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Title: Australasia
- Eight Lectures Prepared for the Visual Instruction Committee of the Colonial Office
Author: Sargent, A. J. (Arthur John)
Language: English
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- Eight Lectures Prepared for the Visual Instruction Committee of the Colonial Office" ***
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TRANSCRIBER’S NOTE
Italic text is denoted by _underscores_.
Bold text is denoted by =equal signs=.
These lectures each had a set of associated slides, a complete
list of which can be found on pages 143-152 at the end of the
book. These slide sets were sold separately and are not part of
the book. Some of the slides (those highlighted in =bold= in the
slide list) were inserted as illustrations in the original book,
and the captions of these illustrations are reproduced in this
etext.
The numbers in the right margin of the etext are the numbers of
the associated slides. Several of these margin slide numbers are
in parentheses ( ) to indicate that this particular slide is being
shown for a second time at this point in the lecture.
There are no Footnotes in this book.
Some minor changes to the text are noted at the end of the book.
AUSTRALASIA
EIGHT LECTURES
Prepared for
The Visual Instruction Committee of the Colonial Office
by
A. J. SARGENT, M.A.
LONDON
GEORGE PHILIP & SON, LTD., 32, FLEET STREET
Liverpool: PHILIP, SON & NEPHEW, Ltd., South Castle Street
1913
(_All rights reserved_)
THE VISUAL INSTRUCTION COMMITTEE
APPOINTED BY THE SECRETARY OF STATE FOR THE COLONIES
THE RIGHT HONOURABLE THE EARL OF MEATH, K.P., Chairman.
THE RIGHT HONOURABLE SIR CECIL CLEMENTI SMITH, G.C.M.G.
SIR JOHN STRUTHERS, K.C.B., LL.D., Secretary to the Scotch
Education Department.
SIR CHARLES HOLROYD, Director of the National Gallery.
SIR PHILIP HUTCHINS, K.C.S.I., late Member of the Council of
the Secretary of State for India.
SIR EVERARD IM THURN, K.C.M.G., C.B., late Governor of Fiji and
High Commissioner for the Western Pacific.
SIR CHARLES LUCAS, K.C.B., K.C.M.G.
DR. H. FRANK HEATH, C.B., of the Board of Education.
A. BERRIEDALE KEITH, D.C.L., of the Colonial Office.
H. J. MACKINDER, M.P., lately Director of the London School of
Economics and Political Science.
W. H. MERCER, C.M.G., Crown Agent for the Colonies.
PROFESSOR MICHAEL E. SADLER, C.B., LL.D., Vice-Chancellor of
the University of Leeds.
A set of Lantern Slides has been prepared in connection with this
book, and is sold on behalf of the Committee by Messrs. Newton
& Co., 37, King Street, Covent Garden, W.C. (late of 3, Fleet
Street, E.C.), from whom copies of this book can be obtained.
The complete set of 489 Slides may be had for £39. The Slides
to accompany the several Lectures will be sold at the following
prices: First Lecture, £4 3_s._; Second Lecture, £5 5_s._; Third
Lecture, £4 12_s._; Fourth Lecture, £5 9_s._; Fifth Lecture, £4
13_s._ 6_d._; Sixth Lecture, £5 12_s._ 6_d._; Seventh Lecture, £5
5_s._; Eighth Lecture, £5 4_s._ The Slides will also be sold in
sets in which the maps alone will be coloured. The prices in this
case will be--for the complete set of 489 Slides, £25 10_s._;
First Lecture, £2 17_s._; Second Lecture, £3 6_s._ 6_d._; Third
Lecture, £3 5_s._; Fourth Lecture, £3 10_s._; Fifth Lecture, £3
7_s._ 6_d._; Sixth Lecture, £3 7_s._ 6_d._; Seventh Lecture, £3
7_s._ 6_d._; Eighth Lecture, £3 5_s._ The Slides sold on behalf
of the Committee may now be purchased separately in batches of
not less than two dozen.
The Slides in this Series are Copyright.
PREFACE
These Lectures, like the last series, have been written for
the Visual Instruction Committee of the Colonial Office by Mr.
A. J. Sargent, and have been revised at the offices of the
High Commissioners for the Commonwealth of Australia and New
Zealand. The lecture on the Pacific has been revised by Sir
Everard im Thurn. The slides are derived from pictures painted
and photographs taken by Mr. A. Hugh Fisher on behalf of the
Committee, supplemented by photographs supplied from various
sources. The Committee wish to acknowledge the great help which
they have received from the High Commissioners and Agents-General
and their staffs in the matter of slides, and in addition
their acknowledgments are due to, among others, the Honourable
Victor Nelson Hood, the Agricultural Departments of Queensland
and Western Australia, the Secretary to the Commissioner for
Queensland Railways, and the Government Geologist of Western
Australia.
MEATH.
_November, 1912._
PUBLICATIONS OF THE VISUAL INSTRUCTION COMMITTEE
A. Seven Lectures on the United Kingdom.
By Mr. H. J. MACKINDER.
In the following Editions issued on behalf of the Committee by
Messrs. Waterlow & Sons, Ltd.:--
=1. Eastern Colonies Edition, Sept., 1905.=
In use in Ceylon, the Straits Settlements, and Hong Kong.
=2. Mauritius Edition, June, 1906.=
In use in Mauritius.
=3. West African Edition, Sept., 1906.=
In use in Sierra Leone, the Gold Coast, and Southern Nigeria.
=4. West India Edition, Sept., 1906.=
In use in Trinidad, British Guiana, and Jamaica.
=5. Indian Edition, March, 1907.=
In use in the following Provinces:--Madras, Bombay, Bengal, the
United Provinces, the Punjab, Burma, Eastern Bengal and Assam,
the Central Provinces, the North West Province, and British
Baluchistan.
=6. Indian Edition, for use in the United Kingdom, Jan., 1909.
Price One Shilling net.=
B. Eight Lectures on India.
By Mr. H. J. MACKINDER.
Published by Messrs. GEORGE PHILIP & SON, LTD., 32, Fleet Street,
London, E.C., price 8_d._ net in paper covers, or 1_s._ net in
cloth.
[=A Lecturer’s Edition= has also been issued, price in cloth,
1_s._ net, and may be had of MESSRS. NEWTON & CO., 3, Fleet
Street, E.C.]
Six Lectures on the Sea Road to the East.
By Mr. A. J. SARGENT.
Eight Lectures on Australasia.
By Mr. A. J. SARGENT.
Published by Messrs. GEORGE PHILIP & SON, LTD., price 8_d._ net
in paper covers, 1_s._ net in cloth.
[In these two books the ordinary edition and the lecturer’s
edition are combined.]
CONTENTS
LECTURE I
PAGE
AUSTRALASIA 1
LECTURE II
NEW SOUTH WALES, WITH PAPUA 17
LECTURE III
QUEENSLAND 36
LECTURE IV
VICTORIA AND TASMANIA 51
LECTURE V
SOUTH AUSTRALIA AND WESTERN AUSTRALIA 67
LECTURE VI
NEW ZEALAND--SOUTH ISLAND 84
LECTURE VII
NEW ZEALAND--NORTH ISLAND 103
LECTURE VIII
FIJI AND THE WESTERN PACIFIC 122
_NOTE.--The reader is asked to bear in mind the fact that these
lectures are illustrated with lantern slides. The numbers in the
margin of the text are the numbers of the slides, of which a
complete list will be found on pp. 143-152._
[Illustration:
_Copyright._) (_See page 7._
NATIVE BEAR.]
[Illustration:
_Copyright._) (_See page 10._
GUM TREE.]
[Illustration:
_Copyright._) (_See page 9._
EMU.]
[Illustration:
_Copyright._) (_See page 12._
NATIVES FISHING.]
LECTURE I
AUSTRALASIA
For nearly two thousand years the existence of a great Southland,
in the ocean of the southern hemisphere, corresponding to the
land mass of the Old World in the northern, was a matter of doubt
and dispute among geographers. In the sixteenth century, this
land begins to appear vaguely on globes and charts; possibly
the information was due to the Malays and Arabs, who were
skilful sailors and made long voyages in the Pacific and Indian
Oceans. It has been thought that the Portuguese, approaching the
Malay region from the west, while the Spaniards came from the
east, may have been acquainted with the northern coast of the
new continent; since they certainly had some knowledge of the
northern coast of New Guinea early in the sixteenth century.
But our first definite information may be said to date from the
beginning of the seventeenth century, when a Spanish exploring
expedition, under de Quiros and de Torres, sailed across the
Pacific and discovered the New Hebrides group. One of the islands
they named la Australia del Espiritu Santo, under the idea
that it formed part of the great southern mainland. De Quiros
then sailed back to Mexico, but Torres continued his voyage
northwestward through the straits which still bear his name, and
so to the Spanish Possessions in the Philippines.
But the day of Spain as a sea power was passing away, and it was
to the Dutch traders that the western world owed its first real
acquaintance with Australia. The early discoveries were often
accidental and did not lead to settlement or regular intercourse
with the natives. This was due partly to the backward state of
the science of navigation, partly to the fact that the voyagers
on long expeditions usually lost from half to three-quarters of
their crews from disease. The Dutch had the advantage of a local
base, as they were already firmly established in the East Indian
Islands; so that Australia was really discovered from the Indies.
Trade, not exploration, was the main motive of the Dutch. So,
in the early part of the seventeenth century, trading ships
were dispatched from Batavia by the Dutch East-India Company to
explore the north and west coasts of Australia.
We find all along these coasts the names of the ships still
surviving, as in Arnhem Land and Cape Leuwin; those of the
captains, as in Dirk Hartog Island, Houtmans Abrolhos, Edels Land
and Nuyts Land; while the Gulf of Carpentaria is a memorial to
Peter Carpenter, the then Governor of the great trading company.
The most important voyage of all was that of Abel Tasman, in 1
1642. He started from Mauritius, to discover a passage south
of the Australian continent; and after landing in Van Diemen’s
Land, now Tasmania, he sailed across the Tasman Sea and up the
west coast of New Zealand, and so back to Batavia by way of Tonga
and the Fiji islands and the north coast of New Guinea. He left
behind him another name, New Holland, for the whole continent.
These names throughout Australasia bear witness to the skill and
energy of the Dutch navigators; but they came only as traders,
and the west coast of Australia, which they knew best, had little
to attract them to permanent settlement. Sand and grass, hostile
natives, and dangerous reefs marked by a series of shipwrecks
sum up their impression of the new land. Here are two views of 2,3
the coast; it does not seem attractive for sailors. We can quite
understand why they made no effort to open up a trade like that
of the East Indies, especially as they missed the east coast,
the most promising region for European settlement. Here are two
charts showing our knowledge of Australia, the first soon after
Tasman’s voyage, the second nearly a century later. 4,5
[Illustration: MAP OF PIETER GOOS, 1660.]
The discovery of the east coast was to come more than a century
later; it was made by an Englishman, at a time when England
was looking for new outlets, both for trade and settlement, as
an offset to her losses in the continent of North America. It
is true that Dampier visited the west coast towards the end of
the seventeenth century, and wrote an account of the animals,
natives, and plants; but he does not seem to have been much more
favourably impressed than the Dutch, and nothing came of his
visit.
[Illustration: MAP OF R. DE VAGONDY, 1752.]
But in the eighteenth century England and France were the great
rivals in colonisation, and voyages of discovery and plans of
annexation became the order of the day. It was a revival, in a
less forcible though more scientific form, of the old rivalry
with Spain and Portugal in the sixteenth century. State influence
was behind the explorers, as it had been in the days of Drake and
his freebooters. Captain Cook sailed in a ship belonging to the
Royal Navy, and not in a trader. In our own country his memory
is still kept green in the little port of Whitby where he served
his apprenticeship to the sea, and where the ships were built in
which he made his great voyages of discovery; in the Antipodes it
is for ever associated with the beginnings of a great and growing 6,7
Empire. Here we see his statue in Sydney, and here is a picture
of his ship, the _Endeavour_, approaching New Zealand.
Cook came westward, across the Pacific, with an expedition in
1769, to observe the Transit of Venus at Tahiti, and then sailed 8
south-west to New Zealand. He sighted land at Poverty Bay and
sailed south as far as Cape Turnagain; then he went right round
the North Island and through Cook Strait, until the Cape was
again sighted, scattering English names and charting the coast
as he passed. Next he circumnavigated the South Island, steering
outside Stewart Island, which he imagined to be a peninsula; and
so to Cape Farewell, in the north-west corner of South Island.
He had obtained a fairly accurate idea of the nature of the
coast, and had proved that New Zealand was not connected with the
supposed Antarctic continent.
From Cape Farewell he struck westward, and sighted the mainland
of Australia at Point Hicks, on April 19th, 1770, but failed
to discover Bass Strait. From Point Hicks Cook sailed along
the whole of the east coast to Cape York, giving to the bays
and capes as he passed them the names of his crew, of British
admirals, officials and politicians of all kinds at home.
At various landing places he came into collision with the
aborigines, and at Endeavour River he stayed for two months to
repair his vessel which had been damaged through striking on the
rocks. Finally, before sailing westward through Torres Strait, he
landed on Possession Island and formally claimed the whole region
discovered for the British Crown.
When, in 1798, Flinders and Bass proved that Van Diemen’s
Land was an island, the rough work of discovery was complete.
Australia, New Zealand and many of the smaller islands were known
and charted, and the discoveries of the Spaniards and Dutch
were linked up, by the aid of a great deal of miscellaneous
exploration carried out by the French navigators who followed us
in the South of Australia, in New Zealand, and in the islands of
the Pacific.
The navigators, French and English, were in the habit of formally
annexing the country wherever they landed; but annexation of this
kind was of little value without effective occupation. This
was to come later, during the course of the next half century.
From 1800 onwards, we may say that the different parts of this
vast region begin to have a separate and individual history and
development, though behind all are the conditions common to most
of the area, conditions which distinguish it sharply from the
rest of the world even to-day, in spite of minor differences
between its separate parts. There is ample room for variation,
since the continent of Australia is about three-quarters the
size of Europe, or seven times the area of Germany and France
together; and it includes nearly every type of temperate and
tropical climate.
Whether we look at the animals, plants, or aborigines of
Australia, we are at once struck with the fact that they belong
to an entirely different order of life from that which we find
in the other great continents. The whole region seems, from a
very early age, to have been cut off effectively from the rest of
the world, and to have developed along lines peculiar to itself;
though since the advent of the white man we have the artificial
introduction of European and other plants and animals, which bid
fair in many cases to oust the native products, just as the white
man has displaced the original inhabitants.
The first animal which we naturally think of in connexion with
Australia is the kangaroo. His family is large and varied, from 9
the giant standing six feet high, and dangerous to attack, to the
dwarf measured by a few inches. He is a creature of the wide open 10
plains, living on grass, though in Queensland and New Guinea are
to be found some which climb the tall gum trees and feed on their
shoots. An ancestor of the present kangaroo, whose remains have
been discovered, was a formidable monster standing twelve feet
high.
The kangaroo is merely the best known representative of a very
large group, the marsupials or pouched animals. Closely allied
to the kangaroo is the wombat, a clumsy badger-like animal which
feeds on leaves and burrows in the ground; he is quite harmless,
though, like the kangaroo, he had a huge ancestor who seems to
have been as large as a rhinoceros. The bandicoots, ratlike
burrowing animals, are his cousins many times removed.
Next we have a group which looks very different but is really
closely allied to the kangaroo: the _phalangers_, or opossums,
as they are commonly called. The name is adopted from America 11
but is applied in Australia to the wrong group, as we shall see
later. Nothing is more misleading than the names given by white
settlers, ignorant of botany or biology, to native plants or
animals, generally on the ground of some fancied and superficial
resemblance. The so-called opossums are found all over Australia
and New Guinea and in many of the islands of the Pacific; but
owing to the value of their fur they are becoming scarce in
many districts. They live in trees, and some of the family have
their legs connected by a membrane, so that they can glide from
one branch to another. Hence the name flying squirrel; though
they do not fly and have no connexion with the squirrel which we
know. Here is another of the same group, the _koala_, or native
bear; though he again has nothing to do with bears. He is a 12
sleepy-looking animal, with no tail, and is not given to leaping
or gliding; though his claws are useful for climbing the gum 13
trees in which he lives. He is quite harmless, and a child can
play with him, as we see here.
Other members of the same great family are far from harmless:
among them are the _dasyures_, or native cats, with dark bodies
mostly spotted with white. Some smaller members of this family
are called weasels and mice. To this family belongs also the
Tasmanian Devil, whose portrait we have here; he is very fierce 14
though small. A larger animal, the size of a retriever, is the
so-called Tasmanian wolf; he is carnivorous, while most of the 15
marsupials are vegetarian. It is rather doubtful whether he
should be classed with the rest or go by himself.
The only existing allies of the marsupials of Australia are to
be found in the opossums and some other less known animals of
South America; but the opossum of South America resembles less
his Australian namesake than the other group, the _dasyures_. In
Europe and Asia the marsupials existed, but only in very remote
geological ages, as their remains prove. It has been argued from
the existence of the opossum family in America that at some time
there must have been a land connexion between Australia and South
America, either by way of the islands of the Pacific or by an
Antarctic continent. But the isolation of Australia must have
been very ancient, since it has given time for the development of
the enormous differences which we have seen among the individuals
of the same family.
Even these strange animals, old as they are, are not the most
primitive to be found in Australia. The _ornithorhynchus_ or
duck-billed platypus lives in a burrow by the river; it has teeth 16
when young, but seems to lose these as it grows up. It is said
to lay eggs like a reptile, though it is a true mammal. We are
not surprised to learn that when the first stuffed specimen of
this strange beast reached Europe it was thought to be a fraud,
put together to deceive the ignorant and unwary. Another of these
egg-laying animals is the _echidna_, or spiny ant-eater, which
has a kind of beak for burrowing and a long sticky tongue to
capture its prey. It has sharp spines and rolls itself into a
ball like a hedgehog when attacked. In addition to these curious
animals there are rats and mice and the dingo, or native dog, of 17
a type more familiar to us. It is thought possible by some that
the dingo, being so different from the other native animals, was
introduced by man at some very early date.
The typical Australian animals disappear as we travel away
through the islands to the north, and the boundary line between
Australia and Asia is usually drawn through the strait between
Bali and Lombok, and then on between Celebes and Borneo; though
it is much disputed whether Celebes belongs to the one region
or the other. The division is only a narrow water strait, and
we can understand that Asiatic birds would have no difficulty
in crossing. On the other hand, as there is no great land mass
to the south, there are no crowds of seasonal migrants from
cooler regions, such as we find in the warmer countries of the
northern hemisphere; so that the existing Australian birds are
for the most part allied to the bright-coloured inhabitants of
the tropics to the north. Some are peculiar to the region, such 18
as the lyre birds with their wonderful tails, the emu, and the 19
brush birds which bury their eggs in a mound of earth, leaving
them to be hatched by the heat of the sun. Other birds, as the
honey-eaters, though common in Australia, are found also in the
neighbouring islands of the Pacific. Unfortunately, not content 20
with the flowers of the gum trees, these birds now attack the
fruit in the orchards and are becoming a nuisance in some
districts. Finally we have the _kukuburra_ or laughing-jackass, 21
one of the most popular and best known of all Australian birds.
It belongs to the kingfisher tribe and is said to be a great
destroyer of small snakes. Nor must we forget the black swan, one 22
of the most striking and beautiful of all, and still to be found
in large numbers in the lakes of Gippsland and in West Australia.
Then we have lizards, snakes, and strange fish of all kinds,
some peculiar to Australia, others, like the animals, allied
to species found in Asia or South America. All the evidence
afforded by the animal life of the continent points to a very
remote connexion with the other continents, followed by a very
long period of isolation during which the families of animals
developed wide differences among themselves, together with
special peculiarities suited to the conditions in which they
lived.
Now let us turn for a moment from the animal to the plant life
of Australia. In the tropical parts of Queensland there are many
plants which belong to the Malayan region as a whole; this we
might expect. We may see palms growing even at Brisbane; while 23
further north they form a dense forest, thoroughly tropical
in appearance, with its creepers and undergrowth, as we see
in these two pictures. But further south we meet more species 24
peculiar to Australia, in the vegetable no less than in the 25
animal world. The typical Australian plants are those specially
adapted to resist hot sunshine with drought, and often sudden
changes of temperature. All over the continent the gum trees 26
give a special mark to the landscape of the forest. The leaves
hang vertically, so as not to give a large exposure of surface
to the hot sun, and are collected in dense clusters for the same
purpose of protection; so that we miss much of the spreading
shade of our English trees. The leaves, too, are alike on both
sides, and the colour is more uniform than in our own trees, nor
do they change colour and fall in autumn, but decay gradually on
the stalk. The bark of many of the gums hangs in strips, thus
spoiling the appearance of the huge trunk, for huge it is, rising
to four hundred feet in some species. Owing to the character
of the foliage the forests are more open than our own, except
in the wetter parts where there is a dense undergrowth of fern
and creeper. These districts are always near the coast. As we
travel away from the coast the forest thins out, except along the
watercourses, and becomes smaller and more stunted. In place of
trees with leaves we find thorny scrub of various kinds, such as 27
the mulga, whose leaves are replaced by woody spikes still more
resistant to drought. Finally we reach the salt-bush and spinifex 28
and wiry grasses of the desert interior. Often there is little 29
but bare rock as in the pictures before us. The watercourses 30
themselves may dry up in the hot season, leaving a desolate 31
expanse of sand and stones, but the line of trees still marks the
presence of moisture below. 32
The huge gum trees are, as a rule, the main feature in the forest
landscape, but this is varied by curiosities like the grass
tree and the bottle tree; while in the moister regions, as in
the forests of Gippsland, we find beautiful tree ferns of every 33
kind. Here are specimens of grass trees and gums. Everywhere 34
we find the acacia and the wattle with its sweet scent, the 35
banksia shooting up into great trees, and the beautiful waratah;
everywhere, too, where the rainfall is sufficient, flowers of the
same order as those with which we are familiar in Europe grow in
great profusion.
So we see that there is great variety of vegetation in Australia,
though the only native plants of much use to man are the gum
trees, which we value for their dense hard woods. All else that
is of value, both among plants and animals, has been introduced
by the settlers, and many of the native types seem doomed to
extinction.
We may now be able to understand why this country of strange
plants and animals had no attraction for the Dutch trader,
especially in the drier west; in fact, it could have no trade
until it had been settled by Europeans bringing with them
European crops and animals. In India and Malaya there was already
a basis for trade in some of the natural products of the region;
while the natives were sufficiently advanced in civilisation to
make commercial intercourse possible. It was far otherwise in
Australia. The aborigines, as we found them, were as primitive
as the plants and animals. They are not black, but a dark-brown
people, and their hair is waved and silky, not curly like that of
the negro. They are different also from the negro in the shape
and build of the head and face. There are various theories as to
their origin, but the nearest correspondence seems to be in some
of the ancient hill tribes of India and the Veddas of Ceylon. At
any rate they are quite different from the Malays, and equally
also from the now extinct Tasmanians. The Tasmanians had woolly
hair, and perhaps represented the remnants of an earlier and even
less developed race than the invaders from the north.
The native Australian, as the first European discoverers found
him, was not an attractive being. He was looked on as little
better than a wild beast and treated as such. This was partly
due to ignorance of his language and customs. His mode of life
was fitted by long adaptation to the peculiar conditions of his
surroundings. He had developed no agriculture in his new home;
not without reason, if we think of the agricultural possibilities
of the country in the hands of a rude and backward people. He
was equally without any of the useful animals, and had no means
of procuring them. So he was reduced to the nomad life and to
the utilisation of the wild roots and plants of the country and
such small game as he could kill with his rude weapons. He was
necessarily a hunter, with a temporary shelter for his home, 36
often an overhanging rock as in this picture; and civilisation
does not grow up in such conditions. Here we see some natives 37
fishing, and here again are some armed men scouting in the bush. 38
The hostility of the native to the European colonists often arose
from their interference with his natural food supply, or to their
careless ignorance of his semi-religious ideas or customs, such
as the tabu.
His only possible clothes were the skins of animals, and his
weapons and tools all belonged to the Stone Age. The axe, knife,
and hammer were in universal use, and long journeys were made to
obtain the right kind of stone. This involved a certain amount of
intercourse among the tribes. For weapons of offence the native
had the club, and the spear tipped with bone or stone; while
some tribes used a special spear-thrower. The boomerang was a
curved bar of heavy wood, often five or six feet long, which was
used for killing or stunning at a short distance. The smaller
boomerang, which returns to the thrower, was merely a toy and
used in sport; here we see it in use. The stone implements are 39
all similar to those which are dug up in Europe, the relics of
the Neolithic Age of man. One of the chief uses of the axe was to
cut notches for climbing trees, in search of honey among other
things; though they had another method which we see here. 40
The natives were divided into tribes and sub-tribes, and had some
form of tribal government, under headmen. In the south-east of
the continent these chiefs had considerable authority and were
sometimes treated by us as representing the tribe. Here is one
of them, though he does not look imposing in his European dress. 41
They had an elaborate social system and curious marriage customs
about which the learned still dispute. They had a strong belief
in spirits of various kinds, though it could hardly be called a
religion, and a whole series of tales and legends handed down
orally, some of them showing considerable power of imagination.
They even had the beginnings of some ideas of art and ornament, 42
as we can judge from the crude paintings shown here. 43
The most interesting of their social customs was the corroboree,
a great gathering for feasting and dancing, often combined with 44
some religious or social ceremony. Such meetings represented the
only real social intercourse of the people and tribes, except
messages by ambassadors who were sacred everywhere.
On the whole, then, they were not so low in the scale of
civilisation as the early observers imagined. Even the language,
with its many dialects, due to the absence of writing and the
nomad life of the people, is elaborate and inflected like those
of Europe.
The native life in its original form is decaying, and survives
chiefly in the interior and the west. Wherever white occupation
has extended, the native is dying out; in fact, in some parts
he survives only on the Government Reservations. Here are some 45
of these survivors in Victoria. Here again, in Queensland, we 46
see the native converted to European clothes, though he does not 47
seem very comfortable in them. In this district, as in South and
Western Australia, and the Northern Territory, they still exist
in considerable number; but it is probable that there are less
than 100,000 in all in the Commonwealth. In the census of 1911 an
attempt was made to count them, and some 20,000 were found to be
living in or near white settlements; only a vague estimate was
possible in the case of the tribes of the interior, who still
live their nomadic life in the more inaccessible parts of the
country. But the area untouched by the white man grows smaller
every year, and unless the native can change his character
greatly, he is likely to die out in the north and west as in the
south-east. In 1911 there were only about two thousand in New
South Wales, hardly any in Victoria, and none at all in Tasmania.
It was inevitable that the Australian native should be displaced
from his hunting grounds. An area about equal to that of the
United States could not be left in the sole occupation of a few
thousand savages. Now, instead of the savage with his primitive
tribal system, we have a white race, purely British in origin,
with industry and agriculture of the most advanced type, and an
elaborate political constitution of federated States. It is the
utilisation, by the white man, of the resources of this vast area
which we must study.
We have seen something of the coast of this area; let us now try
for a moment to picture it as a whole. The map shows us an oblong
block, which lies east and west, on either side of the Tropic of 48
Capricorn. On the north, two peninsulas, Arnhem Land and Cape
York, project towards the Equator; between them is the Gulf of
Carpentaria, the only deep indentation in the whole continent. On
the south, Victoria, continued by Tasmania, stretches into the
cool waters of the Southern Ocean. A coastal plain, broad in the
north, narrow elsewhere, fringes a plateau which occupies the
greater part of the oblong. The plain is narrowest in the east,
and the plateau edge most marked, so that it resembles a series
of mountain ranges. Rivers, short for the most part, plunge down
the seaward edge of the plateau. The only large area of lowland
is in the south-east, drained by a group of long rivers and
shared by four of the Australian States. Some of these rivers
lose themselves in the salt lakes and marshes of the inland basin
of Lake Eyre; the rest, gathered up by the Murray, reach the sea
at the one point where the plateau rim disappears. The tropical
lowlands, the temperate coast-plains, the plateau and the long
inward slopes of the Murray system are the main features which we
shall find recurring in the geography of the various States.
