Chapter III: Part 3

Melbourne is a true city of the plains; we have already noticed
that Port Phillip itself is merely part of a drowned plain. On
either side of Melbourne, between the mountains on the north,
which form a continuous wall from east to west of the State, and
the broken ranges of the coast lies a great lowland, a series
of plains dotted with marshes and detached hills. This is the
Great Valley of Victoria. In the west it is largely covered with
lavas, poured out from volcanoes now extinct. We can trace many
of the old craters, especially in the district round Ballarat. 7
Here is one of them from the inside; notice the shape of the
rocks. It is the lava and the river alluvium which have made the
Great Valley the most fertile area of the whole State. Eastward
the plain narrows for a space and then broadens out again in the
valley of the Latrobe, behind the lagoons and the Ninety Mile
Beach. The early settlers were quick to notice the fine grasses
on these open plains; they started with sheep, but with the
growth of communications dairy farming and butter making have
increased greatly. Here we have a typical view on the plains, not
far from the great Lake Korangamite. It is open rolling country, 8
and the building in the foreground is a large dairy. We may see
the butter being brought in from a branch factory to the central
collecting station, and can watch the latest methods of working
it by machinery. We shall find the same scenery and the same
industry all over this area.

Here is another typical scene: a string of draught horses is 9
being brought in for sale, and we can follow them back to their
feeding ground on the rich grass of the open country. Victoria, 10
with a much smaller area, values her horses at about four-fifths
of the total value of those of New South Wales. They are not
raised only for farm purposes as the picture before us proves. It
is a race meeting, and we might imagine ourselves in England but 11
for the strange shape of some of the carriages.

We have had a glimpse of one aspect of Victoria; the port, the
city, and the plain. Now let us turn to the mountains. We have
seen that the east end of the State is almost filled up by a mass 12
of highland, and we may notice that the railways only touch the
outer fringe of this district. It is out of the world and thinly
peopled, though much of it is well fitted for cattle. Westward
the highland becomes narrower and sends out spurs on either side,
leaving the Great Valley on the south, and on the north and
north-west a broad plain sloping down to the Murray River. This
corresponds somewhat to the slope west of the Divide in New South
Wales, but the climate, as we shall see, is not the same.

As we leave Melbourne and follow the Yarra up-stream we soon 13
notice a change of scenery. At Warburton, the rail head, we are
well within the highlands. The river runs through forests of
eucalyptus and fern, and we notice rapids below the primitive 14
bridge. It is evidently a mountain stream. This district is one
of the playgrounds of Melbourne, and we stumble on the Christmas 15
camp of the Boy Scouts, who are known in Australia as well as
in our own part of the Empire. A few miles away to the north is 16
Healesville. We notice here, as we drive through, that there are
some trees which seem to have shed their leaves. Perhaps these 17
are some English trees of which many have been imported, and they
find the weather too dry and hot; for close by we find the native
forest with trees in full leaf. In spite of the presence of
English trees, we may easily recognise the country as Australia
by the great gum trees, with their bare trunks, and the thorny
acacia growing below. The gums and the tree ferns are everywhere 18
on the hillsides. Even the house and garden, which we see here,
have a slightly foreign look, and do not seem adapted for the 19
conditions of an English winter. In fact, there is no winter,
as we understand it, in this part of Victoria, though snow may
lie for months on the heights of the Alps to the north-east. We
must remember that Melbourne lies in nearly the same latitude
as Seville. In the hills to the north of Melbourne we find the
same scenery, with its abundance of streams and trees. Here is a
woodland scene not far from Mount Macedon in this district, where 20
the Governor of Victoria has his summer home.

* * * * *

Let us now travel westward by the railway to Ballarat, which
lies on the south face of the narrow ridge which forms the
water-parting between the Victorian Valley and the north-western
plains. Ballarat is a fine town, second only to Melbourne, and
planted in far more picturesque surroundings. Here is Sturt 21
Street, named after one of Australia’s greatest explorers; 22
looking down it we can just see Mount Warrenheit in the distance.
We can wander in the Botanical Gardens where the aloe is in 23
flower, or stroll by the lake and admire the black swans. But we
have not come here only for the scenery. Ballarat represents the
second great factor in the development of Victoria: gold.

