three large frigates; four brigs, and smaller war vessels, all well armed and crewed. In the canal, there were—twenty gunboats, each carrying two long brass guns. All the troops were marching in from the interior, and the fortifications were fully prepared for defense. A large frigate was docked at Sourabaya, fully crewed and armed. If the Dutch decide to take action, a few days of sailing would take them to Lintin, where they could seize British property worth a considerable amount.”
A very kind hint! deserving the thanks of the Dutch Government; for the capture would have been easy, the loss of British property great, being without a vessel of war to protect them. This is the way British affairs are conducted in the east.
A very thoughtful suggestion! It deserves the gratitude of the Dutch Government; because the capture would have been simple, and the loss of British property significant, as they had no warship to defend them. This is how British matters are managed in the east.
[137] These doves when on board cooed, or, as the Malay said, talked when the bells were struck, but as frequently cooed or spoke out of the regular time, so they did not answer the purpose of a clock!
[137] These doves, when on board, cooed or, as the Malay said, talked when the bells rang, but they often cooed or spoke at random times, so they didn't fulfill the purpose of a clock!
[138] It is recommended (I was informed by some intelligent persons at Singapore) for ships proceeding to the north-east coast of Sumatra, at this season of the year, to take the passage by the Straits of Banca and Malacca, by which the voyage would rarely be protracted beyond ten or twelve days. From the length of time we took to Pedir, by the outside passage, there was evidently an error in taking it in preference to the one recommended, by persons accustomed to trade about those places.
[138] I've been told by some knowledgeable people in Singapore that ships heading to the northeast coast of Sumatra during this time of year should take the route through the Straits of Banca and Malacca, as this will usually keep the trip to about ten or twelve days. Given how long it took us to reach Pedir using the outer route, it’s clear that choosing it over the recommended one was a mistake, especially considering the insights of those who are used to trading in these areas.
[140] It is passable for light ships’ boats at half ebb, and even at low water, at the latter time the boats occasionally grounding; those heavily laden can only pass at high water.
[140] It’s doable for small boats during low tide, and even at low water, the boats sometimes run aground; those that are heavily loaded can only get through at high tide.
[141] The fruit of the Areka palm is incorrectly called in commerce “Betel-nut,” which has occasioned mistakes; many writers considering it the fruit of the “Piper Betel,” or Betel vine, the leaves of which are used with the Areka-nut as a masticatory; but as the whole mixed together, and eaten by the natives, constitutes what is called “chewing the betel” by Europeans, the nut probably derived its commercial appellation from that source. The confusion existing between the Areka palm, producing the nuts, and the Betel vine, by most writers, has caused me to insert this explanatory note.
[141] The fruit of the Areka palm is wrongly referred to in commerce as “Betel-nut,” which has led to misunderstandings; many authors mistakenly believe it to be the fruit of the “Piper Betel,” or Betel vine, whose leaves are used along with the Areka nut as a chew; but since the mixture of both is what locals call “chewing the betel,” Europeans likely named the nut based on that practice. The confusion between the Areka palm, which produces the nuts, and the Betel vine has prompted me to add this clarifying note.
[142] A small investment of various articles of cutlery would have no doubt met with a ready sale;—a set of excellent razors, the cost price of which in London was thirty shillings, was sold for twenty-five dollars, and other articles, of a good quality, would have sold at equally good prices. A rifle gun, case complete, was also sold for one hundred and fifty dollars; and a pair of duelling pistols, of French manufacture, seventy-five dollars.
[142] A small investment in different types of cutlery would definitely have sold quickly. A set of top-quality razors, which cost thirty shillings in London, sold for twenty-five dollars, and other good-quality items would have fetched similar prices. A complete rifle was also sold for one hundred and fifty dollars, and a pair of duel pistols from France went for seventy-five dollars.
[143] A “flock of the swinish breed” would prove efficacious in clearing the decks of a ship of the Mahometan Malays, who have a religious abhorrence of the pollution occasioned by such company.
[143] A “herd of pigs” would be effective in clearing the deck of a ship from the Muslim Malays, who have a religious aversion to the contamination caused by such company.
[147] The language spoken by the aboriginal natives of this country is the Acheenese, which is a dialect of the Malay. A Javanese, however, could not understand the Acheenese language. The people on the coast, nevertheless, mix the Acheenese with other dialects of the Malay, and also with some Hindoostanee words.
[147] The language spoken by the native people of this country is Acheenese, which is a dialect of Malay. However, a Javanese person couldn't understand the Acheenese language. The coastal residents, though, blend Acheenese with other Malay dialects and also incorporate some Hindi words.
[152] Among which the Caladium costatum, or Berar of the natives, was also seen planted; the root of which is eaten by them, after it has been previously washed in water for some time.
[152] Among these, the Caladium costatum, known as Berar to the locals, was also observed being planted; its root is eaten by them after being soaked in water for a while.
[154] We were informed, that a law had been made by the late rajah, which still remained in force, that any native robbing, or otherwise ill-using, a European in his territory, should lose his right hand.
[154] We were told that a law was established by the late rajah, which is still in effect, stating that any local who robs or mistreats a European in his territory should lose their right hand.
[156] I understand that a large quantity of the Areka-nut is grown upon the Pelew islands, and could be procured in barter for tobacco, rum, and other articles; this was ascertained by a vessel which visited those islands in 1830. The natives of this group of islands also use it as a masticatory.
[156] I know that a lot of Areka-nut is grown on the Pelew islands and could be traded for tobacco, rum, and other goods; this was confirmed by a ship that visited those islands in 1830. The locals in this group of islands also use it as a chewable.
[157] It is also by a combination of substances that the Otaheitans produce a red dye from the fruit of a species of Ficus, called Matti, and the leaves of a species of Cordia, called “Tou.”
[157] The Otaheitans also create a red dye by mixing substances derived from the fruit of a type of Ficus, known as Matti, and the leaves of a type of Cordia, referred to as “Tou.”
[158] I have often seen on this coast, as well as in Java, small bunches of the abortive fruit, taken from the spathe of the Areka palm, placed as an ornament at the stern and bows of the native boats.
[158] I have often seen along this coast, as well as in Java, small clusters of the undeveloped fruit, taken from the spathe of the Areka palm, used as decorations at the back and front of the local boats.
[159] It was stated to me that sandal wood can be procured at Acheen as well as other parts of the north-east coast, and is sold by the large pecul or bar (which is equal to three peculs) at twenty-four dollars the bar.
[159] I was told that sandalwood can be obtained in Acheen and other areas along the northeast coast, and it's sold by the large pecul or bar (which is equivalent to three peculs) for twenty-four dollars per bar.
[160] It is mentioned in Labillardières Voyage, (Eng. Transl. 8vo. vol. i. p. 358,) that at Amboyna “I saw, on my return, a white negro, a Papuan man by birth; he had light hair, his skin was white, and marked with reddish freckles, like those of the Europeans who have red hair; but he was not weak-sighted, as is generally the case with other Albinos”.
[160] It’s noted in Labillardières Voyage, (Eng. Transl. 8vo. vol. i. p. 358,) that in Amboyna “I saw, on my way back, a white Negro, a Papuan man by birth; he had light hair, his skin was white, and had reddish freckles, similar to those of Europeans with red hair; but he was not weak-sighted, as is usually the case with other Albinos.”
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