* * * * *
So far we have dealt only with Australia. New Zealand shows to
some extent the peculiarities which mark Australia off from the
rest of the world, but on the whole the differences between
these two sections of Australasia are more noticeable than the
likeness. We might anticipate this, since the dominant fact
in the development of the peculiar plant life of Australia is
drought; in the case of New Zealand it is moisture. Again, New 49
Zealand has no snakes, and lacks the peculiar animals which we
have seen in Australia. In fact, its only native animals are a
bat and a rat, the latter perhaps introduced by the Maoris. To
compensate for this it has a large group of birds peculiar to
itself, including the wingless birds, which may have lost their
wings since they had no need for flight from enemies on the
ground. The best known of these birds is the _kiwi_; here we see 50
him in his natural haunts. Again, there is the _takahe_, which
was at one time thought to be extinct; but one or two specimens
have been found, and there may be others still existing. Here 51
is one of these stuffed. Finally there is the gigantic _moa_, 52
which probably existed at the time of Captain Cook’s voyage. Now
we can only see its skeleton, but naturalists have attempted to
re-construct the whole bird, as we see here. One link New Zealand 53
possesses with a very remote geological past; this is the curious
_tuatara_ or three-eyed lizard. He belongs to an extinct group 54
of reptiles which lived in Europe many ages ago and is now only
represented in the fossils which we dig up. So we see that in its
animal life New Zealand differs from Australia and from the rest
of the world; we shall find also a strong contrast between the
native races of the two countries in their character and origin,
their relations with the white settlers, and their influence on
the history and development of the land which they possessed
before our arrival.
[Illustration:
_Copyright._) (_See page 23._
GOVETT’S LEAP: BLUE MOUNTAINS.]
[Illustration:
_Copyright._) (_See page 27._
THE MURRAY, IN FLOOD.]
[Illustration:
_Copyright._) (_See page 31._
YASS.]
LECTURE II
NEW SOUTH WALES
When, in 1770, Captain Cook dropped anchor in Botany Bay, he just
missed discovering the finest harbour in the world. Voyaging
northwards he sighted Port Jackson in the distance but did not
examine it more closely, and the discovery was left to the first
party of colonists, a few years later. The harbour which we are
going to explore was the scene of the first real settlement, and
is still the vital centre for the whole of New South Wales.
We steam through a broad channel, nearly a mile wide between
the rugged points which guard it. There is no lack of room here 1
for ships to pass one another, and our large vessel seems quite
insignificant beside the towering cliffs. On our right is a broad
bay, the North Harbour, with the village of Manly at its head;
on the other side of Manly, across a narrow isthmus, is the open
ocean, with its long rollers thundering always in surf upon the
beach. But inside the Heads the water is calm as a lake. In
front of us, and beyond the North Harbour, is a narrow, winding
inlet, running for miles into the hills; this is Middle Harbour. 2
There is plenty of good anchorage here, but it is mainly given
up to pleasure boats; we are a long way yet from the commercial
harbour. To reach this our vessel turns sharply southwards,
behind the South Head with its lighthouses, and steams on for 3
about five miles up the Main Harbour. All along, on either hand,
are jutting headlands, and in the bays between, especially on the
south side, are seaside villages. But we shall not see swarms
of bathers on the beaches as in our own country, for there are
sharks in Sydney Harbour; the only safe bathing is in the surf
outside. As we approach our landing-place the houses are more
closely packed together, and islands are dotted here and there
in the channel. We may be reminded to some degree of parts of
the Clyde, or of one of the larger inlets on the west coast of
Scotland; though here we find not only the most beautiful scenery
but a great seaport and busy city in the very midst of it.
We turn at last into Sydney Cove, on the south side of the
harbour, and here we are moored at Circular Quay in the very 4
heart of the city. Further on to the west, just round the next
point, we see Darling Harbour, crowded with shipping, and its 5
busy wharves piled with merchandise. The waterway extends some
miles further inland, but here in Sydney Cove is the centre
of commercial activity and the landing-place of the original
settlers in 1788.
[Illustration: PORT JACKSON.]
Before we land let us look at a chart which shows us the long
passage by which we have entered, the windings of the harbour 6
and the city spreading over the surrounding hills. This will give
us our bearings and help us to understand the views.
We will now land, climb the hill, and look down on the Cove. (4)
There, on the further side, is our vessel, lying close to the
tall warehouses. Beyond it are the trees of Government Domain,
with the tower and roof of Government House showing above them.
The little bay on our left is Farm Cove, where the warships lie 7
at anchor; and beyond it again, on the next point, we see the
trees of the Botanical Gardens. Then we have Woolloomooloo Bay,
running up to a new and crowded suburb, and in the distance
many more points and bays, as we look along the south side of
the harbour back towards the sea. Or let us climb up behind our
vessel, in another direction, to the library, and look down over
Farm Cove. Below us, on the little island, is Fort Denison; and 8
across the water on the north side is Mossman Bay, where a new
Sydney is growing up. It is all very different from the crowded
ugliness of most of our own commercial cities.
To see something of the inside of the city we walk up George
Street from the quayside. On our right is old Sydney, irregular
and picturesque, built on the rocky peninsula between Sydney Cove
and Darling Harbour. Here is a view of one of the old streets. 9
George Street itself is very modern in appearance, with its broad 10
roadway, electric cars, and handsome stone buildings. Here is the
Post Office at one of the corners; it is built of sandstone and 11
granite which are to be found in abundance in the local rocks.
Across George Street runs Bridge Street, one of the oldest in the
city. It takes its name from the old bridge across the little
Tank stream, which has now been absorbed into the underground
drainage of the city, like so many of our old streams in London.
There are many Government buildings in this older part as we
might expect, and at the top is the entrance to Government House.
On the west side of Darling Harbour is the suburb of Pyrmont, on
another peninsula; and at the base of these peninsulas Sydney is
spreading and broadening out beyond the railway station. But even
here, in the new suburb, are many parks and open spaces reserved
for public use; while nothing can destroy the beauty of the older
portion of the city, divided up by inlets, and with glimpses
down many of its sloping streets of the blue water and the hills
beyond. It is not surprising that the early settlers found this
spot far more attractive than the open beach of Botany Bay.
As we look down on the Cove and its neighbourhood, we must
remember that we have in front of us only a small part of the
great expanse of landlocked anchorage available in the harbour;
there is still room for unlimited growth, though Sydney has
already over a third of the total population of New South Wales
collected in and around it.
We must now look beyond the actual harbour, and try to place
ourselves in the position of the early settlers. We have great
distances to cover, since New South Wales is just half as large
again as France; we must therefore keep fairly closely to the
railway; but we shall not lose much by this as the railway will
carry us through all the important districts of the State.
We may travel north, south, or west, and the map can give us some
idea of the character of the country through which we shall pass. 12
Sydney lies near the middle of a long strip of coastland, shut in
on its western side by the steep edge of a great plateau. In the
neighbourhood of Sydney this edge goes by the name of the Blue
Mountains. Here the barrier is about forty miles inland; further
north, in the valleys of the Hunter and Hawkesbury rivers, the
lowland widens out to nearly a hundred miles; while in some
parts of the south the highlands come right down to the sea. This
narrow strip was the original New South Wales.
[Illustration: NEW SOUTH WALES AND VICTORIA: OROGRAPHICAL.
_By permission of the Diagram Co._]
We can travel now by railway along the coast strip to Newcastle, 13
then up the valley of the Hunter, and finally climb the Liverpool
Range on to the plateau beyond. But the journey was far from easy
for the early settlers. In fact, until 1820, when a stock route
was discovered from Sydney to Newcastle, the only intercourse
with the north was by sea, and Newcastle grew up almost as a
separate colony in consequence. The valleys of the Hunter and
other rivers gave a natural direction to early settlement, since
in their lower courses they flow through wide alluvial flats
which are very fertile and easy to cultivate. But they are
subject sometimes to devastating floods, as the settlers found to
their cost, while the heavy summer rainfall is not well suited
to certain of our crops, such as wheat. So in the early days the
colony was often in difficulty as to its main food supply.
The name Newcastle at once suggests coal; and coal is everywhere
in this district. The surface of the country round Sydney is
largely a barren sandstone; but underlying the whole of the area,
from Newcastle on the north to Bulli on the south, and extending
westward to the other side of the plateau edge, is a vast
coalfield. Its chief development at present is around Newcastle.
Here is a view of Hetton colliery, Newcastle; both the name and 14
the picture remind us strongly of the North of England. We see
the coal being wound up from the shaft as in our own mines, and
in the distance vessels lying at the wharves in the fine harbour.
Here again is a general view of the harbour in which we can 15
clearly distinguish the loading of the coal and merchandise.
A journey southward from Sydney to the other end of the coalfield
will bring us to a less familiar type of mine. At Clifton the
early explorers found coal strewn on the beach; the actual seam
is in the face of the cliff, and shows as a broad black band, 16
while the coal is mined by means of adits, and then run on to the
little pier to be shipped. The coal is found under Sydney itself,
and mining is now in progress on the south side of the harbour;
but the shafts are much deeper here than at Newcastle, since the
coal measures lie in the shape of a saucer, and Sydney is near
the middle. We may notice here that the southern railway line
ends at Nowra on the Shoalhaven river, and beyond are only a few
small coast towns; so we need not at present explore further in
this direction.
We will now leave the coast district for a time and climb the
plateau edge to survey the country beyond. First let us consider
the nature of the obstacle by which the early settlers were
faced. The Blue Mountains are merely a part of the eastern rim of
a great tilted tableland of sandstone, with a steep face towards
the sea and a long and more gentle slope towards the west. Down
this face a series of comparatively short streams come tumbling
to the sea; while on the other side of the ridge, almost within
sight of the sea, are the sources of the slow westward-flowing
rivers, whose courses are measured by thousands of miles.
In this sandstone block the torrents have carved out deep gorges,
which often widen out up-stream into broad valleys; but these
valleys are deceptive and do not provide a road to the interior, 17
since they end in steep cliffs over which the streams plunge
in waterfalls. Here is a view of the country at Govett’s Leap; 18
we may notice the flat tops of the ridges, all about the same
level, which suggest the old surface of a plateau. It was a long
time before the early settlers found a path over this edge, and
the available roads are still very few all along its length, as
we may see by tracing them on the map; our train must twist and
tunnel up one of the ridges between two of the valleys by a most
difficult route, with steep inclines, instead of following the
bank of the stream below. We realise that climbing a plateau is
a far more serious matter for the engineer than piercing through
a narrow ridge of mountains.
At Victoria, on our way up, we leave the train for a coach drive,
to Jenolan. Here the scenery changes; the rock is no longer
sandstone, but limestone, and the streams have burrowed out many
curious gorges and underground channels as in our own Derbyshire.
Here we have one of these in the form of a huge rock archway 19
through which we catch a glimpse of the country beyond; while
far down below us flows the stream which bored out the arch. A
little further on we find the stream running at the bottom of a 20
lofty cavern, and out into a deep and narrow gorge. Here again
is a view of the interior of one of these caverns, with its huge
pillars hanging from the roof and rising up from the floor.
These limestone tunnels and gorges, and the sandstone valleys 21
with their steep surrounding cliffs and narrow outlets, are a
fine subject for the artist and tourist in search of beauty, but
do not suggest opportunities for settlement or farming; at the
same time they are evidently a serious obstacle to movement.
The bare surface of the plateau is little better; in fact, the
highlands in this district are still among the most thinly
populated areas in New South Wales, in spite of their nearness
to the capital and the oldest settlements. So we pass through
quickly, and coming out by a long tunnel drop down to Lithgow, 22
where we enter an entirely different kind of country. Lithgow
is a manufacturing town, with coal mines, ironworks, smoke and
dirt. It really belongs to the coast region, and is here, on the
inside of the ridge, only because a small piece of the Newcastle
coalfield, which underlies all the country which we have been
crossing, crops out in this district from under the sandstone. On
our journey inland we shall not meet with any other town of the
same type, as we are now entering the great wheat-belt of Eastern
Australia.
Here is a typical farm on the eastern edge of the wheat-belt. 23
Beyond the hills, which we see in the background, is the steep
descent to the Hunter valley and the coastal plain. The hills
are wooded, but the trees thin out and the ground becomes more
open as we go westward down the long slope. We must not forget
that here at the back of the plateau edge, though we are on the
“Plains,” yet we are still more than a thousand feet above
the level of the sea. We shall realise the importance of this
height later. Our next picture shows a wide expanse of level 24
ground, under grain, with the reapers at work. We are at Tamworth
on the Liverpool Plains, not far from the northern end of the
wheat-belt; but this belt can be traced from Queensland right
round to South Australia, and from end to end the scenery is
the same. There are the same open sunny plains, dotted with
homesteads and small agricultural towns, and covered with the
waving grain. Everywhere is the hum of machinery, reaping,
binding, and threshing; for labour here is costly and as little
as possible is done by hand. We may find it hard to tell, from
the appearance of the country, where we are within a thousand
miles, and we may be struck by the monotony of the view as we
rush through it. None the less this great field of grain is
impressive in its own fashion, if we use our imagination and
follow the heavily loaded waggons to the station, and on to
Sydney, and so across the ocean to London or Liverpool, until
the grain appears as bread in the baker’s shop. We are watching
here the beginning of the process by which the crowded millions
of Industrial Europe are fed; and the wide spaces under crop may
give us some idea of the greatness of the business; for we have
in the wheat-belt of Australia, in spite of its great extent,
only a small fraction of the wheatfields of the world.
A rainfall map is the best aid to the understanding of the
position and extent of the wheat area. The map is arranged in a 25
series of parallel zones, which show the annual fall decreasing
rapidly on the west side of the Divide, as we move further away
from the coast. We are crossing one of these zones where the fall
is from twenty to twenty-five inches, or not far removed from
that of the eastern counties of England. This is the wheat-belt
of Eastern Australia, which follows the rainfall right round the
inner slope of the plateau as far as South Australia.
This zone gradually shades off into another rather broader where
the rainfall is much lower; from ten to twenty inches at most.
So the scenery changes as we travel westward until we are lost
in the country of the western plains: a great dry lowland not
far above sea-level, and drained by slow-moving rivers, the
Lachlan, Darling, Murray and their tributaries. The railway runs
north-westward, through interminable miles of grass and scrub,
until it ends at Bourke, the head of navigation on the Darling.
It is the land of the sheep and nothing else. We may gain some
idea of the enormous extent of land in this part of Australia,
available for pasture or agriculture in some form, by placing
upon it for comparison the eastern part of the United States, as
in the map which we see here. 26
New South Wales possesses nearly as many sheep as the rest of
Australia together, and most of these are to be found on the
inland slope of the plateau and far out into the plains, more
especially in the Riverina district, between the Murray and the
Murrumbidgee. We have left behind us the wheatfield and the
reapers; the loaded waggons which we pass, drawn by long teams of 27
horses, are carrying great bales of wool to the railway. We may
follow the wool back to the shearing sheds where again all the 28
work is done by machinery; then we go on to the sorting shed, and
so to the railway and the showrooms at Sydney, where thousands
of samples are displayed for the benefit of the buyers for the 29
markets of Europe. We can see the great flocks of sheep before
and after the shearing at the homestead or follow them as they 30
are driven to pasture; and everywhere in this great river plain
we find the same thing repeated. The rainfall is not sufficient
for agriculture; but in ordinary years it will provide good grass
for the sheep; and there is also the drought-resisting salt-bush
to eke it out. Sometimes the rain fails, and then there is
neither food on the ground nor water in the creeks and pools, and
millions of sheep die, as in the great drought of 1901-2. The dry
climate gives the best wool in the world, but it is not without
its drawbacks; though the large profits made by the farmer in
ordinary years more than compensate for an occasional period of
drought.
The uncertainty of the rainfall shows itself in another way,
in the peculiarities of the rivers. Of all the great rivers in
this basin, the Murray alone, fed by the melting snows of the
Australian Alps, has a good supply of water at all seasons; the
rest are variable. The Darling, Lachlan and Murrumbidgee are
navigable for long distances in favourable seasons, and sometimes
are flooded and overflow their banks, turning the surrounding
country into a huge shallow lake; but at other times they become,
in places, little more than strings of detached pools. Here is a 31
lagoon on the Murrumbidgee, and here is the Murray evidently in 32
flood, to judge from the trees growing out of the water; another
view shows us the river in its ordinary state. By way of contrast 33
here is a small creek in the Riverina district; the road crosses
it by a ford, so that it is evidently not very deep, and would 34
soon dry up. But after heavy rains, further up-country, the creek
may become for a short time a roaring torrent. Settlers new to
the country have often made the mistake of camping in the evening
on the near side of a creek of this kind, only to find in the
morning that the ford has vanished and that they must stay where
they are until the water subsides. One of the most remarkable
features in Australian weather is this sudden change from drought
to flood, which not only transforms the rivers but in a few days
gives a covering of rich green pasture where before was a parched
desert supporting only the hardy salt-bush.
When the rivers are full we can see the shallow draught steamers
collecting wool and other products; but the want of water is 35
not the only drawback. The rivers wind greatly in their courses
over the level plain, so much so that at one place it is said
that the steamer takes a whole day to pass a particular house,
owing to the river bending right back upon itself. The river
banks are marked by lines of gum trees, by which the eye can
trace them for many miles across the level. Except for this, the
whole area crossed by these rivers in their lower courses is one
vast treeless plain, covered with grass and scrub in the rains,
but at other times dry, dusty, and monotonous. It extends into
Queensland and Victoria, but its greatest development is in New
South Wales: for though the other colonies have large flocks of
sheep, it is here that sheep-raising is the one industry above
all others; in fact, under ordinary conditions, no others are
profitable or even possible. In this country, next to the sheep,
water is the most valuable commodity.
The greater part of the Murray-Darling basin is filled up by
recent rock sediment and river alluvium; but the narrow belt of
country with a moderate rainfall, lying between the plateau edge
and the western plains, has not depended for its development
solely on agriculture. All along it the older rocks crop out,
and in the older rocks we find the valuable minerals in which
Australia abounds.
Gold, in its alluvial form, occurs all along the agricultural
belt; and since the time of the first discovery near Bathurst, in
1851, the search for gold has often caused an inrush of people
who have abandoned mining for the more secure and pleasant
business of growing wheat or rearing sheep. Though much gold is
still produced, New South Wales is not by any means the chief of
the States to-day in this respect; but gold has been woven deeply
into her history. One of the most usual methods of obtaining
gold is still by dredging alluvium; but in place of the shovel
and washing-pan we have the ugly machine dredger scooping out
the creeks and flats where the gold is to be found. We must look
elsewhere for gold-mining from the rock on a large scale; though
this is increasing in New South Wales in connexion with the
development of mining for other minerals, especially copper.
Well out in the plains, and south of Bourke, at the end of a
branch line of railway, is the town of Cobar; it stands just
where the old rocks are disappearing underneath the recent
deposits. Here is one of the chief centres of copper mining;
and, once the work was started, mining for other ores naturally
followed. It is a desolate country, rendered more so by the
nature of the industry. The furnaces for the rough smelting of
the ores need fuel, but coal is far away; so that the country
round has been stripped of its small supply of timber, and has
nothing left to relieve its ugly monotony. The ore, partly
worked, is sent by rail all the way to Lithgow, on the coalfield,
to undergo the further process of refining. The importance of
these mining fields to the State lies not so much in the money
value of the products as in the fact that they give rise to
railways and traffic and so to a further spread of the settled
agricultural population. The minerals, and especially gold, have
played a great part in the settlement of the less accessible or
less attractive regions of Australia.
The old rocks, which disappear at Cobar, under the alluvium
of the Murray basin, crop out again at the surface in the far
west, and give us one of the chief silver-producing areas of the
Continent. The natural outlet of the district is by Spencer Gulf,
as Sydney is more than twice as far away; and the development
of these mines has been largely due to the people and capital
of South Australia. Here is one of the most famous mines at 36
Broken Hill; and here we have the camel team, the only means of 37
transport away from the railway. We are in the semi-desert area,
and the existence of the mining population is only made possible
by collecting the water from the neighbouring hills in great 38
reservoirs, such as we see in the picture before us.
We have still to see the south-east corner of the State, where
we shall find some of the most picturesque scenery and a country
rather different from that which we have so far visited. We
take a line running south from Sydney, not along the coast, but
following the river valleys and so up again on to the plateau
at Goulburn. Here we branch off from the main line southwards
through the Monaro Plains; this is a high pasture land, thinly
populated, though there is a growing agricultural industry
in some of the more favoured spots. To the east of the plain
are the Coast Ranges, to the west the Snowy Mountains; both
extending over the border into Victoria. Cooma, the terminus of
the railway, about fifty miles from the State boundary, lies
nearly three thousand feet above sea-level. North-west of Cooma
is the town of Kiandra, in the Alps, where we find snow and
winter sports as in Switzerland. South-west of Cooma is Mount
Kosciusko, rising over seven thousand feet, the highest mountain
in Australia; here the snow lies even in summer. We reach it by 39
a road following the valley of the Snowy River, and can ride or 40
even motor up the track almost to the summit. Here are two views 41
of the river and its tributaries. Kosciusko is not an imposing
peak as we see from these pictures, but merely a flattened ridge 42
lying on the top of a great tableland, so perhaps we may be 43
somewhat disappointed in the outcome of our visit.
From Goulburn we begin the long descent to the level of the
Murray. We are again crossing the agricultural belt, and forty
miles west of Goulburn we break our journey at Yass. Here, on
the banks of a small stream, the site has been fixed for the
ideal city, the future capital of Federal Australia. Notice that
we can have here no great industrial and commercial centre, but
merely a town like Bathurst, a centre of farming and country
life. Perhaps in this it will be more representative of the
real Australia than are the larger cities. In position Yass is
nearer Sydney than Melbourne; but it is roughly halfway between
Brisbane and Adelaide; so that it is fairly central for the long
belt which contains most of the population of Eastern Australia.
The city is not to be allowed to grow haphazard; here we see 44
the surveyors’ camp and the surveyors at work, mapping out the 45
ground. In the distance is Black Mountain. The whole scene is
quiet and rural, but it will be very different in a few years’ 46
time. This deliberate choosing of a site for a new city is common
in Australian history; we may contrast with this the way in which
centres of population have grown up in the course of ages in old
countries almost of their own accord.
We continue our journey down the slope, and crossing the
Murrumbidgee at Wagga Wagga reach Albury, the border town. Here,
it is necessary to change trains to continue the journey to
Melbourne, for unfortunately the different States of Australia
did not plan their railways on the same scale. In New South
Wales the gauge of the lines is the same as that in England; in
Victoria and in part of South Australia there is a broad gauge;
while all the other railways in the continent are on a narrow
gauge of three feet six inches. This has been adopted as the most
economical for opening up a new country; but the differences have
led to great inconvenience and loss, where through connexion is
made between the main railway systems of the various States. We
may remember how, in our own country, the Great Western Railway
was forced to abandon the old and comfortable broad gauge, so as
to be able to work in connexion with all the other lines which
had adopted a narrower gauge; Australia has still to face the
problem of unifying her railways in this respect.
We have travelled for many miles over the railways, and now (13)
perhaps we may begin to notice certain peculiarities in their
arrangement. First there is the main-line system connecting up
the capitals. This runs north-east and south-west from Sydney,
roughly parallel to the coast. Only a short stretch of this is
on the low coastal plain; the rest is inside the plateau edge.
The line descends through the Victorian Mountains to the sea
at Melbourne; but goes inland again on its way to Adelaide.
Branching from this system, or starting independently from the
coast, is a whole series of lines running inland, roughly at
right-angles to the coast. Some are very short, some very long;
and they commonly end at a small town on one of the rivers. We
can trace them right round from the line between Normanton and
Croydon, in North-West Queensland, to that ending at Oodnadatta
in the desert region of South Australia. Except round Bathurst,
and in the country at the back of Melbourne, we shall not find
many branches or cross connexions. This curious arrangement can
only be understood in the light of the resources and historical
development of the country; we have already seen something of its
meaning in New South Wales.
We noticed that the line from Sydney left the sea at Newcastle
to follow the valley of the Hunter and scale the edge of the
Liverpool Downs. For two hundred miles north of Newcastle the
coast district lacks a railway; but in Clarence county, in the
extreme north of the State, there is a detached piece of line
running for a hundred miles not far from the coast, and touching
it at one or two points. This line has a meaning.
[Illustration:
_Copyright._) (_See page 40._
ON THE DARLING DOWNS.]
[Illustration:
_Copyright._) (_See page 41._
GLADSTONE.]
[Illustration:
_Copyright._) (_See page 43._
TOWNSVILLE.]
[Illustration:
_Copyright._) (_See page 46._
ABOVE THE BARRON FALLS.]
The district is warm, as it is low-lying, and not very far
from the tropic; while the south-east winds bring abundant rains.
It has been found to be well fitted for dairy cattle, and is
displacing to some extent the coast district south of Sydney
where the industry first started. Sydney still provides a good
local market for the dairy products of this northern region, but
there is also a growing trade with more distant places. We can
understand now the need of a railway to open up the country and
connect it with the sea.
Here is a typical dairy farm with the cattle clustered in the 47
shade on the banks of the creek. We notice the abundance of
trees, and the curious dead bare look of some of them. These have
been ringbarked, that is, a strip of bark has been cut away right
round the trunk; this process kills the tree quickly, and the
dead wood can then be burnt off. It is a rough and extravagant
method of clearing, and some of the forest, which grows
luxuriantly in this rainy district, is put to better use. In the
wetter parts are to be found the cedar and other soft ornamental
woods; in the drier, are the various hard woods of the eucalyptus
family, especially the ironbark and the blackbutt. It was the
timber which attracted the first settlers to this district, 48
though the difficulty of transport has prevented them from making
much use of it up to the present. Here we see the felled timber
lying ready for removal; it must be dragged over rough tracks, 49
often for long distances, by teams of horses and bullocks. We
can gain some idea, from these pictures, of the huge size of the
trees and the difficulty of forest development. Evidently the
forest further inland can only be attacked by the aid of the
railway. We shall find similar conditions in Queensland; in fact,
we may look on this coast strip as giving us geographically the
beginning of the Queensland coast conditions; for round Grafton,
at the southern end of the railway, we find the cultivation of
the sugar-cane.
We have seen the beginning of the new capital of Federated
Australia; we will now, before visiting Queensland, cross Torres
Strait, with its innumerable islands and reefs, for a glimpse of
Australia’s new tropical colony. British New Guinea, or Papua
as it is now officially styled, was annexed in 1888, owing to
pressure from the Australian colonies, and more particularly
Queensland. From the first, Queensland, New South Wales and
Victoria contributed to the cost of administration; and in 1906
the new Commonwealth Government took over the entire control.
British Papua is a curiously shaped corner, carved out of the 50
eastern end of the great island of New Guinea. The western end of
the island is entirely Dutch; the eastern we share with Germany.
We may think of British Papua as two separate blocks, as the Gulf
of Papua almost divides the territory into two. In the west is a
rectangular area, with a low marshy coast, fringed with mangroves
and split up by river deltas, especially that of the Fish River.
The dividing line in this district between British and Dutch
territory is merely a line of longitude. The country is mostly
unexplored, except along the Fish and Strickland Rivers, and the
natives are still fighters and cannibals. On the north of this
block of country, and continuing south-east through a long narrow
peninsula, is a high mountain backbone, on the other side of
which is German territory. The eastern peninsula is mountainous
everywhere; while the whole country is wet, densely forested
and difficult to penetrate. The peninsula ends in a string of
islands, mostly volcanic.
