"Another bird almost as destructive as the sparrow is the mina or mino, a bird which was brought here from India. It is quite a handsome bird, and can learn to talk almost as readily as the parrot, and that is why it was brought here. It lives on fruits and vegetables, and has very nearly the same habits as the sparrow. The colonial government have placed a bounty upon the heads and eggs of the sparrow, and also on those of the mina. A great many boys and men, too, make a fairly good revenue in killing the birds or plundering their nests. The birds are trapped, shot, or poisoned, but their number does not seem to diminish.

"Somebody brought a daisy to Australia, as it is a very popular flower in England, and was expected to remind the English settler of his old home. It has spread very rapidly, and on thousands upon thousands of acres it has rooted out the native grasses and taken full possession of the soil. Another plant has a history which would be ludicrous if it were not so serious, and that is the thistle."

"You mean the regular thistle, such as is known in England and the United States?"

"I refer particularly to the Scotch thistle," said the gentleman, "which is not particularly unlike the other thistles with which we are familiar. You know that the thistle is the emblem of Scotland, and may be said to be worshipped by all patriotic Scotchmen. Well, it happened that a Scotch resident of Melbourne, while visiting the old country, took it into his head to carry a thistle with him on his return to Australia. So he placed the plant in a pot and watered it carefully every day during the voyage from London to Melbourne. When he arrived his performance was noticed in the newspapers, and a subscription dinner was arranged in honor of the newly arrived plant. About two hundred Scotchmen sat down to the dinner, at which the thistle was the centerpiece and the great object of attraction. Speeches were made, and the festivities continued to a late hour of the night. The next day the thistle was planted with a great deal of ceremony, and more speeches in the public garden at Melbourne, and it was carefully watched and tended by the gardener, who happened to be a Scotchman.

"Well, the thistle blossomed and everybody rejoiced. You know how the seeds of that plant are provided with down, that enables them to float on the wind. The seeds of that thistle were borne on the breezes, and all over the colony of Victoria they found a lodging in the soil, grew and prospered, and sent out more seeds. That thistle has been the cause of ruin to many a sheep and cattle run all over Australia. Thousands, yes, millions, of acres of grass have been destroyed by that pernicious weed. Anathemas without number and of the greatest severity have been showered upon the thick-headed Scotchman who brought the plant to Australia, and the other thick-headed Scotchmen who placed it in the public garden.

"While I am on this subject," the gentleman continued, "I may as well tell you of a very curious circumstance in New Zealand."

"What is that?"

"When the sheep farmers first established their business in the mountain regions of New Zealand, they observed flocks of parrots occupying the forest, and living entirely upon fruits and vegetables. They were very pretty birds and nobody thought that any harm would come from them, in view of their habits of life. The farmers used to kill some of their sheep for food purposes, and leave the meat hanging out over night in the cool air. It was observed that the parrots got in the habit of coming down to the meat frames and picking off the layers of fat, particularly those around the kidneys. Their fondness for this kind of food seemed to increase as time went on, and they finally became such a nuisance as to compel the herders to give up their practise of leaving the meat out of doors in the night-time.

"After a while the farmers occasionally found the fattest and best of their sheep dead or dying of wounds across the smaller part of the back directly in the region of the kidneys. Nobody could tell how the wounds were made, but it was evident that the mischief-makers were numerous, as a good many sheep, always the finest of the flock, were killed. Finally, one of the men employed about a sheep run ventured to suggest that it must be done by the parrots. His suggestion was ridiculed so earnestly that the man was sorry he had made it, but he gave as his reason for it the fact that he had seen a parrot perched on the back of a sheep and the bird flew away when he approached.

"Watchers were set over the sheep, and the suggestion of the man proved to be the correct one. How the birds ever connected the existence of the fat which they tore from the carcases on the meat frames with the location of the same fat in the living animal, no one can tell, but certain it is that they did so. It was found that a parrot bent on securing a meal, would fasten his claws in the wool of the sheep, and then with his powerful beak he would tear away the skin and flesh until he reached the fat of which he was in search around the kidneys of the struggling animal. It was impossible for the sheep to shake him off; whether it ran or lay down and writhed in its agony, the bird retained its hold until its object was accomplished."

"Of course this led to a war of extermination against the parrots, did it not?"

"Certainly it did. As soon as the fact was well established the colonial government offered a reward of one shilling for each parrot's head, and the business of hunting these birds began at once. Formerly they used to come freely into the presence of man, but now they shun him, and it is very difficult to find them. They live in the forest, concealing themselves in the daytime, and only coming out at night. In fact, their depredations were committed in the night-time, and that is the reason why their offences continued so long without being discovered."

"Did they cause great destruction among the flocks of sheep?"

"Yes, until they were found out and the war began against them they were terribly destructive. One man lost two hundred sheep out of three hundred, another lost nineteen out of twenty, and several others in the same proportion. Even now, although the number of parrots is diminished enormously, the flocks in the region where they abound lose at least two per cent. every year from that cause."

"Is there any way of exterminating them by poison?"

"No way has been discovered as yet, as the birds are very cunning and cannot be readily induced to take poisoned food. They are more wary in this respect than rabbits and sparrows, as both of these creatures can be poisoned, though the danger is that in attempting to poison them the food is apt to be taken by domestic animals or fowls."

"Speaking of poisoning reminds me of an instance in Queensland some years ago, where there was a large number of blacks inhabiting the forest near a sheep station.

"The owner of the station had been greatly annoyed by the blacks, who had killed many of his sheep, and in several instances had threatened the shepherds with death, and driven them from their places. He determined to get even with them, and this is the way he did it. He loaded a cart with provisions such as flour, sugar, bacon, tea, and other things, which were distributed to the shepherds once a week. Then the cart started apparently on its round. Near the place where the blacks were congregated one of the wheels of the cart came off, and at the same time the vehicle became stuck in a gully. The driver took his horses from the shafts and rode back to the station for help, leaving the cart and its load unguarded.

"Here was a fine opportunity for the blacks to exercise their thieving propensities, and they did not miss it. In less than an hour the cart was stripped of everything edible, flour, sugar, and everything else being carried away. When the driver returned, he found only the empty vehicle with which to continue his journey.

"That afternoon the blacks had a grand feast over the stolen property. All the members of the tribe came together and took part in the feast, about two hundred in all. It so happened that everything edible had been dosed with strychnine before the cart was loaded, and in a few hours all who had partaken of the feast were dead. Much as the white people around there had been annoyed by the blacks, there were few, if any, to approve of this wholesale poisoning which the sheep owner had undertaken entirely on his own responsibility."

"I suppose it is due in some measure, at least, to performances of this sort that the blacks are diminishing in number," Dr. Whitney remarked.

"No doubt that has a good deal to do with the matter," was the reply. "I don't know of any other instances than this of wholesale poisoning, but I do know that in a good many instances, black men have been shot down by whites for the reason that they had speared cattle or committed other depredations. The blacks have been treated very much the same way as your American Indians, and generally with as little provocation; but, beyond all this, it is well known that the number of births among them every year is considerably less than the number of deaths from natural causes. Some people believe that the blacks are addicted to infanticide, and that many of their children are put to death to save the expense of bringing them up. Understand me, nobody knows positively that this is the case, but only surmises it."



CHAPTER VIII.

CANNIBAL BLACKS—MELBOURNE AND ITS PECULIARITIES.

"I have heard," said one of the youths, "that Australian blacks are cannibals. I wonder if that is really so?"

"Perhaps all the tribes in the country are not cannibals, but it is pretty certain that some of them are. They know that the white man is prejudiced against eating human flesh, and consequently they conceal very carefully their performances in this line. In former times they were not so particular, and there was the most positive proof that they devoured their enemies killed in battle, and also killed and devoured some of their own people. They were not such epicures in cannibalism as the inhabitants of the Feejee Islands formerly were, and did not make as much ceremony as the Feejeeans over their feasts of human flesh. Some of the tribes that indulged in the practise have given it up, but the belief is that those in the interior still adhere to it."

"What do they live upon when they do not eat human flesh?" queried Ned.

"As to that," was the reply, "they live upon pretty nearly everything they can lay their hands on. They hunt the kangaroo and are fond of its flesh, and they are also fond of the flesh of cattle and sheep. In fact, they commit a good many depredations upon the flocks and herds. They eat snakes, lizards, toads, and, in fact, anything that lives and moves, and they are not at all particular about the condition of the meat when they eat it. It is all the same to them whether it is fresh or putrid. A man would need have a very strong stomach to accept an invitation to take dinner with a family of uncivilized blacks, or even with one that had become civilized."

