Transcriber’s Note:

The cover image was created by the transcriber and is placed in the public domain.

AMONG CANNIBALS

AMONG CANNIBALS
AN ACCOUNT OF
FOUR YEARS’ TRAVELS IN AUSTRALIA AND OF CAMP LIFE WITH THE ABORIGINES OF QUEENSLAND

BY

CARL LUMHOLTZ, M.A.

MEMBER OF THE ROYAL SOCIETY OF SCIENCES OF NORWAY

TRANSLATED BY

RASMUS B. ANDERSON

EX-UNITED STATES MINISTER TO DENMARK

WITH PORTRAIT, MAPS, 4 CHROMO-LITHOGRAPHS, AND WOODCUTS

NEW YORK

CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS

1889

Copyright, 1889, by

CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS

TROW’S

PRINTING AND BOOKBINDING COMPANY,

NEW YORK.

TO

Paul B. Du Chaillu,

THE CELEBRATED EXPLORER OF AFRICA

AND

THE GREAT FRIEND OF SCANDINAVIA’S PAST AND PRESENT

AS EVINCED BY

‘THE LAND OF THE MIDNIGHT SUN’ AND ‘THE VIKING AGE’

THIS ENGLISH EDITION IS MOST RESPECTFULLY

DEDICATED

BY

THE AUTHOR

AUTHOR’S PREFACE

In the year 1880 I undertook an expedition to Australia, partly at the expense of the University of Christiania, with the object of making collections for the zoological and zootomical museums of the University, and of instituting researches into the customs and anthropology of the little-known native tribes which inhabit that continent.

At the commencement of my travels, which occupied four years, I spent some time in the south-eastern colonies, South Australia, Victoria, and New South Wales; and succeeded in establishing connections with the museums in the cities of Adelaide, Melbourne, and Sydney, and I may add that everywhere I met with the most cordial reception. I am particularly indebted to the distinguished botanist Baron Ferd. von Mueller, of Melbourne; to Fred. M‘Coy, Professor of Zoology and Mineralogy in Melbourne University; and to Dr. E. P. Ramsay, Director of the Museum in Sydney.

More than ten months from November 1880 to August 1881 were spent by me at the fine station of Gracemere in Central Queensland, belonging to Messrs. Archer and Co. Both here and elsewhere I was indebted to various members of the Archer family for kindnesses, which in many ways aided me in my work. I was placed under similar obligations to Walter J. Scott, Esq., the proprietor of the Valley of Lagoons station in Northern Queensland. To all these gentlemen I desire to express my sincere gratitude.

In August 1881 I entered upon my first journey of discovery, in the course of which I penetrated about 800 miles into Western Queensland, but the results in nowise corresponded to the hardships I had to endure.

I thereupon selected Northern Queensland as the field of my chief exploration, and here I spent fourteen months in constant travel and study. From August 1882 to July 1883 I made my headquarters in the valley of the short but comparatively broad and deep Herbert river, which empties itself into the Pacific Ocean at about 18° S. lat., and there I lived alone among a race of people whose culture—if indeed they can be said to have any culture whatever—must be characterised as the lowest to be found among the whole genus homo sapiens. Not only are many of the Australian aborigines cannibals, but most of the tribes have not yet emerged from the Stone Age in the history of their development. Others have studied the ethnographic peculiarities of this race; but my predecessors have mainly directed their attention to the tribes of the southern part of Australia, which in many respects have attained a higher intellectual development than their northern kinsmen.

From my base on the Herbert river I made expeditions in various directions, extending in some instances to nearly 100 miles. The greater part of the volume now offered to the public is devoted to descriptions of my life in the camps of the northern savages in different districts. It has been my purpose to present a faithful picture, based on my own observations, of the life, manners, and customs of the Australian aborigines from their birth and infancy to their old age and death; and thus to rescue, for the science of ethnography, facts concerning tribes that have never before come into contact with white men, and that within a generation or two will have disappeared from the face of the earth.

While making these anthropological studies I also succeeded in securing a collection of zoological specimens, some of which are new to science, and all of which may be seen in the museums of the Christiania University. The collection consists mainly of vertebrates, including a considerable number of mammals, which have been described by Professor R. Collett in Zoologischer Jahrbücher, Jena, 1887. I brought home about 700 specimens of birds, a large number of reptiles and batrachians, numerous fishes, also some insects and lower animals. Among other things I discovered four new mammals, which have been described and named by Professor R. Collett in the Proceedings of the Zoological Society of London, 1884. The four new mammals are: Dendrolagus lumholtzii (the tree-kangaroo); and three opossums, Pseudochirus archeri, Pseudochirus herbertensis, and Pseudochirus lemuroides.

In conclusion, I desire to express my obligations to the friends who have helped me in carrying on my work, and in writing this record of it—to Professor Robert Collett and Professor Ossian Sars, of Christiania University, who first encouraged me to undertake the journey, and who never have failed to render me valuable aid and advice; to Dr. H. Reusch and Mr. A. M. Hansen, for their co-operation in drawing up a portion of the appendix to this volume; to Professor R. B. Anderson (late United States Minister to Denmark), for his aid in the preparation of the English edition; to Mr. M. R. Oldfield Thomas, for having revised the scientific names in the proofs for me during my absence in America; and to Mr. John Murray jun., for his assistance in the correction and supervision of the whole work while passing through the press.

Most of the illustrations are by Norwegian and French artists from original photographs, sketches, and specimens brought back by me from Australia.

It should be observed that the area marked red on the map as indicating the district explored by me should be extended so as to include Cashmere, Glendhu, the Valley of Lagoons, and all the intervening country.

As a foreigner, I would ask for the kind indulgence of my readers and critics towards any literary shortcomings in this English edition of my work.

CARL LUMHOLTZ.

London, August 1889.

CONTENTS

APPENDIX

Ἀνδροφάγοι δὲ ἀγριώτατα πάντων ἀνθρώπων ἔχουσιν ἤθεα οὔτε

δίκην νομίζοντες οὔτε νόμῳ οὐδενὶ χρεόμενοι· νομάδες δὲ εἴσιν.

Herodotus, iv. 106.

ILLUSTRATIONS

BLACK SWAN.

CHAPTER I

Introductory—Voyage to Australia—Arrival at Adelaide—Description of the city—Melbourne, the Queen of the South—Working men—The highest trees in the world—Two of the most common mammals in Australia.

On May 24, 1880, I went on board the barque Einar Tambarskjelver bound from Snar Island near Christiania to Port Adelaide with a cargo of planed lumber. I carried with me a hunter’s outfit, guns, ammunition, and other articles necessary for the chase, furnished me by the University of Norway, as well as some northern bird skins in order to inaugurate exchange with Australian museums. Sailing in the north-east trade-winds, a sunset in the tropics, or a mild starlit night on the ocean with a blazing phosphorescent sea, do not fail to make a strong impression. Then passing the pacific belt of the ocean, where a dead calm is suddenly interrupted by the most violent storm, you soon reach, by the aid of the south-east trades, the region of the westerly winds. The Southern Cross and the cloud of Magellan, the gigantic sperm-whale, whose huge head now and then appeared above the surface of the water, and the albatross, whose glorious flight we never ceased to admire, heralded our arrival within the limits of the Southern Ocean. Cape-doves, albatrosses, and gulls accompanied us for weeks together. The passage had, however, at times its dark sides. On August 17, at six o’clock in the morning, we were overtaken by a most violent gale. All the sails, except the close-reefed topsails and foresail, were taken in. We shipped many seas. The stairs to the quarter-deck were crushed; one wave broke through two doors in the companion-way to the steerage, another set all the water-casks afloat in the maddest confusion, a third filled the galley, so that the cook found himself waist-deep in water. The fire was extinguished, and the food was mixed with the salt water. Several times the seas broke through our main cabin door, filling my cabin with water, making boots, socks, books, and other articles swim about in all directions.

On a long journey one gets tired of the sea, this “desert of water,” as the Arab calls it—and we long to set foot again on terra firma. According to the calculations of the captain we were fifty geographical miles from the coast of Australia, when one morning we perceived for the first time the smell of land, in this instance a peculiarly bitter but mildly aromatic odour, as of fragrant resin. This fragrance, doubtless, came from the acacias, which at this time were in full bloom. For by the aid of the wind these trees, particularly Acacia fragrans, diffuse the fragrance of their flowers to a great distance, and this morning there was blowing a fresh, damp breeze directly from the land.

On the afternoon of August 29 we got sight of land. In the evening we saw the lighthouse on Kangaroo Island; followed by dolphins we navigated through Investigator Straits, and on the afternoon of the next day we anchored outside Port Adelaide. As it was raining, we contented ourselves with viewing the town from the distance. Our eyes involuntarily rested on a number of chimneys, an evidence of extensive manufactories.

FLINDERS STREET, ADELAIDE.

What most interested me here was the Botanical Garden, which I visited the same day. The weather was splendid, the rays of the sun were reflected in large ponds, where the water-fowl were swimming among papyrus and Babylonian weeping-willows. The parrots chattered in their cages, and displayed their brilliant plumage; the birds sang in the cultivated bushes of the garden, and the frogs croaked with that harsh, strong note, which seems especially developed in tropical lands. There was a life, a throng, an assemblage of dazzling colours, which could not but make a deep impression on a person whose eyes for a hundred days had seen nothing but sky and water.

This fine garden contains forty-five acres, and is excellently managed by Dr. R. Schomburgk, celebrated for his travels in British Guiana. In the “palm-house,” built of glass and iron, are found tropical plants. The most beautiful and most imposing part of the park is the so-called garden of roses, a large square enclosure surrounded by garlands of tastefully-arranged climbing roses. Here is an abundance of varieties, beginning with the tallest rose-bushes and ending with the smallest dwarf-roses, and the colours vary from the most dazzling white to the darkest red or almost black.

VIEW NEAR ADELAIDE.

Among the trees familiar to me in this park were an alder and a birch. They stood very modestly, just putting forth their leaves in company with grand magnolias in blossom, elegant araucarias, and magnificent weeping-willows. The hot-houses near the superintendent’s dwelling were admirable, and presented a wealth of the greatest variety of flowers from all parts of the world, but mainly from Australia. Some groups of fine bamboo particularly attracted my attention. The park is visited by several thousand people every Sunday afternoon.

Adelaide, containing about 60,000 inhabitants, is a very regularly laid out city. All the streets cross one another at right angles, and are very broad. Along the gutters railings are placed, to which people may hitch their horses. Even servants go to market on horseback with baskets on their arms.

The residences are constructed in a very practical manner, suited to the demands of the climate, with verandahs and beautiful gardens. In many parts of the city there are public reading-rooms, where the latest newspapers may be found. In the forenoon these reading-rooms are always full of people, particularly of the working classes.

The city cannot fail to make a favourable impression upon the traveller. It is cleanly and elegant, corresponding to its feminine name Adelaide. The inhabitants are unusually amiable, and they are renowned for their hospitality, and this is saying a great deal in so hospitable a land as Australia.

From Adelaide to Melbourne is a three days’ journey, and early one morning I went on board a steamer bound for this port. Once there we immediately perceive that we have come to a metropolis, for the flags of all nations are unfurled to the breeze in its harbour.