The colony is in the first stage of organisation, when the main
problem is to reduce the native to some kind of order. Let us see 51
what he is like and how he lives. Here are two inhabitants of
the coast district; they seem very different from the aborigines
of Australia. Notice their frizzy hair, standing out in a great
mop, and their bracelets and necklaces. The Papuans are fond of
personal adornment. Here is a girl from the same district; she 52
wears an elaborate girdle of grass. Behind her we see the end
of a curious canoe, with an outrigger. The canoe is important
to the Papuan, since he commonly plants his village at the
water’s edge. Here is a village, and here is a nearer view of 53
some of the houses; they are merely covered platforms, built 54
on piles. Fighting and headhunting are still the amusements of
the tribes which are not yet brought under our control, but
conditions are changing rapidly for the better. Here is one of 55
the instruments of the change, the native village constable,
who seems quite proud of his office. Behind him, law and order 56
are represented by the visiting magistrate with a small force
of armed constabulary. The chief difficulty in opening up the
country is that of movement. Everywhere we find forest, mountain,
and unbridged streams. Here is the kind of track through which 57
the explorer must force his way, and here we see two methods of 58
crossing a stream. The native bridge hardly seems calculated for
heavy traffic. We may realise from these pictures the nature of 59
the task of controlling the natives of the interior, such as
the formidable pair in front of us. Even when reduced to order 60
the Papuan is not anxious to develop the country by work on
plantation or mine.
Port Moresby, the capital, stands on a fine bay in a relatively
dry district. Here a few score white people represent the
influence of civilisation. The climate forbids effective
settlement. Here we see a European house with its staff of 61
servants, and here is the steamer which links Papua with the 62
mainland. It will be interesting to see how Australia solves the
various problems of her new tropical Dependency. In Queensland we
shall find similar problems, though in a modified shape.
LECTURE III
QUEENSLAND
The land route from New South Wales to Queensland does not at
present follow the sea-coast. The railway at Newcastle turns up
the valley of the Hunter River, climbs the steep edge of the
plateau, to run along the eastern rim of the Liverpool Plains
and the Darling Downs, and then descends again by a steep pass
to the sea-level at Brisbane. At the little frontier station of
Wallangarra we must change trains, since the Queensland railways, 1
as we have already noticed, are on a narrower gauge than those of
New South Wales. This would be a very serious matter but for the
alternative route by sea to Sydney; this is the natural route for
heavy goods, since nearly all the important towns of Queensland
are on or near the sea-coast. Before the advent of the railway,
the sea was the sole means of intercourse for all the towns on
the eastern rim of Australia; even in our own country, where the
railway system is highly developed, the coasting trade is still
of very great importance.
[Illustration: QUEENSLAND: OROGRAPHICAL.
_By permission of the Diagram Co._]
The course of the railway suggests that the structure of the
country is not unlike that which we have seen in New South Wales. 2
This is true of the Darling Downs area, but further north the
map shows us a somewhat different type of country. The eastern
part of the State consists in the main of a broken and irregular
highland mass; the west of rolling plains, sloping gently towards
the interior or the Gulf of Carpentaria; but we look in vain
for a long, well-marked escarpment, such as we find further
south. The mountain ridges seem to run in every direction,
sometimes, as near Cairns, forming a definite coast-range, at
others striking inland or running down in spurs to the sea; so
that the country is split up into a number of distinct basins,
each with its own group of rivers flowing in the most diverse
courses. Thus, from Cairns to Brisbane a great stretch of
country, broadest in the middle, narrow at both ends, drains
into the Pacific; but the Burdekin and the headwaters of the
Fitzroy flow for long distances parallel to the coast, before
turning and breaking through the ranges to the sea. Another
group in the south joins the Murray-Darling system and belongs
physically to New South Wales; the rivers of the north-west and
of the Cape York peninsula drain for the most part into the Gulf
of Carpentaria, while a large block of country in the west and
south-west is occupied by intermittent streams, which in time of
flood find their way into the inland basin of Lake Eyre, in South
Australia. The country has not that simplicity of relief which we
found over the greater part of New South Wales, and, as we might
expect, the rainfall does not show such clear and symmetrical
divisions. The fall from the south-east winds is more irregular 3
and more widely distributed inland than in New South Wales; while
in the north there is an area with tropical rains of a monsoon
type.
[Illustration: QUEENSLAND: RAINFALL.]
On our railway journey we have crossed from one State to another,
but we must notice that, except in the south-east corner, the
boundaries of Queensland have no relation to the natural features
of the country; they are merely mathematical lines. The reason
for this is to be found in the method by which the settlement
was carried out. Moreton Bay was one of Cook’s landing-places in
1770; but the Brisbane River, flowing into it, was not discovered
until 1823; the first settlement was formed in 1824, and the
Province remained part of the mother State until 1859, when after
much agitation it became an independent settlement. The interior
was not explored at the time, so that the only way of determining
a boundary was to follow a line of latitude or longitude. A
similar method has been used in more recent times in parcelling
out unexplored regions of Africa among the European Powers. The
western boundary of the new State was the line of longitude 138°
E., and what is now the Northern Territory remained nominally
part of New South Wales, which thus consisted for a short time of
two areas widely separated.
The very name of the city of Brisbane recalls the connexion with
the older colony, since Sir Thomas Brisbane was Governor of
New South Wales in the years 1821-5, at the time of the first
settlement. The city stands, not on the shores of Moreton Bay, as
we might expect, but twenty miles up the river, on both banks, 4
which are connected by the Victoria bridge. Here is a view over
the bridge from the north bank; and here is a wide view of the 5,6
river beyond the city. There is plenty of space in Brisbane,
with its suburbs, for the population of 100,000; there are
parks and gardens everywhere, and a large number of fine public
buildings. Here are the library and the Executive Buildings in
a beautiful garden, with a statue of Queen Victoria; here again 7
the Parliament House, and here one of the main streets of the 8
city. We have nothing like this in any town of the same size in 9
England, but we must remember that Brisbane has been built for
the future, and is the capital of a State more than three times
the size of France.
Brisbane lies in the extreme corner of Queensland, not, it may
seem, a very good position for the capital; but the south has
the more temperate climate, while behind Brisbane is some of
the most fertile land in the State. Westward a railway runs for
nearly five hundred miles, at right-angles to the coast-line, to
Charleville on the Warrego; we are about to make a rapid survey
of the country from it. Twenty-five miles out, we pass through
Ipswich, at the head of the river navigation; it is a busy town
with valuable coal mines and the main railway works of the State.
Then we climb again the steep plateau edge, which we descended
on our journey from Sydney, and come out at Toowoomba, on the
Darling Downs, fifteen hundred to two thousand feet above the
level of the sea.
The Darling Downs country was reached in 1827, by Allan
Cunningham, botanist and explorer, who travelled by way of the
Hunter River and the Liverpool Plains; but the journey was
difficult, and the first occupation was not until 1840, when
Patrick Leslie brought over a few sheep and settled in the
neighbourhood of Warwick. Others soon followed; the direct road
to the coast was discovered, and the basin of the Condamine River
became a great pastoral country where fortunes were made by the
early squatters. There is less rain here than on the eastern
side of the plateau edge, but it is sufficient for agriculture,
and there is plenty of water in the streams. Much of the soil is
volcanic in origin, and of great fertility, so that the land is
wasted on sheep. Here we see the natural grass in this fertile 10
region, and here is a great sheep run. The rancher’s home, which 11
we have next, suggests comfort and success. At the present time, 12
with the aid of the Government, the great pastoral properties are
being broken up gradually, and sold or let to farmers; so that a
district which started as a sheep run bids fair to become one of
the most important agricultural areas in Australia. Toowoomba, 13
the chief centre of this fertile district, has already the air
of a busy and prosperous market town, as we may judge from the
picture here.
As we travel further west the country becomes drier and rather
less fertile, so that agriculture gives way more and more to
sheep. The conditions are not unlike those which we found to the
west of Sydney; and we have seen that the Condamine and other
rivers of this area all belong to the New South Wales river
system. In fact we are crossing the northern end of the long
agricultural belt which lies behind the coast ranges. Though we
are close to the Tropic, the climate is not very different from
that further south, owing to the height of the plateau above
the sea. There are even slight frosts in the winter. Further
north, we shall find a marked change; wheat disappears and sheep
give way more and more to cattle. The cause of this lies in the
different conditions of rainfall and temperature. To visit this
country to the north we must return to Brisbane and resume our
journey along the coast.
Our first port of call is Gladstone, nearly three hundred miles
north of Brisbane, on the landlocked inlet of Port Curtis, one of
the finest natural harbours on the whole coast. Here is a view of 14
the bay and the jetty. As we see, there is no very great trade 15
at present, no line of wharves and warehouses; the importance
of Gladstone is in the future; its chief business at present is
the shipment of meat and cattle. A short railway journey takes
us to Rockhampton, which lies some distance up a river, the 16
Fitzroy; in this it resembles Brisbane. Near Rockhampton we find 17
a steamer loading frozen meat from the factory. From Rockhampton
the central railway runs nearly due west for over four hundred
miles, to the Thompson River on the Bowen Downs. There is also
a railway along the coast to Brisbane, linking up the various 18
small seaports; but this line is a late construction. The typical
railway of Queensland starts from the coast and runs directly
inland; and the development of the country follows the same
course.
As we follow this inland line, in the wetter districts near the
coast we find cattle everywhere. Further west, where the rainfall
grows less, there are more sheep; but the area of considerable
rainfall is much greater than in the districts further south,
owing to the broadening out and irregularity of the eastern
highland mass. The whole of this moist area is particularly
suited to cattle.
Before the settler can begin either cultivating the soil or
raising cattle, there is much preliminary work to be done. A
large part of Eastern Queensland is covered with forest or scrub,
which must be cleared by cutting down and burning. Here we have
a settler starting operations in a rough camp: he seems to have 19
a difficult task before him. Here he has reached the stage of a
permanent hut, with a small area of cultivated land round it, and 20
beyond, roughly fenced pasture with the remnants of the forest
showing in it. Here again are the cattle feeding in pasture 21
where the trees have been ringbarked and so partly destroyed.
To destroy, cut down, and burn trees which may yield valuable
timber may seem an extravagant method, but the settler here has
even less choice than in the Grafton district of New South Wales,
where we saw the same methods employed. The timber is certainly
valuable. Here are specimens of the hardwoods which we use for
street pavements and railway sleepers, and for other purposes
where great strength and endurance are needed; these are the
blackbutt and Queensland Karri pine, and there are many other 22
varieties. The difficulty is to get them to the markets where
they are wanted. Here we see one method; a trainload of sleepers 23
is leaving the sawmills, bound for India; but the railways are
few and in many districts the logs must be dragged at a slow rate
by bullock teams to the banks of the nearest creek, where they
lie perhaps for months until there is enough water to float them
down to the larger rivers and so to a seaport. This method is
commonly used for the cedar which grows near the coast, and we
have already seen it in New South Wales. Except in a few places
easily accessible, the natural forest wealth of Queensland is as
yet hardly touched.
The railway which we have been following from Rockhampton runs
almost along the Tropic. Townsville, our next landing-place,
over eight hundred miles north-west of Brisbane, is well within
the Tropic, yet in many ways it resembles Rockhampton and
Gladstone. From this point another long line runs inland to
end on a tributary of the Diamantina, about a hundred miles
north-west of the terminus of the line from Rockhampton. We
may notice that both these lines, after crossing the wide area
of coastal drainage, reach the streams flowing into the Lake
Eyre basin. They thus form real links with the interior. After
Brisbane, Rockhampton and Townsville are the most important 24
ports in the State. Townsville lies on a broad open bay, and
the harbour has been made at great cost by building out long 25
jetties. This has been done because here is the sole outlet for
a very large area of country to the west. Here we find more meat 26
and cattle; and again at Bowen, a small port on a fine natural
harbour which we passed further south, they are landing cattle
for the local stockbreeders. In short, the whole of this north
and north-eastern district is the home of cattle; cattle running 27
on the cleared scrub lands and pastures of the interior, or
fattening on the rich alluvial lands round the creeks near the
coast, where the surroundings, as we see from this picture, are 28
very different.
The coast region itself has something of far greater interest
than cattle. There is here a higher uniform temperature than
in the uplands, and in some parts a very heavy rainfall; the
result is the growth of tropical and sub-tropical plants, and of
these plants one of the most interesting to us is sugar. We find
sugar-cultivation in patches, all along the coast from Brisbane
northwards; and a little even in the extreme north of New South
Wales, since the change in climate is very gradual in the coast
region. But the most important districts for sugar lie near or
inside the Tropic, where the cane is grown on the rich alluvial
lands of the coast plains and river valleys.
On our voyage to Townsville we passed Mackay, one of the chief
centres of sugar-production; outside the Tropic is Bundaberg,
where the cane is grown by the aid of irrigation; while in the
far north is the important district of Cairns. The fertile land
is covered with dense scrub and must be cleared; here is a 29
clearing in progress; notice that the scrub is different from
that which we saw up-country: it is palm. Within two years of
planting the shoots the cane is ready for cutting, and in the
northern districts we can go on for many years cutting the new
canes as they spring up, without the need of re-planting. Here
is the cane growing by irrigation in Bundaberg, one of the drier 30
districts, and here is the reaping of the harvest. We notice 31
that the cutters are white men. In the early days of sugar, the
cultivation was on large estates, each manufacturing its sugar
in its own mill. The heavy work was done by Kanakas, imported
from the islands of the neighbouring Pacific. This is no longer
allowed, and the cane is grown more and more on small farms, by
white labour. The growers then sell it to a central mill, where
the cane is crushed and the juice extracted. Some of the mills
are owned by the small farmers on the co-operative principle, but
more often the miller has nothing to do with the growing of the
crop. Here we see a trainload of canes bound for the mill. There 32
is now a Government bounty given for sugar produced entirely by
white labour, and it seems to have been proved that, on the small
farming system, it can be grown thus and show a good profit. But
there are other and more attractive occupations for white people
in Queensland, and though the whole coast, right round to the
Gulf of Carpentaria, is suitable for sugar, it does not seem
likely in the near future to become a large industry in a White
Australia.
Sugar is one of the most interesting and valuable of the tropical
products of the coast region; but many others are grown, some for
the market, others hardly beyond the experimental stage. Let us
look at some of these. Here at Woombye are pineapples and bananas 33
growing; and on the Johnstone River huge crates of bananas are 34
being shipped for the markets in the towns further south. At
Kuranda, on the Barron River, is a large coffee plantation where 35
we may see the bushes growing and follow the berry as it is
dried and husked. Here we notice the pruning of the coffee bush, 36
and here is a fine specimen with the pruning completed. Not far 37
away, in the State Nursery at Kamerunga, we find all kinds of
tropical plants growing side by side. The nursery is an official
experiment ground, since the Government is anxious to test the
possibilities of the region for all kinds of economic plants. We
walk down a fine avenue of palms and visit the quarter where they 38
are experimenting with rubber trees. Here is a large plantation 39
of the trees, and here we see the method of tapping. In a corner 40
we come on a curious African rubber tree, in which the juice
exudes, not from the bark, but from the fruit. More prosaic, but 41
none the less useful, are the fibre plants, such as sisal hemp,
of which we have a fine specimen here. Cotton-growing has also 42
been attempted on a small scale, and the Commonwealth Government
provides a bounty for its encouragement. The main difficulty is
the high cost of labour for its cultivation. Here we see the
picking of the cotton. We may gain some idea from these gardens 43
of the great variety of tropical and sub-tropical plants, all of
which will grow well on some part of this northern coast. The
only need is labour to clear the scrub and make full use of the
fertile alluvial soil and the warm rains.
Clearing is very necessary in this region since the bush
grows with great luxuriance. By travelling inland a few miles 44
from Cairns we may find a picture of the bush in its natural
state. The coastal plain south of Cairns is very narrow, for in
the background, a short distance inland, are various mountain
ranges such as the Bellenden Ker range, said to be the highest 45
in Queensland. Only twenty miles from Cairns, in the foothills
of one of these ranges, the little Barron River comes tumbling
down in rapids and falls, amid some of the finest scenery in 46
Australia. Here is the river a short distance above the falls; 47
and here are the falls themselves from above and below. The 48
railway, following the course of the river, brings us to the 49
little township of Atherton. Here is the main street. We notice 50
here a Chinese joss-house; this may serve to remind us that 51
there are other immigrants besides the Kanakas in this northern
region of whom account must be taken by the advocates of a White
Australia. The Chinese have already spread all over the Malay
region to the north, and might equally occupy tropical Australia
if special measures were not adopted to check their immigration.
In the country round Atherton we have all kinds of typical bush
scenery. At one spot we pass giant fig-trees overhanging the
road; next we enter the denser bush. We find lakes in the bush, 52
of which the chief is Lake Eachem, which we have seen before.
Everything suggests warmth and moisture. The rivers, lakes, and
natural vegetation of this region, together with the fertile soil
in the low-lying strip between the mountains and the sea, give us
a picture of the conditions which prevail along the greater part
of the Queensland coast. Here is a tropical garden, typical of 53
the coast. Similar conditions extend right across the northern
edge of the Australian continent.
We have seen that the coast strip at Cairns is very narrow:
behind the mountain edge we shall find the rivers flowing west
into the Gulf of Carpentaria. As we travel westward we enter
rather a different type of country. There is less rain than on
the coast, but more than in the interior further south. We must
remember that in this part of Queensland we are getting near the
zone where a heavy monsoon rain sweeps in from the Pacific in
summer. All this country is well fitted for cattle; but it is
as yet thinly peopled, since there are few railways, so that it
lacks an outlet to the sea. The existing railways are intended
to serve the mining districts, since the gold of this region
has been the chief attraction up to the present time. There are
goldfields scattered all along the eastern side of the highlands.
On the Cooktown line is Palmerville; on the Townsville line are
Charters Towers and the Cape River field; near Rockhampton is
Mount Morgan, one of the most famous mines in the past; it has 54
given rise to a large town which we see here. Here, too, we see
the crushing of the ore, preliminary to the chemical extraction 55
of the gold. Near the coast, north of Brisbane, is the Gympie
field, and in the far north, near the Gulf of Carpentaria, is
Croydon. There are many smaller fields, and we can easily see
the connexion between the railways and the gold. There are other 56
minerals, too, in this area, so we see a whole township based on
tin, and another growing up round a copper mine. 57
Some of the railways have done more than develop the mining
areas; they have been pushed westward into the pastoral country
on the long inland slopes of Queensland. We have already followed
the southern lines for some distance, and we must now carry our
exploration beyond the railway zone, for a very large area in
the State is as yet quite untouched by railways. This area will
be greatly reduced by the execution of the scheme contemplated
by the State Government for linking up all the railways both
along the coast and inland. First there is the country in the
basin of the Flinders River, round the southern end of the Gulf
of Carpentaria; this is being opened up slowly from the sea.
It contains much good pasture land, and already feeds a large
number of cattle. Further south is the drier country where the
streams drain towards the Lake Eyre basin; this is part of the
Rolling Plains which occupy West and South-West Queensland and
the north-west corner of New South Wales. This area is most
interesting owing to the possibility of obtaining water from
beneath the ground.
The rainfall is somewhat scanty, and in the dry weather the
creeks lose themselves in the desert sands or become mere
strings of waterholes. There may be enough food for the cattle
or sheep, but they must have water also, and this can only be
found underground. In the higher country to the east, where the
rains are relatively heavy, are large areas where the water sinks
readily into the ground, as the rock is porous. A long way below
the surface it is held up by impervious strata of clay or rock
and begins to creep away downhill towards the west and the Gulf
of Carpentaria. To the west the surface also becomes impermeable,
so that the water is confined between the two layers, and can be
reached anywhere by boring through the top covering. Sometimes in
these boreholes the water does not rise as far as the surface of 58
the ground, and so must be pumped up; but more often it spouts
out with great force, as we see it here. Some of these artesian
wells give over a million gallons a day, and penetrate for three
or four thousand feet into the earth. The water is often warm and
charged with salts; but this does not seem to harm the cattle.
The water from the bore is run off into trenches extending
perhaps for miles, so that there is plenty of room for the cattle
to drink. By the aid of these wells cattle can live in the
country all the year round; and even the desert stock-route
from South Australia to Queensland can be kept open in the dry
season. The utilisation of a simple geological fact is changing
the whole face of the country.
[Illustration:
_Copyright._) (_See page 55._
ON THE BANKS OF THE YARRA.]
[Illustration:
_Copyright._) (_See page 56._
WASHING GOLD DUST.]
[Illustration:
_Copyright._) (_See page 60._
KING’S BRIDGE: LAUNCESTON.]
[Illustration:
_Copyright._) (_See page 65._
SCAFFOLDING A TREE.]
We have already seen that most of the chief towns of Queensland
lie on or near the coast, and that there are many harbours, often
protected by islands. The towns are there because the country was
developed for the most part from the sea, and in fact settlement
inland is still confined to the neighbourhood of the railways
running up-country from these coast towns. The harbours are there
because the land has sunk and the coast is partly drowned, giving
deep sea-inlets, often where the sea has flooded some old river
valley. As the coast gradually sank, the coral builders were at
work, piling up their reefs in the warm shallows. So we get the
Great Barrier Reef, stretching for fifteen hundred miles along 59
the coast and leaving a calm though rather dangerous channel
between itself and the mainland. The reef is really a series of
reefs, resting on a platform of older rock, and pierced with
numerous openings, especially where the larger rivers enter
the sea; for the coral will not grow in fresh water. In the
neighbourhood of this reef, especially in the north, towards
Thursday Island, fishing for pearl oysters is largely carried on.
The oysters are valuable for the mother of pearl, rather than for
the pearls themselves, which are very small. Here, too, is found
in great quantity the trepang, or sea slug as it is sometimes 60
called, looking like millions of brown cucumbers crawling over
the reef. Here is a portrait of one kind of the trepang; it does 61
not seem very appetising, but the Chinese consider it a great
delicacy. Nearly the whole of the trepang gathered in this region
is exported to China, after being first cooked and dried. The
rest is eaten by the natives, as it does not appeal to European
tastes.
In New South Wales we did not encounter the aboriginal
Australian, since there he has practically disappeared. But he
still survives in considerable numbers in parts of Queensland,
where the country is less favourable for white occupation or has
been settled for a shorter period. Government at the present
day protects the aborigines as far as possible; but none the
less they are steadily dying out and do not count in the future
development of the country. We have already seen how, for the
hard work of the plantations, the brown men from the islands
of the Pacific were brought in, as there was no native labour
available. The Kanaka has now been rejected, and Australia
steadily refuses to admit the Chinese, who seem to be able to
adapt themselves to any country and any climate. So the future of
this northern part of the continent depends largely on the extent
to which the natural resources of the country, as distinct from
its minerals, can be exploited by purely white labour. Some parts
of the coastlands are clearly not fitted for European occupation,
and the policy of a White Australia is only rendered possible by
the fact that the elevation of much of the country within the
Tropic greatly modifies the climatic conditions. If Northern
Australia had been a great lowland, its history must have been
far different.
LECTURE IV
VICTORIA AND TASMANIA
Following the example of the original settlers, we will approach
Melbourne from the sea, as in this way we shall perhaps get the 1
clearest view of the peculiarities of the State of Victoria. From
Sydney to Cape Howe, we are still following the coastal plain of
New South Wales, with the plateau edge in the background. But
when we round Cape Howe and turn westward the coast changes:
a series of mountain ridges runs down to the sea, ending in
promontories with fiord-like inlets between them. The eastern end
of Victoria is occupied by an irregular mountain mass, trending
on the whole north and south. West of the mouth of the Snowy
River, the coast scenery changes again, and we have Ninety Mile
Beach. Here long banks of sand, brought by the strong currents
from the west, have silted up the mouth of an old river valley.
The water is thus held up and spreads out into lagoons, which 2
communicate with the sea here and there through narrow channels.
Further west still are isolated mountain ranges, one of which
ends at Wilson Promontory, the southernmost point of the mainland
of Australia. In the bight between this promontory and Cape
Otway, lie Western Port and Port Phillip, wide bays with narrow
entrances. Beyond Port Phillip the coast is fringed by the Otway
ranges; and then follows a low plain, with few inlets or good
harbours, a region of lakes and swamps. So we see three great
irregular curves or bights, with great variety of coast-line;
Port Phillip lies at the top of the middle curve. It is a 3
drowned valley, like the lagoons further east, and is almost
blocked at the mouth by the drifting sands. It is the only good
natural harbour on this part of the coast, and is still the
centre of settlement and of the area of densest population.
[Illustration: PORT PHILLIP.]
Though the harbour of Port Phillip was discovered at the
beginning of the nineteenth century, it was over thirty years
before a permanent settlement was planted on its shores.
Something was learnt of the country in 1824, when Hume and
Hovell, travelling overland from New South Wales along the route
now partly followed by the railway, reached the spot where
Geelong now stands. The coast at that time was unoccupied, except
for a few whalers who were settled at Portland in the far west.
The real occupation of Victoria was brought about by the fusion
of two distinct streams of immigrants, one coming by land, the
other by sea. In 1836 Sir Thomas Mitchell, one of the greatest of
the New South Wales explorers, came over from the Murray basin
and discovered the fertile plains at the back of Port Phillip;
Australia Felix he named this country of promise. His report on
the country led to a rapid movement from New South Wales over the
border southward. But the journey from Sydney by land was long
and arduous, and the southern part of Victoria, like the coast
region of New South Wales, was most easily and naturally settled
from the sea.
In 1835 a Tasmanian, John Batman, representing a syndicate of
Tasmanians, surveyed the site of Melbourne and tried to buy it
from the natives; but the New South Wales Government refused to
sanction the arrangement. Still other Tasmanians followed, and a
body led by Fawkner actually settled on the Yarra in 1835. The
two parties naturally quarrelled and the matter was complicated
by the fact that New South Wales claimed the whole territory. The
British Government supported this claim, and, as a result, in
spite of the difficulty of communication, the people of Melbourne
had to send their parliamentary representative to Sydney for
some years. At length, in 1851, the Port Phillip district became
independent and was re-named Victoria. The name of the State and
its capital easily remind us of its history; for the official
founding of Melbourne was in 1837, when Queen Victoria came to
the throne and Lord Melbourne was Prime Minister.
Melbourne and Port Phillip have not the picturesque appearance
of Port Jackson and Sydney; the broad, lagoon-like harbour does
not lend itself to scenic effects, and we have not the deep-water
inlets penetrating the heart of the city which add so much to the
beauty and utility of Sydney. Melbourne is built on the level,
with broad, straight streets and fine buildings, modern and
handsome, a typical Australian city. Here are Collins Street and 4,5
Bourke Street. Here again are some of the Government offices; the 6
statue in the foreground is one of General Gordon.
Melbourne is a true city of the plains; we have already noticed
that Port Phillip itself is merely part of a drowned plain. On
either side of Melbourne, between the mountains on the north,
which form a continuous wall from east to west of the State, and
the broken ranges of the coast lies a great lowland, a series
of plains dotted with marshes and detached hills. This is the
Great Valley of Victoria. In the west it is largely covered with
lavas, poured out from volcanoes now extinct. We can trace many
of the old craters, especially in the district round Ballarat. 7
Here is one of them from the inside; notice the shape of the
rocks. It is the lava and the river alluvium which have made the
Great Valley the most fertile area of the whole State. Eastward
the plain narrows for a space and then broadens out again in the
valley of the Latrobe, behind the lagoons and the Ninety Mile
Beach. The early settlers were quick to notice the fine grasses
on these open plains; they started with sheep, but with the
growth of communications dairy farming and butter making have
increased greatly. Here we have a typical view on the plains, not
far from the great Lake Korangamite. It is open rolling country, 8
and the building in the foreground is a large dairy. We may see
the butter being brought in from a branch factory to the central
collecting station, and can watch the latest methods of working
it by machinery. We shall find the same scenery and the same
industry all over this area.
Here is another typical scene: a string of draught horses is 9
being brought in for sale, and we can follow them back to their
feeding ground on the rich grass of the open country. Victoria, 10
with a much smaller area, values her horses at about four-fifths
of the total value of those of New South Wales. They are not
raised only for farm purposes as the picture before us proves. It
is a race meeting, and we might imagine ourselves in England but 11
for the strange shape of some of the carriages.