While this conversation was going on the train was speeding on its way, and Harry observed that the houses were becoming more numerous, and the country more densely occupied, as they came nearer to Melbourne. Occasionally they caught sight of a house which looked like a gentleman's residence rather than like an ordinary farmhouse, and he called attention to the circumstance.

"We are approaching Melbourne," said their traveling companion, "and from this point on you will find a good many country seats of gentlemen who do business in the city. It is cooler here in summer than in Melbourne, and a great many people have established their summer homes in this region. It is so much the fashion, that it has become obligatory for the well-to-do citizen to have a town residence and a country one, and his establishment is considered incomplete unless he possesses both. A good many people occupy their country homes for the greater part of the year, going back and forth by railway according to the requirements of their business. It is the same in New York, London, and other great cities all over the world. Melbourne considers itself just as important as any other city, and I believe it claims to be the tenth city of the world in point of population."

Ned asked what the population of the city was.

To this the gentleman replied that he did not have the exact figures at hand, but he believed the last census gave the number of inhabitants as very nearly half a million. "Including the suburbs," said he, "I think it is fully that, and if it had not been for the dullness of business for the last two or three years, caused very largely by the labor strikes and other disturbances of trade, I think we would now exceed the half million figure."

While he was saying this, Ned called attention to a large house on a little eminence about half a mile away, which resembled a palace more than it did a private dwelling. As Ned pointed towards it and told Harry to look in that direction, the gentleman said:—

"That house was built ten or twelve years ago by a millionaire merchant of Melbourne. He spent a great deal of money upon it, being determined to have the finest house in the country. About the time of its completion he met with heavy losses in business, and was unable to carry out his plans concerning the grounds around the building. It was his original intention to have a park, in which he would enclose specimens of all the animals of Australia, and an artificial lake, with specimens of all the fishes of the country. He has never carried out this part of the scheme, but declares that he will do so whenever his wealth returns to him."

"A very good scheme, indeed," said one of the youths, "and I hope the gentleman will be able to carry it out."

"Yes; and I hope so, too," was the reply. "The place would be made interesting if he should do so, but, after all, you can see the same thing in the parks of the principal cities of Australia. Each has, I believe, collections of the animals of the country, together with many animals of other countries, and any one is at full liberty to go and see them."

Houses became more numerous, and towns and villages made their appearance as the train went along. Harry observed that in some of the towns which they passed through there were imposing buildings, which seemed rather out of proportion to the number of dwelling-houses.

Their impromptu guide explained that this was the outgrowth of Australian politics. "Every town in Australia," said he, "is desirous of having some of the public money spent within its limits. It wants a courthouse, jail, or some other public edifice, and in order to secure his election to the legislature, a candidate is compelled to promise that he will obtain the desired appropriation. These appropriations are secured by what you call in America 'logrolling.' That is, Smith of one town makes an arrangement with Brown, Jones, Robinson, and I don't know how many others of as many other towns that he will vote for their appropriations, provided they will vote for his. In this way a town of five hundred inhabitants gets a courthouse and jail large enough for a population of five thousand, or perhaps twice that number. A great deal of government money has been wasted in this way, but there is no help for it as long as human nature remains as it is."

This led to a little talk on Australian politics, in which the youths learned that the people were divided into parties very much as in England and the United States, and their quarrels were just as fierce. The party in power is always bitterly denounced by the party out of power, and the outs can always demonstrate how much better they could manage public affairs than the ins are doing it. The great questions usually before the people are the tariff and public improvements, and the fiercest fights are usually those concerning the tariff.

Protectionists and free traders are just as skillful and just as earnest as the same parties in the United States, and each can demonstrate mathematically how much better its own system is than that of the other side. The colonies are themselves divided on the subject of tariff, all of them favoring protection with the exception of New South Wales, where the free traders are in the majority.

There has been a great deal of talk about a federation of the colonies, but the stumbling-block in the way of it is the difference in the colonial tariff. Federation would have been brought about years ago had it not been for New South Wales and its free trade policy.

Ned and Harry started to take some notes on the subject of the tariff, but the doctor reminded them that they had better leave the subject alone, as it was a dangerous one to touch. Consequently they have not given us the benefit of their notes upon it, and we are unable to say what conclusion they reached.

At its appointed time the train reached Melbourne, and our friends found themselves in the spacious station of the railway company.

As soon as they could get their baggage, our friends proceeded to a hotel which had been recommended to them, and which they found quite satisfactory. After securing rooms they went out for a stroll, having been advised to take a promenade along Collins Street. Harry said he was sure that the street had been named after somebody who was prominent in the early history of the colony, at least, he felt that such was the case if Melbourne had followed the example of Adelaide.

"Melbourne was founded before Adelaide was," said Dr. Whitney, "as the first settlement was made here in 1835, a year before the first settlement was made in Adelaide; but, all the same, your theory is correct. Collins Street was named after Colonel Collins, who established a convict settlement in this vicinity as far back as 1803, but for some reason he gave it up a year or two later, and transferred his convicts and their guards to Tasmania."

"The next street parallel to this," said Ned, "is Bourke Street. I wonder who Bourke was?"

"Bourke was the governor of the colony in 1836," the doctor replied, "and that is why he was honored with a street."

"We know about Captain Flinders," said Harry, "after whom Flinders Street was named. He was a daring explorer who accompanied Captain Bass when the latter discovered Bass's Strait, that separates Australia from Tasmania. There is also a range of mountains named after him."

"Captain Lonsdale, who was in command of some of the troops at the time that the city was laid out," said the doctor, "was honored with a street, and Swanston Street commemorates one of the early settlers. Then there are King Street, Queen Street, William Street, Elizabeth Street, which explain themselves, as they indicate the feelings of the early settlers towards the royal family."

"This street is certainly as attractive to the eye as Broadway or Fifth Avenue in New York," Ned remarked, as they strolled slowly along Collins Street. "See these magnificent buildings. You have only to shut your eyes and imagine yourself on Broadway, and when you open them again the illusion does not require a great stretch of the imagination. And all this has grown up since 1835. Just think of it!"

"Yes," replied the doctor; "it was about the middle of 1835 that one John Batman came here with a small sailing vessel, and made a bargain with the chief of the tribe of blacks then occupying this neighborhood, by which he purchased about twelve hundred square miles of ground for a quantity of goods worth, perhaps, one hundred dollars."

"That beats the purchase of Manhattan Island for twenty-four dollars," remarked Harry as the doctor paused.

"Yes, it does," was the reply; "the government afterwards repudiated Batman's trade, and took possession of the ground he had purchased."

"A pretty mean piece of business, wasn't it?" queried Harry.

"As to that," said the doctor, "there are arguments on both sides of the question. Batman felt that he had been unfairly dealt with, although the government paid him about thirty-five thousand dollars for his claim. At the time they paid the money to him the land was worth very much more than that amount."

"Did he stay here and go to building a city at once?" queried one of the youths.

"No; he went back to Tasmania, whence he had come, in order to get a fresh supply of provisions, and while he was gone John Fawkner came here with a schooner called the Enterprise, and made a settlement. His party consisted, if we may include the quadrupeds, of five men, two pigs, one cat, two horses, and three dogs. When Batman came back he was very angry, and as long as both the men lived there was a bitter quarrel between them which threatened several times to result in a shooting affray. Batman died in 1839; his heirs and partners took up the quarrel, and traces of it are said to exist to the present day. The people of Melbourne have erected a monument to Batman's memory, but Fawkner is generally regarded as the founder of Melbourne, as he made the first permanent settlement, and the colony may properly be considered to have begun on the date of his arrival."

When the conversation had reached this point, the party found themselves at the corner of Elizabeth Street, which intersects Collins Street at right angles.

"You observe," said the doctor, "that this street, Elizabeth, is the dividing line of the city. That is to say, from it the streets are called east and west just as they are so called in New York. At Fifth Avenue, East Forty-second Street and West Forty-second Street begin. In the same way we have here Collins Street, East, and Collins Street, West; Bourke Street, East, and Bourke Street, West; and so on through the whole list. They put the word designating the point of compass after the name of the street, while in New York we do just the opposite."

"Oh, yes, I see," Harry remarked, with a twinkle in his eye. "Melbourne is on the other side of the world from New York, and so they name the streets in the reverse manner. So, then, there is another proof that Australia is a land of contradictions."

Ned laughed, and made no reply other than to ask if the great number of deaths that occurred here during the gold excitement had any allusion to the name of the city. Harry looked at him with a puzzled expression, and asked what he meant.

"Why, I was thinking," said Ned, "that possibly Melbourne might have been 'the bourne whence no traveler returns,' mentioned by Shakespeare."