Within ten years of 1851, when gold was discovered here in paying
quantities, all the chief fields of Victoria were opened up, and
there was a sudden rush of settlers to the country. Many of the
goldfields are so near Melbourne that it may be considered as
a centre of mining as well as of pastoral industries. Thus we
may account for the fact that it has to-day concentrated in its
neighbourhood nearly half of the total population of the State.
The gold most easily reached was in the underground leads, the
channels of old streams, or fissures in the rock. In these were
found nuggets and gold dust. Here we see the primitive methods of
mining. A group of miners is sinking a simple shaft and raising 24
the soil in buckets, while another washes it in a pan to separate
the heavier gold dust. The pick and shovel and the strong arm 25
of the miner are the chief instruments needed for this form of
mining; and the fact that the goldfields are in the midst of
fertile country, with farms all around them, makes the life much
less hard than in some of the fields of the far interior of
Australia which we shall visit later.

The modern method of mining is to attack the quartz rock by the
aid of machinery; and the shafts are often carried to a great
depth. Here, instead of the tents of the miners, we see what
might be the top of a coal mine, with elaborate machinery for 26
winding. We shall examine this type of mine elsewhere; for though
gold has made Victoria in the past, it is not now the chief
gold-producing State in the Commonwealth. So we pass on, after a
glance at a quartz reef cropping out from the ground--a sign that 27
has often guided the prospector in his search.

We have seen that as we travel eastward along the ridge on which
we are standing, the forest grows more dense and settlement
thinner, while roads and railways disappear. But the greatest
change is found as we travel north and north-west from Ballarat.
We have crossed to the inner slope of the highlands and are
entering a very dry country. In the districts which we have
visited the rainfall is not unlike that of the Midlands of 28
England, though most comes in the winter time from the westerly
winds. The extreme east of the State has also, like Sydney, a
good deal of rain in summer from the Pacific. But the great
plain sloping to the Murray is cut off by the highlands from the
moist winds of the oceans and exposed to dry hot winds sweeping
down from the deserts of the interior. The rivers end in shallow
lakes and marshes on the arid plain; and we may notice that the
railways push out into this district and stop in similar fashion.
It is a region of sandhills, heaths, and a dense scrub, called
_mallee_; dreary and desolate at first sight, but not altogether
without promise. The soil is very fertile, being composed of the
old river silts, and with light rains at the right season, or by
the aid of irrigation, it will grow fine crops. Here we see the
beginning of the process of cultivation, by the rolling down of 29
the _mallee_ scrub.

With large areas of fertile land lying waste for want of water,
and water in abundance in the rivers, we should expect that
attempts would be made to bring the two together. In New South
Wales, near Yass on the Murrumbidgee, a great scheme is in
progress. The Barren Jack dam, when finished next year, will hold
up and make available for agriculture, a mass of water comparable
to that of the Nile at Assuan. It will preserve, for the dry
season, the water from the winter rains and the melting snows of
spring. Other schemes are proposed for the Lachlan and Murray;
up to the present, however, the chief development of irrigation
has been in Victoria, on the streams flowing into the Murray and
on the main river itself. Here we see the process of impounding 30
the water; notice the woods in the background which show that we
are on the upper course of the stream, near the hills and the
region of heavier rainfall. Here again is a great reservoir being 31
excavated, to hold the flood water; and next we may see the water
flowing out into the irrigation channel. In another place the 32
water is being pumped up into high-level tanks for distribution. 33
The river has gradually built up a flood plain at a higher
level than its usual channel; so that the water must be raised
before it will flow over the fields. At Mildura and Renmark, the
latter in South Australia, a large fruit-growing industry has
been developed on the basis of irrigation. So we find lemons and
apricots, and above all the currant and the vine which give us
our dried currants and raisins.

But the supply of water in the rivers is limited, for the rivers
are not broad or deep, in spite of their great length. One of
the chief difficulties of all irrigation schemes is to avoid
damage to the interests of people living lower down the stream,
or interference with the navigation. In this matter the interests
of all three States of the Commonwealth must be considered,
since the Murray basin is divided among them. As we have already
noticed in the case of Queensland and New South Wales, the State
boundaries only coincide in part with natural features of the
country.