We have had a glimpse of one aspect of Victoria; the port, the
city, and the plain. Now let us turn to the mountains. We have
seen that the east end of the State is almost filled up by a mass 12
of highland, and we may notice that the railways only touch the
outer fringe of this district. It is out of the world and thinly
peopled, though much of it is well fitted for cattle. Westward
the highland becomes narrower and sends out spurs on either side,
leaving the Great Valley on the south, and on the north and
north-west a broad plain sloping down to the Murray River. This
corresponds somewhat to the slope west of the Divide in New South
Wales, but the climate, as we shall see, is not the same.
As we leave Melbourne and follow the Yarra up-stream we soon 13
notice a change of scenery. At Warburton, the rail head, we are
well within the highlands. The river runs through forests of
eucalyptus and fern, and we notice rapids below the primitive 14
bridge. It is evidently a mountain stream. This district is one
of the playgrounds of Melbourne, and we stumble on the Christmas 15
camp of the Boy Scouts, who are known in Australia as well as
in our own part of the Empire. A few miles away to the north is 16
Healesville. We notice here, as we drive through, that there are
some trees which seem to have shed their leaves. Perhaps these 17
are some English trees of which many have been imported, and they
find the weather too dry and hot; for close by we find the native
forest with trees in full leaf. In spite of the presence of
English trees, we may easily recognise the country as Australia
by the great gum trees, with their bare trunks, and the thorny
acacia growing below. The gums and the tree ferns are everywhere 18
on the hillsides. Even the house and garden, which we see here,
have a slightly foreign look, and do not seem adapted for the 19
conditions of an English winter. In fact, there is no winter,
as we understand it, in this part of Victoria, though snow may
lie for months on the heights of the Alps to the north-east. We
must remember that Melbourne lies in nearly the same latitude
as Seville. In the hills to the north of Melbourne we find the
same scenery, with its abundance of streams and trees. Here is a
woodland scene not far from Mount Macedon in this district, where 20
the Governor of Victoria has his summer home.
* * * * *
Let us now travel westward by the railway to Ballarat, which
lies on the south face of the narrow ridge which forms the
water-parting between the Victorian Valley and the north-western
plains. Ballarat is a fine town, second only to Melbourne, and
planted in far more picturesque surroundings. Here is Sturt 21
Street, named after one of Australia’s greatest explorers; 22
looking down it we can just see Mount Warrenheit in the distance.
We can wander in the Botanical Gardens where the aloe is in 23
flower, or stroll by the lake and admire the black swans. But we
have not come here only for the scenery. Ballarat represents the
second great factor in the development of Victoria: gold.
Within ten years of 1851, when gold was discovered here in paying
quantities, all the chief fields of Victoria were opened up, and
there was a sudden rush of settlers to the country. Many of the
goldfields are so near Melbourne that it may be considered as
a centre of mining as well as of pastoral industries. Thus we
may account for the fact that it has to-day concentrated in its
neighbourhood nearly half of the total population of the State.
The gold most easily reached was in the underground leads, the
channels of old streams, or fissures in the rock. In these were
found nuggets and gold dust. Here we see the primitive methods of
mining. A group of miners is sinking a simple shaft and raising 24
the soil in buckets, while another washes it in a pan to separate
the heavier gold dust. The pick and shovel and the strong arm 25
of the miner are the chief instruments needed for this form of
mining; and the fact that the goldfields are in the midst of
fertile country, with farms all around them, makes the life much
less hard than in some of the fields of the far interior of
Australia which we shall visit later.
The modern method of mining is to attack the quartz rock by the
aid of machinery; and the shafts are often carried to a great
depth. Here, instead of the tents of the miners, we see what
might be the top of a coal mine, with elaborate machinery for 26
winding. We shall examine this type of mine elsewhere; for though
gold has made Victoria in the past, it is not now the chief
gold-producing State in the Commonwealth. So we pass on, after a
glance at a quartz reef cropping out from the ground--a sign that 27
has often guided the prospector in his search.
We have seen that as we travel eastward along the ridge on which
we are standing, the forest grows more dense and settlement
thinner, while roads and railways disappear. But the greatest
change is found as we travel north and north-west from Ballarat.
We have crossed to the inner slope of the highlands and are
entering a very dry country. In the districts which we have
visited the rainfall is not unlike that of the Midlands of 28
England, though most comes in the winter time from the westerly
winds. The extreme east of the State has also, like Sydney, a
good deal of rain in summer from the Pacific. But the great
plain sloping to the Murray is cut off by the highlands from the
moist winds of the oceans and exposed to dry hot winds sweeping
down from the deserts of the interior. The rivers end in shallow
lakes and marshes on the arid plain; and we may notice that the
railways push out into this district and stop in similar fashion.
It is a region of sandhills, heaths, and a dense scrub, called
_mallee_; dreary and desolate at first sight, but not altogether
without promise. The soil is very fertile, being composed of the
old river silts, and with light rains at the right season, or by
the aid of irrigation, it will grow fine crops. Here we see the
beginning of the process of cultivation, by the rolling down of 29
the _mallee_ scrub.
With large areas of fertile land lying waste for want of water,
and water in abundance in the rivers, we should expect that
attempts would be made to bring the two together. In New South
Wales, near Yass on the Murrumbidgee, a great scheme is in
progress. The Barren Jack dam, when finished next year, will hold
up and make available for agriculture, a mass of water comparable
to that of the Nile at Assuan. It will preserve, for the dry
season, the water from the winter rains and the melting snows of
spring. Other schemes are proposed for the Lachlan and Murray;
up to the present, however, the chief development of irrigation
has been in Victoria, on the streams flowing into the Murray and
on the main river itself. Here we see the process of impounding 30
the water; notice the woods in the background which show that we
are on the upper course of the stream, near the hills and the
region of heavier rainfall. Here again is a great reservoir being 31
excavated, to hold the flood water; and next we may see the water
flowing out into the irrigation channel. In another place the 32
water is being pumped up into high-level tanks for distribution. 33
The river has gradually built up a flood plain at a higher
level than its usual channel; so that the water must be raised
before it will flow over the fields. At Mildura and Renmark, the
latter in South Australia, a large fruit-growing industry has
been developed on the basis of irrigation. So we find lemons and
apricots, and above all the currant and the vine which give us
our dried currants and raisins.
But the supply of water in the rivers is limited, for the rivers
are not broad or deep, in spite of their great length. One of
the chief difficulties of all irrigation schemes is to avoid
damage to the interests of people living lower down the stream,
or interference with the navigation. In this matter the interests
of all three States of the Commonwealth must be considered,
since the Murray basin is divided among them. As we have already
noticed in the case of Queensland and New South Wales, the State
boundaries only coincide in part with natural features of the
country.
The whole character of the river basin depends on the
distribution of the rainfall. In the case of all three States
there is a similar arrangement: first the coast belt, which is
more varied and irregular in Queensland and Victoria than in New
South Wales; then the highland edge, and then the back slope
with a zone of moderate rainfall which shades off gradually into
desert conditions. This zone narrows as we come southwards until
it almost disappears in South Australia. But before following
it out into this last State we will cross Bass Strait to visit
Tasmania. Victoria, though a mere corner of the Australian
continent, is about the size of Great Britain, while Tasmania is
not very much smaller than Ireland, and both could support a very
dense population. We must bear these facts in mind during our
rapid journey through the country, since the maps in our atlases,
for the most part, give us utterly wrong impressions as to the
area of Australia.
If we look at a chart showing the depths of the sea, we may 34
notice that Bass Strait is shallow while the surrounding seas are
deep. From Wilson Promontory we can trace a connexion through
Flinders and Cape Barren Islands, to the north-east horn of the
curved coast of Tasmania. A similar bridge runs through from the
north-west horn, through the Hunter Islands and King Island. We
may be reminded of the shallows of the English Channel and the
North Sea, and can easily imagine that Tasmania, like England,
at some very remote period formed part of the neighbouring
continental mainland. We find, moreover, a general similarity
between the plants and animals on the opposite sides of the
Strait; but there are also some marked differences which suggest
that Tasmania was separated very long ago and so has had a
peculiar and isolated development.
We cross Bass Strait and steam up the winding estuary of the
Tamar to Launceston. The names remind us of England, and round us 35
are the counties of Devon, Dorset, and Cornwall; but we must not
be too ready to take the names as a guide to the character of the
country or the climate. Our vessel lands us at a busy wharf in
the middle of the town, for Launceston, though second to Hobart
in size, is the chief commercial centre for the island. Here is a
general view of the town: it is modern and well planned and has 36
fine houses and gardens in the suburbs, like the other Australian
capitals.
A glance at the country round soon shows us why the early
settlers were reminded of the south-west corner of England. At 37
King’s Bridge we can leave the broad estuary of the Tamar and
turn up the narrow valley of the Esk. Notice the fishermen: the
streams here abound with fish, mostly introduced from England.
The Esk here flows through a rocky and wooded gorge; and we might 38
easily imagine ourselves in Devon or Cornwall. Higher up the
scenery is spoilt by an ugly building with great pipes; it is the 39
power station for the electric light of the town. The water power
is too valuable to waste, so the picturesque has been sacrificed
to the practical needs of the people.
[Illustration: TASMANIA: OROGRAPHICAL.
_By permission of the Diagram Co._]
As we leave Launceston and travel up the valley of the Tamar,
through beautiful open country, it is still easy to imagine that
we are somewhere in the south of England. The apple orchards are 40
everywhere. Here is one on a hill slope, but we notice that it
is quite unlike the grass-grown orchards so common in Devon.
The trees are grown as low bushes, in straight rows; it is less
picturesque but more profitable. They produce the fine even fruit
which we can buy in the London market. The climate is cooler
and moister here than on the mainland and so is well fitted for
most of our English fruits. There are the same orchards and the
same English crops all along the line of the railway southward
to Hobart. The line follows a narrow sheltered lowland. On the
east is a broken mountainous country; on the west a great solid
plateau, rising up in tiers or steps, and occupying all the 41
centre of the island. We shall not cross this central block,
since it is without road or rail and almost without inhabitants,
a bleak bare roof to the island, feeding a few sheep in summer,
but even then subject to biting storms and snow.
From Launceston a short journey by rail will take us to 42
Scottsdale among the hills in the north-eastern corner of the
island. Here we meet the bullock team hauling timber, and droves 43
of sheep on the road, while the eucalyptus forest is all around 44
us; on this drier eastern side of Tasmania we seem to be back
again in Australia. But if we travel westward from Launceston
we shall notice a great change. At first our way lies over the
plains, between the northern edge of the plateau and the sea.
Then, at Burnie, we leave the sea and strike southwards towards a
new country. We have turned the north-west corner of the plateau,
and between its steep western edge and the sea we find the plain
broken by a detached range of mountains rising from the level.
Here is the chief mining district in the island.
Let us use our eyes as the train runs swiftly through this
country. The gaunt gum-trees have disappeared; everywhere are
dense forests of the evergreen beech, called myrtle by the 45
settlers, with its small feathery leaves. Mingled with the beech
are clumps of pine, of various kinds; and below is a dense
undergrowth of scrub which makes it difficult to penetrate the
forest. The rivers have cut deep gorges in the surface of the
plateau: here we see one of these with its slopes clad thickly 46
with trees. It is a rugged country, largely unexplored, and would
have few inhabitants but for the mines. It lies in the track of
the strong west winds, the Roaring Forties, and has a rainfall
three times as heavy as that of the sheltered eastern valleys,
a rainfall only to be compared to that of the wettest parts of
the West of Scotland and Ireland. The vegetation is naturally
different from that of the neighbouring regions of Australia,
with their moderate rainfall and greater warmth; in fact, to find
a parallel to Western Tasmania we must look to New Zealand and to
parts of South America.
* * * * *
The railway on which we are travelling has been built solely for
the benefit of the mines, and we are drawing near to Zeehan, an
important centre for the production of silver, lead, and other 47
metals. Notice the mountains in the distance rising up sharply
from the level of the plains. The town looks primitive and 48
unfinished; little better than a mining camp. Here is one of the
smelteries at the foot of the hills. A little further on we come 49
down to the sea again at Strahan, the only seaport of importance
on the west coast. It lies on a fine bay in the deep and almost 50
landlocked inlet of Macquarie Harbour. This splendid sheet of
water was discovered as early as 1816, but it was too far away
from the settled portion of Tasmania, and it owes its present
importance solely to the presence of the mines in the country
behind it.
A short distance inland is Queenstown, where much smelting is 51
going on. Notice the desolate appearance of the country round,
and the stumps of the trees which have been cut down for fuel.
Gormanston, with its background of rugged mountain, is equally 52
desolate. Close to this town are the famous Mount Lyell copper
mines. Here is the “open cut” where they are quarrying into the 53
mountain-side, and here are some of the smelting works. Here 54
again is a general view from our hotel: the whole country is 55
grim, scarred, and waste, in great contrast to the beautiful
forest scenery a few miles away. But it is the source of great
wealth to Tasmania.
We shall not attempt to travel further south than Macquarie
Harbour, as there is little beyond but wild forest and hill
country, backed by the bare plateau and full in the path of the
westerly gales from the Southern Ocean. It is without roads or
railways and has scarcely a human settlement. So we return to
Launceston and follow the railway southward to Hobart. The coast
of the south-east corner is very different from that of the rest
of the island. It is a drowned coast, with deep fiords, many
islands, and irregular peninsulas barely connected by narrow
necks with the mainland. On one of these deep fiords stands
Hobart, the second oldest city in the whole of Australasia.
Here we have a general view of Hobart, looking across the water 56
to the hills beyond. Once again we are reminded of portions of
the Clyde, and only Sydney can compare with Hobart for the beauty
of its position. Here is another view from the water, with Mount 57
Wellington in the background rising into the clouds. In the
neighbouring lowlands, sheltered from the west by the mountains,
are more apple orchards; and in a gully near the town we find a 58
mass of tree ferns. Here again is Government House, since Hobart 59
is the political capital of Tasmania: notice the lake and the
trees. Everything around us suggests a mild and not very dry
climate.
If we climb Mount Wellington, the aspect of the country soon 60
changes. The mountain is not an isolated peak, but merely the
south-eastern corner of the central plateau. From the summit is
a fine view of the fertile lowland valley and the great expanse
of fiords and islands. But the summit itself is a wild confusion
of boulders with low scrub and heath. This is a very good guide
to the nature of the whole surface of the plateau behind, and
we realise that it is not a favourable country for the settler,
though in some of its wilder aspects it may attract the tourist.
We shall not attempt to reach the lakes lying on the surface of
the plateau, but content ourselves with a short journey round its
southern rim.
[Illustration:
_Copyright._) (_See page 68._
ADELAIDE: LOOKING SOUTH-EAST.]
[Illustration:
_Copyright._) (_See page 81._
MUNDARING WEIR.]
[Illustration:
_Copyright._) (_See page 82._
ALLUVIAL MINING.]
[Illustration:
_Copyright._) (_See page 83._
CLIFFS IN THE GREAT BIGHT.]
The coach will take us through more orchards, towards Franklin 61
on the Huon River, where we touch the eastern side of the broken
country from which we turned back at Macquarie Harbour. There
are settlements all along the Huon Estuary, which runs into the
channel of D’Entrecasteaux. Here we have come upon an important
remnant of past history. The name is that of a French admiral who
was sent out in 1791 to seek for a port in Southern Australia,
so that France might gain a footing in these new islands.
D’Entrecasteaux actually surveyed the Derwent River, and a later
French expedition spent some time in the neighbourhood. Partly
through fear of the designs of France we occupied Risdon in 1803,
and in the following year, Colonel Collins, not content with the
site at Port Phillip in Victoria, which he had occupied for a
short time, came over and moved the settlement from Risdon to
Hobart. The evidence of the activity of the French explorers in
this region is still to be seen in the names of capes and bays
all along the eastern coast of Tasmania.
There are saw-mills at Hobart, and all around the Huon is a fine
timber country, easily reached from the sea. Here we see the
beginning of the end: the cutters have built a rough platform 62
above the undergrowth and up to the point where the trunk of the
tree rises straight and even. They are using the saw, though
sometimes the whole work is done with the axe. They are fond of
the axe in this part of the world, and it enters even into their
sports, since the chopping match is a favourite form of athletic
contest among them.
The trees in this district grow to a great size; here we have 63
a forest scene, with the huge logs scattered on the ground, or
loaded on to trucks which will carry them to the mill. Geeveston
is noted for its saw-mills, one of which we have before us. The 64
logs disappear inside the mill, and we meet them again as sawn
timber on the little wharf, ready to be shipped to all parts of 65
the world.
In the valley of the Huon, as well as in that of the Derwent, are
orchards everywhere, proving that we are still in the sheltered
lowland which we have traced from Launceston southwards. The
cottages and gardens, with their masses of English flowers; the
English trees, oaks and elms, and the hawthorn hedges all along
the roadside, remind us strongly of England. Many even of the
birds are English. In fact, this part of the island has been
quite transformed by the colonists until it closely resembles
the mother country. But we enter the forest and step at once
from England to Australia. Here are the tall gums with their
untidy bark and dead branches, and the swarms of honey-eating
birds flitting among their blossoms. Here, too, are the wattle
and banksia and many other plants peculiar to Australia, and the
further we move from civilisation the less there is in the face
of the country to remind us of England. But one difference may
be noted between Tasmania and the rest of Australia: however
far we penetrate into the wild interior we shall not meet the
aborigines. They were few in number at the time of the first
settlement, and the last survivor died many years ago.
LECTURE V
SOUTH AUSTRALIA AND WESTERN AUSTRALIA
On our visits to other great capitals we have found steamers
unloading their cargoes in the very heart of the city; but
Adelaide, founded in 1836 and named after the wife of King
William IV., is neither on the sea nor on a navigable river.
The original settlers were aiming at a purely agricultural
colony, and so chose a position a few miles inland in the midst
of fertile land and pleasant scenery. So we must land at Port
Adelaide and take the train.
Partly owing to the separation of the port from the city, partly 1
owing to the slower and more even growth of South Australia,
Adelaide seems quieter and less crowded than Melbourne or
Sydney, and its inhabitants consider it to be the model capital
of Eastern Australia. King William Street, which we see here, 2
with the statue of Colonel Light, the founder of the city, in
the foreground, does not look in the least commercial. We get
the same impression as we walk along the tree-clad banks of the 3
little Torrens River, or cross it by the City Bridge. We miss
the wharves and warehouses and steam cranes, and might almost 4
imagine that we were on a backwater of the Upper Thames. The
main streets, too, of the city remind us rather of the West End 5
than of the City of London; while even the post-office stands
in an open space with trees. In fact, the whole city, with its 6
wide streets, its parks and gardens, gives the impression of 7
spaciousness. If we make our way, however, to the railway station
we shall see that Adelaide is not by any means without trade.
Here are collected the products of all the country round; but as
this is purely agricultural, and Adelaide is not the only outlet,
there is not the rush of business which we saw at Melbourne.
[Illustration: SOUTH AUSTRALIA: OROGRAPHICAL.
_By permission of the Diagram Co._]
Here is a general view which will give us some idea of the 8
position of the city. It lies on a plain; a few miles away to the
east the view is shut in by a long, low ridge. If we climb this
ridge and look back towards the city, we have in sight a large
part of the original South Australia.
South Australia of to-day is a somewhat difficult country to 9
analyse; but the ridge on which we are standing may give us the
key to the whole. If we follow the heights northwards, we shall
find that they disappear, hundreds of miles away, in the country
south-east of Lake Eyre. South of Adelaide they curve round and
end in Kangaroo Island, which stretches across the mouth of the
Gulf of St. Vincent. These heights are really the edge of a
plateau, and the plateau slopes gently away from the sea towards
the basin of the Murray. The Murray, at the great bend, turns
sharply southwards and reaches its outlet in Lake Alexandrina
just beyond the southern end of the highlands.
Between the plateau edge and the sea, Adelaide and the Gulf towns
lie along a narrow strip of lowland. The Gulf of St. Vincent
is merely part of a larger gulf which is interrupted by Yorke
Peninsula, so that we have really one great inlet running up to
Port Augusta at the head of Spencer Gulf. The west side of this
gulf is formed by another plateau which slopes away from the sea
towards the salt lakes and marshes of the interior. We thus have
two plateaus and a lowland in between, partly flooded by the sea.
A portion of the surface has dropped down between two lines of
cracks or faults, and a rift valley has been formed. Lake Torrens
occupies the northern end of this valley. It is the eastern
side of the valley, together with a small part of the back of
the plateau, which constitutes the real South Australia. We may
notice that the local railways are almost confined to this area.
There is, however, one important piece of the State outside
this area. South of Lake Alexandrina we see a long curving
coast, bounded by sandbanks enclosing a string of lagoons,
the Coorong; behind it is the scrub country which we have met
already in the north-west district of Victoria. Beyond this,
in the south-east corner, especially around Mount Gambier, we
find the same conditions as on the neighbouring coast regions
of Victoria. There is considerable rainfall and there are even 10
fresh-water lakes, as we see here. The soil, too, is fertile,
since Mount Gambier belongs to the volcanic area of Victoria; so
that there is agriculture and dairy farming, and oats are grown.
But the district is cut off from Adelaide by land and has rather
a detached existence, though the railways now being built or
planned will alter this.
We will now explore the country round Adelaide. In the Mount
Lofty ranges, east of the city, there are streams and waterfalls; 11
but the rivers of the plain are very small and do not suggest
a very heavy rainfall. Everywhere are orchards and vineyards
growing fruits which are not grown in the open air in England.
Here is an orchard quite near the city, and here is an orange 12
tree laden with ripening fruit. The rainfall is very light and
comes mostly in the winter, while the summers are hotter than 13
in most of the occupied regions of Australia. We have the sunny
climate of the Mediterranean and a corresponding vegetation.
Yet it is healthy for white people, in spite of the heat, owing
to the dry clear air; while the highlands only a few miles away
offer a refuge in the summer.
On the eastward side of the plateau there are again no large
rivers, and the rainfall is even less than at Adelaide; but there
is enough to grow fine crops of wheat. We see much the same
arrangement of zones as at the back of Sydney, but the wheat-belt
is narrower and the rainfall rather less. Very soon we drop down
into the rainless plains of the Murray basin, where the only
cultivation is in the irrigated district round Renmark. Here we 14
can see them drying the raisins and loading them on to the little
steamer which will take them down to near the mouth of the river. 15
They will then be sent on by rail to Adelaide, since the river
has no good outlet to the sea.
Yorke Peninsula and the western side of Spencer Gulf have a few
small towns on the coast; inland they have no rivers but only
dry pastures, salt lakes, and marshes. Here is one of these
lakes in the Peninsula. The character of this district will 16
change in the future, as much of it is adapted for the growing of
wheat which has already been introduced. The only considerable
population at present is on the coast strip from Adelaide to
Port Augusta, and on the back of the plateau, never more than a
hundred miles from the coast.
As we follow the railway northwards from Adelaide we shall find 17
that agriculture decreases with the decreasing rainfall; in place
of crops we see cattle and sheep. Here is a typical station only 18
a hundred miles north of Adelaide, where the sheep seem to be
in full possession. The further north we go the thinner is the
settlement; and north of Port Augusta we shall only find it at a
few favoured spots near the railway.
Beyond Lake Torrens the plateau edge to the east trends away
and disappears, and we enter the Lake Eyre basin. At one time
this may have been a vast inland sea, as the remains of extinct
animals show that the climate must have been very different from
the present. Now it is a great clay plain, broken by low plateaus
and ridges of sandstone, and with much of its surface covered
with stones or mulga scrub. The lakes are salt, while the long
rivers, shown on the map as flowing into them, may be only a
string of mudholes for years together. Much of this region is
still unexplored, and nearly the whole of it is useless.
The railway ends at Oodnadatta, to which a train runs at rare
intervals; and off the railway the camel, which has been 19
introduced into Australia for this purpose, is the only means of
transport. To the east of this line something may be made of the
country by boring through the clay to reach the artesian water,
as we have seen already in Queensland and New South Wales; so
that settlement may spread slowly towards these States. To the
west is the arid plateau which covers so much of the central part
of the continent--the Sahara of Australia.
Adelaide is a little south of Sydney in latitude, and Oodnadatta 20
a little south of Brisbane, yet what a difference between the two
parallel journeys by rail! The explanation is to be found in the
rainfall figures: north of Port Augusta we enter the zone where
the annual amount is under ten inches. The railway reminds us
of those starting from the east coast and ending at some remote
point in the interior; but there seems very little country here
for our line to exploit or develop. To understand fully its
meaning we must look back at the past history of the region.
South Australia was founded by an Association formed in England
with the object of building up a model agricultural colony. The
plan was to sell the unoccupied land and use the proceeds to aid
suitable emigrants in settling there. With this idea Adelaide was
founded in 1836. For a few years the colony was poor, as it was
intended to be self-supporting and the capital in private hands
was insufficient to develop the country. But progress was helped
by the various discoveries of copper, from 1842 onwards, at
Kapunda, Burra and other places; and by 1855 the colony was able
to export large quantities of agricultural produce to the other
colonies, which had depended mainly on Tasmania up to this time.
It is curious that the State which is still mainly agricultural
was the first to develop its minerals on a large scale; but
as the mineral was copper and not gold, it led to no rush of
settlers, but only to a steady growth of population. The older
mines have been long worked out, but those in Yorke Peninsula and
in the Flinders Range still produce large quantities. Here are 21
views of the Wallaroo and Moonta mines in the Peninsula. 22
With the exception of some iron ore, which is not much worked,
South Australia has no other important minerals of its own: yet
at Port Pirie, on the east side of Spencer Gulf, we find large
smelting works. To explain this we must look back again at the
railway map. From the port a line runs north-east for two hundred
miles or more, to the Silverton country, just inside the New
South Wales border which we have already visited. It is the
natural outlet for this district, as Sydney is more than twice as
far away.
Here we see Port Pirie and some of the smelting works. The works 23
also handle iron ore which is brought down to the opposite shore 24
of the Gulf by a short railway from Iron Knob, near Lake Gilles,
in the dry interior of the western plateau. In the case of this
district we notice once again that the artificial boundary
following a line of longitude has no correspondence with the
natural features of the country.
We have already seen how, on the constitution of Queensland as
a separate State in 1859, the country to the west was left as 25
a detached portion of New South Wales. In 1855, Gregory had
crossed what is now the Northern Territory, from the Victoria
River in the west to the Flinders River, and so through North
Queensland to Brisbane, following the line taken earlier by
the explorer Leichhardt, but further inland. At the same time,
various explorers had been following up Eyre’s discoveries in
South Australia, and miners and shepherds were pushing steadily
northwards from Yorke Peninsula along the line of the present
railway. In 1859, South Australia offered a prize for the first
explorer to cross the continent from south to north, urged on
by the proposal to connect Australia with England by a cable
which must be landed somewhere on the north coast. A party from
Victoria, under Burke, started first, and following roughly the
western boundaries of New South Wales and Queensland, came out
by way of the Flinders River to the Gulf of Carpentaria. But
on their return Burke and Wills perished at Cooper’s Creek of
starvation, and only one member of the party was rescued.
In 1862, Stuart, for South Australia, succeeded in crossing to
the north coast and returning to Adelaide by the route west of
Lake Eyre which is now followed by the railway and telegraph.
The immediate result was that the Northern Territory became
politically part of South Australia, instead of being an annex
to New South Wales; but it has recently been transferred to the
Commonwealth Government by which it is now administered. By 1872,
the telegraph line was completed to Palmerston, the northern
capital, on Port Darwin, where the cable is landed. By 1889, the
railway from the south had been pushed forward to Oodnadatta,
nearly seven hundred miles from Adelaide; while in the north one
hundred and fifty miles of line was built southwards. Some day,
probably in the near future, the rail will stretch from shore to
shore, but there still remains a gap of over a thousand miles.
North of Lake Eyre, and on the Tropic, the Territory is crossed
by the Macdonell Ranges, running east and west. Then comes a
stretch of five hundred miles of sandy plains, with scrub and
spinifex, and then the peninsula of Arnhem Land, a low plateau
with a considerable rainfall. Right on the coast are mangrove
swamps and tropical rainfall, as in North Queensland. Though
some of this country is suited to cattle, and gold has also
been discovered, progress has not been very rapid, in spite of
the importance of the magnificent harbour of Port Darwin. The
population consists of a few hundred Europeans, as many Asiatics,
mainly Chinese, and some thousands of aborigines.