"Oh, that is old," said the doctor; "and while you are on this subject, I will inform you that the city obtained its name from Lord Melbourne, who was Prime Minister of Great Britain at the time that the place was laid out."

"The surveyor who laid out the city," remarked Harry, "had a 'level' head, as well as a leveling one. See what wide streets he gave it."

"Yes, that is so," replied Ned. "They must be one hundred feet wide, at least that is what I would guess."

"You guessed very closely," said the doctor, "as they are ninety-nine feet (one chain and a half) wide, and the tradition is that Melbourne was laid out by an American surveyor. The city, as originally planned, was one mile square, but it has received numerous additions, so that it now covers a great deal more than a square mile. It really occupies, with its suburbs, an area of nearly one hundred square miles, and every year sees a new suburb added. Of course, when population is mentioned, the whole of the suburbs should be included, and the inhabitants claim, with a great deal of reason, that within a radius of ten miles from the city hall, there are fully four hundred thousand people residing."

"That is certainly a very rapid growth," said one of the youths. "All that population since 1835! It is the most rapid growth of any city that I know of, is it not?"

"Yes, I think it is," replied the doctor. "Neither San Francisco nor Chicago can show a growth equal to that of Melbourne in the first fifty years of its existence. Chicago is now a much larger city, but fifty years from its foundation it could not boast of as many inhabitants as could Melbourne when it was half a century old."

To the eyes of our young friends Melbourne presented a very busy appearance. Cabs and carriages were rushing hither and thither. Crowds of people were on the sidewalks, and other crowds filled the tram-cars and omnibuses. Harry observed that Melbourne was sufficiently up with the times to be provided with electric cars, and that she also had cable lines, as well as the more primitive street cars. It was near the close of the afternoon, when the great majority of the population are seeking their homes, and the scene of busy life reminded the youths of lower Broadway, near the end of the day in New York.

The doctor explained that a very large part of the working population resembled the well-to-do portion, by having their homes in the suburbs, and, consequently, that a great many people required transportation. Hence the rush for the tram-cars and other public means of travel on the part of the great mass of the public, while those with better-lined purses patronized the cabs and carriages. Cab fares are high, being about one third more than in London, but not so high as in New York. In the days of the gold rush the most ordinary carriages could not be hired for less than fifteen dollars a day, and five dollars was the price for an hour or two.

There is a story in circulation that a gold miner was once bargaining for a carriage for which the driver demanded twelve pounds (sixty dollars) for a day's hire. The miner said he would not pay it: he handed a ten-pound note to the driver, and said he must be satisfied with that. The driver assented, and there was no further discussion on the subject.

Prices of all sorts of things throughout Melbourne are somewhat above London figures, but they have been established a long time and nobody complains of them.

Our friends continued their walk to the Yarra River, up whose waters Batman and Fawkner sailed when they came here to found the city. Its native name is Yarra-Yarra, but the double word is rarely used by the inhabitants of Melbourne in speaking of the stream. Of itself, it is not a river of much consequence, as originally all but very small vessels had difficulty in ascending it. It has been dredged and deepened, so that craft drawing not more than sixteen feet of water can ascend it to Prince's Bridge, the spot where our friends reached the stream. Vessels requiring more water than that must remain at Fort Melbourne, about three miles further down. There are several other bridges crossing the river at different points. Near Prince's Bridge our friends saw several passenger steamers crowded with people, on their way to their homes down the bay.

On their return towards the hotel our friends loitered among the shops, and especially among those in what are called the Arcades, of which there are four, modeled after the Arcades of London and the "Passages" of Paris. They are delightful places to lounge in, whether one is in search of purchases or not, and the three strangers were in no hurry to get through them.

One of the arcades is known as the Book Arcade, and the shops inside of it are almost wholly devoted to the sale of books. Harry remarked that he judged the Melbourne people to be a reading one, otherwise there would not be so much space devoted to the sale of books. The youths had a brief conversation with one of the proprietors, who told them that it was one of the largest book stores in the world, in fact, he did not know of any other as large as that. "We can give you anything you want," said he; "everything is so arranged that we know just where to lay our hands on any book that a customer wants."

Melbourne is a great source of supply for all the interior of Victoria. In the wholesale shops there were great quantities of goods intended for up-country use. "There were," said Harry, "tons and tons of clothing destined for the mines or for sheep and cattle runs, and great quantities of tea, sugar, and other provisions, together with saddlery, harnesses, and ironmongery in great quantity and variety."

"We observed," wrote Ned, "that between every two wide streets there is a narrow street running in the same direction. I believe you will find the same arrangement in many parts of Philadelphia, and also in the new part of Boston. The original intention of the surveyor was that these small streets should be used as back entrances for the buildings on the larger ones, but this intention has not been carried out in the development of the city. Formerly these narrow streets took the name of the wide ones, with the prefix 'Little'; for example, the one between Collins and Bourke Street being known as Little Collins Street. Most of them are now called lanes, and are spoken of as Collins Lane, Latrobe Lane, and the like, and many of them are devoted to special lines of trade. Flinders Lane, between Flinders and Collins Streets, is the principal locality of the wholesale dealers in clothing, and Bourke Lane is largely occupied by Chinese. We are told that the renting prices of stores along these lanes are very high, probably greater than either Batman or Fawkner ever dreamed they could be in their wildest moments.

"When we returned to the hotel we found an invitation for us to dine at one of the clubs, the gentleman who gave the invitation having called during our absence. We dressed as quickly as possible, and went at once to the club house, where we dined on the best that the city afforded. Melbourne is a great place for clubs, quite as much so as London or New York. Nearly everybody belongs to a club, and many gentleman have two, three, or more clubs on their lists. Nearly all of the clubs have lodging rooms for bachelor members, and the popularity of the institution is shown by the fact that most of these rooms are constantly occupied.

"Life at a club is somewhat expensive, though less so than at a first-class hotel. One gentleman probably stated the case very clearly when he said that life in a club house is pretty much as each individual chooses to make it. He could live economically or expensively, according to his preference. He could dine on the choicest or on the plainest food, and could entertain liberally or frugally. 'There is no necessity,' he added, 'for a man to waste his money because he lives at a club, but there is no denying the fact that a club affords temptation and opportunity to do so.'

"During dinner the subject of horse racing came up, and our host said that he did not believe there was any city in the world where so large a proportion of the population was interested in equine sports as Melbourne. 'On Cup Day,' said he, 'that is, on the day of the annual race for the cup which is given by the city of Melbourne, people come here from all parts of Australia.'

"'Everybody who can afford the time and expense is reasonably sure to visit Melbourne, and a great many come here who can hardly afford to do so. Hotels and lodging houses are crowded to their fullest capacities for several days before the great event. When Cup Day comes, it is like the Derby Day in England. Half the population of Melbourne goes to Flemington, when the race is run, and nearly all the scenes of the great Derby Day in England are repeated. The winner of the Melbourne cup is greeted with the heartiest cheers at the close of the race, and if he is put up for sale on the spot, he is sure to bring an enormous price.'

"'I asked if the horses competing for the cup were limited to those raised in the colony of Victoria?'

"'Oh, not by any means,' the gentleman answered; 'horses from any of the colonies can be entered for the great race. They come from New South Wales, South and West Australia, and also from Queensland, and sometimes we have them from New Zealand or Tasmania. In some years it has happened that not one of the racers was bred in the colony of Victoria. There is never any lack of competitors, their number being usually quite equal to that in the race for the Derby. The race track is a little more than a mile from the center of the city, so that the public has not far to go. Vehicles of every kind command high prices on Cup Day, and many thousands of people go to the race on foot. For weeks before the event little else is talked of, and the great question on every tongue is, "What horse will win the cup?"'

"Melbourne is very fond of athletic sports, and there are numerous clubs devoted to baseball, football, cricket, golf, and the like. There are also rowing clubs, and their favorite rowing place is along the part of the Yarra above Prince's Bridge. The course is somewhat crooked, but there is a good view of it from the banks, and a rowing match between two of the crack clubs is sure to attract a large crowd."



CHAPTER IX.

"THE LAUGHING JACKASS"—AUSTRALIAN SNAKES AND SNAKE STORIES.

Our friends returned to their hotel, but, before leaving them, their host arranged to call for them after breakfast the next morning, for a drive among the parks and around the suburbs of the city.