The whole character of the river basin depends on the
distribution of the rainfall. In the case of all three States
there is a similar arrangement: first the coast belt, which is
more varied and irregular in Queensland and Victoria than in New
South Wales; then the highland edge, and then the back slope
with a zone of moderate rainfall which shades off gradually into
desert conditions. This zone narrows as we come southwards until
it almost disappears in South Australia. But before following
it out into this last State we will cross Bass Strait to visit
Tasmania. Victoria, though a mere corner of the Australian
continent, is about the size of Great Britain, while Tasmania is
not very much smaller than Ireland, and both could support a very
dense population. We must bear these facts in mind during our
rapid journey through the country, since the maps in our atlases,
for the most part, give us utterly wrong impressions as to the
area of Australia.

If we look at a chart showing the depths of the sea, we may 34
notice that Bass Strait is shallow while the surrounding seas are
deep. From Wilson Promontory we can trace a connexion through
Flinders and Cape Barren Islands, to the north-east horn of the
curved coast of Tasmania. A similar bridge runs through from the
north-west horn, through the Hunter Islands and King Island. We
may be reminded of the shallows of the English Channel and the
North Sea, and can easily imagine that Tasmania, like England,
at some very remote period formed part of the neighbouring
continental mainland. We find, moreover, a general similarity
between the plants and animals on the opposite sides of the
Strait; but there are also some marked differences which suggest
that Tasmania was separated very long ago and so has had a
peculiar and isolated development.

We cross Bass Strait and steam up the winding estuary of the
Tamar to Launceston. The names remind us of England, and round us 35
are the counties of Devon, Dorset, and Cornwall; but we must not
be too ready to take the names as a guide to the character of the
country or the climate. Our vessel lands us at a busy wharf in
the middle of the town, for Launceston, though second to Hobart
in size, is the chief commercial centre for the island. Here is a
general view of the town: it is modern and well planned and has 36
fine houses and gardens in the suburbs, like the other Australian
capitals.

A glance at the country round soon shows us why the early
settlers were reminded of the south-west corner of England. At 37
King’s Bridge we can leave the broad estuary of the Tamar and
turn up the narrow valley of the Esk. Notice the fishermen: the
streams here abound with fish, mostly introduced from England.
The Esk here flows through a rocky and wooded gorge; and we might 38
easily imagine ourselves in Devon or Cornwall. Higher up the
scenery is spoilt by an ugly building with great pipes; it is the 39
power station for the electric light of the town. The water power
is too valuable to waste, so the picturesque has been sacrificed
to the practical needs of the people.

_By permission of the Diagram Co._]

As we leave Launceston and travel up the valley of the Tamar,
through beautiful open country, it is still easy to imagine that
we are somewhere in the south of England. The apple orchards are 40
everywhere. Here is one on a hill slope, but we notice that it
is quite unlike the grass-grown orchards so common in Devon.
The trees are grown as low bushes, in straight rows; it is less
picturesque but more profitable. They produce the fine even fruit
which we can buy in the London market. The climate is cooler
and moister here than on the mainland and so is well fitted for
most of our English fruits. There are the same orchards and the
same English crops all along the line of the railway southward
to Hobart. The line follows a narrow sheltered lowland. On the
east is a broken mountainous country; on the west a great solid
plateau, rising up in tiers or steps, and occupying all the 41
centre of the island. We shall not cross this central block,
since it is without road or rail and almost without inhabitants,
a bleak bare roof to the island, feeding a few sheep in summer,
but even then subject to biting storms and snow.

From Launceston a short journey by rail will take us to 42
Scottsdale among the hills in the north-eastern corner of the
island. Here we meet the bullock team hauling timber, and droves 43
of sheep on the road, while the eucalyptus forest is all around 44
us; on this drier eastern side of Tasmania we seem to be back
again in Australia. But if we travel westward from Launceston
we shall notice a great change. At first our way lies over the
plains, between the northern edge of the plateau and the sea.
Then, at Burnie, we leave the sea and strike southwards towards a
new country. We have turned the north-west corner of the plateau,
and between its steep western edge and the sea we find the plain
broken by a detached range of mountains rising from the level.
Here is the chief mining district in the island.