After Stuart’s journey there remained only to complete the
conquest of the desert from east to west. In 1840, Eyre had
succeeded in travelling from Adelaide to West Australia along
the shores of the Great Australian Bight. It was 1870 before Sir
John Forrest traversed the same route in the opposite direction.
The result was the occupation of Eucla, in the middle of the
Bight, and the completion of the overland wire from Adelaide to
Albany in 1877. Finally, in 1874, Forrest crossed the middle of
the great plateau, from Geraldton to the north-south telegraph
line. A few daring journeys and the two telegraph lines still
represent the only land links between the detached areas of
settlement which fringe the central plateau block; but a stronger
link will soon be forged. Already the work is in hand. A survey
of the route was completed in 1909 by the Federal Government;
and at the end of 1911 a Bill was passed for the construction of
a railway from Port Augusta to Kalgoorlie, a distance of over
1000 miles. This line will not only shorten the mail route to the
eastern States, but may also lead to some pastoral settlement, as
not all the country traversed is desert.
South and Western Australia, with the Northern Territory,
together include nearly two-thirds of the continent. Western
Australia alone includes nearly a third. It is rather more than
five times the size of Spain, but its population is smaller
than that of any of the States of the mainland. The reason for
this contrast is partly a matter of history, as the State is
comparatively young, and partly due to geographical causes, as we
shall see when we have examined the country.
The map shows Western Australia stretching from north to south, 26
across the whole breadth of the continent, with the Tropic
running through the middle. It corresponds in position to
Queensland and New South Wales; for Cape Londonderry is in the
same latitude as the middle of Cape York Peninsula in Queensland,
while Albany is a little south of Sydney. The greater part of
the State is occupied by a broad plateau, from a thousand to
fifteen hundred feet high; between this and the sea is a narrow
coastal plain, irregular and deeply indented in the north,
narrower and more uniform towards the south, and disappearing
in the south-west corner where the plateau edge approaches the
sea. We may notice a certain likeness here to the structure of
the eastern end of the continent. We shall find nearly the whole
of the agricultural population collected along a comparatively
narrow belt of country from Geraldton to Albany, with Perth, the
capital, in the middle. On the plateau there are no great rivers,
but many short streams run down from its western edge to the sea;
and though the map shows large lakes in the interior we shall
find that in this case the map is not entirely to be trusted.
The Swan River was discovered by Captain Stirling on his
exploring mission from Sydney in 1827. Two years later Captain
Fremantle took formal possession, and the Swan River Settlement
was founded. The Home Government was at first doubtful about
the project, but was urged on to the settlement through fear of
French occupation. Perth itself lies twelve miles up the river; 27
its port is Fremantle, at the mouth of the river, on a deep and
safe harbour, crowded with wharves and shipping. It is the main 28
outlet for the trade of all this part of Western Australia.
Instead of taking the train we will travel by launch up the Swan
River; on our way we notice the large flocks of black swans 29
which are now collected here and preserved by the Government.
The city of Perth is smaller and more irregular than Adelaide
or Melbourne, and we see it at its best as we approach by the
river. It lies rather in a hollow, and from the higher land in 30
the King’s Park we get a fine view along the river front. The
main streets differ little from those of other Australian cities;
but in St. George’s Terrace they are working on the road, and 31
we notice that the old tree stumps are not yet removed. Although
Perth is making very rapid progress, everything is as yet
somewhat quieter, more picturesque and on a smaller scale than
in the great capitals of the eastern States. On the outskirts of
the city, especially overlooking the river, are the gardens and
houses of the wealthier residents. Here is one of these; notice 32
the lemon trees laden with fruit, although it is winter. In the
country round we shall feel quite at home. Here we have a picture
with pasture and scattered trees and fat cattle; and we pass a 33
poultry farm which might well be in a corner of Surrey.
Let us follow the Swan, now become the Avon River, inland. First
we come to Newcastle, where there are many orange orchards in
the broad valley; then we pass the township of Northam, where we
meet a native woman on the road, and finally we reach York. From 34
one of the surrounding hills we look down on a broad expanse of
plain, dotted with farmhouses, and with a background of hills in 35
the distance. There is a flour mill which might be in our own
Yorkshire, and a very English-looking church on the sloping bank 36
above the river. All looks settled and civilised. On the other 37
hand, the King’s Head hotel is entirely primitive, and carries 38
us back to the days of the early settlers, as it is one of the
oldest buildings in the State. As we cross the bridge we notice
that the trees are standing in the water, for the river is in
flood.
We have here a country full of English place-names, and with
scenery which often reminds us of England; but at the same time
we find wheat and oranges growing side by side, and trees in
fruit and flower in the winter. This suggests something very
different from our own climate. We must remember that Perth is
in latitude 32° S. and that this district therefore corresponds
to Egypt or Morocco. It is a land where frosts are unknown in
the lowlands and valleys near the sea, and where the summers are
hot and dry, though tempered by the sea breezes. Most of the rain
falls in the winter, which is therefore the growing time; we
have already noticed the Avon in flood. Even in the winter there
is plenty of sun, as the rain falls largely in heavy showers at
night.
[Illustration: WESTERN AUSTRALIA: RAINFALL.]
If we travel eastward from York we shall soon find a change 39
in the face of the country, as the rainfall decreases quickly
towards the interior. But for the present we will keep within the
zone of moderate rainfall, not far from the coast, and continue
our journey southwards. Much of the land round Perth has been
cleared for agriculture, though it was formerly covered with
forest. Beginning north of Perth, and stretching southwards at
a distance of twenty to thirty miles from the coast, is a long
belt of timber-country, marking the zone of heaviest rainfall.
This belt broadens out and fills the whole peninsula in the
south-west corner, between Flinders Bay and Geographe Bay, and
finally disappears a few miles to the north-east of Albany. The
dense forest clothes the western face of the plateau, and thins
out eastward to open scrub country with scattered gum trees of
various kinds. It consists in the main of Jarrah, with some
blocks of Karri in the south and south-west.
Jarrah is a very hard red-coloured wood which is useful for
jetties, railway sleepers and all other work where there is great
exposure to damp and weather. We may often walk over it in the
streets of our cities, as it makes an excellent pavement. Here
we see the appearance of the original tree: it is tall, perhaps 40
a hundred feet high, with a trunk a yard or more thick and a
dark-grey furrowed bark.
With the Jarrah is found the Karri, of much the same character
but less durable. It is one of the finest and tallest trees of
the Australian forest. Its bark is yellowish white, and peels
off, leaving the tree clean, so that the Karri is sometimes
called the white gum. The tree sometimes grows to a height of 41
three hundred feet, and is far too large to handle; while even
the smaller specimens need a whole team to haul a single log.
So that, although there is a very large area of forest land, we
can understand that cutting only goes on within easy reach of
one of the short branch railway lines running down to the sea.
The forests of Western Australia have recently been estimated to
contain two hundred and twenty million tons of valuable timber,
worth about three hundred million pounds sterling.
Where the forest thins out eastward the red gum is one of the
most useful trees, as it is spreading and branched, and so gives 42
more shade than the other gum trees. This is important for the
stockowner in a dry, hot country.
We have already seen something of the agricultural district
round York; and we shall find little difference as we follow the
railway southwards to Albany, keeping always about a hundred
miles from the coast. There are the same wheatfields and sheep
and occasional orchards; it is not very different from the
country round Perth, except that it is rather cooler as we
travel southwards. In the summer, especially on the eastern edge
of this belt, it is very dry and parched; but after the winter
rains, though there is too little water for trees, the flowers
and grasses spring up everywhere, especially everlasting flowers
which grow in great profusion, as we see from the picture before 43
us.
So we have a coast belt associated with timber, and a parallel
belt inland where agriculture is developing along the track of
the railway. The southern terminus of the railway is Albany, on 44
King George’s Sound, one of the best harbours of the Australian 45
continent. Albany is a fortified coaling port, and is likely to
grow in importance with the organisation of Australian defence
in the future. This seems a small corner on the map, yet the
area available for agriculture is considerably larger than the
total area under cultivation in Great Britain; while beyond it,
in the region of lessening rainfall, is a wide belt suited for
sheep-raising. Further eastward still, beyond this belt, we
enter another type of country. The railway from Northam Junction
carries us across the dry country and through Southern Cross
to the mining centre of Coolgardie. A little further on, at
Kalgoorlie, it turns northward, to end at Laverton, about four
hundred miles from Perth and the same distance from the sea to
the south. This is the limit of that part of West Australian
settlement which is based on gold.
The gold-bearing country is in two bands, running north and
south, through Southern Cross and Kalgoorlie; and we find quite
a large population in the midst of waterless country. Here is
a view of Kalgoorlie, a prosperous-looking town, in spite of 46
its arid surroundings. This is the region of Australia where
gold-mining has developed most rapidly in recent years. It is
very different from Ballarat or the Queensland mines, where the
gold lies in the midst of a fertile agricultural country, easily
reached from the sea.
[Illustration:
_Copyright._) (_See page 90._
MILFORD SOUND.]
[Illustration:
_Copyright._) (_See page 91._
DUNEDIN.]
[Illustration:
_Copyright._) (_See page 94._
LOOKING UP TASMAN GLACIER.]
[Illustration:
_Copyright._) (_See page 97._
THE AVON: CHRISTCHURCH.]
After leaving the agricultural belt we pass through a stony
country with low hills covered with deadwood and scrub. Yet the
map shows us many lakes and pools, and as it is winter we shall
find them according to our expectations. Here is a pool of fresh 47
water just after the rains; notice that it even has trees growing
round it. Here again is one of the larger lakes; though there 48
seems to be plenty of water here it is really only a flat clay
marsh, flooded to the depth of a few inches. Notice the gold mine
in the distance. In the hot weather the water in these shallow
lakes soon evaporates, often leaving a deposit of salt, so that
in place of a sheet of water there is a dreary clay flat covered
with stones. On these flats near the shrunken lakes the only 49
vegetation is the salt-bush, with occasional patches of very dry
scrub.
There is nothing to attract the settler to country such as this,
except gold. There is little water, and that mostly salt or
brackish, so that in the early days of the mines it was distilled
and sold by the gallon at a high price. There was none available
for washing the gold, so that it had to be separated from the
earth and rock by the method known as dry-blowing. Now all this
has been changed. The mines are supplied with water from far away
in the Perth district, where the rainfall is heavy. The whole
river is held up at Mundaring, twenty-one miles from Perth, by 50
a gigantic weir, and the water is raised at one pumping station
after another, and so carried up and over the plateau to the
mining districts. The pipes are laid along the railway and the
water is carried for about three hundred and fifty miles, or
rather further than from London to Berwick. Without this great
work, the Coolgardie region, with its large mining population,
could not exist.
Let us now examine the mining. Here we see its primitive methods
in the bush. There is probably alluvial gold in the bed of a 51
stream, buried under the surface sand and clay. The stuff is
merely hauled up in buckets and thrown out on to the “dump” to 52
await further treatment. Here again, instead of sinking a shaft,
the miners have burrowed into the bare hillside. In some places, 53
where water is to be had for a short time after the rains, the
miners contrive a primitive washing machine such as we see here. 54
The large trough is merely a hollow log, where the gold-bearing
dirt is washed to free it from clay, while the larger stones are
picked out. Then it is put into the long trough and sluiced, so
that the gold settles among the small stones while the lighter
stuff is carried away. The troughs are of wood and the pump is
distinctly home made; the water is used again and again until it
becomes too thick or evaporates altogether.
Now let us turn to another picture. Here is an up-to-date mine,
with machinery and tanks for the chemical extraction of the last 55
atom of gold, after the mass has already been treated in great 56
batteries. There is a deep shaft here with mechanical winding as
in a coal mine; but often the gold-bearing quartz is near the
surface, and we have an “open cut,” or practically a quarry. 57
Here is one showing the rock at close quarters: the white is the
rock which contains the gold, while the dark is the “mullock,” 58
or “country” rock, as the miners style it. There are other
goldfields nearer the coast, in the district north-east of Perth.
Although near the sea this is a very dry country with much mulga
scrub; for, as we go northwards, the scanty rainfall is more and
more limited to a very narrow strip along the coast. We have
noticed already that the forest zone ends not far north of Perth.
The rest of the interior in this part of the State is a stony
desert whose chief product is the spinifex, or porcupine grass,
which we have seen before. This often forms an impenetrable
scrub, as many explorers have found to their cost. Over very
large areas the surface is covered with great boulders; these may
be troublesome to the traveller, but they are not without their
uses. The storm water runs off them and does not contain salt,
so that it can be caught in a tank for the cattle on the stock 59
routes, as we see in this picture.
In the south-east, towards the great Australian Bight, there is
a change. There is much limestone country here, with pasture,
but the water sinks away through the porous rock. Access, too,
is difficult, owing to the cliff barrier stretching for fifteen
hundred miles unbroken by any stream or gap. Here is a view of 60
these cliffs; sometimes they come down to the sea, sometimes they
lie some distance inland, but they are always present. Here, too,
we find the water, which sank into the plateau above, breaking 61
out at the foot of the cliffs and giving us unexpected vegetation.
One part of West Australia we have not visited, that beyond the
Tropic to the north. Here is a moderate rainfall similar to that
in the Northern Territory and in Queensland; while in the extreme
north we meet the heavy downpour of the Tropics. Much of it is
well suited for cattle, but at present it is hardly touched, and
it is separated from the populous district of the south by a wide
stretch of dry and inhospitable country.
LECTURE VI
NEW ZEALAND--SOUTH ISLAND
We now return to the east and leave Hobart, with a westerly wind
astern, and following the course of the great Dutch navigator
Tasman, steam south-eastward across the deep sea which still
bears his name. We are bound for the southern end of New Zealand.
The islands of New Zealand are often compared to the British
Islands, but we must be careful not to press this comparison too
far. We must notice that their position on the globe corresponds
not to that of Britain, but to that of Italy; while the long
toe to the north is even nearer to the equator than the toe of
Italy. In shape, too, the main islands remind us somewhat of
Italy; for Cook Strait is shallow, and we may think of them as
forming one continuous land mass. We may notice also that Stewart
Island lies on a bank which extends from the mainland southwards
as far as the Auckland Islands. There are similar shallows to
the northward, with island points upon them projecting above the
surface of the sea; so that we may think of the whole area as
one great bank below the water, with the higher parts showing
as land, while east and west of it lie the deep abysses of the
Tasman Sea and the Pacific. So though we have at first sight
a group of scattered islands, they have a certain unity if we
look at the under-sea platform on which they stand. There are
also certain scattered islands, more remote from the New Zealand
group, but dependent politically on the Dominion. Of these the
chief are the Chatham Islands, 500 miles east of Lyttelton, the
Kermadecs, 600 miles north-east of Auckland, and beyond them the
Cook Islands, far out in the Pacific.
Though in shape and position New Zealand may resemble Italy, in
one important respect it differs alike from Italy and the British
Islands. It is surrounded by the open ocean, and there is no
great continent near enough to affect its climate or the life
of its people. Its plants and animals are largely peculiar to
itself; its native races are widely different from the aborigines
of Australia; its past development has been on independent lines,
and we may remember that it still remains outside the circle of
Australian Federation. We may contrast the position of Italy, in
a land-locked sea and with a continental frontier; or the close
connexion with the neighbouring mainland which has affected all
the past history of our own islands.
We are visiting South Island first, since its geography is more
simple and easier to grasp than that of the North Island; we
shall find, too, that some of the conditions are not unlike those
which we have lately seen in Tasmania. Our steamer will land us 1
at Bluff Harbour, in the extreme south of the island. Fifteen
miles away, across Foveaux Strait, we can distinguish the hills
of Stewart Island, famous for its oysters. Bluff is the port of
Invercargill which lies some distance up the estuary of the New
River, and is not visited by large vessels. It is a busy little
town, and here we see the steamers loading wool, frozen meat, and
perhaps oats. The tall chimney in the background belongs to one
of the largest meat-freezing factories in the colony, while that
smooth green mass is the Bluff itself. The wharves of a seaport
are an excellent guide to the district which it serves; and wool,
meat, and oats may suggest to us the nature of the country which
we are about to visit.
A journey of seventeen miles by rail brings us to Invercargill.
We have seen the products of the country at the port; here
we shall learn something more of the people who own them.
Invercargill is a grey, solid-looking town, with very wide and
clean streets and a general air of comfort and prosperity. The
town is full of people who have come in for the great summer wool
sales. Among the crowd we come across some highland pipers--a
rather surprising meeting in the southern hemisphere. Our
surprise will not last long. Let us look around us: here are Dee 2
Street and Don Street, whose very names, like that of the town
itself, carry us back to Scotland. Or let us look at the people
and listen to their talk: we shall find Scots everywhere, not in
this town only, but all over the south of the island. In fact,
the original settlement at Otago, which we shall visit later, was
a Scottish Free Kirk colony.
From Invercargill we can reach the mountains of the south-west
and some of the most magnificent scenery in the southern
hemisphere; but before we start we must take a brief glance at
the island as a whole. The country which is to be surveyed is 3
about the same size as England and Wales. We remember that we
approached it from the west but landed in the extreme south; the
map may suggest a reason for this. Not far from the west coast,
from end to end of the island, runs a backbone of mountains, with
a steep face towards the Tasman Sea but a long and more gentle
slope to the Pacific. Thus the rivers flowing to the west are
short and rapid, for the most part mere mountain torrents, of no
use for ships; while their narrow, deep-cut valleys give little
space for settlement or roads into the interior. Their mouths
also are blocked by sand-bars, owing to the strong winds and
currents which sweep along the coast.
In the south-west corner, instead of rivers, we find a whole
group of fiords, deep inlets running up between mountain walls
and leading nowhere. Here is some of the most beautiful but
least known country in New Zealand; there are no railways and
practically no settlement, as we shall find on our visit. In
short, the island looks to the Pacific and turns its back on the
Tasman Sea. On the east side there is more room. The province of
Otago is hilly, but further north is the great expanse of the
Canterbury Plains. North of the plains are more mountains, the
Kaikoura Ranges, lying parallel to the east coast; so that even
on this side of the island there is no through communication from
end to end. We shall see later that this peculiar grouping of the
physical features has had a great deal of influence on the nature
and history of settlement in South Island, or Middle Island as
some prefer to call it.
[Illustration: SOUTH ISLAND: OROGRAPHICAL.]
We will now start on our trip to the mountains, lakes, and fiords
of the south-west. The first part of our journey is by train,
past fields of oats and rough grazing land with sheep scattered
about, and here and there a clump of firs. Soon we are running
through a valley between the hills, and following the line of a
grey-looking stream, to the town of Lumsden. We are coming to the 4
end of the railway and must change into a motor car to complete
our journey. Our destination is the beautiful Lake Manapouri,
one of a group of lakes which wind in and out among the valleys
of the western mountains just as the fiords which run in from
the sea. Here is a piece of our road, with the mountains in the 5
distance; notice the team of horses carting wool.
We sleep at an accommodation house, and in the early morning go 6
down to the little pier and board the launch which is to take
us up the lake. Here we see it lying below one of the tree-clad 7
slopes. In the distance, veiled in cloud, are the Hunter
Mountains; here is a nearer view from which we can form some idea 8
of the wonderful colours in which these mountain lakes abound.
Further up the lake on the north side we see the Cathedral Peaks, 9
with patches of snow still lying, although it is past midsummer;
while all the lower slopes, right down to the water’s edge, are
covered with green beech, called birch by the natives, with here
and there the scarlet blossoms of the _rata_ tree making a patch
of bright colour. Finally we see the end of the northern arm, 10
with Spire Peak shooting up in the background.
From Manapouri we drive across to another lake, Te Anau, where we
again find a launch. From the northern end of this long, narrow
and somewhat uninteresting lake we must walk the thirty miles
over the Milford track, if we wish to see Milford Sound, one of
the grandest of all the sea fiords. We are now beginning to
realise how very much out of the world we are in this corner of
the island.
Our path lies for many miles through a dense forest of beech.
From the roots, and far up the trunks, the trees are covered
with mosses, lichens, and small ferns. On the ground are more
thick mosses and myriads of ferns great and small. Everything is
moist and green in this part of the island, where the perpetual
westerly winds bring heavy rain all the year round to the
mountain slopes. In fact, we shall be lucky if we finish our walk
without meeting with a downpour. Here we see part of our track on 11
the way up to the Mackinnon Pass, with the dense bush below and 12
the snow-capped mountains above. All the way through the trees
we have glimpses of cataracts, seaming the rugged slopes above
the limit of the forest. Many of the torrent beds are dry now,
like the one in front of us, but we can easily imagine the force 13
of the flood water from the appearance of the stones and debris
strewn about it.
It is a long walk, and we stop for the night, wet and tired, at
the Government huts at Pompolona, where we sleep, if we can, in
rough wooden bunks fixed round the inside of the walls. In the
early morning we start again, making our way by the side of the
Clinton River which flows down the pass between dark woods not
yet touched by the sunshine. So we go on over the Divide and 14
down the valley of the Arthur River, through more dense jungle
of tree ferns, to Sandfly Point, on Milford Sound, where Donald
Sutherland is to meet us with his launch. It is growing late, and
there are sandflies in plenty, but no sign of the launch or its
independent owner. Sutherland was the original discoverer of the
Sound and of the famous falls named after him, and for a long
time he lived here in sole possession. He is now a kind of guide
and guardian of its magnificent scenery, and has the air of a
landowner showing visitors over his private estate. Here is his
portrait, that of a typical blue-eyed Scot. He arrives at last 15
and takes us by moonlight to the little landing near his house.
In the morning we make a voyage down the Sound. All around us
are steep mountain slopes with wisps of cloud hanging upon them
not yet dissipated by the sun. At the head of the Sound we can 16
see the Bowen Falls, and our boat will take us right up to their
foot for a closer view. We pass Mitre Peak, with its remarkable 17
shape, and then are shown Two Man Beach, where Sutherland landed 18
first with one companion, prospecting for gold, thirty years
ago. The rock above is dark purple-grey, with splashes of green
and scarlet from the small trees clinging to it and the blossom
of the _rata_. Finally we reach the Heads and the open sea, and 19
turning look back. Notice how the mountain walls close in on
the blue-black water. Sheer above the surface they tower for
half to three-quarters of a mile, carved and polished by the
great glacier which filled the Sound long ages ago. We may see
something like this in the West of Scotland, though on a far
smaller scale; but to find a close parallel we shall have to
search among the fiords of Norway. Here is a map showing the 20
district of the Sounds. When we have seen Milford, we have seen
the essence of all the thirteen Sounds; though each has its own
special beauty; so we start on our long tramp back, turning aside
a mile or two from the Quinton Huts to visit the Sutherland 21
Falls, which claim to be the highest in the world; and so to our
motor car for Lumsden and the railway to Dunedin.
Before reaching Dunedin we cross the Clutha, one of the largest
of the New Zealand rivers, as it drains three lakes among the
mountains, and these in their turn are fed from the snows of the
southern Alps. The river flows for the most part through a narrow
rock-bound channel, in hilly country, and so has no broad valley
for settlement; but its sands are rich in alluvial gold, and
we may perhaps catch sight of an ugly floating dredger, moored 22
in the stream. Much of the gold in New Zealand is alluvial,
and dredging for it in the river-bed is one of the most common
and profitable methods of mining. This part of Otago owes its
population and prosperity almost entirely to its gold and the
sheep which are scattered everywhere over its rolling downs; in
the west, as we have already seen, it is occupied by mountain,
fiord, and forest, and is scarcely inhabited.
Dunedin, the Edinburgh of New Zealand, is the most important
commercial city in the South Island. It is much larger than
Invercargill and has many fine buildings of the Oamaru stone,
the best building stone to be found in the island. Here was the
original Scottish settlement in 1848, and the natural outlet of
the rich gold and pastoral district behind. The city lies at the
head of a long inlet, Otago Harbour, which is formed by a narrow 23
peninsula connected only by a small neck with the mainland.
The peninsula and the surrounding hills together make a kind
of funnel through which sweep the winds from the north-east or
south-west. It is always cool and breezy here, a fit place for a
strong, healthy, and energetic race; but people coming from the
warmer regions of the North Island do not always appreciate the
change. Here we have a wide view of the town and harbour, looking 24
northwards, from the Town Belt, a fine stretch of public land
on the hillside encircling the city. Here is a nearer view from 25
which we can gain some notion of the size and character of the
city itself. Notice the church spires, the tall factory chimneys,
the warehouses and offices. Dunedin has its flour mills, its
woollen mills, its manufactures of boots and clothing. Here is
the interior of one of the large woollen mills, showing the 26
combing and spinning machines; we might easily imagine ourselves
in Yorkshire. Another picture gives us a glimpse of one of the 27
many beauty spots on the coast within a short distance of the
city.
Just as the ocean trade of Invercargill was carried on at Bluff,
so the outlet for Dunedin and the usual landing-place for large
steamers is at Port Chalmers, some miles further down the inlet; 28
though a recently dredged channel now enables them to reach the
wharves of Dunedin itself. Here we see the port from the west,
looking towards the sea. Dunedin is the headquarters of the
largest steamship company in the southern hemisphere; the company
trades especially with the coast ports of New Zealand and with
Australia. It is a curious accident which has given us a fine
harbour in this position. The east coast, like the west, takes
the form of long, smooth bights, with very few natural harbours.
The peninsula which forms Otago Inlet is volcanic in origin, as
is the larger Banks Peninsula further north. There are no live
volcanoes in South Island; but these interesting relics of past
activity have proved of the greatest value to settlement. They
even attracted here the Maoris, who confined themselves for the
most part to North Island.
We must now resume our journey, by the trunk line of railway, 29
which follows the coast all the way, with occasional branches
running inland between the south-eastern spurs of the central
mountain chain. We pass Oamaru, whence comes the stone for many
of the public buildings of New Zealand, and stop at Timaru,
where we change trains. We are going up one of the branch lines
to visit another district of magnificent scenery, though quite
different from the southern lakes and fiords. This is the
district of the New Zealand Alps, the Switzerland of the southern
hemisphere. At Fairlie the railway ends and we must once again
trust to a motor car. In the distance, as we start in the early
morning, we see a great mass of snow-capped mountains: this is
our goal.
Our road at first lies across a flat plain, with sheep and
cattle, and here and there a field of corn or a clump of trees
and an isolated homestead. Then we reach Burke’s Pass, with its 30
firs and poplars and little group of houses. Mount Cook, the
highest peak in the island, is just visible in the distance. We
are crossing over one of the long spurs which spread eastward
from the main chain. Soon we find the mountains, with snow peaks,
closing in on either side, as well as in front, and so we come 31
down to Lake Tekapo.
Here we cross the end of the lake by a suspension bridge; notice
how the light is reflected from the snow on the summit of the
mighty range in front of us. Next we come on a sight peculiar to
the country; this is a boundary dog, a lonely sentry chained up 32
at a point where the boundary of a sheep run crosses the road and
there is no gate to prevent the sheep from straying. Around him
is a heap of bones, the remnants of many meals. Then we reach
another lake, Pukaki, with its chalky-looking water; and in the 33
distance up the lake we have a view of the great mass of Mount
Cook. We drive along the lake side right into the heart of the
mountains, and in the evening reach the Hermitage at the foot of
Mount Sefton. Here is a view of Mount Sefton and here are the 34
Hermitage and the mountain as we should see them in winter. 35
We sleep at the Hermitage, and in the morning start with a guide
and the usual equipment of the climber in Switzerland. We cross
the Hooker River by a suspended cage; the water looks quiet 36
enough now, but here it is in flood; a very different picture. 37
All along the west coast there are mountain streams of this kind;
and we can easily imagine what a serious barrier they offer to
movement from north to south across the line of their channels.
It would be impossible, without a large scale map and plenty of
space, to describe the wonders which we can see on a two days’
walk, sleeping at Ball Hut, a long way up the mountain slopes.