The drive came off as agreed upon, and a very pleasant one it was. They visited the Botanic Garden, which is on the banks of the Yarra, and seemed to contain specimens of nearly all the trees on the habitable globe. Harry said he wondered how elms and oaks could have attained the size of some that he saw, when he remembered that the city had its beginning in 1835. It was explained that all exotic trees grew with great rapidity in the climate of Melbourne, and not only exotics but natives. The climate seems adapted to almost any kind of vegetable production.

Our friends found cork trees and palms growing almost side by side with the birch, the pine, and the spruce. Among other things, their attention was attracted to some beautiful fern trees, which were fully twenty feet high, and there were climbing plants in great profusion, some of them clinging to the trees, and others fastened to trellis work.



Almost every kind of tropical fruit tree was represented in the garden, and the gentleman who led the party said that the garden had been of great use in distributing exotic fruit trees through the colony, after first settling the question whether they would exist in the climate of Victoria. Every variety of orange was there, and the orange is among the most abundant of the fruits growing in the colony. Apricots, peaches, pears, mangosteens, the custard apple, mangoes, and other fruits have found a home in Victoria, and demonstrated that they can exist within its limits.

"We were unwilling," said Harry in his journal, "to leave the Botanic Garden and go elsewhere, as there were so many attractive things to be seen, but time pressed, and whenever our host gave the word we proceeded with him. From the Botanic Garden we went to the Fitzroy Gardens, which are situated in the eastern part of the town, and were to some extent a repetition of the Botanic Garden, though not entirely so. The Fitzroy is more like a park than a garden; it is beautifully laid out with walks and drives, and is rendered picturesque by means of rocky hills, miniature lakes, and occasional fountains.

"We afterwards went to the Carlton Gardens and also to the Zoological Garden, the latter being situated in the Royal Park. The 'Zoo,' as it is popularly called, contains a fine collection of animals from all parts of the world, including elephants, lions, tigers, and the like, and also specimens of the animals of Australia. Of course it has a cage full of monkeys,—what Zoo is ever without them?—and they look just exactly like the collections of monkeys that we have elsewhere in various parts of the world.

"There is a very fair collection of birds, and we were particularly interested in the specimens of the birds of Australia. And that reminds me of an amusing experience, as we came around to where the aviary stands.

"We heard somebody laughing very loudly, and a queer sort of a laugh it was. Ned remarked that somebody must be feeling very happy, and I agreed with him. Our host smiled, and so did Dr. Whitney, but nothing further was said, as the laugh died away.

"When we got close to the door we again heard the laugh, which came from the inside of the bird house.

"'The fellow is at it again,' said Ned. 'Wonder if we can't share in the fun?'

"I said that I hoped so, as I had not seen anything to laugh at since we started out from the hotel. When we got inside we looked around for the man who had been making the noise, but there was nobody visible except a very solemn-faced keeper, who did not look as if he had laughed for a month.

"I remarked to Ned that the old fellow had put on a serious face now because company had come in, to which Ned nodded assent. Just as he did so the laughing began again, and it was such a funny laugh that both of us joined in it.

"The old fellow's face did not move a muscle, and we saw that he was not the humorous one of the place. We looked in the direction of the laughter and saw that it came, not from a man, but from a bird. In spite of our astonishment we burst out laughing, and the doctor and our host joined us in doing so.

"Our host then explained that the bird which was amusing us was known as the 'laughing jackass.' We had heard of the creature before, but this was our first view of him. We took a good look, and while we were doing so he laughed again, right in our faces. The laugh is almost exactly like that of a human being. It is not musical but is very comical, and, somehow, it has a tendency to set everybody laughing who is within sound of it.

"The bird is about the size of a full-grown pigeon, perhaps a little larger. He is not handsomely proportioned, his head being too large for his body and his tail very small. His feathers are white and black, and he has a comical appearance that harmonizes well with his humorous manner. He is easily domesticated, and will learn to talk quite as readily as the parrot does.

"The laughing jackass is a friend of the bushman, as he foretells wet weather. When the air is dry and clear, he is a very lively bird, and fills the air with the sound of his laughter; but if rain is coming, or especially if it has come, he is the very picture of misery and unhappiness. He mopes on his perch, whether it be in a cage, or on the limb of a tree, or in the open air, with his feathers ruffled, and a very bedraggled appearance, like a hen that has been caught in a shower. In the forest he will imitate the sound of an axe cutting at a tree, and many a man has been deceived into walking a mile or more in the expectation of finding somebody at work.

"The bird belongs to the kingfisher family, but does not hunt much for fishes, his favorite food being snakes. It makes no difference to him whether the snakes are poisonous or not, as his attacks upon them are limited only by their size. Large snakes he cannot handle, but small ones are his delight. He drops down upon them with the quickness of a flash, seizes them just back of the head, and then flies up in the air a hundred feet to drop them upon the hardest piece of ground he can find.

"The fall breaks their backs, and he keeps up this performance until life is extinct, when he devours his prey. His services as a snake-killer are known all over the country, and consequently he is never shot or trapped. He is intelligent enough to understand his immunity from attack, and comes fearlessly about the houses of the people in the country districts.

"Speaking of snakes reminds me that they have a very good collection in the Zoo. We asked the keeper to indicate to us the snakes peculiar to Australia, and he did so. The largest of them is known as the carpet snake, and the specimen that we saw was about ten feet long. It belongs to the constrictor family, being perfectly harmless so far as its bite is concerned, but it has powers of constriction that might be very serious to the person around whom the creature has wound itself. One traveler in Australia tells how he was visiting a cattle station in Queensland, and when he went to bed the first night of his stay, he found a carpet snake lying on the outside of his couch. He called loudly for some one to come and kill the serpent.

"His call was heard by the proprietor, who shouted to him not to kill the snake, as it was one of the family pets, and then the man came and seized the creature by the neck and carried it to a barrel where he said the snake belonged. I hope they won't have any pets of that sort around any house that I visit during my stay in Australia.

"There are eighty-three distinct species of snakes peculiar to Australia, of which sixty are venomous, and fifteen amphibious. The most common of the deadly serpents are the death adder, black snake, brown snake, tiger snake, and diamond snake. The latter is so called on account of the color of his skin, which is laid out in lozenges of a diamond shape, alternately brown and white. The death adder, so the keeper told us, is the most dangerous of all the Australian snakes, as it never tries to escape. It lies perfectly still when approached, but the instant one touches it, it darts its head and delivers, if possible, a fatal bite. The poison speedily accomplishes its purpose, and unless an antidote can be had in a few minutes death is the inevitable result.

"People who go about much in the region where this snake abounds wear high-top boots as a protection against these serpents. The black snake and the brown snake are the most common of the deadly serpents. The brown one is the largest of them, and frequently attains a length of eight or nine feet. The tiger snake seems to be related to the 'Cobra-di-Capello,' of India, as it has the same power of flattening and extending its neck when irritated.

"I asked what were the antidotes used for snake bites in Australia?

"To this our host replied that there were various ways of counteracting the effects of a snake bite. One was to cut out the wound and take away the flesh from each side of it for half an inch or so. Another was to swallow large quantities of brandy and whiskey, and the third and most common way was to use a hypodermic injection of ammonia. The last-named antidote is regarded as almost certain, and a great many people, such as stockmen, wood-cutters, farmers, and the like, carry in their pockets a hypodermic syringe, charged and ready for use.

"'On that subject I can tell you an interesting story,' said our host. 'There was at one time a man named Underwood, who discovered a positive antidote for the bite of the most venomous serpent. He gave several exhibitions in which he permitted himself to be bitten by snakes in full possession of all their venomous powers, a fact which was established by the immediate deaths of dogs, chickens, and other small animals, which were bitten by the snakes after they had tried their fangs on Underwood. He carried a supply of his antidote about him, and used it whenever he was thus bitten.'

"'Underwood's remedy was a secret known only to himself. He was trying to sell it to the government, the latter intending to make it public for the sake of saving life. One day Underwood gave an exhibition in which he allowed himself, as usual, to be bitten by a venomous snake. He was intoxicated at the time, and in consequence of his intoxication was unable to find his antidote; the result was that he died within an hour, and carried away the secret of his antidote forever.'

"Newly arrived emigrants in Australia have a great fear of snakes. For the first few weeks they are startled whenever they hear the least rustling in the bushes, but after a time they get accustomed to it, and think no more about snakes than they do about dragons. It makes a great difference in what part of Australia you are. There are some regions where the snake is rarely seen, while in others great precautions are necessary. Low, swampy districts are said to be the worst, and men who walk around in such localities are very careful of their steps.