The International Exhibition was to be opened in a few weeks, and in the distance we could already see the great cupola of the building looming up above the rest of the city. Great clouds of dust appeared in the streets, giving us an idea of Melbourne’s dry climate. After a slow voyage up the shallow Yarra river, during which we actually stuck in the mud once or twice, we finally landed at the wharf.

Melbourne with its suburbs has only 300,000 inhabitants, but has the appearance of being much larger on account of its broad and straight streets and its numerous parks and magnificent public buildings.

The first building attracting our attention is the Library, a noble structure in classical style, but the first thing the inhabitants want the stranger to notice is the Post Office and Town Hall. The question is being perpetually asked: “Have you seen the Town Hall and the Post Office?” The Assembly Room in the Town Hall contains one of the largest organs in the world; it has 4373 pipes.

The residence of the Governor occupies a commanding height, and is surrounded by a large park, which is directly connected with the Botanical Garden.

THE LIBRARY, MELBOURNE.

The University, which is attended by about 400 students, has, since 1880, been open to women, who are now admitted to all the courses except medicine! It possesses a large museum, where the animals are in part set up in groups representing scenes from their daily life, a most instructive arrangement. Here can also be seen a fossilised egg of the extinct gigantic bird from Madagascar, the Æpyornis maximus.

The city contains a number of magnificent churches, hospitals, and benevolent institutions. The streets are large, wide, and have immense gutters. It has been well said by an author that Melbourne is London seen through the small end of the telescope.

People seem to be very busy, and move through the streets with great rapidity. Melbourne is a city of enjoyments and luxuries, equipped with great elegance and comfort; everything suggests money and the power of wealth. There is no article of luxury which is not to be found here, from Norwegian herring to champagne in every degree of dryness.

THE GOVERNOR’S HOUSE, MELBOURNE.

Among sports, horse-racing ranks first, and not a week passes without one or more races on the celebrated Flemmington racecourse, near the city, taking place. Every year, in the beginning of November, about 120,000 people come together to witness the great Melbourne Cup race, where fortunes are lost and won.

The whites born in Australia are gradually becoming a distinct race, differing from other Englishmen. They have a more lively temperament, and are slighter in frame, but tall, erect, and muscular. I also observed in Queensland that some of the children had a tendency to the American twang. The Australians pay great attention to travellers visiting their country, and they are very proud of showing its attractions. Thus a stranger may, as a rule, count on getting a free pass on all the railroads. The ladies are free and easy in their manners. They are frank and confiding, and their acquaintance is quickly made. Their friendship, once gained, may be relied on, and they are untiring in their acts of kindness.

In no other place in the world do the labouring classes have as much influence as in Victoria; for the working men in fact govern the colony. As a rule, they are well educated, and keep abreast of the times, but still their administration of affairs has not always been successful. The economical condition of the labouring classes in Melbourne is excellent, but they are rather fond of intoxicating drinks. I am able to give an example, showing how the people of Australia keep themselves informed on public questions. I once spoke to a labourer whom I met on the street in Melbourne, and as he noticed that I was a stranger, he asked me where my home was. When he learned that I came from Norway, he exclaimed: “Oh, we know Norway very well, and the Norwegian scheme!” He then explained this to me as best he could. I afterwards learned that Victoria, in 1874, was on the point of adopting a parliament like the Norwegian, with one chamber which divides itself into two bodies (the odelsthing and lagthing), a proposition which was on the point of being carried.

The climate of Melbourne is not particularly warm, though during the summer excessively hot winds from the interior of the continent may blow for a few days, and not infrequently children die from the heat at this time. The sudden changes of temperature, peculiar to the southern part of Australia, also annually demand their victims, though upon the whole the climate must be regarded as very healthy.

Before leaving Melbourne I made several excursions far into the colony. On one of these I visited the celebrated mining town Ballarat, the place which marks the first epoch in the history of Victoria, and of all Australia for that matter, for it was the gold which especially drew the attention of the world to the new continent.

Since 1851 the annual production of gold in Australia has averaged ten million pounds sterling.

No traveller should neglect to view “the highest trees in the world,” for it is easy to see them near Melbourne. Eucalyptus amygdalina grows, according to the famous botanist Baron F. v. Mueller, to a greater height than the Wellingtonia sequoia of California. Trees have been measured more than 450 feet high. Though these gum-trees are without comparison the highest in the world, they must yield the place of honour in regard to beauty and wealth of foliage. They send forth but a couple of solitary branches from their lofty tops. Thus the Wellingtonia retains the crown as the king of the vegetable kingdom. F. v. Mueller says of Eucalyptus amygdalina: “It is a grand picture to see a mass of enormously tall trees of this kind, with stems of mast-like straightness and clear whiteness, so close together in the forest as to allow them space only toward their summit to send their scanty branches and sparse foliage to the free light.”

At a sheep station about 100 miles from Melbourne I made the acquaintance of two of the most common mammals of Australia. One day I went out hunting with a son of the friend that I was visiting. We learned that a koala or native bear (Phascolarctus cinereus) was sitting on a tree near the hut of a shepherd. Our way led us through a large but not dense wood of leafless gum-trees. My companion told me that the forest was dead, as a result of “ring-barking.” To get the grass to grow better, the settler removes a band of bark near the root of the tree. In a country where cattle-raising is carried on to so great an extent this may be very practical, but it certainly does not beautify the landscape. The trees die at once after this treatment, and it is a sad and repulsive sight to see these withered giants as if in despair stretching their white barkless branches towards the sky. When we came to the spot, we found the bear asleep and perfectly calm on a branch of a tree opposite the shepherd’s hut. One must not suppose that the Australian bear is a dangerous animal. It is called “native bear,” but is in nowise related to the bear family. It is an innocent and peaceful marsupial, which is active only at night, and sluggishly climbs the trees, eating leaves and sleeping during the whole day. As soon as the young has left the pouch, the mother carries it with her on her back.

NATIVE BEAR WITH ITS YOUNG.

We did not think it worth while to shoot the sleeping animal, but sent a little boy up in the tree to bring it down. He hit the bear on the head with a club and pushed it so that it fell, taking care not to be scratched by its claws, which are long and powerful.

The Australian bear is found in considerable numbers throughout the eastern part of the continent, even within the tropical circle. I discovered a new kind of tape-worm which, strange to say, is found in this leaf-feeding animal.

HUNTING THE OPOSSUM.

TREE-FERNS IN VICTORIA.

One day our dog put up a kangaroo-rat, which fled to a hollow tree lying on the ground. When we examined the tree it was found to contain another animal also, namely an opossum (Irichosurus vulpecula). It is one of the most common mammals in Australia, and is of great service to the natives, its flesh being eaten and its skin used for clothes. The civilised world, too, has begun to appreciate the value of this kind of fur, which is now exported in large quantities to London. The natives kill the animal in the daytime by dragging it out from the hollow trees where it usually resides. Among the colonists the younger generation are very zealous opossum hunters. They hunt them for sport, going out by moonlight and watching the animal as it goes among the trees to seek its food.

I was now about to leave the capital of Victoria, a city which cannot fail to be admired by the stranger. It is indeed a remarkable fact that in the same place where fifty years ago the shriek of the parrot blended with the noise of the camp of the native Australian, an international exhibition should be held in a metropolis. The first house was built in Melbourne in 1835—the “World’s Fair” took place in 1880. It is not merely in jest that Melbourne is called “the Queen of the South.”

CHAPTER II

Sydney harbour—Jealousy between Sydney and Melbourne—The Blue Mountains—Brisbane and Rockhampton—First evening in tropical Australia—Gracemere station—Animal and plant life—Vine-scrubs—Excursion into the neighbouring districts—A Norseman who feels cold in Australia.

SYDNEY HARBOUR.

My next visit was to Melbourne’s mother city, Sydney, the oldest city of Australia.

As is known, it was originally a colony of criminals, but when the wealth of Australia, its gold and its rich pastures, were discovered, the colony got a large accession of all classes of society, and before long transportation ceased. The city is now very aristocratic and has a more antique appearance than Melbourne; the streets are crooked and uneven; but there are several fine buildings, which do not, however, attract the attention they deserve on account of the unevenness of the ground. The Museum is admirably situated, and its magnificent treasures are well worth visiting. To our surprise we found it open on Sundays, while in the other towns in Australia, even the smallest, the Sabbath is observed as strictly as in England. Scientific investigation flourishes in Sydney, and several natural history collections are owned by private individuals. The museum of Mr. W. M‘Leay deserves special mention. It is really wonderful. The city has reason to be proud of its Botanical Garden, which extends down to the harbour, and is for a great part washed by the sea. The climate is subtropical, so that plants from the various zones grow side by side. Thus I noticed Digitalis purpurea and the elm-tree growing by the side of Ficus elastica and other tropical plants. On the yellow water-lilies (Nuphar luteum) the sparrows were singing as merrily as if this were their native land.

In Adelaide I was advised to say, when I came to Melbourne, that Adelaide was a hole, and that no city in the southern hemisphere could be compared with Melbourne, the Queen of the South; but if I desired to keep on good terms with the people of Sydney, I must take care not to praise Melbourne. On the other hand, I was advised to praise Sydney harbour as the finest in the world.

And it is truly a wonderful harbour. It is large enough to hold all the fleets of the world, and its beauty reminds one of the celebrated entrances to Rio and to Naples.

As the hotels of the city are not clean, and are supplied with most impertinent servants, the visitor should try to secure an introduction to one of the clubs, for there he is always sure of being perfectly comfortable.

If a person comes from the busy and lively Melbourne, he may find Sydney sleepy and lazy, but it must not be considered a city of loafers. It is celebrated for its colossal wealth.

The lower class of the inhabitants seemed to me to be inquisitive and greedy; the cultivated classes, on the other hand, are engaging and hospitable, and make a most favourable impression.

Between Melbourne and Sydney there is great rivalry. “It is no exaggeration to say that New South Wales and Victoria are no less rivals than Germany and France,” said an Australian literary gentleman. How far he was right I cannot say. Meanwhile the following circumstance shows that the jealousy is very great. Immediately after Sydney, in the seventies, had had an international exhibition, Melbourne arranged a similar one, and though the two colonies were to be united by a railroad, the two cities could not agree on the width of the gauge, so that we have to change trains on the boundary.

THE BLUE MOUNTAINS.

By railroad we can make a very interesting excursion to the Blue Mountains, where the aristocracy have their villas. The railway runs zigzag up the mountains, and is regarded as a masterpiece of engineering, sometimes mounting a gradient of 1 in 30. On the way we get a splendid view of the landscape. The Parramatta river winds picturesquely through the plain, and is bordered on both sides by thriving dark orange-groves. The mountains, which are covered with trees but are not cultivated, consist of a series of parallel ridges of the same height, which are rent by deep ravines. One ridge rises beyond the other until the last is lost in the blue distance.