But we may gain some notion of the different kinds of scenery
to be found. All around us are snow-clad peaks, with great
glaciers flowing down the valleys between and ending in long
moraines--masses of rock and debris with chalk-white streams
flowing out from beneath them as in the picture before us. This
is the Mueller Glacier with Mount Sefton; and the river coming 38
out from the terminal face is the Hooker, which we crossed
earlier at a lower point in its course. Here again we are looking 39
up the famous Tasman Glacier, towards the Minarets, and here
is the wonderful scene at the head of the glacier. On the same 40
glacier we find a beautiful specimen of the ice river; and not 41
far away, on the great Hochstetter, we see some magnificent 42
ice falls. In the background is Mount Silberhorn. The picture
suggests the origin of the name. Finally we have a view of Mount 43
Cook, the Aorangi of the Maoris, with its topmost peaks rising
into the clouds. It is the highest mountain in Australasia, and
we have already seen it in various aspects from a distance. Here
is the summit, twelve thousand feet above the level of the sea, 44
or nearly three times the height of Ben Nevis. Mount Cook is
worthy to stand by the side of the giant peaks of the Alps, and
even in Switzerland it would be difficult to find scenery grander
than that of these southern mountains.
We must not spend too much time here, so we make our way back
to Timaru. Timaru is a small but busy town and port, with
flour mills, meat-freezing works, and steamers loading at its
wharves. We must pause here for a moment as we are entering on
a new region in South Island, very different from those which
we have visited. Timaru is the chief outlet for the centre and
south of the province of Canterbury. The eastern part of the
province consists of a strip of level or gently undulating
country, a hundred and fifty miles from north to south and from
thirty to forty from east to west. This plain slopes gently from
the foothills of the western mountains, and has been built up
largely of alluvium brought down by the rivers which now flow
across it in shifting channels through wide belts of shingle. It
is a sharp contrast to the forest regions of the west: a land
of comparatively small rainfall, with pastures, hedgerows, and
open cornlands; treeless except for scattered clumps, planted by
the settlers. Dropped suddenly in this district we might easily
imagine that we were somewhere in the Midlands of England.
On these treeless plains and the eastern slopes of the hills, 45
the early settlers found pasture ready-made for their flocks;
as there was no clearing of forest to be done. So, to-day, this
part of South Island has still the most important sheep-rearing
industry in New Zealand.
Here is a typical farm near the foothills, with cattle feeding 46
on the rich pasture. Again, we have a scene nearer Canterbury,
showing a great expanse of grain, with the reapers at work. The 47
rainfall is so small that in some parts of the plain there is
not enough water for the farmer, so that artificial irrigation
is necessary, and there are now many miles of water races 48
strung across the country. It seems strange to talk of drought
and irrigation after our experiences of the west coast, but we
may understand it better if we look at the figures of annual
rainfall. At Hokitika, and all along the west coast as far north
as Greymouth, the fall is a hundred inches or more; while in the
extreme south-west corner it is over two hundred. On the other
hand, all the low-lying parts of the Canterbury Plains have less
than thirty inches; in fact, we may compare them to the east and
south-east districts of England. In England, as in South Island,
we find heavy rains in the west, and the explanation is similar
in both cases. The prevailing moist winds are from the west, so
that the eastern plains lie under the lee of the mountains.
[Illustration: SOUTH ISLAND: RAINFALL.]
If we remember the latitude of South Island we might expect to
find it rather warm; but we must take account of other things
than latitude. It is true that there are occasional hot winds
blowing down from the mountains over the Canterbury Plains, but
the island as a whole is cool. The great mass of highland, with
its winter covering of snow, the perpetual moist winds and the
cool currents of the ocean all help to modify the heat of the
sun’s rays, and to give us a climate not in the least enervating
for English settlers.
As we approach Christchurch the farms are closer together and
the whole country is enclosed and cultivated. For mile after
mile we run past green hedgerows as in England; and in the
spring these are ablaze with the yellow of the gorse blossom,
while the scent hangs heavy in the air. Then, through suburbs
with villas and gardens, we reach the city itself. Christchurch
is as typically English as Dunedin is Scotch. It was founded
by an association of High Churchmen who bought land from the
New Zealand Land Company in 1850, and it still boasts the only
cathedral in the Dominion. Here is a general view of the city. 49
We shall find much to remind us of England in the social life,
the clubs and sports of the city, and its beautiful park planted
with English trees. The Avon flows through it, with its riverside
houses whose lawns slope down to the banks; there are willows 50
overhanging the water and swans swimming about, and the whole
scene might be taken for a quiet backwater on the Thames. It is 51
often said that emigrants from Britain carry a piece of their
homeland with them; there can be no better illustration of this
than Christchurch and Dunedin.
The cathedral, the parks and gardens and beautiful residences
show us one side of English life; but Christchurch has another
side. Its people are not idle. We see here warehouses, offices,
and busy factories, as befits the chief centre of the whole
Canterbury district. In one respect, however, it differs from
the other large cities of New Zealand; it is not on the sea.
We shall see its trade and shipping at Lyttelton, seven miles 52
away by rail. Lyttelton lies on an arm of the sea to the north
of the Banks Peninsula, a volcanic mass breaking the line of 53
the long smooth coast, just as the Otago Peninsula at Dunedin.
But the activities of the two cities are not the same: Dunedin,
the outlet of the coal and gold-mining area of Otago, has its
School of Mines, as well as of medicine and other subjects;
while Christchurch, the city of the fertile plain, in addition
to a great engineering department, has its Lincoln Agricultural
College. Here are the college buildings, and here we see some of 54
the students at practical work, threshing wheat in the fields. 55
Thus we see a contrast which is purely geographical reflected in
the world of education.
If we follow the great plain northwards from Christchurch, we
shall find that it narrows gradually and comes to an end at last,
against the seaward range of the Kaikoura Mountains. Our road
north is stopped, but we can follow the railway north-westward
to Springfield; thence we go by coach, over the Alps through
Arthur’s Pass and down the Otira Gorge, until we strike the short
railway which will take us to Greymouth and the west coast. This
is the only coach road over the Alps, and we can learn much in
the course of our exciting forty mile run.
We climb up, by a twisting road, over open slopes covered with
brown tussock grass. Here and there we pass a mountain tarn,
and all the time above us are purple mountains capped with 56
dazzling fields of snow. We cross the saddle at the summit of
the pass, 3000 feet above the sea, and then plunge down through
a deep cañon gorge, following the narrow bed of a mountain 57
stream. Instead of the open mountain side, all around us are
high fern-clad cliffs, steep slopes and dense forest, all ablaze
in summer with the scarlet rata blossom. We have seen, on our
short journey, the east and the west countries, in the sharpest
possible contrast. Soon, the rail-heads on either side will be
linked, and a rush through miles of dark tunnel will take the
place of the splendid drive on the coach, though doubtless many
will still prefer the road to the rail.
From Greymouth another line of rail and coach will take us
through another famous gorge on a zigzag course to Nelson on
Tasman Bay. We realise that communication in this part of the
island is very difficult, and we shall find that the isolation of
the different areas of settlement has been an important factor in
the political development of New Zealand.
Greymouth, on a small artificial harbour at the mouth of the
river, carries on a trade in gold, coal, and timber; Westport,
further north, owes its existence mainly to coal, though there
are also gold mines in the country behind it. Hokitika, which we
can reach by a short railway journey, southward from Greymouth,
is also the outlet of a gold district. The coal in this district
of Westland is of good quality, and some day may give rise to a
large industrial population; at present it is mined chiefly for
export. Here we see the little township of Brunner, with its 58
coal mines; notice the forest and mountain in the background.
Round Nelson there is a strip of sheltered lowland noted for its
agriculture and fruit growing; as it was easily reached, and near
the line of traffic through Cook Strait, the district with its
fertile soil and mild climate was one of the earliest to attract
settlers. Here is a view of Nelson on its little plain ringed in 59
by bare hills.
The mountainous north-east corner of the island, now the district
of Marlborough, was difficult of access; so for a long time it
had no separate existence, but was merely part of the larger 60
province of Nelson; but now we may reach it easily by steamer and
might spend many days exploring the inner coast and bays of the
Sounds which penetrate deeply into the land. These Sounds are
different from those which we visited in the south-west of the
island. They are broad, lake-like expanses of calm water, backed
by forested hill slopes, with here and there clearings and farms
near the water’s edge. The early whalers established themselves
here, and to-day it is a favourite haunt of the yachtsmen. Here
is a view of part of Pelorus Sound. 61
If we look at the structure of the island, we now see that there
were three detached areas favourable for early settlement; Nelson
in the north, Canterbury in the middle, and Otago in the south.
All these were occupied separately, between the years 1840 and
1850, and the only means of communication between them was by
sea. We can understand why at first these districts formed
independent Provinces, each with its own local Parliament.
Indeed, for a few years, even the southern part of Otago enjoyed
a separate existence as Southland. The provinces still remain as
provincial districts for certain purposes of local government,
though Westland, between the Alps and the sea, has been split off
from Canterbury, and Marlborough, as we have noted, from Nelson.
Among the cities Christchurch and Dunedin still stand alone with
over sixty thousand inhabitants and two of the colleges of the
University of New Zealand; while the greater part of the trade
of the island passes through their ports. The districts behind
them also contain the great majority of the sheep reared in the
island. Next in importance to these cities is Invercargill, with
less than twenty thousand inhabitants; while no other town has
more than ten thousand. These numbers may seem small to us, but
we must remember that they are large in proportion to the total
population of New Zealand, which, including the Maoris, was less
than a million in 1906. In Christchurch, in addition to the
Cathedral and University College, we find a Supreme Court of the
Dominion; and here we may see also the old Provincial Council
Buildings, a remnant of the former system of government.
Though these capital cities have attracted relatively large
populations, yet there is not that enormous concentration of
life and wealth in a single city which we noticed in some of
the Australian States. The sea is partly responsible for this.
The population tends to scatter in a fringe along the coasts,
since the natural means of access to the agricultural and
mining districts of the interior is from the nearest point on
the sea-board. There is no great concentration of routes at
any one point, and though Christchurch and Dunedin have a long
start, many of the smaller towns are growing rapidly, through
the development of the areas behind them. As we have seen, the
whole structure of the country is against concentration, and
the scattering of the population may become more rather than
less marked as the newer districts are opened up from the coast
inwards. The geographical conditions which controlled early
settlement are still operative to-day.
We have treated of the settlement of South Island as though
the first settlers found the country uninhabited and were
free to develop its resources as seemed best to them, with
no difficulties in the way except those due to climate and
structure. We have made no mention of the aborigines for the good
reason that less than five per cent. of them are to be found in
South Island; so that the native problem has never been of a
serious character. The chief attraction for the Maoris lay in
the greenstone for their weapons which the island provided; and
though they had a few settlements on the coast, their number was
too small to form any real obstacle to white occupation.
The character of the climate alone would give sufficient ground
for their avoidance of the island, as they were a race of
immigrants from the warmer regions to the north; also, as we
shall see later, the structure of the country was not well suited
to their habits of life. The case is very different when we come
to deal with North Island; we shall find the Maori there a very
important element in the history of its development. On our way
from Nelson we shall pass through the narrow channel between
Rangitoto Island and the mainland, where we shall probably meet
“Pelorus Jack,” the huge pilot fish, or rather dolphin, who
regularly escorts vessels through the strait. He is protected
by Act of Parliament, and is so well known that he has become 62
a subject of Maori legends. A short steam from Pelorus Sound
across Cook Strait brings us to North Island and within sight of
Wellington.
LECTURE VII
NEW ZEALAND--NORTH ISLAND
We may remember noticing, in our first survey, that Cook Strait
was much shallower than the surrounding seas, and that there
was an evident connexion between the North and South Islands 1
of New Zealand. The strait at one point is narrower than the
Strait of Dover, and the connexion between the two sides is
still more clear when we look at the structure of the land. The
parallel ranges of the Kaikoura Mountains, which we saw in the
north-east corner of South Island, reappear on the other side
of the strait. We can trace the continuation of the seaward
Kaikouras in detached fragments of highland along the east coast
of North Island; while inland there runs an unbroken range from
the coast at Wellington right up to Cape Runaway at the eastern
corner of the Bay of Plenty. So we have a backbone in North
Island as well as in South Island, but on the eastern instead of
the western side. The result is that the plains on the east are
smaller than those in South Island. There is one of these plains
behind Wellington and another south of Napier; the railway runs
through them and connects up a whole string of small agricultural
towns. North of Napier there is no railway, and the country is
hilly or mountainous with few settlements. The whole arrangement
is similar to that which we have seen in South Island, and is
equally dependent on the position and structure of the main
mountain backbone. Napier lies at the mouth of an estuary, while 2
Wellington, the only good port in the south of the island, is in
a drowned river valley, running up between the seaward spurs
of the hills and sheltered by them from the gusty winds of Cook
Strait.
As we steam in from the sea we might well imagine that we were
entering one of the fiords of South Island. The hills come down 3,4
to the water’s edge so that the city which they shelter is 5
somewhat crowded and cramped for space. The old settlement was
on a terrace up the hill; but a modern port must be close to the
water-level, so the wharves and warehouses are built largely on 6
land reclaimed from the foreshore. In fact, the foundations are
piles driven into the mud, and the buildings in the pictures
before us seem to be growing out of the water. Here is the
passenger wharf with our steamer, and beyond it the town in the 7
early morning haze. From the tower of the Customs House we can
obtain a good idea of the business part of the city. On one side
of us are tall buildings, offices, and warehouses; on the other 8
are factories, sheds, and railway sidings, with the harbour and 9
shipping beyond.
It would be a rather ugly city except for the terraced hill in
the background, where we find some of the finest buildings. If we
look closely at some of these, we may be struck by a remarkable
feature in their construction; many of them are made entirely of
wood. The chief reason for this was the fear of the earthquakes
to which the whole of this district is subject. Here is another
curious result of the same thing. We see a fine cricket-ground,
on which a match is in progress between Australian and New
Zealand teams: the ground is in the Basin Reserve, which was 10
originally intended for a dock but was raised in level during
the great earthquake of 1848. The Government offices are said to
be the largest wooden buildings in the world; notice the curious 11
style of the architecture and contrast it with some of the many
public buildings of stone which we saw in Australia. Even the
Houses of Parliament are of wood. Parliament meets here, since
Wellington is now the capital and seat of Government for the
whole Dominion. The present meeting place is the old Government 12
House, since the former Parliamentary Buildings were burnt down
in the summer of 1907. Only a fragment of them remains, chiefly
the library which we see in this picture; the marble statue in 13
front is that of John Ballance, a former Premier of New Zealand.
Wellington, by its position, is a natural centre for politics and
for trade, whether across the ocean or round the coasts; it is
the chief port of the island and the starting point of a whole
system of railways which has grown outward from it. As a trading
centre, Auckland comes a good second, and Lyttelton third.
We have noticed already the railway to Napier, which reminded us 14
somewhat of that in the Canterbury district. The lines running
to the north and north-west carry us into an entirely new type
of country, and before following them up we must look carefully
at the build of the island on the other side of the mountain
backbone. Here our experience of South Island will help us
little. Instead of a gentle uniform slope to the ocean, we find
a confused and bewildering structure. The mountain ranges in the
long northern neck and in the Coromandel Peninsula, with its
continuing islands, run from north-west to south-east, almost
at right angles to our main dividing range. In the broader part
of the island these ranges disappear, and we have a broken
plateau in the region round Lake Taupo with short ranges lying
on it in irregular fashion. We may notice that rivers radiate
from this centre in every direction except the east. Finally,
in the south-west corner, we see an isolated and symmetrical
mountain block. The forces at work here seem to have been very
different from those which shaped the long ridges of South
Island. The Taupo district will give us the key to the whole: it
is volcanic and contains active cones, geysers, and hot springs
in great number. There is another contrast: in the south and
west of the island we have no fiords or inlets, but long, smooth
coasts hollowed out into bights; whereas the north is made up of
islands, inlets, and peninsulas. We shall see later that these
differences in structure have more than a purely geographical
interest, since they have had a most marked influence on the
settlement and history of the island.
[Illustration: NORTH ISLAND: POLITICAL.]
Let us now start on our journey by rail and observe the country
as we pass rapidly through it. At first we travel through open
lands with many prosperous-looking farms. Then, as we turn
northward on the main trunk line, the scenery gradually changes;
there are rugged hills, plateaus with steep broken edges, and
rivers running at the bottom of narrow gorges. The whole face of
the country looks disturbed and unfinished, and becomes wilder
and more desolate as we approach the volcanic district in the
centre. At Waiouru, we leave the train and mount a coach which
jolts us sadly over the rough roads. From the station, looking
northward, we can see in the distance the great cone of Ruapehu,
with slopes of dark purple and a dazzling cap of snow upon the 15
summit. Beyond it are other cones, one of which, Ngauruhoe, we
see here; and below us, as we drive along, is the Wangaehu, a 16
narrow stream flowing in a dark grey bed, its waters heavily
charged with sulphur. Further on is the Waikiti, at the bottom of
a deep chasm.
As we draw near to Lake Taupo we notice here and there puffs of
steam rising from the scrub at the side of the road, and on the
roadway we meet Maoris, tattered and dirty looking. Here we see
two of them meeting and saluting one another by touching noses. 17
At last we drive on to the jetty at Tokaanu at the southern end
of the lake. There are more Maoris here and on the steam launch
which is to take us to the other end. Taupo lies right up on the
central volcanic plateau, and we are about to visit part of the
great geyser region a short distance from its northern end. It
is the largest of the lakes of New Zealand, and is interesting
not so much for its beauty, as it has little, but for its close
connexion with Maori history. Here is a view of the lake looking 18
back towards Tokaanu and the volcanic range of mountains.
A short drive from the landing place at the northern end brings
us to Wairakei, where we walk down a pleasant green valley to
view the geysers. First we visit the Champagne Pool, a little 19
lake with steep red walls and deposits of white silica on the
lower rocks. Here the water is always bubbling and spouting at
a temperature above boiling point. The deposits of silica often
form beautiful terraces: the most famous in the world were at
Rotomahana, not far from Lake Rotorua which lies at the north
end of our district. Here are two pictures of the Rotomahana 20
terraces; notice the people bathing in the hot pools. These great 21
terraces were destroyed by the eruption of Mount Tarawera in
1886, but there are many smaller formations of the same kind to
be seen in the district. Here, for instance, is one gradually 22
being built up round the Twin Geysers.
Further down the valley we come to the great Wairakei Geyser
which plays for three minutes and then is quiet for eleven. Here
is a distant view from the opposite bank of the river; and here 23
we see the geyser at work with great vigour. Notice the curious
projection in the foreground of the last picture; it is the trunk 24
of a tree, petrified by the deposit of silica, which is not
white here but pale coffee-colour. There is a rainbow, too, in
the vapour above, which is unfortunately beyond the capacity of
our camera. Other smaller geysers are all round us with deposits
of claret-colour, black and yellow, due to the different salts
dissolved in the hot water. The ground shakes with the explosions
of steam beneath us, and everywhere is heat and vapour; yet all
the time the cold waters of the Wairakei River are flowing by
within a few feet of us. Scattered over the valley are beautiful
lakes and pools of different colours. Here is one of them, the
Blue Lake, lying in a corner of an old crater; the perpendicular 25
walls which form the bank in front of us are white striped with
orange.
Everywhere in this district volcanic agencies have changed the
face of nature. In one part we find long stretches of grey
pumice plains, with no vegetation but dusty brown fern. In
another part, great deposits of sulphur have been laid down over 26
the earth. It is a country with a beauty of its own, but more
attractive to the tourist than to the colonist and settler.
It still remains a barrier separating the centres of white
settlement and only recently crossed by the trunk line of railway.
It was in this wild country, to which the rail and coach now
bring curious visitors from all parts of the world, that not many
years ago the Maoris made their last stand against British power.
East and west of the lake is the King country of which we hear
much in history; except for the tourist it is still in the main
left to the Maoris.
In Australia, as we have seen, the real obstacles to settlement
were the climate and the character of the country; the aborigines
were pushed back into the wilder districts or simply crushed out
of existence by the civilisation of the white man. Not so the
Maori: he has been a very important element in the life of New
Zealand, whether as friend or enemy of the white invader, from
the time of the earliest settlers--the whalers of Cook Strait,
and the traders, boat-builders, and missionaries of the Bay
of Islands which lies on the east coast of the long northern
peninsula. The British have been settled in New Zealand barely
three-quarters of a century, as the proclamation of annexation
dates only from 1840; while the Maori has been in possession for
five or six centuries at least and shows no disposition to be
crowded out. He was, when first we met him, on a far higher level
than the aborigines of Australia.
Who, then, are the Maoris? They are a brown race, a race of
seamen who came in their long double canoes from the islands to
the north and settled along the neck of North Island--the Fish
of Maui as they called it--and at Otago and some few other
points in South Island. They brought with them their island
customs, especially the division into families and clans which
were always fighting among themselves. In New Zealand they found
all the materials for their usual mode of existence: timber for
their houses and sea-going canoes, native flax for the weaving
of clothes, stones for their weapons, as they had no knowledge
of metals; and fish everywhere in the rivers, lakes, and seas.
So here they built their houses, with little patches of garden
for their few vegetables, while the surrounding country was the
common possession of the clan, whence they added roots, berries,
and wild birds to the larder. Everywhere, in the best positions
for defence, were dotted about their fortified enclosures, or 27
pahs, in which they took refuge in the numerous clan feuds. Their
religion consisted of a kind of fetichism, and their whole life
was subject to the principle of _tapu_, or taboo as we commonly
spell it, a principle common over all this part of the Pacific,
and among savage races elsewhere. The Maoris were chivalrous
fighters, eloquent orators, and careful preservers of the
traditions of their past history. Such was the race which, in the
nineteenth century, contested the settlement of the island with
us.
Here is a portrait of a chief showing the method of tattooing 28
the face. Here again we see him with his _taiaha_, or staff of
office: he looks civilised enough now; in fact, dressed as he 29
is, he might be mistaken for an Englishman, but doubtless he was
very different in the old days. He is nearly ninety years old,
and so must have seen the settlement and fighting almost from
the very beginning. The building behind the group is a meeting
house of the usual Maori shape, though the galvanised iron roof
seems scarcely to agree with the elaborate ornamentation of
the woodwork. Notice the curious scroll carving on the fetich
pillars: it is a favourite design among the Maoris and appears
also in the tattooing of their bodies.
We see the Maori here in European dress and we find him entering
Parliament and the learned professions, or becoming a successful
farmer and grazier in every way as civilised as ourselves. But
he is not anxious to be a mere imitator of the white man, as
he is intensely proud of his own race and past history. In the
remoter districts he still clings to his ancient fashion of life.
Here is a typical group, in native dress, and here is the simple 30
private house of a chief. Again we have an interesting portrait 31
of the daughter of a chief, holding her father’s heavy staff; her 32
curious dress is largely made up of the feathers of the wingless
Kiwi, which we have already seen.
The Maori dances are among the most interesting of their social
customs. We may perhaps see the _haka_, a survival of the 33
old war-dance, performed by half-clad warriors. It is now a
ceremonial dance of welcome. Very different is the _poi_, the 34
pretty action-dance and song of women and girls, which we may
see in the dancing-house of any native village. We notice that
the costumes of the dancers are made up of native flax and
feathers. The chief native sport is the canoe race, as the water
is everything to the Maori. Here is one of the huge dug-out war 35
canoes, hewn from a single tree-trunk, and now becoming somewhat
rare; and here again we see his canoe used to mark the grave of 36
a chief.
We are now in the district south of the Bay of Plenty and near
Lake Rotorua, which we reach by a railway running up the valley
of the Thames. Here is a typical scene. In the group before us a 37
woman is smoking a pipe; we may often see the same thing among
the peasants of Ireland. Down below, a crowd of Maori children 38
are bathing in the stream, while the tourists watch them from
the bridge. The place is called Whakarewarewa, a name rather
difficult to pronounce. This is the northern end of the geyser
district, which we have already visited. Here we see the tourists 39
again, with their cameras, waiting for the great Wairoa Geyser
to start; and here is the geyser playing. Not far away are some 40
Maori women cooking by the steam heat provided by nature. 41
The centre of this region is Lake Rotorua, calm and cold,
while all around on its banks are hot springs, geysers and
boiling mud-holes. Here, where a few years ago was only bush,
or primitive village, a fine modern town has sprung up for the 42
benefit of the tourist in search of beautiful scenery, or the
invalid coming to the health-giving waters. Not far away is
another lake, Rotomahana, in a huge basin formed by the eruption 43
which destroyed the famous terraces. Here we may enjoy the
strange experience of boating on boiling water, with the geysers
working all around us. Volcanic activity is everywhere in this
wonderful country, and it is only natural that round it have
gathered countless Maori legends.
We can easily understand the fondness of the Maoris for the
water. They were a race of islanders and fishermen, never really
happy unless their houses were built close to the water’s edge.
This determined their mode of settlement; they only took to the
dry land of the interior as a refuge from their enemies. So we
found them, when first we entered the island, scattered along the
narrow part of the Fish, where are bays and inlets in abundance,
and along the coasts of the Bay of Plenty and the Taranaki Bight.
Lake, river, and marsh were their dwelling places; and when we
find them established of their own will in the interior, it is
on the banks of Lake Taupo, a small sea in their eyes. The white
settler wanted, in the main, the drier districts for his farms
and cattle, that is, the parts of least value to the Maori;
but none the less, settlement was not effected without a
generation of trouble and a long period of petty warfare.
[Illustration:
_Copyright._) (_See page 105._
OLD GOVERNMENT HOUSE: WELLINGTON.]
[Illustration:
_Copyright._) (_See page 116._
RAPIDS ON THE WAIKATO.]
[Illustration:
_Copyright._) (_See page 108._
GREAT WAIRAKEI GEYSER.]
[Illustration:
_Copyright._) (_See page 111._
A CHIEF’S DAUGHTER.]
Down to 1830, except for the missionaries, the Maoris knew us
chiefly through the trading ships which visited the islands,
and the few white men, not real settlers, who lived the life of
the natives and sometimes took part in their clan feuds. The
main occupation of the Maoris was fighting among themselves; and
it was the petition of some chiefs in the Bay of Islands for
protection from another clan which first led to the dispatch of a
British official from New South Wales. This official had no real
power and depended for his information as to the natives entirely
on the missionary interpreters. Then a Frenchman intervened, and
in 1835 proclaimed himself sovereign of New Zealand, apparently
on the strength of some land which he had bought years before at
Hokianga. This led to a league of the northern tribes, headed by
the missionaries, which demanded British protection.
Next we hear of a French bishop setting up a mission at Hokianga,
and a French syndicate buying land in Banks Peninsula, in 1838;
while the English Land Company, started by Gibbon Wakefield,
dispatched its first batch of colonists in the next year. As the
result of these movements, the British Government was forced
to take action, and the Governor of New South Wales promptly
proclaimed our authority over the whole of New Zealand. His
agent, Captain Hobson, concluded the Treaty of Waitangi, at the
Bay of Islands, in 1840; by this agreement the native chiefs
recognised British suzerainty. South Island was occupied just
in time, as Hobson’s officers reached the Banks Peninsula only
four days in advance of a French warship and party of French
colonists. So that it was really France which hurried us on to
the effective occupation of New Zealand.
The later history of our relations with the natives all hinges
on the land question. The New Zealand Company, and many private
speculators as well, bargaining through interpreters, believed
that they had bought enormous areas of land for a mere nothing:
the Maoris imagined that they had sold very little. Moreover,
it was very doubtful who really had the power to sell the land,
since the waste lands of the Maoris were all held in common.
To settle the disputes the Home Government sent out a special
Commissioner who decided that most of the bargains could not be
allowed to stand. Even so the Maoris found it hard to appreciate
our ideas as to sale and possession of land. There was endless
trouble until Sir George Grey was sent over from South Australia
in 1845, learnt the native language, and reduced both sides
to order. For comparatively small sums he succeeded in buying
gradually those parts of the country which were most essential
to the white settlers, while leaving plenty for the support of
the original inhabitants; for we must remember that the Maoris
were very few in proportion to the area of the country. Grey was
popular with the Maoris, and when he left, in 1855, the country
was fairly well organised.