"Some of the snakes of Australia have an unpleasant habit of coming around the houses, and this is particularly the case with the tiger snake, which in this respect seems to possess the same characteristics as his relative the 'cobra,' of India. Our host told us a story which he said he knew to be a true one, the incident having occurred in a family with which he was acquainted. There was an invalid daughter in the family, and one afternoon, when she was sleeping in a hammock on the veranda, she suddenly waked with the feeling of something cold, and moist, and heavy near her neck. She raised her hand and happened to grasp the neck of a snake just back of the head. In her paroxysm of terror, she clutched it with terrific force to tear it away.

"She gave a piercing cry that summoned her father and other members of the family, and immediately after the cry she fainted. But she still continued to clutch at the snake's neck, and although she was utterly unconscious of anything surrounding her, she grasped it with such force that the reptile was fairly strangled by her fingers. Her father realized that it would be impossible to free her hand until consciousness returned, and the indications were that it would not be speedy in coming. So they released her fingers one by one, with a piece of the hammock cord, and removed the dead body of the snake so that it should be out of sight when she revived. Luckily, the creature had not bitten her before she grasped it.

"It is not at all unusual for a man sleeping on the ground at night to find, on waking, that a serpent has crawled in by his side, or curled itself up on his breast for the sake of the warmth that his body supplies. I have heard a story of a man who thus entertained an unwelcome visitor. He waked during the night while lying flat on his back, and felt something heavy and cold on his chest. He moved a little as he waked, and his movement caused the snake that was lying on him to raise its head. By the light of the camp fire the man saw his predicament. His hair stood on end, and he could feel the blood stiffening in his veins. He knew it would be some time before daylight, and felt that he would lose his mind before morning, or perhaps die of fear. He carried a knife in his belt, and decided, after careful consideration, that his best plan was to reach for the weapon and kill the snake where it lay.

"Slowly, very slowly, he worked his hand to his waist and drew his knife. He could not avoid making some movement in doing so, and at each movement the snake raised its head to ascertain the cause of the disturbance; then the man became perfectly still until the reptile subsided again.

"After the lapse of what seemed to be many hours, the man got his knife and arm in readiness for action. Then he moved his body a little, causing the serpent to lift its head once more. As it did so, the man made a quick movement of his hand, and he declares that he never made a quicker one in all his life. The snake's head was severed by the blow; it fell to one side and the writhing body of the creature followed it. At the same instant the man was on his feet, and he says that he danced for a few minutes in a wild paroxysm of joy, and then fell to the ground in a fainting fit, caused by the sudden reaction in his feelings. The snake that he killed was of a poisonous kind,—the tiger snake, which has already been mentioned. When stretched out to its full length, it measured very nearly five feet.

"They have scorpions and centipedes in Australia, and their bite is just as deadly as that of the same creatures elsewhere. They have a black spider about as large as a pea,—black all over except a red spot on its back,—which is found in decaying logs, and, unhappily, has a fondness for living in houses. It is aggressive in its nature, as it does not wait to be disturbed before making an attack, and it has been known to cross a room towards where a person was sitting in order to bite him. Its bite is as bad as that of the scorpion or centipede. Sometimes its victims are permanently paralyzed for the rest of their lives, or become hopeless lunatics, and, not infrequently, death results from this spider's bite.

"One gentleman told me how he was once bitten by one of these spiders on the calf of the leg. He immediately cut out the wound and injected some ammonia close by the side of it, but in spite of these precautions he suffered intense pains in the leg for several days. The limb swelled to twice its natural size, and became as soft as putty. At the spot where the wound was a suppurating sore formed and it discharged for several months. He fully expected that amputation would be necessary, and the doctor whom he called to attend him said the chances were five to one that he would lose the leg altogether. Greatly to his and the doctor's surprise and delight, he managed to save it, but for fully a year after the wound had healed the limb did not resume its normal size, and he suffered frequent pains like rheumatism.

"'You will naturally conclude,' said our friend, 'that as we have spiders here we ought to have flies, and we have them in sufficient abundance to prevent life from becoming monotonous. They are worse in the interior than on the coast; in the latter region they are only troublesome during the autumn months, while for the rest of the year they are not at all numerous, or may be absent altogether; but in the interior they are always bad, the only difference being that they are worse at some times than at others. In parts of the interior everybody wears a veil when going about the country, and it is often necessary to do so while in the house. On some of the interior plains you can see a man before you see him, as an Irishman might put it. You see in the distance a small black cloud hovering just over the road. It is a cloud of flies around the head of some unfortunate traveler, who is approaching on horseback. They stick to him like a troubled conscience and go with him wherever he goes. If another traveler happens to be going in the opposite direction, the clouds about their heads mingle as the individuals meet, and when they separate the flies move on with them, as before.'

"Flies in the houses are very troublesome, as they are fond of loitering about the table, just like flies in America and other countries. They are a nuisance to which nobody ever gets accustomed, and in some localities they almost render the country uninhabitable. Mosquitoes abound in most parts of the country, especially along the rivers and lakes and in swampy regions, and every traveler who expects to be out at night carries a mosquito net with him."

From the Zoo our friends continued their drive through other parks and along some of the principal streets, passing several public buildings, all of which were spacious and attractive. The town hall, post-office, government house, and other public structures of Melbourne would do honor to any city and evince the taste and good judgment of those who planned and erected them. The numerous parks and gardens are a great ornament to the city and give an abundance of breathing space for the people. Our young friends were loud in their praise of what they saw, and their comments were well received by their host. The people of Melbourne are fond of hearing their city commended, and their pride in it is certainly well justified.



CHAPTER X.

THE HARBOR OF MELBOURNE—CONVICT HULKS AND BUSHRANGERS.

In the afternoon the party visited Port Melbourne, formerly known as Sandridge. Properly speaking, this is the harbor of Melbourne, and it is situated near the mouth of the Yarra, where that stream enters Hobson's Bay, the latter being an arm of Port Philip Bay. It is a busy place and contains the usual sights of a harbor. Ships were discharging or receiving their cargoes, some at the piers which jut out into the water, while some were anchored away from the shore and were performing the same work by means of lighters. On the other side of Hobson's Bay is Williamstown, which is a sort of rival of Sandridge. A great deal of shipping business is done there, and Williamstown contains, also, graving docks and building yards where many vessels engaged in local trade along the coast have been constructed. The gentleman who accompanied our friends called their attention to the railways which connect Williamstown and Sandridge with the city, and remarked that times had changed since the gold rush in the early fifties.

"At the present time," said he, "you can go between Sandridge and Melbourne for threepence or sixpence, according to the class you select, but in the time of the gold rush prices were very much higher. If you wanted a carriage from here to the city, you would be lucky to escape for a sovereign, and a dray load of baggage drawn by a single horse would cost fifteen dollars. There used to be an omnibus line that carried passengers for two shillings and sixpence, but it was somewhat irregular in its movements, and could not be relied on. Nowadays the omnibus will carry you for threepence.

"When a ship arrived and anchored in the bay the passengers had to pay three shillings each to be put on shore, and very often the boatman raised the tariff to five shillings whenever he thought he could induce or compel the passengers to pay it. The charge for baggage was a separate one, and sometimes it cost more to take a quantity of baggage from Sandridge to Melbourne than it had cost to bring it all the way from London to Sandridge, a distance of thirteen thousand miles."

"It was a golden harvest for the boatmen and everybody else engaged in the transportation business," Harry remarked.

"Indeed, it was," said the gentleman; "and a great many people had the sense to perceive that they had a better chance for a fortune by remaining right here than by going to the mines, where everything was uncertain."

"I suppose everything else was in proportion, was it not?" queried Ned.

"That was exactly the case," was the reply. "When goods were brought on shore they were loaded into carts for transportation to Melbourne, and the cart was not allowed to move out of the yard until three pounds sterling had been paid for taking the load to the city. The travelers protested and said they would not pay, but they generally did, as there was no other alternative. When they got to the city they found the same scale of prices.

"The poorest kind of a room without any furniture would bring ten dollars a week, and a stall in the stable of a hotel which would accommodate two men rented readily for ten shillings a night. Hotel-keepers made fortunes, or at least some of them did, and others might have done so if they had taken care of their money. I have heard of one hotel-keeper who had his house crammed full of patrons, none of them paying less than ten shillings a night for their lodging, while he had seventy-five lodgers in his stables, each of them paying five shillings apiece.

"A great many people spread tents on the waste ground outside of the city to save the expense of lodgings. They did not succeed altogether in doing so, as the government required them to pay at the rate of sixty dollars a year for the privilege of putting up a tent. Everybody was anxious to get away from Melbourne as quickly as possible, but they underwent great delays in getting their goods out of the ships."

"I suppose you had no railways at that time to facilitate travel," one of the youths remarked.