It is a journey of but little more than two days to Brisbane, the capital of Queensland. Not long after passing the boundaries of New South Wales, the southern entrance of Moreton Bay is reached, a large and shallow body of water not far from the city. When we neared the shore, the sea broke over the long sand bars, which it was very difficult to cross, but we soon afterwards found ourselves in the calm water of the bay. The sun set as a blood-red disc in tropical splendour. Immediately afterwards the full moon rose and shone on the beautiful banks of the Brisbane river, while we steamed slowly up between the forests of mangroves.

We now approached the land in whose solitary regions I was about to spend several years. I stood alone on deck in the sultry night, and my thoughts naturally turned to this strange country. What was I to find in Queensland? Was I perhaps to leave my bones in this land, slain by the blacks, bitten by a snake, or poisoned by malaria?

In Brisbane I met Mr. Archer, the Secretary of the Treasury of Queensland. I had a letter of introduction to him from the zoological professors of the University of Christiania, and was invited by him to make my headquarters on his estate near Rockhampton.

After a journey of two days we arrived at the mouth of Fitzroy river. Like all the rivers of Queensland, it is very shallow and not navigable for large vessels. This is at present a great drawback to the maritime commerce of the colony; but there are some good harbours, and efforts are continually being made to remove obstacles by dredging.

Passengers and baggage were now transferred to a smaller steamboat, which carried us up the stream. The left bank is flat and uninteresting; while a range of mountains about 1400 feet high rises on the right bank. After a few hours’ journey we pass a large establishment for canning meat, in which solder alone for the tin cans amounts to about £300 annually,—and then almost immediately arrive at Rockhampton, the second city in the young colony, containing about 9000 inhabitants. The first thing which attracts attention on arrival is a remarkably fine suspension bridge across the river.

The town itself contains nothing remarkable; still a fine hospital and a large school-building, both built on a hill just behind the city, may be worthy of mention. Rockhampton consists mainly of one-storied houses with verandahs. The streets, as is the case in almost all Australian towns, have awnings over the side-walks, a very wise provision against the burning heat of the sun. Business is lively in the city, which is of importance as the metropolis of a large extent of territory whose products are marketed and exported here. This is also the distributing point from which stations in the western part of Queensland are supplied with all sorts of articles of necessity and luxury. A railway extends nearly 300 miles to the west.

THE PARLIAMENT HOUSE, BRISBANE.

Like other Australian cities, Rockhampton of course has its botanical gardens, which in time will be very fine.

We at once drove to Gracemere, Messrs. Archer’s cattle station, situated seven miles from the city. The country was flat, monotonous, and swampy, but on approaching the station the ground began to rise. On reaching the highest point a wide view suddenly burst upon us. Before us lay a large lake sparkling in the last rays of the setting sun, hundreds of birds swam on its glassy surface, and on the green shores was feeding a large flock of geese, which hissed and took flight as we passed. On a promontory extending far out into the lake was the station, which was to be my home for some time to come; with its many houses it had the appearance from the distance of a small village.

FROGS (Hyla cærulea) ENTERING A WATER-JAR.

We drove along a mighty hedge of cactus to the main building, which lay on the extreme point of the land. The bare timber walls did not impress me very favourably, coming as I did from the luxury of Melbourne and Sydney, but the spacious apartments and cool verandahs gave me a hospitable greeting and looked cheerful and inviting.

When we had taken tea, Mr. Archer brought out his microscope in order to let me examine some insects, thousands of which were swarming about the lamp. But white ants had taken possession of the case, so that the microscope was unfit for use. These insects are a great nuisance throughout Queensland, and precautions must always be taken against them when a house is built. It was a strange life which I now experienced for the first time in the Australian “bush.” The summer heat was oppressive in the pitchy darkness of a November evening, though now and then lighted up by flashes of lightning. The insects gathered in great numbers on the ceiling, and blinded by the lamplight they fell in such thick layers on the table that it was not possible to read. Bats fluttered in and out through the open windows and doors. Not only on the floor, but, incredible as it may seem, even in the water-jar, the frogs croaked merrily and often so loudly as to interfere with conversation.

I, however, soon felt perfectly comfortable at the station, where I spent seven pleasant months of summer and winter, busily engaged in my new and rich field of activity. A small house was given me as my working-room, and it was so arranged as to serve as a safe repository for my collections.

My European summer clothes soon became too warm for me, and the first thing I did was to secure the usual Australian dress, which everybody wears who lives in the bush. A light merino-wool shirt, having over this a coloured cotton shirt open in the neck, with sleeves rolled up to the elbows, trousers of heavy white cotton cloth called moleskin, white cotton socks, shoes, a broad-brimmed felt hat with the brim turned down, constitute the dress of the bushmen. This suit of clothes, which can be bought ready-made at a low price anywhere in Australia, is neat and cleanly and very convenient.

The region about Rockhampton is well known for its warm and dry climate, 100° F. being quite frequent during the summer months. Gracemere lies just far enough within the tropical circle to permit us to speak of tropical Australia; the heat is even greater here than farther north in the more damp sea-climate, where the tradewind blows. In the winter, hoar-frost is occasionally seen on the ground, and now and then ice may form on a pool of water. Thus it will be seen that the thermometer does not really go very low, but at such times the cold is felt so intensely that it is a comfort to get near a fire.

The sky is almost always clear and cloudless; the air is pure and transparent, especially in winter, when the mountains have a very beautiful deep blue colour. In the clear winter evenings after sunset the heavens often assume a remarkable greenish hue.

GRACEMERE STATION.

It cannot be denied that there is something wearisome and monotonous in a continuous summer—for there is nothing but summer in the greater part of the land—yet every one who rejoices in sunshine and warmth will be contented in the climate of Queensland; it is doubtless more salubrious than any other in the tropical world.

The principal building at the station, like all the other houses, is almost entirely surrounded by a verandah, which is enclosed in a remarkable manner by creeping fig-trees clinging firmly to the posts. The roof is covered after the Australian fashion with sheets of zinc, and large iron tanks are placed at the corners of the house to catch the rain-water, for this is almost universally used for drinking throughout Australia; it is usually suspended on the verandah in canvas bags, which exposes it to a rapid evaporation and makes it as cold as ice. Down towards the lake there is a very fine garden, where orange-trees, vines, and the European fig-tree grow side by side with the pine-apple and the mango of the tropical zone. In the winter, stocks, recedas, and asters flourish very well, but the summer is too warm for them. Pelargonium and calladium glow in brilliant colours.

THE MAIN BUILDING, GRACEMERE STATION.

The other most conspicuous trees in the garden are the magnificent Madagascar Poinciana regia, tamarind, the Brazilian jacaranda, and several sorts of Australian spruce, especially a beautiful specimen of bunya-bunya (Araucaria bidwillii). This grand tree grows only in a limited territory from Darling Downs north to Burnett river, and is protected by the Government for the sake of the aborigines, who collect the huge cones and use the seeds for food.

Cocoa-nut and date-palms delight the eye, but do not bear good fruit, although the reason is not apparent.

Near the lake the celebrated Egyptian papyrus has been planted in large quantities, and forms a perfect grove. A little singer, the Acrocephalus australis, has made his home in this papyrus grove, where several pairs are nesting. It sings in the evening and in the night, and is considered to be Australia’s best song-bird. The lake, or lagoon as it is called here, is a little more than a mile long and half a mile wide, and is the resort of a great number of water-fowls. In the winter more than 400 pelicans are seen here, but in the middle of the summer most of them depart.

The pelicans do the most of their fishing in the night, and together. The noise they make with the splashing of their wings while thus occupied sounds something like that of a paddle-wheel steamer in motion. Occasionally I could see them rise, apparently without moving their wings, in a spiral direction, higher and higher, until they disappeared from sight. It seemed as if they did it only for amusement or for the purpose of enjoying the sunshine. When they return, they come down so swiftly that a sough is heard in the air.

A few black swans (Cygnus atratus) are seen now and then. In November I frequently heard them sing on the water in the evening. Ducks and geese abound, and so do gray and blue cranes, cormorants, and snake-birds (Plotus). Not many years ago Mr. A. Archer counted thirty-seven kinds of birds on the lagoon. And still the birds are few now, both as to numbers and species, as compared with what they were twenty years ago. The cattle have eaten the tall grass and the weeds growing in the shallow water near the shores of the lake, where thousands of birds found their homes. Even black swans made their nests here. Mr. Archer believes that a few years ago there were more than 10,000 birds on this lake. If a gun was fired, the birds rose with a noise like distant thunder.

The most striking bird on the lagoon is doubtless the beautiful Parra gallinacea, which in Australia is called the lotus-bird. It sits on leaves that float on the water, particularly those of the water-lily. Blue water-lilies are found in great numbers along the edge of the lagoon, and hence the lotus-bird is very common here. It is somewhat larger than a thrush, and has very long legs, and particularly highly developed toes, which enable it to walk about on the floating leaves. Its food consists chiefly of snails and insects, which it usually finds by turning the lily leaf. Its simple nest is also built on the leaves.

The eggs, which are a beautiful brown with lines and spots, are considered very rare, and are remarkable both on account of their form and colour. They look, says Gould, as though they were drawn by a man who had amused himself by covering the surface with fantastic lines. The young look very funny on account of their long legs and big toes as compared with their small bodies.

The grown bird is not shy, but the young are extremely timid. I had once or twice seen the old birds with young, but as soon as I approached them, the young always disappeared, while the old birds walked about fearlessly, as if there was no danger. It long remained a mystery to me, how they could conceal themselves so well and so long, but one day the problem was solved. An old bird came walking with two young ones near shore. I hid behind a tree and let them come close to me. As I suddenly made my appearance, the small ones dived under the water and held themselves fast to the bottom, while I watched them for a quarter of an hour, before taking them up.

There are large quantities of fish in the lagoon, several varieties of perch, eel, and a kind of pike with a very long snout (the gar-fish). But the fresh-water mullet (Mugil) is particularly abundant: it has a remarkable power of leaping out of the water, and in so doing it frequently comes unawares up into the boat and is caught. When the lagoon, on account of long-continued drought, is very low, you can always be sure while bathing of coming in contact with some kind of fish, which sometimes flies over your head.

Gracemere was originally a sheep station, but latterly the sheep have entirely given place to cattle on the whole coast. This change is partly due to the climate, which is too moist, and partly to a nocuous kind of grass, namely the dreaded spear-grass (Andropogon contortus), which grows on the coast, and which rendered sheep-raising impossible. It stuck fast in the wool of the sheep, or worked itself into their very bodies and killed them. For this reason Gracemere is now exclusively a cattle station. The sheep were about 350 miles farther west.

As a curiosity it may be mentioned that in the vicinity of Gracemere I saw the Phragmites communis, so well known in Norway, probably the only plant which the Norwegian and Queensland floras have in common.