Let us use our eyes as the train runs swiftly through this
country. The gaunt gum-trees have disappeared; everywhere are
dense forests of the evergreen beech, called myrtle by the 45
settlers, with its small feathery leaves. Mingled with the beech
are clumps of pine, of various kinds; and below is a dense
undergrowth of scrub which makes it difficult to penetrate the
forest. The rivers have cut deep gorges in the surface of the
plateau: here we see one of these with its slopes clad thickly 46
with trees. It is a rugged country, largely unexplored, and would
have few inhabitants but for the mines. It lies in the track of
the strong west winds, the Roaring Forties, and has a rainfall
three times as heavy as that of the sheltered eastern valleys,
a rainfall only to be compared to that of the wettest parts of
the West of Scotland and Ireland. The vegetation is naturally
different from that of the neighbouring regions of Australia,
with their moderate rainfall and greater warmth; in fact, to find
a parallel to Western Tasmania we must look to New Zealand and to
parts of South America.

* * * * *

The railway on which we are travelling has been built solely for
the benefit of the mines, and we are drawing near to Zeehan, an
important centre for the production of silver, lead, and other 47
metals. Notice the mountains in the distance rising up sharply
from the level of the plains. The town looks primitive and 48
unfinished; little better than a mining camp. Here is one of the
smelteries at the foot of the hills. A little further on we come 49
down to the sea again at Strahan, the only seaport of importance
on the west coast. It lies on a fine bay in the deep and almost 50
landlocked inlet of Macquarie Harbour. This splendid sheet of
water was discovered as early as 1816, but it was too far away
from the settled portion of Tasmania, and it owes its present
importance solely to the presence of the mines in the country
behind it.

A short distance inland is Queenstown, where much smelting is 51
going on. Notice the desolate appearance of the country round,
and the stumps of the trees which have been cut down for fuel.
Gormanston, with its background of rugged mountain, is equally 52
desolate. Close to this town are the famous Mount Lyell copper
mines. Here is the “open cut” where they are quarrying into the 53
mountain-side, and here are some of the smelting works. Here 54
again is a general view from our hotel: the whole country is 55
grim, scarred, and waste, in great contrast to the beautiful
forest scenery a few miles away. But it is the source of great
wealth to Tasmania.

We shall not attempt to travel further south than Macquarie
Harbour, as there is little beyond but wild forest and hill
country, backed by the bare plateau and full in the path of the
westerly gales from the Southern Ocean. It is without roads or
railways and has scarcely a human settlement. So we return to
Launceston and follow the railway southward to Hobart. The coast
of the south-east corner is very different from that of the rest
of the island. It is a drowned coast, with deep fiords, many
islands, and irregular peninsulas barely connected by narrow
necks with the mainland. On one of these deep fiords stands
Hobart, the second oldest city in the whole of Australasia.

Here we have a general view of Hobart, looking across the water 56
to the hills beyond. Once again we are reminded of portions of
the Clyde, and only Sydney can compare with Hobart for the beauty
of its position. Here is another view from the water, with Mount 57
Wellington in the background rising into the clouds. In the
neighbouring lowlands, sheltered from the west by the mountains,
are more apple orchards; and in a gully near the town we find a 58
mass of tree ferns. Here again is Government House, since Hobart 59
is the political capital of Tasmania: notice the lake and the
trees. Everything around us suggests a mild and not very dry
climate.

If we climb Mount Wellington, the aspect of the country soon 60
changes. The mountain is not an isolated peak, but merely the
south-eastern corner of the central plateau. From the summit is
a fine view of the fertile lowland valley and the great expanse
of fiords and islands. But the summit itself is a wild confusion
of boulders with low scrub and heath. This is a very good guide
to the nature of the whole surface of the plateau behind, and
we realise that it is not a favourable country for the settler,
though in some of its wilder aspects it may attract the tourist.
We shall not attempt to reach the lakes lying on the surface of
the plateau, but content ourselves with a short journey round its
southern rim.

_Copyright._) (_See page 68._

ADELAIDE: LOOKING SOUTH-EAST.]

_Copyright._) (_See page 81._

MUNDARING WEIR.]

_Copyright._) (_See page 82._

ALLUVIAL MINING.]

_Copyright._) (_See page 83._

CLIFFS IN THE GREAT BIGHT.]