"No; there were no railways and the only way of travel was by the ordinary route, and very ordinary it was in many places. It was not a graded and macadamized road such as you find in England, but simply a rough pathway, principally of nature's manufacture. It was full of ruts and gullies, very muddy in the rainy season, and terribly dusty in the dry times. Travelers went to the mines in all sorts of ways, some on foot, and some by ox and horse wagons, and if they had plenty of money, and were determined to have luxury and speed at whatever cost, they traveled by stage-coach. An American firm, Cobb & Company, came here in the early days and established lines of stage-coaches, first from Melbourne to the mines, and afterwards all over Australia. Cobb's coaches are still running on some of the interior routes that are not covered by railway, but wherever the locomotive has put in its appearance it has forced them out of the way."

"I have read somewhere," said Harry, "that traveling on the road to the mines was not very safe in those days."

"That depended somewhat on the way one was going," was the reply. "Travelers going towards the mines were not very liable to attack, as they were not supposed to have any money, but it was not so with those coming from the mines to the coast. The natural supposition was that an individual moving in the direction of Melbourne had 'made his pile' and was on his way home. The country was infested with ex-convicts and men who had escaped from convict service in Australia and Tasmania. They were known as 'bushrangers,' and great numbers of them were along the routes to the mines. They lived in caves among the hills, or in the open air, and occasionally took shelter in out stations on sheep runs. They supplied themselves with food by stealing sheep and cattle from the ranches, and by robbing wagons laden with provisions on their way to the mines. Clothing they obtained by the same system of plunder, and whenever the haunt of a gang was discovered by the police it was almost invariably found to be well stocked with provisions and clothing.

"These were the fellows that made life miserable to the miners returning to the coast. The bushrangers traveled in gangs of all the way from five to fifteen or twenty, and sometimes more, and each gang was led by the most desperate man among them. They used to 'stick up' solitary travelers, or travelers in groups of a dozen or more. They lay in wait at turnings of the road or near the summits of hills, and generally took their victims by surprise. If a man submitted quietly to be robbed, he was generally left unharmed, but if he made any resistance, he was knocked senseless or shot down without the least compunction. Sometimes these gangs were so numerous that hardly a traveler escaped them. Then there would be a lull in the business for a time and the road would be particularly safe.

"Once a week or so, gold was sent down from the mines by the government authorities; and of course it was accompanied by a strong and well-armed escort of police. Many people entrusted their gold to the escort, paying a high premium for the guarantee of safe delivery in Melbourne. A good many people used to accompany the escort for the protection it afforded, but the number became so great and troublesome that the government at length refused to permit travelers to go in that way unless they paid the same premium on the gold that they carried as was paid by those who shipped the precious metal. Not infrequently the bushrangers attacked the government escort, and on several occasions they were successful.

"It was a piece of good fortune that, as a general thing, the bushrangers were never able to agree with each other very long. After a gang had been organized and selected its leader, dissensions arose very speedily, particularly as to the division of the spoil. The leader always believed that he ought to have a larger share of the plunder than anybody else, while all the subordinate members believed just as earnestly that their stealings should be divided equally. In this way quarrels took place. The captain would be deposed and another one selected, and he in time would share the fate of his predecessors.

"Some of the bushrangers were quite famous for their bravery and daring, and they used to give the police a great deal of hard fighting. On the other hand, the police acquired a high reputation for their skill in fighting and capturing bushrangers. They were instructed to bring in their captives alive, if possible, but it did not injure their reputations at all if they killed the scoundrels on the spot. The government wanted to be rid of the rascals, and frequently offered rewards for their capture, 'dead or alive.'

"Whenever the bushrangers made a haul of gold dust it was divided as soon as possible, each man taking his share and doing with it what he pleased. They generally hid their booty in spots known only to themselves, and when any of the bushrangers were captured, the police usually proceeded to draw from them the information as to where their gold was concealed. Naturally, the fellows were unwilling to say, and if they refused to tell, various means were resorted to to make them give up the desired information. Singeing their hair, pinching their fingers and toes, or submitting them to other physical tortures, were among the means commonly used.

"When ordinary methods failed, a favorite device was to tie the bushranger hand and foot, and then place him on an ant hill. The black ant of Australia has a bite that is very painful, and when hundreds of thousands of ants are biting a man all at once, the feeling is something fearful. The ant-hill torture was generally successful. After submitting to it for a time, the bushranger generally gave up the secret of the whereabouts of his gold. I do not mean to say that all the police officials indulged in this harsh treatment, but it is certain that many of them did.

"It is probable that a great deal of stolen gold is concealed in the country bordering the road from Melbourne to the gold diggings which will never be found. Many of the bushrangers were killed while fighting with the police, died of their wounds, or in prison, or managed to flee the country without giving up the secret which would have enabled the authorities to find where their treasures were concealed. Occasionally one of their deposits is found by accident, but there are doubtless hundreds which nobody will ever come upon.

"There was a great deal of lawlessness in and around Melbourne in those days. One afternoon a band of robbers took possession of the road between Melbourne and Sandridge, and 'stuck up' everybody who attempted to pass. People were tied to trees and robbed, and for an hour or two the bandits were in full possession of the road. They had one of their number on watch who gave the signal when the police approached, and thus they were enabled to get away in good time, leaving their victims fastened to the trees.

"Once a ship was anchored in the harbor, ready to sail for England, with several thousand ounces of gold on board. She was to leave the next forenoon, and was to receive her crew and passengers early in the morning. There were only some ten or twelve persons on board. Along about midnight a boat came to the side of the ship, and, when hailed by the lookout, the answer was given that two passengers were coming on board. Two men came up the side of the ship dressed like ordinary passengers, and without any suspicious appearance about them.

"While they were in conversation with the lookout and asking about the location of their rooms, they suddenly seized and bound him, and put a gag in his mouth to prevent his making an outcry. Then several other men came up the side of the ship very quickly, and one by one all on board were bound and gagged so quietly and speedily that they could not give the least alarm. The robbers then opened the treasure-room, took possession of the gold, lowered it into their boat and rowed away. They were not on the ship more than half an hour, and as no one came to ascertain the state of affairs and give the alarm until the next morning, the robbers succeeded in getting away with all their plunder. It was a very bold performance, but from that time such a careful watch was kept on board of the ships that it could not be repeated.

"A fair proportion of the successful miners kept their money and went home with it, but there was a large number who seemed to believe that the best use to be made of gold was to get rid of it as quickly as possible, and they found plenty of people ready and willing to help them in this work; and it was not infrequently the case that miners were killed for the sake of their gold, and their bodies disposed of in the most convenient way. Most of the men who thus disappeared had no relatives or intimate friends in the country, and consequently their disappearance caused no inquiries to be made concerning them. If the waters of Hobson's Bay would give up their dead, and the dead could speak, there would be a long series of fearful tales."

"Those bushranger fellows must have been terrible men," remarked Harry as the gentleman paused. "What did the authorities do with them whenever they caught any?"

"They disposed of them in various ways," was the reply. "Those who had been guilty of murder or an attempt at it were hanged, while those against whom murder could not be proved were sent to the hulks for life or for long terms of imprisonment."

"What were the hulks? I don't know as I understand the term."

"Oh, the hulks were ships, old ships that had been pronounced unseaworthy and dismantled. They were anchored in Hobson's Bay after being fitted up as prisons, and very uncomfortable prisons they were. A most terrible system of discipline prevailed on board of these hulks. The man who established the system, or rather, the one who had administered it, was beaten to death by a gang of desperate convicts, who rushed upon him one day on the deck of one of the hulks, with the determination to kill him for the cruelties they had suffered. Before the guards could stop them they had literally pounded the life out of him and flung his body overboard."

"How long did they keep up that system?" one of the youths asked.

"From 1850 to 1857," their informant replied. "In the last-named year the practise of imprisonment on board of the hulks was discontinued and the convicts were put into prisons on shore. Four of the hulks were sold and broken up, and the fifth, the Success, was bought by speculators and kept for exhibition purposes. She was shown in all the ports of Australia for many years, and was at last taken to England and put on exhibition there. She was five months making the voyage from Australia to England, and at one time fears were entertained for her safety; but she reached her destination all right, and has probably reaped a harvest of money for her exhibitors. She was built in India in 1790, her hull being made of solid teak-wood. She was an East Indian trader for more than forty years, then she was an emigrant ship, and finally, in 1852, a convict hulk.

"The convicts on board these hulks, or at any rate the worst of them, were always kept in irons, but this did not deter them from jumping overboard and trying to swim to the shore. Very few of these ever succeeded in reaching the land, as they were either carried to the bottom by the weight of the irons, or were captured by the guard boats that constantly surrounded the hulks. Most of the convicts were confined in separate cells, and the 'history' of each convict was posted on the door of his cell.