As Messrs. Archer are naturalised Norwegians from Scotland, it may perhaps be interesting to learn that they were the first white men who occupied the spot where Rockhampton now is situated. They have also given Norse names to several localities in the vicinity, as for instance Mount Berserker and Mount Sleipner. The run of their station was at first fifty miles long and twenty miles wide. But gradually, as the country became settled, the “squatters” were not permitted to retain these larger pastures, which they do not themselves own, but occupy by paying rent to the Government. Hence the area of the station very soon became reduced, when the land, owing to the increase of population, was offered for sale. This is usually the case with all new land in Australia. First comes the large sheep and cattle-owner—the squatter—who often lays claim to immense territory. Later he must give place to the smaller selectors, who as a rule cultivate the soil. The squatter is, however, allowed to purchase a certain part of the land for his own possession and use. This the Archers had done. On the run there were at this time only 4000 head of cattle, but they were all of pure pedigree. They had recently brought from Melbourne a bull nine months old for which they had paid £315. It is for the sake of the beef and not for milk that so much stress is laid upon the blood of cattle in Australia.

IN THE NEIGHBOURHOOD OF ROCKHAMPTON.

The vicinity around Rockhampton and Gracemere furnishes considerable variety both of flora and of fauna. The country is hilly, and well watered with small lakes and streams. Along the streams vine-scrubs often abound. The gum-tree (Eucalyptus), so characteristic of Australia, also marks the woodlands here, and appears in greater variety than is generally seen in so limited a territory. The gum-trees fit for lumber, Eucalyptus tereticornis and Eucalyptus brachypoda, are very abundant in swampy places, along with isolated groups of the well-known Melaleuca leucadendron, called by the colonists tea-tree, from which is extracted what is known in medicine as cajeput oil. The heights nearest the station are particularly well covered with the tree familiar to the colonists as blood-wood (Eucalyptus terminalis), besides a great many other trees of the same family. A few varieties of acacia, e.g., A. bidwillii and A. salicina, are found where the hills are drier. On the plains box-tree (Eucalyptus polyanthemos) predominates. In a circle of fifteen miles about Rockhampton there are found so many useful trees that the number of species is about one-third of all the useful trees in the colony. Although many of these have great value as strong and solid timber, still they fall far short of being utilised as they deserve. The colonists use the most valuable wood for ordinary purposes, as for building houses and fences. In a tree like Tristiana suaveolens may be found a remarkably fine material for work under water, while the Eucalyptus robusta furnishes the best mahogany that can be desired.

Various parasites and epiphytes are found in great numbers in the woodlands, as for instance the Ficus platypoda and Ficus cunninghamii, which grow on the large gum-trees. They send their roots down from giddy heights, enclose the tree, and at last destroy it.

Though the gum-trees usually give the Australian landscape a monotonous appearance, the region about Rockhampton is very beautiful and picturesque. The many little lakes and the changing forms of the hills contribute much to this result. On the lagoons float the beautiful blue water-lilies; the rare and splendid Nelumbium speciosum is also occasionally found.

But the greatest interest centres in the scrubs along the little streams. In contrast with the woodland, where a single kind of tree may prevail, we here find a multitude of families, genera, and species, of which none predominates. All are mixed together, but form more or less a harmonious whole. The average colour of this scrub is usually dark green, but in the edges we find a pleasing change into a lighter green. Here we find the Bauhinia hookerii, with its fine light-coloured leaves, and Capparis nobilis shines with its large white flowers.

There are only a few ground-flowers, but a number of creeping plants. The trees are festooned with climbing plants such as Vitis climatidea and others. Vitis in great abundance and of many varieties are found especially in the scrubs, hence the colonists call this kind of brush vine-scrub. The charming Callistemon lanceolatum, which is common in the scrubs along the Queensland streams, attracts our attention on account of its rich scarlet flowers, the more so since the total effect of a scrub is green and very monotonous.

LAUGHING JACKASS (Dacelo gigas).

This does not however hinder us from finding beautiful woody scenes along the streams, often indeed so charming that we fancy ourselves transported to an ideal landscape. It is not necessary to be a special lover of nature in order to be captivated by the picturesque arches of the trees over the winding stream, where the silence is broken only by the shrill cry of the cockatoo or the tittering ha! ha! ha! ha! of the laughing jackass. Suddenly, as we walk through the vine-scrub, a lizard will throw itself down into the water with a great splash to disturb a poor water-hen that has become absorbed in its own meditations on the strand.

VINE-SCRUB NEAR GRACEMERE.

Few of the birds of Australia have pleased me as much as this curious laughing jackass, though it is both clumsy and unattractive in colour. Far from deserving its name jackass, it is on the contrary very wise and also very courageous. It boldly attacks venomous snakes and large lizards, and is consequently the friend of the colonist.

The animal life in these woods was of the greatest interest to me, and every day I added to my collection during the excursions I made in the vicinity of Gracemere. In the scrub I shot a Pitta strepitans, which is very rare in these parts, but common in Northern Queensland.

As the region around Rockhampton is comparatively civilised, I could not look for any large number of mammals, for they are the first to yield to civilisation. Those that live in trees were still frequently to be found. The common opossum abounded, and the hollow trunks of the gum-trees generally served as abodes of the bandicoot, of the native cat (Dasyurus), and of the kangaroo-rat.

It is very interesting to observe how a kind of “white ant” make their nests. They build them high up in trees, constructing tunnels along the stem of the tree to the ground. If the tree leans, they always build the tunnels on the under side, to avoid the opossum, which climbs on the upper side.

My collections consisted chiefly of birds, fishes, and lower animals, especially Coleoptera. I was fortunate enough to discover a new fresh-water cod, the fish called black-fish by the colonists. It is so little shy that it would even bite my leg when I bathed. I at one time had an opportunity of observing that it can live for nine hours out of water.

One of the largest land-snails of Australia, the Helix cunninghamii, is found on the hills near the station.

My excursions extended not only to the immediate vicinity of Gracemere, but I made journeys of investigation to regions 200 miles away. Near Westwood, a little town about thirty miles from Rockhampton, I found for the first time the so-called bower-birds (Chlamydodera maculata), a family that has become celebrated on account of the bowers which they build for their amusement.

These bowers, which must not be confounded with nests, are used, as is well known, exclusively for amusement. They are always found in small brushwood, never in the open field, and in their immediate vicinity the bird collects a mass of different kinds of objects, especially snail-shells, which are laid in two heaps, one at each entrance, the one being much larger than the other. There are frequently hundreds of shells, about three hundred in one heap and fifty in the other. There is also usually a handful of green berries partly inside and partly outside of the bower; but like the empty shells and the other things collected, they are simply for amusement. Besides, these birds doubtless have the sense of beauty, as is indicated by the variegated and glittering objects gathered. This bower-bird has another remarkable quality, in its wonderful power of imitating sounds. When it visits the farms, where it commits great depredations in the gardens, it soon learns to mew like a cat or to crow like a cock.

In the woods here I shot a young cuckoo (Eudynamis flindersii), which was fed by four wood-swallows (Artamus sordidus). One of the swallows fell to the same shot. The three survivors swooped down toward the young cuckoo several times, but they took no notice whatever of their dead companion. I tried to approach the place, but the bold birds kept flying against me, as if to prevent me from proceeding, or to exhibit their wrath at what had happened. I shot one more, and waited to see what would happen. Both disappeared, but in the course of half an hour they returned accompanied by two others.

On a farm outside the village I saw a large nocuous insect, a moth which sucked the juice out of the oranges in the garden. Every evening a war of extermination had to be made against these animals, which are all the same very beautiful. Farmers have many other foes in tropical Australia. The large fruit-eating bat (Pteropus) does great damage to the orchards, and it is no pleasant sight for the industrious farmer to see the devouring swarms of these so-called flying-foxes advancing on his crops of an evening. Were it not for these enemies, fruit-growing in Queensland would be still more profitable than it is. An orange is no cheaper in Australia than in Norway, and all kinds of fruit are paid for in proportion.

TRUE AUSTRALIAN SCENERY.

Nor is the European bee, introduced by the colonists, permitted to live in peace in its new home. A kind of moth attacks the larvæ and destroys them.

From Westwood I proceeded to Peak Downs. Outside the village the landscape was enlivened by the rare sight of flowers on the ground, the red blossoms of the Pimelea hæmatostachya affording an agreeable change to the eye.

At Peak Downs, situated about 200 miles west of Rockhampton, I received the first impression of genuine native Australian scenery. Large plains, with here and there an isolated gum-tree; extensive scrubs, and now and then low mountain-ridges in the background; sometimes an emu would appear, or a little flock of kangaroos that are suddenly startled—all of which is so characteristic of the country.

I was surprised at the great number of marsupials that had their abode there. They had proved to be so troublesome that several of the squatters had found it necessary to surround their large pastures with fences so high that the animals could not jump over them and consume the grass. One of the sheep-owners told me that in the course of eighteen months he had killed 64,000 of these animals, especially wallabies (Macropus dorsalis) and kangaroo-rats (Lagorchestes conspicillatus), and also many thousands of the larger kangaroo (Macropus giganteus). The bodies of these animals are left to lie and rot, for none but the natives will eat the flesh; and although the skin of the large kangaroo can be tanned into an excellent leather, still it does not pay to skin the animal so far away from the coast. The only part that is used occasionally is the tail, from which a fine soup is produced.

The squatters at Peak Downs took great interest in my work, and my first experience of Australian “bush-life” was particularly agreeable. They placed their men at my disposal, so that I had a splendid opportunity of adding to my collections. At the station where I was a guest, even one of the ladies of the house offered me her assistance, and once or twice she accompanied me when I went after emus and kangaroos, which are easily approached when you are driving in a buggy. My fair companion held the reins while I did the shooting.

Emus are very inquisitive, and can therefore easily be enticed within shooting range. Thus a man at Peak Downs told me that he frequently had attracted their attention by lying on his back and kicking his feet in the air. When the animals came near enough he shot them.

In the winter I made an excursion to Calliungal, where the inhabitants were surprised that I suffered so much from the cold. As a joke they invited their nearest neighbours to come and look at “a Norseman who felt cold in Australia.” It was so cold in the nights that the pools were frozen over, while the day was comparatively hot. On account of the cold nights I, who was unaccustomed to this climate, found it difficult to get woollen blankets enough for my bed.

In the Dee river, which flows by Calliungal, I observed several times the remarkable Platypus (Ornithorhynchus anatinus) swimming rapidly about after the small water insects and vegetable particles which constitute its food. It shows only a part of its back above water, and is so quick in its movements that it frequently dives under water before the shot can reach it.

CHAPTER III

Journey to Western Queensland—Camping out—Damper (Australian bread)—The song of the magpie—Australian scrubs—Hunting the kangaroo—Devotion of parrots—Station life—Lonely shepherds—Migration of rats—Native justice—Australian fleas—Native mounted police—A remarkable flint instrument—The boomerang.

A WOOL-WAGGON.

In the beginning of July I prepared myself for a long journey to the west. I first despatched several cases of things collected to Christiania, and then proceeded on my journey in company with a man who was to bring provisions to Minnie Downs, Messrs. Archer’s sheep station, about 350 miles west from Rockhampton.

I had long contemplated this journey, as Western Queensland was in my imagination a veritable Eldorado for the naturalist. So far as I knew, no zoologist had yet studied the fauna of the far west. With my limited acquaintance with Australian bush-life I was happy to get a companion; he had a waggon drawn by three horses, so that our day’s journey was comparatively short, which was a great advantage to me. I thus had the opportunity of making many digressions on the way, and of procuring many animals, while my companion preceded me. The greater part of the day I was occupied on my own account in hunting and in preparing my game. In the course of the afternoon I overtook the waggon, the track of which I was always able to follow.