But the land question was not yet finally settled. In 1857, the
Maoris tried to federate under a native king, the main object
of the association being to oppose the further sale of land to
the white settlers. The whole of Central Maoriland, east and
west of Lake Taupo, was unfriendly to us. The trouble came to a
head over a land claim in the Taranaki district, and the result
was over ten years of raids and casual fighting which could
hardly be called organised war, since it moved from district
to district, and the different tribes had no common policy or
unity. As the sections were subdued from time to time, the usual
penalty inflicted was confiscation of land; so that by 1870
the whole of the coast strip, from the north of Hawkes Bay
round by Wellington to the Mokau River on the west, was in our
possession. So, too, was all the land on both sides of the Lower
Waikato, and a narrow fringe along the Bay of Plenty. Thus there
was practically a ring fence put round Central Maoriland, and
until quite recently there was no connexion between Wellington
and Auckland across this isolated block. Sir George Grey, who
had returned as Governor, in 1861, was largely responsible for
laying down the lines on which the Maori problem was finally and
successfully solved.
One interesting result of the war was that Wellington became
the capital instead of Auckland. Auckland was the original
settlement, moved from the Bay of Islands in 1842, and marked
out by Hobson as the future capital. By its position it divided
the tribes of the north from those of the south, and this was a
great advantage in the early days of settlement. Port Nicholson,
later Wellington, was founded in the same year by colonists of
the New Zealand Company; while New Plymouth, in Taranaki, was
settled in 1841. So we have three original and contemporary
settlements, Hawkes Bay being split off from Wellington later.
We have already seen a similar process in South Island. After
1865, the population of South Island increased very rapidly,
until it exceeded that of North Island, while the Maoris in the
latter were thought to be as numerous as the white people. It was
inevitable that the capital should be brought nearer the centre
of power of the white population, and so, in 1865, Wellington was
chosen as the capital by a committee of Australians to which the
question was referred.
We have seen the importance of the Taupo district in past
history, and how throughout, as in South Island, the structure
of the country has profoundly influenced its development and
the relations of the settlers with the Maoris. If instead of
travelling up the trunk line of railway we had continued along
the coast to New Plymouth, we should have realised the meaning
of the purchase and confiscation of the narrow strip all round.
We noticed before how the rivers radiate from the Taupo district
in three directions to the sea; but in their upper courses they
are of no use, since they flow between forest-clad hills, in
deep gorges, where the stream is often broken by rapids, such as 44
we see here, on the Upper Waikato. The river up here does not
seem to be of much value for navigation, and though the scenery
is beautiful the river valley is not attractive to the settler.
Lower down it is different.
We may reach the coast by following the line of the Wanganui,
the most beautiful river in New Zealand. For scores of miles we
rush down, in the little launch. In one reach the river is swift
but smooth, running between sloping, densely forested banks; in
another steep fern-clad cliffs close in to form a gorge through 45
which the water foams and swirls in rapids. Above, we may catch 46
sight of a Maori village; all the way down we meet canoes, slowly
poling against the swift current; while lively parties of Maoris
board us at every landing. Below Pipiriki the scenery changes,
and near the sea we pass through open level country dotted with
sheep and dairy farms, and these are steadily pushing the forest
rim further back. Along the coast strip there is a whole string
of small agricultural towns which suggest to us that the country
round is of great value to the farmer. It is the same all the
way to New Plymouth which lies under the shadow of Mount Egmont,
a huge detached volcanic cone. Everywhere, in the clearings by
the railway, are prosperous-looking dairy farms, the Taranaki
district being specially famous for the quantity and quality of
its dairy produce. Why is this so? The district is warm, it is
also moist, as it lies on the west coast; in fact Mount Egmont
enjoys the heaviest rainfall in the whole island. Here is a farm 47
in Taranaki with the mountain in the distance, and here we have 48
a near view of the great cone.
The economic progress of North Island, so far as we have seen 49
it, has consisted largely in the occupation of the lowlands near
the river mouths, and the gradual clearing of the forest further
inland--a rather different forest from that of South Island,
since the climate is warmer and drier. To open up the country for
farming we had to reduce the hunting grounds of the Maori, and
even to drain, in spite of his opposition, some of his favourite
marshes. As a result of the settlement we find in the south-east,
south and south-west, butter, wool, meat and timber produced in
large quantities; while in the centre we have nothing but the
scenery and some forest as yet untouched.
If we think of the products which are most valuable to New
Zealand at the present day, we shall find that with the exception
of timber they have been introduced from abroad by the white
settlers and were unknown to the Maoris. But the marshland, dear
to the Maori heart, produces one plant which was necessary to
the natives in the past and is still very useful to us. This is
the New Zealand flax, though it is more like hemp than the flax
from which linen is made in the northern hemisphere. The Maoris
wove the fibre of this plant into clothes. Here we see the long 50
blade-like leaves being cut in the swamp; we follow it to the
mills where it is unloaded and sorted into lengths. Inside the
mill it is put through various processes until the fibre finally
appears as a rope or bale of fine white twine ready for the 51
market. In this form it is sent from the mill all over the world
and commands prices as high as Manila hemp with which perhaps we
are more familiar.
We will now leave the south and pay a short visit to the
northern districts. Here the conditions are somewhat different.
There is gold to be found at the base of the Coromandel
Peninsula, and it is mined largely from the quartz rock, not
merely washed from the alluvium as in South Island. This has led
to the growth of a group of small mining towns. There is coal,
too, in the basin of the Waikato and in the districts north of
Auckland. The presence of these minerals in itself would lead us
to expect a difference between the north and south of the island;
but the difference extends further, to the vegetable products of
the soil. We are moving out of the west wind region into the zone
where, as in Victoria, the greater part of the rain falls in the
mild winter, and the summer is dry and hot though tempered by the
nearness of the sea. It is a land where the orange and the vine
grow well, in great contrast to the cool and moist region in the
south of South Island. Many people find the change from Auckland
to Dunedin or Invercargill very trying to the constitution.
North Auckland has its forests, but they are different from those
of the south, for here and here alone grows the Kauri pine. Here 52
is pictured the life of the tree. First we see it growing proudly 53
in the forest; next the lumbermen are at work on the huge trunk; 54
finally the logs are hauled away, and at any of the little ports
of the peninsula we may see the timber ships loading; here, for
instance, is a Norwegian sailing ship taking in a cargo for 55
Liverpool. The Kauri pine is responsible too for a curious local
industry. The forests of the past have left masses of gum buried
in the swamps, and many labourers are employed in spearing or
digging for it. They become very expert in finding likely spots
in which to probe. Here we have a group of Croatian diggers ready 56
to set out for the day’s work; notice the long slender spears
which they carry and the great swamp saw for digging out the
gum. We may see them scraping the gum and then follow them home
in the evening over the desolate plain to their primitive camp. 57
It is a strange industry carried on by these foreigners, and the
life seems hard, but the resin is one of the most useful for
making our varnishes.
We have already noticed the great number of bays and inlets along
the long northern neck of the island. In the far north is the
Bay of Islands, the site of the earliest settlement, represented 58
now only by the small town of Russell. Fifty miles further south
we have the deep inlet of Whangarei Harbour, where a port and
a short railway line mark the presence of coal in the country
behind. Finally, on Waitemata Harbour, a western arm of the wide
Hauraki Gulf, stands Auckland, the former capital and still the 59
largest town in New Zealand. The population of the city with its
suburbs is now over a hundred thousand. Only eight miles away by
rail is Onehunga, on Manukau Harbour, a gulf almost landlocked 60
but opening into the waters of the Tasman Sea.
The best way to appreciate Auckland is to approach it from the
sea. As we steam along the coast from the north, on our left is
the curiously shaped Rangitoto Island, an extinct volcano; on
our right is a long peninsula, with two low rounded hills, also
volcanic, joined together by a low neck of land on which stands
the suburb of Devonport. Across this neck we get a brief glimpse
of the city standing on two groups of small hills with narrow
valleys running down to the harbour between them. Then we turn
round the North Head and suddenly the whole bay, two miles broad,
opens out before us. On our left are the residential suburbs of
Remuera and Parnell, with houses and gardens running down to the
water’s edge; further up the bay is the main city with its long
quays busy with traffic, and large steamers anchored in the deep
channel. Beyond are more suburbs, and we can follow the winding
inlet for fifteen miles through beautiful scenery which reminds
us somewhat of Port Jackson. On the north side again another
city is growing up, so that Auckland seems to be built round a
great lake, open at the two ends. The air is clear and free from
smoke and everywhere the sparkling blue water reflects the bright
sunshine. Here we see Auckland, looking across the water from 61
Devonport, and here we look down on it from Mount Victoria. 62
[Illustration: AUCKLAND.]
Auckland, for its beauty, has been styled the Naples of the
South, and, like Naples, it has its volcanoes. We have noticed
some of these already, and in the neighbouring country over sixty
small cones, such as the one before us, can be counted within a 63
radius of ten miles. Even the hills on which the city stands are
partly built up of volcanic debris. Fortunately for Auckland the
volcanoes are no longer active, and it lacks also the picturesque
dirt and squalor of Naples. It is modern, clean and prosperous.
It has also something more than beautiful scenery to recommend
it. Though it suffered in some ways by the removal of the capital
to Wellington, it is still, and is likely to remain the chief
port-of-call in the Dominion. It is near to Sydney and is the
natural centre for the trade of the neighbouring Pacific islands.
It is the last port of departure for vessels sailing between
Australia and America; and when the Panama Canal is finished, it
will stand on the shortest route from the eastern United States
to Sydney and Melbourne, and an alternative route to the Suez
Canal for the United Kingdom and the whole of Western Europe. It
is the chief link connecting New Zealand with the outer world,
and a fit point of departure for our final cruise among the
islands to the north.
LECTURE VIII
FIJI AND THE WESTERN PACIFIC
We started our tour with the great continental land-mass of
Australia; we shall end it with a visit to some of the many
hundred scattered islands of the Pacific which are under British 1
control and protection. North-east from Auckland, for a thousand
miles, we steam through the open ocean, sighting no land except
perhaps the lonely Kermadec Islands, which are, as we have seen,
attached to the Government of New Zealand, until we reach the
fringe of the many groups of coral islands and reefs which fill
so much of the Western Pacific. We shall touch first at Tonga
Tabu, the southernmost and largest of the Friendly Islands, as
Captain Cook called them, which lie just north of the Tropic of
Capricorn and rather more than halfway round the globe eastward
from London.
At Auckland we left behind us hills and fiords; on our right as
we enter this group is the small but high volcanic island of Eua,
the only one in the whole group which contains a river; the main
island, Tonga Tabu, or Holy Tonga, lies on our left, and has a
very different aspect. A low mass, green with what prove to be
coconut palms, rises out of white surf and spray breaking over
reefs of coral rock. We round a low headland and thread our way
through winding channels among the reefs; on one side is the
low mainland, on the other a string of green islets capping the
reefs. After anchoring in the roadstead for a visit from the 2
doctor we are hauled alongside the little ferro-concrete wharf.
Beyond is a picturesque white town, Nukualofa, the capital of the 3
island.
At the wharf half the population seems to be gathered to meet us.
Some are clothed, native fashion, in the famous Polynesian mats
or in the bark-cloth called _tapa_, or even in cotton; others are
in European dress. The town with its white houses and verandas
looks quite civilised. The inhabitants remind us of the New
Zealand Maoris, though their colour is somewhat lighter; in fact,
both peoples belong to the same great family, the Polynesians, or
light-brown people of the Pacific, which is spread over many of
the island groups which lie to the north-east and east of Tonga.
It is this race which roused the admiration of early voyagers in
these regions, both for its physical appearance and its character.
The Friendly Islands, though a British Protectorate, and, as
regards all matters in which European interests are involved,
under the jurisdiction of the High Commissioner of the Pacific,
still have a native king and Parliament. The inhabitants are
Christians, and are in a sense the most school-taught people in
the Pacific. They seem to delight especially in mathematics and
music, while shorthand is their usual method of writing. Tonga
was the last of the independent kingdoms to come under European
control. It was left to us as the result of our negotiations
with Germany, at the end of the nineteenth century, and is now
practically an integral part of our Empire in the Pacific. During
the fifty years before we assumed control, it had made rather
remarkable progress, under its native ruler, King George Tubou
I., in the adoption, or perhaps the imitation, of Western ideas.
This was largely due to the Wesleyan missionaries, and especially
to the work of one missionary who occupied the post of Prime
Minister.
We will now land and pay a call on the father of the present 4
king. He receives us in civilised fashion on the veranda of
his house, but we notice that chairs are provided only for the
guests; the rest sit on the ground in native fashion. A bowl of
_kava_ is brewed for us by pounding, squeezing and straining
out the juice of a root of a plant belonging to the family of
the pepper-worts. It is the native substitute for alcohol, the
use of which by any but white people is strictly forbidden in
Tonga. Without _kava_ drinking, no social ceremony is considered
complete, even to-day; and it has played an important part in the
political and religious gatherings of the past.
Let us now look round the island. It is only about thirty miles (2)
long and ten wide, shaped rather like the human foot, with two
bays running far inland in the broadest part. The streets and
the sea front of Nukualofa are mostly covered with short grass,
and the town is partly hidden in the groves of coconut palms.
It is the same all over the island. In the drier season we can
follow broad grass tracks, for the most part running round the
island; on both sides of us is a dense growth of palms, bananas,
and tropical trees, such as we see in the picture before us. 5
Everything is moist and green and flat; yet, in Tonga Tabu, as in
all the islands of this particular group, except Eua, we find no
rivers, since the island is merely a block of coral rock, with a
thin covering of rich soil, raised a few feet above the level of
the sea. It is a form of coral island very common in this part of
the Pacific.
We now leave Tonga Tabu for the northern islands of the group.
Our decks are crowded with passengers. The natives are fond of
travelling, and camp out on our vessel with a miscellaneous
collection of luggage and food, including a number of pigs. We
are bound for the Haapai Group, through a mass of small islets
and foaming reefs; but away to the west rise several lofty
volcanoes, some of which are still active. We are touching here
one of the great volcanic lines of the world, a line which we
have already seen continued in New Zealand. Off one of these
islands, Tofua, was the scene of the famous mutiny of the
_Bounty_.
We come to anchor on the leeward side of Haapai, at the one town,
called Lifuka. There is no wharf here, and we lie a long way from
the shore, as we see in this picture. We may land in the launch 6
or in one of the native boats which come out to meet us; and we 7
can survey the whole island in a short walk, as although it is
five miles long it is less than two miles wide at the point where
Lifuka stands. There is the same rich foliage and tropical fruit
as in Tonga Tabu, but if we cross the island to the windward
side we shall see a difference from our calm anchorage on the
west. Here the south-east Trade Wind is blowing on-shore and the
rollers are pounding incessantly and breaking into surf against 8
the coral rocks. It is a contrast which we find in most of the
islands in this region.
We must hurry on to Vavau, the most northerly of the three
main groups of the Friendly Islands. Here the main island is
hilly, with high limestone cliffs and ridges. It is the top
of a vast mass, heaved up by volcanic agency from the depths
of the Pacific. So we have Vavau Sound, studded with islands
and protected from the sea by cliffs and headlands running out
on either hand. Here is a view of the Sound; it may remind us 9
perhaps of a Scottish loch, until we notice the coconut trees
covering the hills and coming right down to the water’s edge.
Gradually the Sound narrows, and after a rather abrupt turn we
enter the landlocked harbour of Niafu, with its little wharf and 10
its group of houses buried in the trees. There are palms and
bananas here as in the other islands, but Vavau is especially the
home of the orange. The whole country round is a mass of orange
trees, and the ripe fruit strews the grassy roads on which we
walk. The picture is spoilt somewhat, especially near the town,
by the style of the buildings. There is timber from New Zealand
on the jetty, and the native grass and reed hut is giving place
to the wooden house with galvanised iron roof, which is ugly and
not well suited to the climate. The importance of Vavau lies in
its deep and safe harbour, in a part of the world where such are
somewhat rare.
Many of the islands of this part of the Pacific are often
inaccessible, even for small vessels. Here we have an interesting
method of landing on them; the figure in the water is a native 11
postman, who is swimming from our steamer to the island and
carrying the mails sealed up in a water-tight can. The natives
are fine swimmers and as much at home in the water as on the land.
From Vavau, we turn north-west, and after crossing about two
hundred miles of open ocean reach the Lau Islands. These are the
easternmost of the Fiji Islands and are, in Fiji, often spoken
of as the Windward Islands. Here is one of the islands of this
group: notice the white line of the fringing coral reef. 12
In this part of our voyage we follow the course of the Trade
Wind, as the Tongans have done for many generations, and the
missionaries after them. As a consequence of the easy voyage down
wind, the Tongans have had great influence on Fijian affairs in
the past; they even established for themselves a kingdom, in the
Lau Group, shortly before Fiji was taken over by Britain. Great
navigators though they were, they had less skill than the Fijians
in boat-building and carpentry; so they came to Fiji for their
canoes. In Fiji canoe-building is a hereditary occupation. In
former times they used great twin canoes, with a deck between;
but now the usual form is a single canoe with raised sides and a 13
solid outrigger, and carrying mat sails. This canoe is capable 14
of great speed, though it does not look very safe. It is giving
place now to boats of a European type.
The Fiji Islands, the most important group in this part of the 15
Pacific, are really the higher parts of a great bank in the
ocean; the bank is fringed by reefs and coral islands, and in the
middle is the Koro Sea, like a vast lagoon, with a wide opening
to the south. On the western side of the bank are the islands of
Viti Levu and Vanua Levu; these names, in the Fijian language,
mean respectively the “Great Viti” and the “Great Land.” These
two islands are by far the largest in the group. Both are
volcanic, with high mountains and long rivers, and are quite
different from the ordinary coral island.
We touch first at Ovalau, a small volcanic island eight miles
by six. It lies some fifteen miles off the nearest point of
Viti Levu, from which it is separated by shallow water much
interrupted by reefs. Here is a view from our steamer of one end 16
of Ovalau. We are approaching Levuka town, which stands on a
narrow strip of lowland hemmed in by a wall of mountains. Levuka 17
was one of the earliest settlements of the white traders, and
at a later period was the capital of the group; but we can see
that there is little room for expansion. So the capital has been
transferred to Suva, on the southern side of Viti Levu, where the
conditions are very different. Before leaving the island let us
have a glimpse of the western side. Here we see a typical coast 18
village; across the narrow strait is another island, and beyond
it in the distance rise the heights of the mainland.
On our way from Ovalau to Suva we pass near the tiny islet of
Bau, which is so near the mainland of Viti Levu that we can walk
almost dry-shod from one to the other at low tide. Bau, small as
it is, was once the stronghold of the most powerful of the Fijian
chiefs from which they long effectually resisted both Tongans
and Europeans. The importance of Bau has departed, but its chiefs
are still looked up to as the real aristocrats of the group, and
their way of talking is the standard for classical Fijian.
After passing Bau and the wide mouth of the Rewa River, we reach 19
Suva, which lies on the margin of a wide bay almost enclosed
by the protecting reef which we see in the foreground of the
picture. Inside the reef is a spacious and safe anchorage for
small or large vessels. Here is a panoramic view of the harbour; 20
and here are some native vessels; notice that their cargo 21
consists of bananas. The houses are partly hidden in the trees,
so that the streets are very different from our own. Here is a
street scene: notice that the women in the foreground are Hindus. 22
The Fijians are darker in colour than the Tongans, and many
still retain their strange national habit of wearing their hair
frizzed out in a huge mop. They differ from both of the two great
races of this part of the Pacific, from the Friendly Islanders
whom we saw to the east and from the Solomon Islanders whom we
shall presently see to the west. In fact, the Fijians are almost
certainly a mixture of these two races, with the addition of yet
other strains.
We should expect that the mode of life and the history of the
Fijians would differ from that of the inhabitants of the small
coral islands, since they have for their home a comparatively
large area of land with marked geographical peculiarities. Viti
Levu is over eighty miles from east to west and sixty from 23
north to south. It is a land of mountain and river; whereas the
ordinary coral island has no rivers worth the name. A range of
rugged mountains runs along the northern coast, at no great
distance from the sea, the highest point being Mount Victoria,
which rises to 4500 feet. It is from this part of the island that
the long rivers Rewa and Singatoka flow to the south-east, and
a smaller stream, the Ba, to the north-west. The third largest
river, the Navua, rises in other heights towards the south of the
island, which we shall visit later. Here is a scene on the Navua. 24
The Rewa is long and winding, but it is navigable for shallow
draught steamers for about forty miles from its mouth. The whole
of the south-eastern part of the island is wet and was originally
covered with forest; but the coast-lands to the north-west, under
the lee of the mountain ridges, are drier and more open, as we
may judge from this picture. We can look across the forest, with 25
its dense undergrowth of fern and creeper, and narrow trails
along which we walk, and see in the distance the outlines of 26
the jagged mountains of old volcanic rock. There are no active
volcanoes in the island, though hot springs in many parts show
that volcanic activity is not yet entirely exhausted. Here are 27
some of these springs.
[Illustration:
_Copyright._) (_See page 128._
BANANA BOATS: SUVA.]
[Illustration:
_Copyright._) (_See page 131._
COCONUT TREE.]
[Illustration:
_Copyright._) (_See page 133._
MAKING MATS: FIJI.]
Rivers have been an important element in the making of Fijian
history, since it is in the fertile soil of the river deltas that
the crops of the natives flourish best. Breadfruit and coconuts,
together with the roots of the taro and the spindle-shaped
yam form their principal food. The taro grows best in the wet
districts, or where there is running water; so that the natives
have long been familiar with simple methods of irrigation. These
staple foods are supplemented by many kinds of wild tropical
fruits and roots. The natives have pigs and fowls, but these are
kept for state occasions; fish is the only usual non-vegetable
food. The Fijians are clever fishermen, whether using the spear
or arrow or net, or the fish-fences which they build in the
estuaries of the rivers. In fact, the island provides them amply
with all the food which they need, though sometimes there is a
shortage as they lack means to preserve it. The taro and yams are
stored in earth-covered heaps, as we store potatoes; and some
of the vegetable food supply, especially breadfruit, is buried
in pits and used in a partially fermented state. Here we have a 28
formal presentation of food, yams and turtle and the _yangona_
root for making the native drink called here _yangona_ but
elsewhere _kava_. It is a typical Fijian scene.
The native is content to cultivate his patch of land with simple
implements, such as the digging stick, and is not anxious to work
harder than is necessary for his own needs. He is not very ready
to work for a European employer, while all his traditions, and
the communal system under which he lives, make it impossible for
the industrious individual to accumulate any private property.
The cultivation of produce for export is due to the initiative
of Europeans, and is largely carried on by the East Indian
immigrants who now form a very considerable element in the
population. We have already noticed the Hindu women in the
streets of Suva. For a few years, during the American Civil War,
Fiji exported excellent cotton, but at the present day its export
trade consists practically of sugar, copra or dried coconut,
and bananas. The sugar-cane is a native of the wet and fertile
lowlands of the deltas; but the cultivated kinds are mostly
introduced from elsewhere. We find the cane fields covering much
of the land along certain parts of the coast, and on the river
deltas of Viti Levu and Vanua Levu; and these are connected by
nearly two hundred miles of steam tramways, which carry the cane
to the centrally placed mills. Here is a view across the Rewa, 29
showing a sugar mill; inside the ugly buildings we find the
elaborate European machinery for extracting the juice from the 30
cane. Here again we are in the cane fields with Indian women at
work. It is all unlike the native agriculture, though it is very 31
profitable to Fiji, since sugar is the most valuable of all its
exports.
The coconut industry is far more picturesque; it is chiefly
confined to the south side of Vanua Levu and to Taveuni and the
other islands. The nut is grown for its kernel, which, when
dried, is called copra, and yields the coconut oil which we use
for various purposes. The tree grows everywhere in this region,
but does not flourish in Viti Levu owing to an insect pest which
seems peculiar to that island. The nut has always been much used
by the natives for food, but it is now carefully cultivated for
the production of copra. Here is a plantation with the bungalow 32
of the planter; notice the hills in the background; here again
is a tree carrying its fruit in curious clusters just below the 33
crown of leaves. The natives, who are excellent climbers, swarm
up the taller trees to gather any fruit which is wanted in a not 34
quite ripe state, as for eating or drinking; but the bulk of
the nuts, intended for copra, are allowed to ripen on the tree
until they drop off. The ripe nuts are then cut open, the kernels 35
extracted and dried in great trays and put into bags for shipment.
We will now leave the coast for a short trip inland, to see
something of the country and the people in their more primitive
condition and less mixed type. We travel up the Rewa river for
about twenty miles, and there turn westward across country.
We have left behind the steamer and the European trader and
planter and plunge suddenly into a strange and wild world. At
our first stopping place we are entertained with a display which
reminds us that a very short time ago the Fijians were fierce
fighters and cannibals. This is the _meke_ or native war-dance
and song, now only an interesting survival. First we see the
dancers in the distance, entering the village in two lines. Their 36
faces are hideous with lampblack and vermilion, and they wear
strange-looking dresses made of leaves. They go through many
complicated evolutions. They rush towards us, stabbing with
their long spears and swinging their formidable clubs, and as
suddenly rush away. They stamp and charge and shout and imitate
all the movements of a battle. Finally they subside quietly. 37
The women also have their special dance, of which we have here
a picture. The war-dance is now only a game, but it was far 38
different before our occupation of the islands. Though we still
utilise the old tribal organisation, and govern them through
their native chiefs and councils, we have forced the Fijians to
understand that fighting, raids and massacres are an amusement 39
no longer permitted. The constabulary, which we see here with
their rifles and maxim guns, serve generally only in the coast
regions, where they represent a form of law and order which the
Fijians readily understand; but even in the interior certain
Fijians, less formally organised into a sort of rural police,
keep effective order. Our little trip might not have been so safe
or pleasant forty years ago.
We now leave the Rewa and strike across country south-westward.
Our road is a mere track, and often we find streams to be crossed
but no bridges to help us. To our carriers this does not matter,
as they are not overburdened with clothes. They plunge in and 40
wade through the shallows, and they will carry us if necessary.
On the wider streams canoes must be used, or a bamboo raft lashed
roughly together. We may notice that our carriers have slung our
baggage on poles carried on the shoulders of one or two men;
this is the regular native means of transport, for carts are
only used near the plantations, and by Europeans, where roads
are available. In the old time the women would have carried the
burdens, as it was thought beneath the dignity of a man to carry
anything but his weapons.
Presently we reach a village where we discover an interesting
native industry, the making of mats from a kind of reed. Here 41
we see girls at work weaving the mats, and in one of the native
huts they are making baskets from the same material. The Fijians
are clever at this work, and both mats and baskets are important
articles in their daily life. They also used to make a peculiar
but very artistic pottery, such as we do not find in the islands
of Polynesia further east; but this art is no longer practised 42
except in a few places, and for the production of pots for
domestic use.
Perhaps the most noteworthy native manufacture is that of _tapa_
cloth for their dress. _Tapa_ is made by beating out the fibrous
bark of the paper mulberry, and sometimes of certain other trees.
The art is known in Polynesia generally, and the Fijians, like
many of the other islanders, also print the cloth in various
patterns and colours.
We continue our march, passing many villages. Here is a corner
in one of them; notice the native huts of grass and reeds, very 43
different from the wood and corrugated iron of Suva. Notice,
too, the coconut palms growing all around. Here again we have 44
a more elaborately finished house, in the old style; and here
is the interior of the home of a chief; it looks somewhat 45
unfurnished to our eyes, though it is cool and airy. At the next
village the natives receive us with a solemn presentation of
food and _yangona_ in a rather dark hut. Here they are making
the _yangona_. Finally we reach Namosi, a picturesque native 46
town perched up in the mountains. The town lies in a kind of
pass between steep rocks, the “Gate of Namosi,” as we see in the 47
picture. The inhabitants are summoned together by the beating of
the town drum, a hollow log of wood, and receive us sitting on
the ground beneath an ancient tree. We have reached the limit of 48
our journey; but short though it is, it has given us some idea
of the real Fijian as he is to-day, away from direct European
influence.