"Nearly the whole interior of the ship was thus divided into cells, and when candles and lanterns were removed the places were in pitchy darkness. I went on board the Success one day, while she was on exhibition here, long after she had given up her old occupation, and as a matter of curiosity, I had myself shut up in one of the cells and the light removed. I told them to leave me in for ten minutes only, not longer.

"It was on the lower deck, where not a ray of light could come in, and the place where they locked me in was one of the 'black holes' in which prisoners were confined from one to twenty-eight days on bread and water.

"As soon as they had locked me in and went away, I regretted that I had made the suggestion. You have heard of its being so dark that you could feel the darkness; well, that was the case down there. I felt the darkness pressing upon me, and the air was very thick and heavy. I felt an overwhelming desire to light a match, and discovered that I had no matches in my pocket.

"One, two, three, and four minutes passed away, and I had had all I wanted. I kicked and hammered at the thick door, and when it was opened and I went out of the hold and up on deck, I was nearly blinded. How in the world a man could stay in one of those places for a single day, let alone twenty-eight days, without losing his reason is more than I can understand."

Harry asked if all the prisoners were kept in solitary cells on board of these hulks.

"Most, but not all, of them were confined in this way. There is a space at the stern, and another in the center of the ship, heavily barred with iron, where those who were considered utterly irreclaimable were huddled together. It would almost seem as though the authorities deliberately put them there in order that they should kill each other, as fights among them were very frequent and not a few were murdered by their companions. They did not work, they were simply in prison, that was all.

"The punishments that the convicts received were various. They had the dark cells and bread and water of which I have told you, and then they had floggings, and plenty of them, too. They were tied up by the thumbs so that their toes just touched the deck, and they were compelled to sustain the weight of the body either on their thumbs or their toes for hours at a time. They were 'bucked,' 'gagged,' and 'paddled,' and 'cold-showered,' and treated to other brutalities which have been known in the English army and navy for a long time. In spite of their liability to punishment, many of them paid little attention to the rules, and some were continually yelling in the most horrible manner, and day and night the sound of their voices was heard.

"Over the hatchway was a wheel by which the food of the convicts was lowered into the hold at morning, noon, and night; at other times it was used for raising in an iron cage, from the lower decks, convicts who were allowed exercise, but the weight of whose irons prevented their ascending by the companionways. Many of them wore 'punishment balls' attached to their irons. The punishment balls and chain together weighed about eighty pounds, and frequently bowed the prisoner double.

"The heaviest leg irons weighed thirty-five pounds, and some of them forty pounds. You will readily understand why it was that men who tried to escape by swimming, with such weights about them, were almost invariably drowned in the attempt.

"A good many famous criminals were confined on board of the Success and her four sister hulks. Among them was the notorious Captain Melville, who for several years haunted the country between Melbourne and Ballarat, and was credited with many murders and countless robberies. When he was finally caught he admitted that his own share of the gold he had stolen amounted to not less than two hundred and fifty thousand dollars, and he claimed that he had hidden it in a place known only to himself. For the last forty years people have been trying in vain to find out where Melville hid his ill-gotten gold. He was in the habit of riding to the top of Mount Boran, whence, by the aid of a powerful field-glass, he was able to see the returning gold miners on the road. Consequently, it is believed that Melville's treasure must be hidden in the neighborhood of Mount Boran, but all attempts to find it have proved fruitless.

"Melville was tried and convicted and condemned to be imprisoned for thirty-two years on board the Success. He watched his opportunity, and formed a conspiracy with a number of his fellow-convicts to rush upon a boat and the keeper in charge of it and take possession. The plan succeeded and the escaped convicts pulled to the shore in safety, although fired upon by all the hulks and war ships in the harbor. Melville was soon recaptured, and at his trial he defended himself brilliantly, relating in burning words the horrors of the penal system on board the hulks.

"The speech was published in the Melbourne papers and caused a great sensation. A great mass meeting of the citizens was held, and resolutions were passed in favor of abolishing the convict hulks. The popular feeling aroused against them was so strong and general that, although the government had sentenced Melville to death for killing the keeper in his attempt to escape, it was compelled to commute the sentence to imprisonment for life. He was not sent back to the Success, but was incarcerated in the jail at Melbourne. According to the official report, he committed suicide there, but the unofficial version of the affair is that he was strangled to death by a keeper during a struggle in which the prisoner was trying to escape.

"Melville at one time had eighty men in his gang, the largest number of bushrangers at any time under a single leader. Another scoundrel who was confined on the Success was Henry Garrett, who, in broad daylight, 'stuck up' the Ballarat bank and robbed it of 16,000 pounds. One of his tricks consisted in wearing a suit of clothes of clerical cut, a white necktie, and broad-brimmed hat. On one occasion he walked into the bank dressed in this manner, stepped up to the safe and began to plunder it. He was a man of good education, and varied robbery with the pursuit of literature. He used to write essays and other articles, which he sent to the newspapers, and on one occasion he wrote an essay on crime.

"One man, William Stevens, helped Melville and his gang in their attempt to escape from the Success. He struck down a warder with a stone-cutter's axe and jumped overboard. He was never seen again, and the authorities were always in doubt whether he escaped or went to the bottom, the prevailing opinion being in favor of the latter result. Another famous bushranger was Captain Moonlight, who served his time and became a respectable citizen. Another prisoner, after serving for fifteen years, was given the position of 'guide' upon the vessel by her owners, and made a comfortable income by showing visitors around."



CHAPTER XI.

GEELONG—AUSTRALIAN GOLD MINES—FINDING A BIG NUGGET.

When they had finished with Williamstown and Sandridge our friends went to St. Kilda, which may be called the Coney Island of Melbourne, as it is very popular with those who are fond of salt-water bathing. Harry and Ned remarked that there were hotels, restaurants, and other places of resort and amusement such as are usually found at seaside watering places, and Ned thought it would require no great stretch of the imagination to believe that they were at the famous bathing place of New York. Ned observed that there were fences consisting of posts set in the ground, not more than ten or twelve inches apart, extending a considerable distance out into the water and completely enclosing the bathing place.

He asked why the fences were placed there, and was informed that it was because the bay abounded in sharks, and people who came there to bathe had a prejudice against being eaten up by these sea-wolves. "If we should take away the fences," said one of the attendants at the bathing house, "we would not do any more business here, and you may be sure that we are very careful to keep the fences in order."

Sharks abound all through the waters of Australia. They have caused not a few deaths, and everybody who understands about them is careful not to venture into the water at any place where the creatures are liable to come; but occasionally one hears of an incautious or ignorant person falling a prey to these monsters of the deep. When sailboats and other craft are overturned in storms or sudden squalls and their occupants are thrown into the water, they suffer fearful peril. Not long ago a small sailboat was overturned in Port Philip Bay with two gentlemen and a lady on board, in addition to the boatman and his boy. Before help could reach them the whole five had fallen victims to the sharks.

Port Philip Bay, into which Hobson's Bay opens, is a grand sheet of water between thirty and forty miles wide, and navigable for ships of all sizes, and the bay affords anchoring space for all the ships in the world, in case they should come there at the same time. The entrance to the bay is about thirty miles from Melbourne, and at Queenscliff near the entrance there is a fine watering place, which is reached both by railway and by steamboat. It has the advantage of St. Kilda in standing on the shore of the ocean, while the former place has only the waters of the bay in front of it. Many Melbourneites go to Queenscliff to enjoy the ocean breezes and watch the surf breaking on the shore. While St. Kilda may be called the Coney Island of Melbourne, Queenscliff is fairly entitled to be considered its Long Branch.

On their return to Melbourne, the youths found at their hotel an invitation to make a trip on the following day to Geelong. When Dr. Whitney read the invitation to the youths, Harry asked where Geelong was.

"Oh, I know about that," said Ned; "I happened to be reading about it this morning."

"Well, where is it?"

"Geelong is a town forty-five miles from Melbourne," replied Ned, "and it is a fairly prosperous town, too. It is not quite as old as Melbourne, but at one time the inhabitants thought that their town would outstrip Melbourne completely."

"How is that?"

"The town stands on Corio Bay, an arm of Port Philip Bay, and has a good harbor; in fact, the harbor at that time was better than that at Melbourne. The people of Geelong went to work and built a railway from their city to Melbourne, with the idea that if they did so, all the wool that was being shipped from Melbourne would be sent to Geelong for shipment, while the cargoes of foreign goods that landed at Melbourne would be landed at Geelong."