At sunset we encamped for the night, and the horses were let loose with their forefeet hobbled. We made a large fire and prepared our supper, which, as is common in the bush, consisted of salt beef and damper. The latter is the name of a kind of bread made of wheat flour and water. The dough is shaped into a flat, round cake, which is baked in red-hot ashes. This bread looks very inviting, and tastes very good, as long as it is fresh, but it soon becomes hard and dry.

HEAD OF “MORE PORK” (Podargus cuvierii).

After supper we immediately made up our beds, which consisted simply of a waterproof laid on the ground and some woollen blankets. For the sake of convenience we usually slept under the waggon with the fire before us. Generally there is no other roof for the Australian traveller than the sky, and this is, as a rule, quite sufficient in Western Queensland, where no dew falls except immediately after the rainy season. On the coast it is, however, necessary to be more prudent; if you do not sleep in a tent, you should at least take care to have something over your head, so as not to inhale the dew. A couple of boughs will often answer—a precaution never taken by the careless bushmen.

How well one feels in this out-of-door life! When we lie down to rest we are lulled to sleep by the melancholy, sleep-inspiring, and not disagreeable voices of the night bird Podargus—“more pork! more pork!”—and we are awakened in the bracing morning air, before the sun is up, by the wondrous melodious organ-tones of the Australian magpie (Gymnorhina tibicen).

At Expedition Range we came to dense scrubs, the so-called Brigalow-scrubs. The motley blending of plants which characterises the scrubs of the sea-board is not found here. The Brigalow (Acacia harpophylla) frequently occupies the whole ground for miles around; the air is heavy and oppressive; occasionally the gray monotony is broken by an isolated bottle-tree (p. [55]) (Sterculia rupestris), which derives its name from the wonderful resemblance of the stem to a bottle. The inner part of this tree is porous and spongy, and therefore absorbs a great deal of moisture, a fact of which the cattle-owner sometimes avails himself during a prolonged drought. In a few places this damp wood, which contains a great deal of starch, is used for fodder.

After journeying two or three days through this gray wilderness, we crossed Comet river. Along its banks my attention was drawn to a number of Casuarinas—those leafless, dark trees which always make a sad impression on the traveller; even a casual observer will notice the dull, depressing sigh which comes from a grove of these trees when there is the least breeze. Near Springsure I stopped a day at a station, where I was invited to take part in a kangaroo hunt. There were several of us in the company, all on horseback. Toward sunset we set out, for the animals at that time go out to feed, and it was not long before we caught sight of one of them. Our dogs, which were all fine kangaroo hounds, were now let loose, and we galloped after them as fast as our horses could carry us.

The kangaroo jumps as quickly as a galloping horse, but usually it gets tired soon, especially if it is an “old man,” as the colonists say. He then places himself with his back against the trunk of a tree and seeks to protect himself from the dogs to the last. Woe be to the dog who comes within reach of his paws! He seizes it with his arms, and rips its belly open with his strong big toe. The dog therefore takes good care not to come too near. Sometimes the kangaroo takes refuge in a pool of water, and if the dog is too intrusive, the kangaroo ducks it instinctively under water, and holds it there till it is dead. The hunt proceeded as rapidly as our fast horses could gallop, but it did not take long before the kangaroo turned on the dogs in the manner I have described. One of the hunters came up, dismounted, and one or two powerful blows from his club put an end to the animal. We killed six of them in this manner.

Not far from Nogoa river I overtook my travelling companion. In this region I shot two specimens of the beautiful parrot Platycercus pulcherrimus under the following remarkable circumstances. An hour before sunset I left the camp with my gun, and soon caught sight of a pair of these parrots, a male and a female, that were walking near an ant-hill eating grass-seed. After I had shot the male, the female flew up into a neighbouring tree. I did not at once go to pick up the dead bird—the fine scarlet feathers of the lower part of its belly, which shone in the rays of the setting sun, could easily be seen in the distance. Soon after the female came flying down to her dead mate. With her beak she repeatedly lifted the dead head up from the ground, walked to and fro over the body, as if she would bring it to life again; then she flew away, but immediately returned with some dry straws of grass in her beak, and laid them before the dead bird, evidently for the purpose of getting him to eat the seed. As this too was in vain, she began again to raise her mate’s head and to trample on his body, and finally flew away to a tree just as darkness was coming on. I approached the tree, and a shot put an end to the faithful animal’s sorrow.

A KANGAROO HUNT.

About 250 miles from the coast we passed the part of the Great Dividing Range, which here forms the watershed between Eastern and Western Queensland. In this part the watershed consists of a low range. Nevertheless no one can fail to observe the great difference in animal life on the two sides as well as the immediate change in the character and aspect of the country. No sooner is the range passed than we meet with the red-breasted cockatoo (Cacatua roseicapilla), which is never found on the eastern side.

From this time we were in Western Queensland, as it is called, the great rich pasturage, where millions of sheep wander about, and we were soon aware that we had come within the confines of the squatters. One can scarcely imagine a more characteristic picture of Australian bush-life than the sight of a wool-waggon approaching from the distance. Eighteen or twenty strong oxen in the scorching heat, their tongues far out of their mouths, laboriously drag a heavy waggon loaded with bales of wool. By the side of the caravan walks the driver, sunburnt and dusty, with his long whip in his hand. Under an awning on the top of the load, which is as high as a house, the driver’s family have their quarters, and a few sheep and goats follow behind.

Such a carrier makes his living by transporting wool from stations in the far west to the coast, and also by bringing back supplies. Thus he spends his life on the road from one year’s end to another. He is himself the owner of both oxen and waggon. If he has several of such teams and also a wife, she usually drives one, plying her whip as dexterously as any man.

Finally we meet the great flocks of sheep from Minnie Downs, proof that we are now near this station, our goal. The month I spent here gave me an excellent knowledge of station life. The raising of cattle and sheep, the most important industry of Australia, has more or less influence on all kinds of business in that country. In the older colonies the cattle and sheep farmers are also the owners of the land where their herds and flocks graze, but in the larger part of Queensland the pastures are rented from the Government. These great cattle and sheep farmers are called squatters, and they are the aristocracy of Australia. If the squatter is a sheep-farmer, he not unfrequently has 200,000 sheep upon his station, while the cattle-farmer often owns 15,000 head. He does not hesitate to pay as high as £2000 for a fine bull, or as high as £600 for a ram of choice pedigree.

A station resembles a little village. Besides the main building, which is the residence of the squatter or his superintendent, there are a number of shanties for the workmen, a butcher’s shop, a storehouse for wool, and a shop where most of the necessaries of life may be bought. A garden of vegetables may usually be found down by the water, for there is always a creek or a water-hole near every station. The garden is generally managed by skilful Chinamen, who are, it is true, hated by all colonists (every Chinaman must pay £30 for permission to settle in Queensland), but at the same time are recognised as the most able gardeners. The secret of their art is chiefly the untiring attention they give to the plants, watering them early and late in sunshine and even in rain.

The stock-yard is an enclosure indispensable to every station. The cattle are driven into it when they are to be captured, but it is usually occupied by the horses, which are lodged there every morning so that the stock-man may select his own animal. Most of the work on a station is done on horseback, and one can hardly conceive of an Australian unable to ride.

There is of course much work to be done on a station having such extensive pasturage. The sheep cause the most trouble. The transportation of the wool to the coast is very expensive, and often costs more than the freight from the coast to England. And yet sheep-raising may often give a profit of as much as thirty per cent. The cattle are sent alive to the cities to be slaughtered. Milk is scarcely used at all in the bush. On a station containing about 10,000 head not more than three or four cows may be milked, as the cattle are half wild and have to be tamed for milking purposes. The chief stress is laid on the beef. What, then, becomes of this immense quantity of beef? The greater part is eaten in Australia, where the consumption is enormous. More recently establishments have been built, in which the beef is either canned or frozen for export. Besides, considerable quantities are used for the production of tallow. In the neighbourhood of Rockhampton there is an establishment where the carcasses of about 100,000 cattle and sheep are annually boiled down and converted into tallow.

In Australia, wherever there are good pastures to be found, the land is quickly taken up for the feeding of large droves of cattle and flocks of sheep. First, the cattle consume the coarse grass, then the sheep are turned into the pastures. Distance is a matter of no consequence. It may require months to bring the stock up to the new station, but no place is so far away that there is any hesitation about forming a station there, provided the pasturage is good. The greatest difficulty with which the squatter has to contend is the climate, for prolonged drought may completely ruin him.

I was now in one of the best grazing districts of Australia, covered for hundreds of miles with the well-known Mitchell-grass (Astrebla elymoides), which has a remarkable power of withstanding the drought without losing its nourishing qualities.

In the vicinity of Minnie Downs there still were scrubs, but farther west they became less abundant. These were mainly Brigalow-scrubs, and near the station they occupy large tracts of land. Here we also become acquainted with a new kind of scrub, called by the colonists gidyascrub, which manifests itself even at a distance by a very characteristic but not agreeable odour, being especially pungent after rain. The Australian inland scrubs give a vivid impression of solitude and desolation, with their gray or brown masses of stiff, often shadeless trees, which like a sea undulate over barren plains and low hills. To ramble in these woods, where all is dry and hot, and silent as the grave, is no pleasure as it would be elsewhere. It is very difficult to discover life in this woody wilderness, and the monotony is rarely broken by the sight of a bird or any other living thing. These scrubs, which sometimes are of immense extent (for instance in South Australia 9000 square miles), are peculiar to Australia, and, as Mr. Wood well says, are just as characteristic of the country as the steppes of Tartary, the prairies of America, and the deserts of Africa are of these respective countries.

In the great gidya and Brigalow-scrubs in the vicinity of the station I could not therefore expect to find any great variety of animal life. Nor does it exist to any extent in the open country generally. The Australian dog (dingo) was formerly very numerous here and in all Western Queensland. But as it is the sworn enemy of the squatters they have begun to kill it, so that it is now in course of extermination. On the large stations a man is kept whose sole work it is to lay out poison for the dingo. The black variety with white breast generally appears in Western Queensland along with the red.

SPIDER PARALYSED BY A HORNET (natural size).

I frequently had occasion to observe the spiders, and among them the large woolly Phrictis crassipes was found in great numbers. It makes a hole 18 inches deep, and in a slanting position, but the entrance is not supplied with a trap-door, as is the case with the burrows of many other spiders out here. I once saw a hornet (Mygnimia australasiæ) proceed boldly into one of these holes, which I then immediately closed. I dug to the bottom of the hole from the side. There I saw the spider paralysed by the plucky hornet, which was sitting on its back. I was anxious to test the effect of the poison of this colossal spider, and once let it bite the snout of a kitten, which thereupon became very sick and vomited violently, but soon recovered.

Another spider (Lathrodectus scelio), which is very common here and everywhere in Queensland, is very dangerous even to men. It is a small black animal, of the size of our house-spider, with a brilliant scarlet mark on its back. A friend of mine was bitten in the leg by one of these dangerous spiders, which is feared like a snake. The pain was violent, and was followed by paralysis which lasted for three days. He was able to feel the venom work its way up the leg, pass through the bowels, and descend down the other leg, whereupon it ascended to the breast. But on the third day he had a cold perspiration, and recovered.