The conditions in the other large island, Vanua Levu, are much
the same as in Viti Levu. The island is long and narrow, but
with the same irregular mountain structure, the same vegetation
and the same contrast of wet and dry on the opposite coasts. We
may remember that Ovalau, off the coast of Viti Levu, was much
concerned in the past with the politics of the neighbouring
mainland; the same was true of Taveuni off Vanua Levu. The
dwellers on the rich coastlands of the larger islands led a very
uncertain life between the raiders from the sea and the wild
tribes of the interior. The sea was always the more important
factor in the life of the whole group of islands; it united,
while the land more often divided. We have already noted its
importance in the relations of Fiji and the Friendly Islands.
Before we leave Fiji it is interesting to note that the line
which divides East from West passes through this group, cutting
the island of Taveuni into two; so that in one part of Taveuni we
can stand with one foot in the East and the other in the West,
or in other words, one foot may be in a place nearly twenty-four
hours ahead of that occupied by the other according to Greenwich
Time.
The Fiji Islands are governed as a Crown Colony--the only Colony
so governed in the Pacific; and hitherto the Governor of that
Colony has also been High Commissioner for the Western Pacific,
that is to say, he has been in charge of most of the scattered
islands in the Pacific which are more or less under British
protection. We have already visited one of his charges, the
Friendly or Tongan Islands. The number of these islands under
the High Commissioner is very great, but unfortunately there
is no regular means of communication between Fiji and most of
them. Every month a steamer starts from Auckland, calls at Tonga
Tabu, Haapai and Vavau, and then goes on to Levuka and Suva,
exactly along the route which we have followed. But from Suva
this steamer goes on to Sydney in Australia. Once a month, too,
a steamer starts from Sydney, along the same route but in the
reverse direction, to Auckland. With none of the other islands
is there any direct means of communication; and when the High
Commissioner wishes to visit them he must go round in a warship.
We will accompany him on one of these tours, in order to see
something of the other British islands.
[Illustration: FUNAFUTI.
The dotted portion represents the coral reefs, the black portion
land, and the arrows mark the deep-water channels.]
Starting from Suva we steam a little west of north, along the
chain of the Ellice and Gilbert Islands, which reaches quite up
to the equator. These islands are all coral atolls; Funafuti, in
the Ellice Group, serves as a type of all the rest. It consists 49
of a lagoon, about twelve miles across, roughly circular and
surrounded by a reef; the top of this reef appears here and there
above water in the form of coral islets, the largest of which
is Funafuti proper. The whole atoll is merely the coral-rimmed
summit of a huge mountain rising from the great depths of the
Pacific. Funafuti is a complicated atoll; many of the smaller
islands of the Fijian group are volcanic, and show a different
kind of structure. In these we sometimes find the old crater
filled with water, while the remnants of the slopes of the
volcano form the shores of the lagoon. A good instance of this
structure is Totoya, towards the south-east of the Fijian group. 50
Here the enclosing rim rises to over a thousand feet, but the
sea has broken through on the south and formed a lagoon. The
entrance is almost closed by the coral reef which encircles the
whole of the outside of the island. Coral reefs grow everywhere
if the water is shallow enough, so that we find reefs not only
around the coasts of the islands but growing on banks which are
isolated and entirely covered by the sea.
[Illustration: TOTOYA.
The dotted portions represent coral reefs.]
North of the Ellice Islands are the Gilberts, arranged also
in rows from south-east to north-west. They, too, are coral
atolls, with a thin soil which will grow nothing but coconuts and
screw pines; none the less, on coconuts and fish a fairly dense
population supports itself. They are, as we might expect, less
civilised here than in the larger islands which we have visited
further south.
From the Gilberts we turn south-west to visit another great row
of islands, the Solomons and New Hebrides. On our way we pass
Ocean Island, a small dot isolated from the rest of the Gilbert
Group. Here we find, in addition to the natives, a considerable
number of Europeans. The island is being exploited commercially,
but instead of making copra they are digging out valuable
deposits of phosphates. Here are some of the natives, and here is 51
a picture showing the excavation of the phosphatic coral rock. 52
Ocean Island has for us a further interest. North-west of it
lies Nauru, where also phosphates are obtained. Nauru belongs to
Germany, and the dividing line between the British and German
spheres runs between the two islands. If we follow the line
south-west, we see that it cuts through the Solomons and then
turns sharply west to New Guinea which it divides roughly into
halves. Germany shares with the United States the Samoa Islands,
north-east of Tonga, but her main sphere of influence is in this
western area.
On our voyage to the Solomons we pass another curious island, or
rather group of islands. This is Ongtong Java, where the people
differ from those of the islands which we have visited up to this
point. We are approaching a region where we know little of the
character and origin of the natives, a region more backward and
savage than any other part of our dominions in the Pacific.
The Solomons consist of a double row of long and narrow islands,
with high mountain ridges and many volcanoes, some extinct,
others still active. The largest island, Bougainville, at the
north end, is German; the rest are British. They have long
been known to explorers, but until recently their history
tells chiefly of resistance by the natives against Europeans
who have attempted to open up intercourse with them. Lately,
thanks to the good influence of the missionaries, and perhaps
still more to the better regulations made by the agents of the
British Government for intercourse between the wild men and the
Europeans, considerable advance has been made, and plantations of
coconut and other valuable products have been established in many
of the larger islands. Many of the tribes, however, are still
head-hunters and cannibals. The islands are covered with great
forests, and the plants and animals, as well as the natives,
resemble to some degree those found in New Guinea. The people go
naked for the most part, except for necklaces and bracelets of
shells and teeth. Their houses are often built on piles, like 53
those of the Papuans. Here we see a group engaged in a war-dance,
and here is one of their curiously ornamented canoes. 54
South-east of the Solomons we pass the Santa Cruz Group; the
name, as do many other names in this part of the world, reminds
us again of the early voyages of de Quiros the Spaniard, who at
the end of the sixteenth century first discovered these distant
islands. Spain has disappeared from this part of the Pacific,
and the region of islands is divided between Germany to the
north, Britain in the Solomons, and Britain and France in the New
Hebrides.
Southward from Santa Cruz we pass almost at once the northernmost
of the long chain of the New Hebrides, discovered towards the
end of the eighteenth century, almost simultaneously, by our
own Captain Cook and by the great French admiral Bougainville.
Northernmost of all, in the sphere of joint Anglo-French
influence, we pass the Torres and Banks Islands, great centres of
the famous Melanesian mission. Next we come to Espiritu Santo, or
Santo for short, at the northern end of which is the great Bay
of St. Philip and St. James, within which, four centuries ago,
Quiros built a town--a town which lasted but a few months. He
rejoiced greatly because he thought that in that newly discovered
land he had reached the beginning of the great Southern Continent
which was supposed to extend thence to the Antarctic regions.
Here and there round Santo there are a few mission stations,
and a few fairly prosperous plantations, some English and some
French; but the natives in the interior are still very wild
and occasionally raid the European settlements. Here we see a
vast crowd of natives celebrating a feast. Now it is a peaceful 55
ceremony: it was far different in the past.
Next, still steaming southward, we pass between two rows of
islands, until, about where the two rows join, we come to the
Island of Efate, with its growing town of Vila, the centre of
Anglo-French administration. Here is the seat of the Joint Court,
and many buildings of almost European type have recently been
erected for its use.
Still further south the New Hebrides reach, now in a single line,
almost down to the Loyalty Islands and New Caledonia. These last
two places are, however, purely French possessions, and we may
pass them by.
From Vila the Governor in his warship would probably return
eastward to Fiji. We may leave him at Vila and take either the
French or the British steamer, which calls there once a month,
and so make our way direct to Sydney. But before leaving the
subject of the New Hebrides we may note that the islands of this
group are largely volcanic, and the people are not unlike those
of the Solomons, though perhaps rather less savage. Here we have
a picture showing their former method of receiving visitors. 56
It was from these two groups that the brown labour for the
Queensland plantations was largely recruited in times past. The
New Hebrides are fertile, though not healthy for Europeans; and
when they have been reduced to some order by white administration
they may develop a trade with Australia in various vegetable
products; since they are not limited to the coconut as are so
many of the coral atolls. The picture before us with its coral 57
reefs, its forest and its background of volcanic hills, gives a
very good idea of the scenery of these islands.
We have now completed the circuit of our chief possessions in the
Western Pacific. There still remain a few detached islands and
groups on its eastern borders which are under the jurisdiction of
the High Commissioner. Of these only two are of much interest.
Fanning Island lies almost in mid-Pacific, and halfway along
the usual route from Sydney to Vancouver. A steamer from Sydney
travels 1700 miles to its first stop at Suva; then 1900 on to
Fanning Island; thence 3400 to Vancouver, the starting place
of the Canadian-Pacific route to Europe. Fanning Island is in
consequence the mid-Pacific station of the Pacific cable. The
island and its near neighbour, Washington Island, are small coral
islands with lagoons, on which coconuts have long been profitably
cultivated. Both also have valuable deposits of phosphates, due
to the age-long deposit of the droppings of countless seabirds
on the decomposing coral. These phosphates, as well as the
very abundant coconuts, are already exported, and their value
is likely to increase considerably before long. Moreover, the
probability that Fanning Island may be made into a shelter and
repairing station for vessels crossing the Pacific adds largely
to its value as an asset of the Empire. Here are two pictures of 58
the island, typical of the kind of coral atoll which is found 59
isolated in the Pacific, instead of being, as are most of the
others which we have seen, a member of a group.
Far away to the south-east, almost on the Tropic, and halfway 60
to South America, lies the lonely Pitcairn Island, to which a
few other scattered islets, British possessions, are attached.
Pitcairn has a population of about a hundred and fifty souls,
descendants of the mutineers of the _Bounty_, who settled here
with their native wives in 1789. The present occupants represent
those who returned after the experiment of removing to Norfolk
Island in 1856. They had found themselves overcrowded, since
Pitcairn is a tiny island only two miles long by three-quarters
wide, rocky and volcanic, though fertile. The island is of great
interest from the point of view of the history of the Pacific,
since there are remains on it of stone monuments, weapons, and
images which prove that even in this distant corner of the ocean
some early people must have settled long before the Polynesians.
In fact, there are traces of such settlements all over the 61
Pacific, which suggest that the Polynesians themselves are merely
modern colonists, occupying the homes of an earlier and perhaps
more civilised race.
List of Slides
[_The titles printed in heavy type are those of the Maps and
Illustrations appearing in the book._]
LECTURE I
_Slide No._
1. Chart of Tasman’s Voyage, 1642.
2. Off Chatham Island, West Australia.
3. Coast Scene, West Australia.
=4. Map of Hollandia Nova; Pieter Goos.=
=5. Map of New Holland; R. de Vagondy.=
6. Statue of Captain Cook.
7. The _Endeavour_ off New Zealand.
8. Chart of Cook’s Voyage, 1769-70.
9. A Wallaby.
10. Rat Kangaroo.
11. Phalanger.
=12. Native Bear.=
13. Native Bear and Child.
14. Tasmanian Devil.
15. Tasmanian Wolf.
16. Duck-billed Platypus.
17. Dingo.
18. Lyre Bird.
=19. Emu.=
20. Gum-Tree Blossom.
21. Laughing Jackasses.
22. Black Swan.
23. Palms at Brisbane.
24. Palm Scrub, near Cairns.
25. Tropical Bush, Lake Eachem.
=26. Gum Trees.=
27. Mulga Scrub.
28. Salt Bush.
29. Spinifex.
30. A Desert Scene, West Australia.
31. A Desert Scene, Central Australia.
32. Watercourse, in Dry Season.
33. Grass Trees.
34. Grass Trees and Red Gums.
35. Grass Trees.
36. Aboriginal Rock Shelter.
=37. Natives fishing.=
38. Armed Natives, at a Pool.
39. Throwing the Boomerang.
40. Native climbing a Tree.
41. Anthony Anderson.
42. Native Paintings.
43. Native Paintings.
44. Corroboree.
45. Native Reserve, Victoria.
46. Group of Natives, Queensland.
47. A Native Woman, Queensland.
48. Orographical Map of Australia.
49. New Zealand, Bush Scene.
50. Kiwi.
51. Takahe.
52. Skeleton of Moa.
53. Moa restored.
54. Tuatara.
LECTURE II
1. The Heads, Port Jackson.
2. Middle Harbour, Port Jackson.
3. Sailing Ships entering Port Jackson.
4. Circular Quay, Sydney.
5. Darling Harbour.
=6. Chart of Port Jackson.=
7. Warships in Farm Cove.
8. View over Farm Cove.
9. Old Sydney.
10. George Street, Sydney.
11. Martin Place, Sydney.
=12. Orographical Map of New South Wales.=
13. Map of Railways and Sydney Coal Field.
14. Hetton Colliery, Newcastle.
15. Newcastle Harbour.
16. Coal Cliff Colliery.
17. A Waterfall in the Blue Mountains.
=18. Govett’s Leap, Blue Mountains.=
19. Limestone Arch, Jenolan.
20. Limestone Gorge, Jenolan.
21. The Broken Column, Jenolan Caves.
22. Lithgow.
23. A Farm in the Tamworth Country.
24. Reapers at Work, Tamworth.
25. Rainfall Map of New South Wales.
26. Map of Eastern United States on Eastern Australia.
27. Carting Wool.
28. Sheep at Shearing Shed.
29. Wool Show-room, Sydney.
30. A Flock of Shorn Sheep.
31. A Lagoon on the Murrumbidgee.
=32. The Murray in Flood.=
33. Bridge over the Murray.
34. Crossing a Creek, Murray District.
35. Steamer on the Murray.
36. A Broken Hill Mine.
37. A Camel Team, Broken Hill.
38. Reservoir, Broken Hill.
39. The Snowy River.
40. A Tributary of the Snowy River.
41. Motoring to Kosciusko.
42. Hotel at Kosciusko.
43. The Summit of Kosciusko, before Sunset.
44. Surveying the Site at Yass.
45. Surveyors’ Camp, Yass.
=46. Yass Canberra Site.=
47. A Dairy Farm on the Coast.
48. Blackbutt Tree.
49. A Timber Team.
50. Map of Papua.
51. Papuan Natives.
52. Papuan Girl.
53. A Native Town.
54. Native Houses.
55. A Village Constable, Papua.
56. Armed Constabulary, Papua.
57. A Bush Track.
58. Carriers crossing a Stream.
59. A Native Bridge.
60. Natives of the Main Range.
61. A European House, Port Moresby.
62. Steamer at Port Moresby.
LECTURE III
1. Wallangarra Station.
=2. Orographical Map of Queensland.=
=3. Rainfall Map of Queensland.=
4. Victoria Bridge, Brisbane.
5. South Brisbane.
6. The River, near Brisbane.
7. Executive Buildings, Brisbane.
8. Parliament Houses, Brisbane.
9. Queen Street, Brisbane.
=10. Natural Grass, Darling Downs.=
11. Sheep on Downs, near Warwick.
12. A Rancher’s Station, Roma.
13. Toowoomba.
=14. Gladstone.=
15. Harbour and Jetty, Gladstone.
16. Bridge on Fitzroy River.
17. Loading Frozen Meat.
18. Railway Map of Queensland.
19. A Settler’s Camp, Queensland.
20. A New Homestead.
21. Cattle on Ringbarked Country.
22. Queensland Karri Pine.
23. Trainload of Sleepers.
=24. Townsville Harbour.=
25. Jetty at Townsville.
26. Landing Cattle at Bowen.
27. Cattle, Central Queensland.
28. Cattle on Coast Farm.
29. Clearing Palm-scrub.
30. Irrigated Sugar-cane.
31. Cutting Sugar-cane.
32. Trainload of Sugar-cane.
33. Banana Plantation.
34. Shipping Bananas, Johnston River.
35. Coffee Plantation, Kuranda.
36. Pruning a Coffee Bush.
37. Java Coffee Bush.
38. Avenue of Palms, Kamerunga.
39. Rubber Plantation.
40. Tapping Rubber.
41. African Rubber Tree.
42. Sisal Hemp.
43. Picking Cotton.
44. A Street in Cairns.
45. Bellenden Ker Range.
=46. Above the Barron Falls.=
47. Barron Falls.
48. Barron Falls.
49. On the Cairns Railway.
50. Atherton.
51. A Chinese Joss House.
52. Fig Trees, Atherton.
53. A Tropical Garden, North Queensland.
54. Mount Morgan.
55. Crushing the Ore, Mount Morgan.
56. Herberton, a Tin Township.
57. A Copper Mine, Queensland.
58. Artesian Bore.
59. Chart of part of the Barrier Reef.
60. View on the Barrier Reef.
61. Bêche de Mer.
LECTURE IV
1. Orographical Map of Victoria.
2. A Coast Lagoon, Victoria.
=3. Chart of Port Phillip.=
4. Collins Street, Melbourne.
5. Bourke Street, Melbourne.
6. Treasury Offices, Melbourne.
7. Interior of Mount Franklin.
8. In the Victorian Valley.
9. String of Draught Horses.
10. Horses in Park.
11. A Race Meeting.
12. Railway Map of Victoria.
=13. On the Banks of the Yarra.=
14. Bridge over the Yarra.
15. Camp of Boy Scouts.
16. A Boy Scout.
17. Healesville.
18. Gum Logs.
19. House at Black’s Spur.
20. Woods near Mount Macedon.
21. Sturt Street, Ballarat.
22. Sturt Street, Ballarat.
23. Botanical Gardens, Ballarat.
24. Sinking a Shaft for Gold.
=25. Washing Gold Dust.=
26. Gold Mine, Bendigo.
27. An Outcrop of Quartz.
28. Rainfall Map of Victoria.
29. Rolling down Mallee Scrub.
30. Impounding a Stream.
31. Excavation of a Reservoir.
32. An Irrigation Channel.
33. A Pumping Station.
34. Chart of Banks Strait.
35. The Tamar at Launceston.
36. View of Launceston.
=37. King’s Bridge, Launceston.=
38. Cataract Gorge, Launceston.
39. Power Station, Cataract Gorge.
40. Apple Orchards, on the Tamar.
=41. Orographical Map of Tasmania.=
42. Railway Map of Tasmania.
43. Team of Oxen, Scottsdale.
44. Sheep on the Road, Scottsdale.
45. The Forest, from the Train, Western Tasmania.
46. A River Gorge, Western Tasmania.
47. View near Zeehan.
48. Main Street, Zeehan.
49. A Smeltery, Zeehan.
50. Strahan Bay.
51. Queenstown.
52. Gormanston.
53. The Open Cut, Mount Lyell Mines.
54. Mount Lyell Smelteries.
55. View of Queenstown.
56. View of Hobart.
57. Hobart from the Water.
58. Fern-Tree Gully, Hobart.
59. Government House, Hobart.
60. Mount Wellington.
61. Orchards, Franklin.
=62. Scaffolding a Tree.=
63. Loading Logs.
64. A Saw Mill, Geeveston.
65. Timber on the Wharf, Geeveston.
LECTURE V
1. Wharf at Port Adelaide.
2. King William Street, Adelaide.
3. The Torrens River.
4. City Bridge, Adelaide.
5. A Street in Adelaide.
6. The Post Office, Adelaide.
7. Judge’s Garden, Adelaide.
=8. Adelaide, looking south-east.=
=9. Orographical Map of South Australia.=
10. Mount Gambier Lakes.
11. A Waterfall, Mount Lofty.
12. Orchards and Vineyards, Adelaide.
13. An Orange Tree.
14. Drying Raisins.
15. Loading a Steamer on the Murray.
16. A Salt Lake, Yorke Peninsula.
17. Railway Map of South Australia.
18. An Out-Station, South Australia.
19. Camel Team, in the far North.
20. Rainfall Map of South Australia.
21. Copper Mines, Wallaroo.
22. Copper Mines, Moonta.
23. Wharf, Port Pirie.
24. Smelting Works, Port Pirie.
25. Map of Desert Journeys.
26. Orographical Map of Western Australia.
27. Chart of the Swan River.
28. Fremantle.
29. On the Swan River.
30. Perth, from King’s Park.
31. St. George’s Terrace, Perth.
32. Garden with Lemon Trees, Perth.
33. The Countryside, near Perth.
34. A Black Gin.
35. View of York.
36. A Flour Mill, York.
37. Church on the River, York.
38. The King’s Head, York.
=39. Rainfall Map of Western Australia.=
40. Jarrah Trees.
42. Red Gums and Chalk Hills.
43. Everlasting Flowers.
44. View of Albany.
45. Chart of King George’s Sound.
46. Kalgoorlie.
47. A Pool, in Rainy Season.
48. Lake Violet, after Rain.
49. Salt Flats, Kalgoorlie.
=50. Mundaring Weir.=
51. Beginning of Mining.
52. Boring for Alluvial Gold.
53. Gold Workings, burrowing.
=54. Alluvial Mining, sluicing.=
55. Fraser’s Gold Mine.
56. Cyanide Vats.
57. An Open Cut.
58. A Quartz Reef.
59. Granite Rocks and Tank.
=60. Limestone Cliffs, in the Great Bight.=
61. Springs, in the Great Bight.
LECTURE VI
1. The Bluff, Invercargill.
2. Dee Street, Invercargill.
=3. Orographical Map of South Island.=
4. Lumsden.
5. On the Road to Manapouri.
6. The Pier, Manapouri.
7. Launch, on Manapouri.
8. Hunter Mountains.
9. Cathedral Peaks.
10. Spire Peak.
11. In the Mackinnon Pass.
12. Mount Elliott.
13. A Dry Creek, Mackinnon Pass.
14. Dawn, on the Clinton River.
15. Donald Sutherland.
16. Bowen Falls, Milford Sound.
17. Mitre Peak.
18. Two-man Beach.
=19. Entrance to Milford Sound.=
20. Map of the Sounds.
21. Sutherland Falls.
22. A Gold Dredger.
23. Map of Otago Peninsula.
=24. Dunedin.=
25. Dunedin.
26. Interior of Woollen Mill.
27. St. Clair Beach, Dunedin.
28. Port Chalmers, looking east.
29. Railway Map of South Island.
30. Burke’s Pass.
31. Suspension Bridge, Tekapo.
32. A Boundary Dog.
33. Mount Cook, from Pukaki.
34. Mount Sefton, from the Hermitage.
35. The Hermitage, under Snow.
36. Crossing the Hooker River.
37. Hooker River, in Flood.
38. The Mueller Glacier, terminal Moraine.
=39. Looking up Tasman Glacier.=
40. Head of Tasman Glacier.
41. Ice River, on Tasman Glacier.
42. Hochstetter Ice Falls.
43. Mount Cook.
44. Summit of Mount Cook.
45. Sheep in Canterbury District.
46. A Farm in the Canterbury Plains.
47. Reaping, in the Canterbury Plains.
=48. Rainfall Map of South Island.=
49. Panorama of Christchurch.
=50. The Avon, Christchurch.=
51. Private Residence, on the Avon.
52. Lyttelton.
53. Chart of Banks Peninsula.
54 Lincoln Agricultural College.
55. Lincoln College, Threshing Wheat.
56. Otira Pass, the Summit.
57. In the Otira Gorge.
58. Brunner.
59. Nelson.
60. Map of Marlborough Sounds.
61. Pelorus Sound.
62. Pelorus Jack.
LECTURE VII
1. Orographical Map of North Island.
2. Napier.
3. Approaching Wellington.
4. Chart of Wellington Harbour.
5. Wellington Harbour.
6. Wharves on Reclaimed Land, Wellington.
7. Passenger Wharf, Wellington.
8. View from Customs Tower.
9. View from Customs Tower, looking north-east.
10. The Basin Reserve.
11. Government Buildings.
=12. Old Government House.=
13. Remains of Parliamentary Buildings.
=14. Political Map of North Island.=
15. Mount Ruapehu, distant view.
16. Mount Ngauruhoe.
17. Maori Women, greeting.
18. Taupo, looking towards Tokaano.
19. The Champagne Pool.
20. Rotomahana Terraces.
21. Rotomahana Terraces.
22. Twin Geyser and Terraces.
=23. The Great Wairakei Geyser.=
24. The Geyser at Work.
25. Lake Perariri.
26. Sulphur Beds.
27. Remains of a Maori Pah.
28. Portrait of Maori Chief.
29. Maori Chief, with Staff.
30. Group of Maoris in Native Dress.
31. House of a Chief.
=32. A Chief’s Daughter, with Staff.=
33. Maori Haka.
34. A Poi Dance.
35. Maori War Canoe.
36. Grave of Maori Chief.
37. Woman smoking.
38. Children bathing.
39. Tourists round a Geyser.
40. Wairoa Geyser, playing.
41. Cooking in Steam Holes.
42. A Maori Village, Lake Rotorua.
43. Hot Lake, Rotorua.
=44. Rapids on the Waikato.=
45. On the Wanganui.
46. Rapids on the Wanganui.
47. Dairy Cattle, Taranaki.
48. Mount Egmont.
49. Rainfall Map of North Island.
50. Cutting Flax.
51. Flax in the Bale.
52. Kauri Tree.
53. Cutting down Kauri.
54. Hauling Kauri Logs.
55. Ship, loading Kauri.
56. Gum Diggers.
57. Camp of Gum Diggers.
58. Russell, Bay of Islands.
=59. Chart of Auckland.=
60. Chart of Manukau.
61. Auckland, from Devonport.
62. View of Auckland, from Mount Victoria.
63. An Extinct Volcano, Auckland.
LECTURE VIII
1. Map of Western Pacific.
2. Map of Tongatabu.
3. Nukualofa.
4. George Fatafehi and Household.
5. A Road in Tonga.
6. Launch coming out, Lifuka.
7. Native Travellers, Haapai.
8. Surf on Windward Beach.
9. Vavau Sound.
10. The Wharf, Niafu.
11. Swimming with the Mails.
12. Lau Island.
13. Fijian Canoe.
14. Canoes with Mat Sails.
15. Map of Fiji Islands.
16. One End of Ovalau.
17. Levuka Town.
18. Coast Village, Ovalau.
19. Entering Suva Harbour.
20. Panorama of Suva Harbour.
=21. Banana Boats, Suva.=
22. Street Scene, Suva.
23. Map of Viti Levu.
24. On the Navua River.
25. View on the North Side of Viti Levu.
26. Forest and Mountain, Viti Levu.
27. Hot Springs, Fiji.
28. A Presentation of Food.
29. Sugar Mill, on Rewa River.
30. Interior of Sugar Mill.
31. A Sugar Estate, Fiji.
32. Coconut Plantation.
=33. Coconut Tree, with Fruit.=
34. Natives climbing Trees.
35. Cutting Copra.
36. Men’s Meke.
37. Group of Dancers.
38. Women’s Meke.
39. Fiji Constabulary.
40. Fording a River, Viti Levu.
=41. Making Mats.=
42. Making Pottery.
43. A Fijian Village.
44. Fijian House, Old Style.
45. Interior of Chief’s House.
46. Yangona Drinking.
47. The Gate of Namosi.
48. The Town Drum, Namosi.
=49. Chart of Funafuti.=
=50. Chart of Totoya.=
51. Ocean Islanders.
52. Phosphate Deposits, Ocean Island.
53. Solomon Islands, War Dance.
54. Solomon Islands, Canoe.
55. Native Feast, New Hebrides.
56. Attack on a Missionary.
57. Coast View, New Hebrides.
58. Fanning Island.
59. Fanning Island.
60. Pitcairn Island.
61. Stone Ruins, Tonga.
PRINTED BY GEORGE PHILIP & SON, LTD., LONDON.
TRANSCRIBER’S NOTE
Many illustration captions included ‘Copyright.]’ and ‘[See page nn.’
in the original text. The ] and [ have been changed to ) and ( in
this etext to avoid confusion with the use of [ ] as illustration
delimiters.
Obvious typographical errors and punctuation errors have been
corrected after careful comparison with other occurrences within
the text and consultation of external sources. All misspellings
in the text, and inconsistent or archaic usage, have been retained.
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