"The plan did not work as they expected, did it?"

"Not by any means. As soon as the railway was built, wool coming into Geelong was sent to Melbourne for shipment, and goods that were intended for Geelong were landed at Melbourne and sent over by railway. In this way the measures they had taken to increase their trade worked exactly the other way and diminished it."

"Don't they have any foreign commerce at all at Geelong?" Harry asked.

"Oh, yes, they have some, but nothing in comparison with Melbourne. We will learn something about it when we go there."

As there are three passenger steamers running between Geelong and Melbourne daily, the party went by railway and returned by water. In the railway journey they had a pleasant ride along the shore of Port Philip Bay, and arrived at their destination in a little more than two hours from the time of starting. They found the town pleasantly situated on Corio Bay, being laid out on ground sloping to the bay on the north and to the Barwon River on the south. Along the streets were fine shops, attractive stores, and every indication of an industrious and prosperous population.

In the suburbs, where they were taken in a carriage by the gentleman who accompanied them, they found numerous private residences, many of them of a superior character. The gentleman told them that Geelong was famous for its manufactures of woolens and other goods, and that it built the first woolen mill in Victoria. Iron foundries, wood-working establishments, and other industrial concerns were visited, so that our friends readily understood whence the prosperity of Geelong came. Their host told them that Geelong had long since given up its ideas of rivalry with Melbourne, and had settled down with the determination to develop itself in every feasible way and let things take care of themselves.

Our young friends thought they would like to see something of the gold mines of Victoria, and asked Dr. Whitney about them. He readily assented, and the trip to Ballarat was speedily arranged, and also one to Sandhurst, which is the present name of Bendigo of gold-mining days. Ballarat was the most important place of the two, and its placer mines gave a greater yield of gold than did those of Bendigo. At both places the placer mines were exhausted long ago, but gold is still taken from the rocks and reefs which underlie the whole region.

The mining establishments of Ballarat are outside of the city itself, and when the visitors reached the place and rode through the town they could hardly believe they were in a gold-mining region. The streets are wide, and most of them well shaded with trees, while some of them are so broad that they deserve the name of avenues rather than that of streets. There are substantial public buildings and a goodly number of churches, a botanical garden, and all the other features of a quiet and well-established city, and it was quite difficult for them to believe that they were in a place whose chief industry was the extraction of gold from the ground. All the lawless features of the Ballarat of gold-rush days had disappeared, and the town was as peaceful as any one could wish to find it.

Our friends brought a letter of introduction to a gentleman of Ballarat, who kindly consented to show them about the place and answer any questions that they wished to ask.

Harry's first question was, whether the first discoveries of gold in Australia were made at Ballarat or elsewhere.

"It is very difficult to say exactly," the gentleman answered, "where the first discoveries were made, but certainly they were not made at this spot. According to history and tradition, gold was discovered in the mountains behind Sydney about the year 1814, but the news of the finding of the precious metal was kept a secret by the government. At intervals of a few years from that time small deposits of gold were found at various places in New South Wales and Victoria, but these were also kept a secret, the individuals who found the deposits being in one way or another under the control of the government.

"In the early part of 1851 a miner from California, named Hargreaves, discovered gold at Lewis Pond Creek in New South Wales, and about the middle of the same year another California miner, named Esmond, found a deposit of gold at Clunes, sixteen miles from Ballarat. Before the government could take any steps for suppressing it the news had spread and the excitement began. The stories were greatly exaggerated, and many people came here believing that they had only to shovel the gold from the ground into barrels and boxes, and send it away to be converted into coin. That was the beginning of the gold rush, and a rush it was, you may be sure.

"From all over Australia people flocked to the new El Dorado. Mechanics of all kinds left their employments; shepherds deserted their flocks; merchants and clerks fled from their counting-houses; farmers quit their fields and gardens, doctors and lawyers their offices, and the whole country seemed to have gone mad about gold. Youth and age got the fever alike; boys of sixteen and men of seventy walked side by side on their way to the mines. Melbourne and Sydney were deserted, and the prediction was made that before the end of the year grass would be growing in the principal streets of those cities.

"Provisions, clothing, and miners' tools and equipments rose to an enormous price. Picks or shovels worth four or five shillings apiece in the sea-coast cities were sold for ten pounds apiece at the mines. Nails for building sluices sometimes brought their weight in gold. Bacon and flour were worth a dollar a pound, and not always to be procured at that figure. The most ordinary shelter was worth ten shillings a night, and the rental price of a house for a month was the equivalent of its cost.

"The government refused to permit anybody to work at mining without a license, and the miners were so numerous that the revenue from the licenses issued was a large one. The money thus obtained was expended in organizing a strong police force and preserving order. Whereever mining fields were opened, a gold commissioner with a police escort at his back made his appearance as soon as possible, and insured a certain degree of safety. Miners could leave their gold with the commissioner, either on deposit, to be called for whenever they liked, or for transportation to Melbourne. I presume you already know about the bushrangers and how they used to plunder the homeward-bound miners."

"Were the early miners successful in finding large deposits of gold?" one of the youths asked.

"The question is a difficult one to answer directly," was the reply. "A great many were successful, but, on the other hand, a great many had very poor luck in the mines and hardly succeeded in making a bare living. We always hear of the rich finds in the mining district, but rarely of the many failures. This has always been the case in gold mining the world over, and Ballarat and the region around it were no exception to the rule. I will tell you of some of the rich discoveries, and leave you to remember that the fortunate miners were in small number compared to the unfortunate ones. It may be safely said that the early yield of the Ballarat mines exceeded that of the best days of California.

"Some claims eight feet square yielded, each of them, from fifty thousand to sixty thousand dollars. One mine, which was owned by several men in common, was worked about four months and yielded eighty thousand dollars to each man. One tubful of earth which was taken from the bottom of a claim where the bed rock was scraped yielded nearly ten thousand dollars, and one claim which was supposed to have been worked out, and was abandoned, was again taken up by two men who obtained forty thousand dollars from it in two weeks. Up to the present time it is estimated that very nearly two billion dollars' worth of gold have been taken out of Australian mines."

Ned asked in what shape the gold was found; that is, was it in large pieces or small ones, fine dust or nuggets?

"It embraced everything between the large nugget and fine dust or flakes," the gentleman replied. "A great deal of the gold was in little lumps like bird shot; a great deal of it was in scales, and then, again, it took the shape of dust so fine that the particles were almost invisible to the naked eye. Nuggets the size of hens' eggs were not very unusual, while those the size of pigeons' and sparrows' eggs were much more numerous. The great nuggets were the ones most sought for, and of course they were the rarest found.

"One nugget, resembling in shape and size a leg of mutton, and weighing one hundred and thirty-five pounds, was found a long distance below the surface, where some miners were tunneling to reach the bed rock; and another nugget was found in such a remarkable way that I must tell you the story of it.

"A man who was wandering about the scrub in the neighborhood of Ballarat one day, sat down at the foot of a tree to rest. While sitting there he took out his knife to cut a stick, and finding the knife was dull, he proceeded to sharpen it by rubbing it upon a stone that lay almost completely imbedded in the ground. As he rubbed, he found that the surface of the stone became yellow. He was greatly surprised at this, and then he dug around the stone with his knife, scraping it in several places, and then trying to lift it. He might as well have tried to lift a horse. Do what he could, he could not budge it an inch, and for a good reason, as it was a mass of solid gold.

"He felt his head swimming and his wits leaving him. He pinched his cheeks and pulled his ears to make sure that he was not dreaming. Here he was with a fortune in his possession and he could not move it! Then he sat down again and wondered what was best to do.

"Even if he could move it and started for the camp, he might be robbed before he got there, as bushrangers infested the country, and he was just as liable to come upon them as upon honest men. He could not stay and watch it, as he had no provisions; and he was afraid to leave it, for fear that somebody might come upon it during his absence. But there was no help for it, as leave it he must, and after thinking the matter over he acted about as sensibly as he could have done.

"He covered the nugget up very carefully, replacing the earth and sprinkling it with leaves so that there was no indication that the spot had been disturbed. Then he stripped the shirt from his back and tied it to a neighboring tree, wisely concluding that it was not judicious to hang the garment on the tree beneath which he had sat. Then, on his way out of the scrub, he marked the trees here and there so that he could find the place again, and as soon as he was in sight of the diggings he went straight to the tent of the gold commissioner and told the story of his discovery. The commissioner immediately sent the man back again with a strong escort to secure the valuable find. The man received for the nugget, after deducting all charges and commissions, the sum of fifty-one thousand dollars.