This spider is found especially in old wood and rubbish, but is also fond of staying in houses, keeping itself concealed during the day and coming out at night. On my verandah at Gracemere I could collect as many as I pleased, for they are not at all timid.

I soon began to long for regions farther west, where the fauna is more abundant, and continued my journey alone with only two horses. As a rule there was a path which I could follow. When no path was to be found, I proceeded as best I could, and made my camp wherever night overtook me. Every day I expected new scenes, but I was always disappointed. It was the same over and over again; large, gray plains covered with dry Mitchell-grass undulated before me; here and there stood a solitary gum-tree, especially on the banks of the rivers. Dwarf scrubs were the only things that occasionally varied the landscape.

When I arrived at Barcoo river, I discovered to my surprise only a dry river-bed with pools of water here and there, instead of a veritable stream. Yet this is naturally explained by the fact that the river owes its existence exclusively to the rains, which is the case with the majority of the Australian streams.

It seldom rains in Western Queensland; but during the rainy season the rivers rapidly fill their beds, overflow their banks, and in some places become several miles wide. The water, however, soon disappears again, and the high temperature reduces the mighty stream to isolated water-holes. Water is therefore a precious article in the Australian bush. To furnish drink for the cattle the squatter must build large dams, especially across the rivers, and thus gather a supply which may protect him against irreparable losses. In recent years water has been obtained by boring very deep wells. I may here mention the fact that, at the end of 1887, water was found in Barcaldine at a depth of 691 feet by an artesian boring. It was clear as crystal and perfectly fresh, but very warm, the temperature being 101°F. Through a pipe 10 inches in diameter it rose with such force that it formed a fountain above the ground, and carried to the surface stones of the size of emu eggs. The amount of water from this artesian well is about 176,000 gallons per day.[^[1]]

[1]. The artesian well at Blackall last year struck water at the depth of 1666 feet and gives 300,000 gallons per day, at a temperature of 119°. In other places several borings have been successful at a slight depth.

The soil consists, as a rule, of a fertile, deep, and chocolate-coloured deposit. Water is all that is wanted to make a great deal of Western Queensland a large wheat-growing country, and I feel sure, owing to the great success artesian borings of late have had, that such a future is really in store for this country. In the present circumstances it is difficult to keep garden flowers alive.

In Western Queensland nobody is surprised if a drop of rain does not fall for eight or ten months together. Nevertheless, cattle and sheep keep fat all the year, for the grass retains its nutriment even though it looks dry and gray, and a shower will make these dry stalks green.

On the way to Thompson river I spent a night with an Irish shepherd, who lived far away from any neighbour, occupied wholly with his sheep. As a peculiar and pedantic hermit, he preferred this solitary life, to which he had accustomed himself for many years. He could not bear any interruption in his habits, and with Australian straightforwardness he did not hesitate to make it apparent that all things in his neat little cottage must be kept in their places. But if one adapted oneself to his habits, it was not difficult to get on with him. He was, in fact, a type of those old Australian shepherds who are rapidly being relegated to the domain of history. Though his hair had turned gray in the bush, he had not forgotten his Irish descent. “England is too powerful,” said he; “her fate will be like that of Rome in ancient times.”

After supper he spread some sacks on the floor, and these were to be my bed. But I was not yet ready to retire, so I went out in the starry night, where the moon and the Southern Cross shone cold on the lonely landscape. The pure, clear winter air was chill on the gray plains and dark green trees, while in the cottage the fire blazed high on the hearth and shed a ray of light out through the small windows.

I opened the door and was deeply touched to find the hermit kneeling before his bed. Here the old man lived alone with his God in the desolate Australian bush.

On the banks of the Thompson river I observed the well-known nardu (Marsilea). The seed of this plant is crushed and ground by the natives, and used for food. Nardu has become painfully celebrated, for it was on this seed that the famous travellers Burke and Wills subsisted until they finally perished from starvation.

At Westlands station I had the good fortune to witness a korroboree, that is, a festive dance by the natives in the neighbourhood. The melody sung to this dance was genuine Australian, but the text was mixed with English words. The air was as follows:—

The water we are obliged to drink in the interior of Queensland is wellnigh intolerable. Frequently it is so thick with mud that it has to be boiled, after which the dirt is allowed to sink to the bottom. Very often it is white, mixed with chalk, or it may be coloured black from decayed leaves. When the bushman wants a drink of water he does not hesitate to drink it as it is, and I have even seen these careless people drink from a dam in which there lay a couple of putrid sheep. That people do not oftener fall ill is doubtless due to the circumstance that the water is almost universally drunk boiled with tea. Though the water is not always as unhealthy as its appearance would indicate, I seldom omitted to boil it; but as I often found it inconvenient to dismount and make a fire, I accustomed myself to do without it all day long. I made up for the want, however, in the evening, when I was lucky enough to encamp near good water. At one station I emptied two large pitchers in the course of an hour.

Though one perspires freely in this climate, still the moisture evaporates so rapidly that one keeps perfectly dry while riding beneath the perpendicular rays of the sun.

About a month after my departure from Minnie Downs I reached Windex station, 650 miles from Rockhampton, where I found the same hospitable reception always accorded a stranger in the Australian bush. I was invited to remain for a while to explore the vicinity. The owner was himself interested in zoology, and he believed it would pay me to stop; he was right, for the animal life was interesting even if it were not rich in species. I here added to my collection Australia’s smallest marsupial animal, the beautiful Phascologale minutissima. A cat playing with something that looked like a mouse led to the capture of this specimen, for on closer examination it appeared that it was not an animal of the mouse family, but this little marsupial. It had no less than nine young in the pouch. From Windex I made an excursion for a few days to a mountain region about thirty miles distant. Here I shot the beautiful white species of kite (Elanus axillaris), and a couple of specimens of the charming Diamantina-pigeon. These beautiful little birds are very numerous here, and so tame that the stock-men can easily kill them with their whips.

On the broad sandy heights in the vicinity the so-called spinifex is found in great abundance. This grass (Triodia irritans) is the traveller’s torment, and makes the plains, which it sometimes covers for hundreds of miles, almost impassable. Its blades, which have points as sharp as needles, often prick the horses’ legs till they bleed, and it is generally regarded simply as a nocuous grass; still, the horses will eat the tender blades of the young plant.

The district in which I now found myself had a year before been visited by a plague of rats. They came from the north-west and proceeded, viâ Winton, on their wanderings towards the east. A man in Ayrshire Downs told me that they appeared in countless numbers—during the day they kept concealed, but in the evening the ground seemed to be alive with them, so numerous were they. One night for amusement he laid a piece of meat on his threshold, and killed with a stick 400 of these animals which came up to eat the meat. An occasional straggler was left behind, but the main body disappeared in a short time. Afterwards I learned that an army of rats had also passed Westwood, doubtless the same clan, but greatly reduced in number, and probably but few of them reached the coast. I have been informed that the small marsupials (Phascologale minutissima) before mentioned make similar periodical migrations.

From Ayrshire Downs I proceeded south to Elderslie, a station in process of construction. It was so difficult to get building timber in the vicinity that it had been found expedient to use stone for building. The station lies near the confluence of the Diamantina and Western rivers. I here met two men who were looking for opals in the mountains east of the Diamantina river. Not far north of Elderslie lies a very rich copper-bearing district called Cloncurry, which is said to surpass even the celebrated Lake Superior mines in North America. Moreover, gold and actual mountains of pure iron ore abound here, but on account of the difficulty of transportation this enormous wealth is not yet available. Queensland will, it is said, become a centre for the production of precious metals. Besides great wealth of gold, silver, tin, and other metals, the land, according to recent investigations, has so vast an amount of coal that its coast is destined in time to become the most important emporium of coal on the southern hemisphere.

The natives near Diamantina river astonished me by their bodily structure; neither before nor since have I seen them so tall and upon the whole so well nourished as in the tribe near Elderslie. Some of the women were even monstrously large; their hair was generally straight. Their food consisted chiefly of fish, snakes, rats, and clams.

A conspicuous trait in the character of the Australian native is treachery, and the colonists are wont to give the stranger the warning, “Never have a black-fellow behind you.” Nor should one, as a rule, rely on them. How difficult it is for them to lay aside their uncivilised habits may be seen from the following incident, which happened at Dawson river. A squatter was walking in the bush in company with his black boy, hunting brush-turkey (Talegalla). As they sauntered forth, the black boy touched him on the shoulder from behind and said, “Let me go ahead.” When the squatter asked why he wished to go before him, the boy answered, “I feel such an inclination to kill you.” The black boy had been on the station for several years, where he had served as shepherd and had proved himself very capable.

I observed an interesting fact among the natives of this locality. In cases of murder they administer justice in a peculiar manner, as the following instance will illustrate. A black boy at Connemara station was sent on an errand to Diamantina gates. On his way home he fell in with an old man and his two wives, all of whom belonged to the same tribe as the boy. In the course of the journey the boy killed the old man and took possession of the two young wives. Meanwhile, one of them escaped and reported what had happened to the tribe, which caused universal indignation. Fourteen men with spears and other weapons then proceeded to Connemara to punish the murderer. The boy concealed himself, and the white people on the station would not surrender him, for he was a good servant. They even fired one or two shots at the blacks in order to frighten them away. Three or four days passed, and the boy believed that all danger was over. As he went out one morning to take in a horse, he was killed by his tribal kinsmen only half a mile from the station.

From Peak Downs I have heard similar stories. A black man who was to be punished, probably for murder, was pursued to the very station. When the white folk got sight of him he was so covered with spears that he looked like a porcupine.

In the new main building at Elderslie station the fleas had already made their appearance. They usually live in the ground, and as soon as you step on the soil they creep by the dozen up your legs. In Europe I have never felt a bite of these insects, but the Australian representatives were genuine blood-suckers. As I could not abstain from scratching, I broke my skin, and thus produced a series of bad and irritable sores which would not heal. At last I felt so uncomfortable when I moved, that to my great annoyance I was obliged to keep still for a week. When the week was over, this sitting still became unbearable. Besides, I had received an invitation to take part in an expedition down the Diamantina river.

QUEENSLAND NATIVE MOUNTED POLICE.

An inspector of the native police, whose barracks were down by the river, was going to make a tour of inspection southward, and I was to go with him. In spite of my wounds I started for the barracks, which were situated about thirty miles south; but when I got there I was so ill that I was obliged to give up my intention of joining the expedition. As soon as I stirred, and especially when I rode, swellings arose on various parts of my body, which, however, disappeared whenever I lay down. There was accordingly nothing else to do but to remain idle, lying on the verandah of the policemen’s bark hut. The native police, in whose quarters I now was, is a body organised by the Government of Queensland for the protection of the settlers. They are stationed in those parts of the colony where the natives appear to be dangerous. Such a corps of police consists of natives from other parts of Australia, and consequently they are the natural enemies of the blacks against whom they are employed. They are commanded by a white officer, the so-called sub-inspector, and by a sergeant. The force is in uniform, armed with rifles, and consists of splendid horsemen. From the barracks, which are generally some low bark huts, the police several times a year make tours of inspection through the large districts under their charge. When the natives kill a white man, the police punish them, and if they prey upon the cattle of the squatter, the latter sends word to the police barracks and demands that the blacks be “dispersed.” As Queensland becomes colonised, the native police force is being gradually reduced in numbers, and at the present time there are but few barracks in the northern and western part of the colony.

During my sojourn here I had the good luck to obtain a valuable flint knife (p. [48]) which the natives of Georgina river use for the peculiar mika-operation[^[2]] to prevent the increase of population. It has a very sharp point and three sides, two of which are very sharp, so that the blade is in fact two-edged. The handle is made of a lump of resin (probably from a eucalyptus), and is in reality black, but is painted with reddish-brown ochre. The knife is stuck into this handle, the resin having been softened over the fire. On the other end of the handle a flat piece of wood is fastened, painted with chalk figures. To the knife belongs a sheath of the bark of the tea-tree. The pieces of bark are placed side by side and bound together by a kind of string, which is probably spun from the hair of the opossum.

[2]. This remarkable custom, by which the natives produce hypospadi artificially, belongs especially to the tribes west of the Diamantina river, and west and north of the Gulf of Carpentaria, and does not, as might be supposed, originate in lack of means of sustenance, since the districts in question are full of rats, fish, and such vegetables as nardu, pigweed, and the like. In a few tribes the children are operated on, only about five per cent being spared. In other tribes it is the husband who, after becoming the father of one or two children, must submit to the requirements of the law, as it is said, amid certain festivities (as for example trees are cut down and stuck into the ground in a circle around the place of operation). A man about twenty years old from Georgina river, whom I examined, explained to me that the reason for the operation was, that the blacks “did not like to hear children cry in the camp,” and that they do not care to have many children. This person had not been operated on himself, as he had not yet been the father of a child. According to the information I gathered, the cut, which is about an inch long, extends almost to the scrotum. The surface of the wound is first burnt with hot stones, whereupon the wound is kept apart by little sticks which are inserted, and in this manner an opening is formed, through which the sperma is emitted. The natives of these tribes are fat and in good physical condition. Mr. White, a squatter from Rocklands in North-western Queensland, and an excellent observer of the blacks, noticed for the first time in 1876 near Boulya that some of them had been injured in some way, and found that they had been operated on in the manner described. Later he saw a number of cases, and they all explained to him that the reason was that they did not care to be burdened with too many children. (See in regard to this custom also two articles by Baron N. von Miklucho-Maclay in Zeitschrift für Ethnologie. Berlin, 1880 and 1882.)

FLINT KNIFE FROM GEORGINA RIVER WITH ITS SHEATH (½ size).

The outer side of the sheath is whitened with chalk, and at the small end of it is a tuft of red cockatoo down. The natives procure the knife by making a fire on the flint rock and then pouring water on it. Thus it splits, and very nice pieces can easily be selected. This flint knife is the finest Australian implement I have seen. One would hardly think that it was made by an Australian native, so much labour has been bestowed upon it.

POUCH FOR THE CARRYING OF PITURI (¼ size).

I obtained the little pouch represented below on the same occasion. It is a torpedo-shaped network made of plant fibre, and is used exclusively for carrying the leaves of a tree called pituri (Duboisia hopwoodii). The leaves contain a stimulant which possesses qualities similar to those of tobacco and opium, and are chewed by several tribes in the interior of Australia. Pituri is highly valued as a stimulant, and is taken for barter far and wide; the habitat of the tree is, however, probably not so limited as has been supposed. The pituri pouch obtained by me was secured from natives about 200 miles west of Diamantina river, and was knitted with great skill in about two hours.

When the native police are at home at their barracks they have not much to do. The troopers are fond of roaming about in the woods, and they devote themselves to the athletics peculiar to their race, usually undressing themselves so as to be more free in their movements. In cool evenings they often amuse themselves with throwing the boomerang, and their matchless skill invariably commanded my admiration. It is strange that so primitive a people as the Australian natives should have invented this weapon, which, as we know, has the peculiarity of returning to the thrower, provided it does not meet with any obstacle on the way. The boomerang is a curved, somewhat flat and slender weapon made from a hard and heavy wood, Brigalow (Acacia excelsa) or myall (A. pendula), but the best one I found was made of a lighter kind of wood. The curving of the boomerang, which often approaches a right angle, must be natural and lie in the wood itself. One side is perfectly flat and the other slightly rounded. The ends are pointed. The peculiarity of the boomerang, viz. that it returns of itself to the thrower, depends on the fact that it is twisted so that the ends are bent in opposite directions; the twisting is accomplished by putting it in water, then heating it in ashes, and finally bending it, but this warp must occasionally be renewed, for it sometimes disappears, especially if the weapon is made of light wood. Upon the whole, there is no striking irregularity in the plan of the boomerang; this warped boomerang is, as a rule, used only as a toy.

In Western Queensland, as elsewhere in Australia, numerous boomerangs which are not twisted are used, but these, which are only for war and hunting, do not return when thrown. They are thrown with killing effect into flocks of pigeons and ducks.

When an Australian is throwing a boomerang, he seizes one end, which is usually made rough in order to afford a better grip, and holds it backward in such a manner that the concave side of the weapon turns forward. Grasping it firmly, he runs a couple of paces forward, and then throws his boomerang in a straight line before him. The moment it leaves his hand it turns into a horizontal position, and starts off, buzzing like a spinning-wheel. While going with great speed, it revolves round its own axis, and in this manner takes a slanting direction upward through the air. It does not return the same way as it went, but curves toward the left, and thus describes an ellipse. Gradually it loses its momentum and so falls slowly, sometimes only a couple of paces from its starting-point.

Dexterity rather than strength is needed to throw the boomerang with success. Above all, it is important to hold it firmly until it is suddenly let loose. It cannot fail to astonish everybody to see how far and at the same time how gracefully this weapon can whirl through the air. I was never tired of witnessing this amusement, which is so highly prized by the blacks, and also learned to throw the boomerang myself, but did not acquire the skill of the natives. It is very difficult to throw this weapon well, and it requires considerable practice. All the blacks are by no means perfect in its use, and very few white people acquire the art.

The natives frequently make the boomerang touch the ground ten or twelve paces from where it is thrown; but this, far from diminishing the speed, gives it on the contrary increased velocity. It may even touch the ground a second time, and then whirl off in the above-described circle from the right to the left. It is impossible to aim accurately with the returning boomerang: with the plain one, which does not return, it is much easier to do so, and the mark is not missed. A man is rarely killed by a boomerang. An acquaintance of mine told me that he once in a skirmish was hit in the thigh; the wound was only about an inch and a half deep, and was soon cured. His horse was hit in several places, without receiving any harm worth mentioning.

BOOMERANGS FROM QUEENSLAND (⅐ size).
a, b, c, plain ones from Central Queensland (Coomooboolaroo). d, a returning one from Herbert river.[^[3]]

[3]. On the Herbert river I never saw boomerangs ornamented with engraved lines like those farther south and west in Queensland.

It has been asserted that the Egyptians and Assyrians used the boomerang, and from this the conclusion has been drawn that the Australian natives are descended from a race that have had a higher degree of development than they now possess. But, according to Mr. B. Smyth, it is extremely doubtful whether the Dravidic or Egyptian boomerang is identical with the Australian, since the former could not have had the quality of returning. Moreover, we find in Australia intermediate forms of this remarkable weapon, which show a development towards, rather than a retrogression from, the present boomerang.

It is a remarkable fact, which is asserted by several persons, that the boomerang is also used in South-eastern India; detailed accounts are, however, lacking. This weapon reminds us of the myth about Thor’s hammer, Mjolner, which also returned to the hands of the thrower.

To explain the origin of the boomerang, which is found as far north as Herbert river, would be difficult. But we can conceive it to have been invented by accident. A twig or a piece of wood which was on the ground may have become warped by rain and sunshine, and thereby assumed a form which revealed the striking quality of returning when it was thrown. In the forests the natives generally lay hold of any piece of wood for the purpose of killing a small animal. It is more probable, however, that the idea was discovered in their games. The native Australian seems to amuse himself with everything that comes in his way. Thus I have frequently seen them fold the leaf of a common palm into a square, give the two corners a little twist, one to each side, and throw it into the air, making it skim round and return. A white man told me that his black boys, while round the camp fire, used frequently to amuse themselves with the leaves of the Brigalow-acacia, which have a striking resemblance to the boomerang. They gave them a flick with the finger, causing the leaves to start off, but to return in the same manner as the boomerang. This seems to me to be the most reasonable explanation of the matter. The blacks may also have received a suggestion from the whirling movements described by the winged fruit of the gum-trees as it falls to the ground.

CHAPTER IV

Struggle between blacks and whites—116° F. heat—Cool nights—Troubles—Bush-life—How the bushman spends his money—Inundations—Back again to Gracemere—A greedy snake—Courtship in the bush.

STOCK-MAN’S WHIP.

After staying eight days at the barracks, I felt so well that I was able to ride back to Elderslie. But on the way I became ill again, and repeatedly had to dismount from my horse and lie down on the ground to rest.

It was my original intention to go farther west and nearer the Gulf of Carpentaria, but my miserable condition made it impossible for me to proceed. I did not see how I was to get back to the coast, for I grew worse and worse every day. After being ill for about a month, I was at length able to start on my way back. I now laid my route viâ Bledensbourne, chiefly for the purpose of getting possession of a large, white, fruit-eating bat, but I did not succeed, although I searched several caves which these animals were said to frequent. The large lizards, commonly called iguana, here attain so great a size that they possibly may be a new species.

In the vicinity of Bledensbourne I was shown a large number of skulls of natives who had been shot by the black police in the following circumstances:—A couple of teams with provisions for the far west, conducted by two white men, had encamped near the blacks. The latter were lying in ambush, and meant to make an assault, as two black women had been ravished by the white men. Instead of defending themselves with their weapons, the white men were cowardly enough to take flight, leaving all their provisions, oxen, tent, and all their other things in the hands of the blacks. The fugitives reported to the police that they had been attacked, and so the “criminals” a few weeks afterwards were pursued far into a narrow valley and shot. I visited the spot in company with the manager of Bledensbourne station, and saw seven or eight of the skulls. According to the statement made by several persons, nearly the whole tribe was killed, as there was no opportunity of flight.

This is one of the many cruelties perpetrated by the native police against the natives, and the most thrilling stories could be told of their conduct. Their cruelties constitute the black page in the annals of Australian colonisation. This police force has become more and more unpopular, and voices have been raised for its entire abolition. The police inspector often left it to his men to do the murdering, “to disperse the blacks,” as it is called, at their own risk. He thus shirked the responsibility and retained his post; for he does not dare kill the blacks openly, at least not at the present time.

It is not strange that such an institution is hated by the blacks, or that they take every opportunity of revenge. During my sojourn here an inspector was killed by a spear hurled by the blacks, while he was treating with the savages, and a year later they killed another inspector in his own camp at night.

REST UNDER A BOTTLE-TREE (Sterculia).

The summer heat had now set in, as it was already late in November. The sun was at its zenith, and poured down its scorching rays day by day, unrelieved by a cooling breath of air or by any refreshing lake or prattling brook—only mocking fata morgana. There was no animal life to be seen; all living things sought refuge from the burning heat of the sun. 104° to 105° F. in the shade was the average heat. The highest temperature I observed was 116° F., and the heat was then so great that it seemed oppressive even to sit still. The wind that blew was as hot as if it came from an oven, and the thermometer rose and fell with the wind. Still, the climate was more tolerable here than on the banks of the Diamantina river, where the thermometer rose to 126° F. in three consecutive days, a perfectly exceptional heat, even in tropical Australia. The trees which are to be found furnish but little protection against the beams of the sun, for their foliage generally hangs vertically from the branches, and consequently gives but little shade. When I rested at noon, I could find shade nowhere except under the horse. As a rule I do not suffer from heat, and am able to ride all day long beneath the perpendicular rays of the sun; but at this time I was weak from my illness, and the hot weather was too much for me. Many times in a day I had to lie down in the burning rays of the sun and rest my weary limbs.

The coolness of the night, however, makes the people in general feel comfortable. As soon as the sun sets the air is cooled, as it is not moist enough to retain much of the heat. The thermometer would sink 40° F., so that I needed a woollen blanket to keep myself warm during the night. To my other troubles was added the annoyance of the flies, which at some stations were so bad that it was necessary to eat under mosquito-nets. These nuisances are especially troublesome to the eyes, which when bitten by the flies first smart and then swell up, so that they sometimes cannot be opened for several hours. To keep the flies away from the eyes, we wore nets over our faces, and even the horses were protected in this manner.

“Life in Western Queensland during the summer is simply a struggle with the flies”; “When I am about to sign a draft, I must have a man to fan the flies away and watch the inkstand,” are expressions which I still remember to have heard in that country.

The specimens I had collected were kept in a number of pasteboard boxes, which had to be loaded and unloaded every morning and evening. I had to dismount many times a day to straighten them, for they soon became disordered, and galled the back of the horse by not being evenly balanced. Once I nearly lost all, as my active pack-horse got loose and galloped away, kicking up all sorts of pranks and nearly getting the whole load under his belly. Gradually my horses became so lean and poor from the long journey that I scarcely believed they would live till I reached my destination. In spite of every care taken, the back of my pack-horse became galled, and this was another reason why I had to travel slowly.

Both at Winton and at Thompson I found an old acquaintance from Europe, the greenshank (Totanus glottis), but both times I saw but one bird, and it was exceedingly shy. Animal life awakes and makes its appearance only about sunset, and is observed chiefly near the water-holes. There are many varieties of birds, but as a rule there are but few of each kind; generally they are scattered over a large territory, though some of them are strangely confined to a very limited territory. The cockatoos and hawks are comparatively numerous, and the kites and the beautiful black falcons (Falco subniger) are particularly noticeable.

After many difficulties I finally came to a hut, in which there lived a boundary-rider. I now began to approach more densely-populated regions, and the next day I arrived tired, with my exhausted horses, at Isis Downs station, where I for several days enjoyed much-needed rest and obtained milk, which is a great rarity in Western Queensland.

Christmas Eve I returned to Minnie Downs in terribly hot weather. It was so hot that even under cover at the station we had to seek relief in wet towels wound about the head. In such weather, when the air seems to vibrate, we shrink from going out, just as much as we do at home in Norway when it is bitterly cold. As a rule people in Australia pay no attention to the heat. The work goes on regularly at the station, and singularly enough, the heat is felt much less out of doors when one is hard at work than when sitting still doing nothing in the house. Those who drink to excess are most troubled by it. In Rockhampton, for instance, nine drunkards died in one week. But, with all this, the climate of Queensland is healthier than that of any other country in the same degree of latitude. It is not necessary here, as in many other tropical lands, to send the children to colder climes to be reared. They grow strong, and are the pictures of health. Of course there is fever, but almost exclusively in new-settled districts, where the soil is yet uncultivated. Though sometimes fatal, it is generally of a far milder type here than in other tropical lands. A man who had lived for two years in a fever locality without perceiving any symptoms of the disease, had his first attack after taking cold. As the soil gradually becomes cultivated, the fever disappears.

Another illness which troubles the colonists is sandy blight, a very severe disease of the eye, which sometimes ends in blindness. In Western Queensland people are also subject to bad sores on the hand, called Barcoo-rot; a traveller will be struck by the fact that nearly everybody wears a bandage about his hands, because the most insignificant scratch develops into a large sore which may last for months. Beliander is also a common disease in Queensland; without the slightest apparent cause, a person is suddenly seized with vomiting, but is relieved just as suddenly. These diseases doubtless have their origin in the climatic conditions, and the colonists have therefore acquired the habit of blaming the climate whenever they are ill.

BUSHMEN.

It cannot but surprise us how people keep in tolerably good health who take as little care of themselves as the bushman does. He gets up before sunrise, eats, saddles his horse and rides to his work. As a rule, he is out all day until sunset. He sleeps in rainy weather under the open sky; he eats whenever it happens to be convenient, if he has the time—if not he waits until he finds time; he lives on salt beef and damper every day; he drinks muddy water or alcohol: such is the bushman’s mode of life.

Externally there is no difference between the squatter and his workmen. All are dressed alike, and do the same work; no kind of work is dishonourable. I have seen young gentlemen beneath a scorching sun do work that the common labourer in Norway would regard as below his dignity. The long, short-handled whip, which the bushman uses for horses and cattle, is his chief implement, and this he handles with great dexterity.

A SQUATTER’S HOMESTEAD.

When the day’s work is done, the squatter retires in the evening to the main building, where he usually takes a bath previous to his dinner, which is of a solid kind, frequently with vegetables, but without much variety. At the same time the working man goes to his more modest hut, where he drinks his tea with damper and salt beef. Jams are not uncommon as articles of luxury, and are eaten with the bread.

Women are but seldom seen at the stations. The squatter is usually a married man, at least in the most civilised districts, but the hands rarely have wives. Hence the women who venture into this far west country soon find their fortunes, for in Queensland there are 142 men to every 100 women.

During my stay at Winton I had an opportunity of observing how quickly the chains of matrimony are forged in Western Queensland. An Irish girl who had recently arrived was standing over the wash-tub, and soon attracted the attention of a bushman. He entered into conversation with her, and after half an hour they agreed to get married; she wiped the soap off her arms, and so both proceeded without making any further toilet to the magistrate to have the ceremony performed.

In the long run the station life becomes very monotonous. The squatter therefore makes a trip to Melbourne, to Sydney, or even to Europe, while the labourer amuses himself as best he can where he is. Twice a year races are got up. The men are very fond of horses, and they take a deep interest in the races in the cities, betting heavily on the different events. Newspapers, which are extensively read everywhere in Australia, also find their way to the bush, as the Government provides for the carrying of mails to nearly every station.

The bushman has but few wants, and consequently saves nearly all his wages; but after a year or two he naturally feels the need of change, and so goes to the squatter to ask for a cheque—for ready money is not used in the bush. It frequently amounts to £100, and then he makes up his mind to have some sport. He takes his horses, rides off, dismounts in the first little village and “has a good time”—that is to say, he drinks every kind of liquor that is to be had. He hands his cheque or draft to his host, and from this time forward he lives in a perpetual state of intoxication as long as he has a penny left, and all who approach him drink his health at his expense—live and let live! Nervous and prostrated, he finally comes back to the bush, works a year or two more, and again returns to the village as a man of means to repeat the old story. The liquors he consumes are of course manufactured according to the receipt of the keeper of the dram-shop; they are poor and adulterated—simple poison. This shameful business is chiefly carried on on the borders of civilisation, and there are many stories about dram-shop keepers who have accumulated fortunes by vending this awful stuff. A few years ago there was a terrible report about such a liquor-dealer in Isisford. He had a special burial-place for all those who were not strong enough to survive his treatment.

Towards the end of January 1882 I bade farewell to Western Queensland, and left Minnie Downs. From Tambo I travelled for a time in the coach of the well-known stage company, Cobb and Co., but as there was no place for my dog, I had to walk the last twenty-seven miles before I reached the railroad station, and from there I had a long day’s journey by rail to Rockhampton. During the last fourteen days the heat was very oppressive; black clouds gathered in the rainy season; and I reached Gracemere just in the right time, for the following day the rain began to pour down in the greater part of Central Queensland, and it rained so violently that large districts were flooded. A mail-carrier from Aramac had to stay for three days in a tree to escape the flood. These terrible inundations are thought to be periodical. Mr. C. Russel tries to show that they occur every nineteenth year in the Darling river district.

It seemed refreshing to be once more in a moist coast climate. The results of my journey did not correspond to my exertions, although I had found some very interesting objects. Amid many privations I had traversed 1700 miles, and was now merely gathering strength for a journey to Northern Queensland.

Before I leave Gracemere I must relate a snake story connected with it. One forenoon I was asked to come down to the garden to kill a snake. As I approached the place I was greatly astonished to find the reptile hanging dead down a stone wall. At the same time I noticed the head of another snake concealed farther up the wall, which had seized the dead serpent by the middle, so that the head and tail of the latter touched the ground. As it was difficult for the victor to swallow his prey in the above-described position, he dropped it to the ground and crept down after it. Meanwhile I had stepped back, and from my place of concealment I could now watch and see what it was going to do. They were both of about the same size. The serpent laid itself conveniently opposite its victim, and began to swallow it. Its jaws were opened wide, wild with desire; the head of the dead serpent disappeared past its greedy teeth, and the rest of it soon slipped down.

I allowed it to swallow about one-third of the dead serpent; then I stepped forward and gave it a blow across the back. It now tried with all its might to get rid of its prey, but the head stuck fast in its throat, and it soon had to succumb to my blows. In this condition they were put in spirits, as they could not be separated except by force. The greedy animal was a brown snake (Hoplocephalus), one of the most venomous in Australia. Its prey was a harmless kind, the so-called brown tree-snake (Dipsas fusca). The venomous one measured 4 feet 2 inches, and the other 4 feet 7 inches.

Snakes were numerous in this vicinity, as everywhere in Australia. At Waverley station, not far from Gracemere, one man in two days killed 203. The country was flat, and stood under water in the rainy season. The snakes found their way up to his hut, which was situated on high ground, so that he could do nothing for two days but defend himself, as they literally besieged his house.

CHAPTER V

Journey to Northern Queensland—Mackay-sugar—Employment of South Sea Islanders—Townsville—A rough northern man—Sugar district in Lower Herbert—Visit to a successful Scandinavian—Blacks near Gardiner’s farm—Nolla-nolla—Spring—Arrival at Herbert Vale.

In May 1882 I was at length able to set out on my journey to Northern Queensland. Early one morning at four o’clock I arrived by the steamer at Mackay, where I put up at the city hotel. Everything was open; there was nobody to receive you, nor would anybody get up for the purpose. I had to look for my room myself, and at last I succeeded in finding one.