The coach will take us through more orchards, towards Franklin 61
on the Huon River, where we touch the eastern side of the broken
country from which we turned back at Macquarie Harbour. There
are settlements all along the Huon Estuary, which runs into the
channel of D’Entrecasteaux. Here we have come upon an important
remnant of past history. The name is that of a French admiral who
was sent out in 1791 to seek for a port in Southern Australia,
so that France might gain a footing in these new islands.
D’Entrecasteaux actually surveyed the Derwent River, and a later
French expedition spent some time in the neighbourhood. Partly
through fear of the designs of France we occupied Risdon in 1803,
and in the following year, Colonel Collins, not content with the
site at Port Phillip in Victoria, which he had occupied for a
short time, came over and moved the settlement from Risdon to
Hobart. The evidence of the activity of the French explorers in
this region is still to be seen in the names of capes and bays
all along the eastern coast of Tasmania.

There are saw-mills at Hobart, and all around the Huon is a fine
timber country, easily reached from the sea. Here we see the
beginning of the end: the cutters have built a rough platform 62
above the undergrowth and up to the point where the trunk of the
tree rises straight and even. They are using the saw, though
sometimes the whole work is done with the axe. They are fond of
the axe in this part of the world, and it enters even into their
sports, since the chopping match is a favourite form of athletic
contest among them.

The trees in this district grow to a great size; here we have 63
a forest scene, with the huge logs scattered on the ground, or
loaded on to trucks which will carry them to the mill. Geeveston
is noted for its saw-mills, one of which we have before us. The 64
logs disappear inside the mill, and we meet them again as sawn
timber on the little wharf, ready to be shipped to all parts of 65
the world.

In the valley of the Huon, as well as in that of the Derwent, are
orchards everywhere, proving that we are still in the sheltered
lowland which we have traced from Launceston southwards. The
cottages and gardens, with their masses of English flowers; the
English trees, oaks and elms, and the hawthorn hedges all along
the roadside, remind us strongly of England. Many even of the
birds are English. In fact, this part of the island has been
quite transformed by the colonists until it closely resembles
the mother country. But we enter the forest and step at once
from England to Australia. Here are the tall gums with their
untidy bark and dead branches, and the swarms of honey-eating
birds flitting among their blossoms. Here, too, are the wattle
and banksia and many other plants peculiar to Australia, and the
further we move from civilisation the less there is in the face
of the country to remind us of England. But one difference may
be noted between Tasmania and the rest of Australia: however
far we penetrate into the wild interior we shall not meet the
aborigines. They were few in number at the time of the first
settlement, and the last survivor died many years ago.

LECTURE V

SOUTH AUSTRALIA AND WESTERN AUSTRALIA

On our visits to other great capitals we have found steamers
unloading their cargoes in the very heart of the city; but
Adelaide, founded in 1836 and named after the wife of King
William IV., is neither on the sea nor on a navigable river.
The original settlers were aiming at a purely agricultural
colony, and so chose a position a few miles inland in the midst
of fertile land and pleasant scenery. So we must land at Port
Adelaide and take the train.

Partly owing to the separation of the port from the city, partly 1
owing to the slower and more even growth of South Australia,
Adelaide seems quieter and less crowded than Melbourne or
Sydney, and its inhabitants consider it to be the model capital
of Eastern Australia. King William Street, which we see here, 2
with the statue of Colonel Light, the founder of the city, in
the foreground, does not look in the least commercial. We get
the same impression as we walk along the tree-clad banks of the 3
little Torrens River, or cross it by the City Bridge. We miss
the wharves and warehouses and steam cranes, and might almost 4
imagine that we were on a backwater of the Upper Thames. The
main streets, too, of the city remind us rather of the West End 5
than of the City of London; while even the post-office stands
in an open space with trees. In fact, the whole city, with its 6
wide streets, its parks and gardens, gives the impression of 7
spaciousness. If we make our way, however, to the railway station
we shall see that Adelaide is not by any means without trade.
Here are collected the products of all the country round; but as
this is purely agricultural, and Adelaide is not the only outlet,
there is not the rush of business which we saw at Melbourne.

_By permission of the Diagram Co._]

Here is a general view which will give us some idea of the 8
position of the city. It lies on a plain; a few miles away to the
east the view is shut in by a long, low ridge. If we climb this
ridge and look back towards the city, we have in sight a large
part of the original South Australia.

South Australia of to-day is a somewhat difficult country to 9
analyse; but the ridge on which we are standing may give us the
key to the whole. If we follow the heights northwards, we shall
find that they disappear, hundreds of miles away, in the country
south-east of Lake Eyre. South of Adelaide they curve round and
end in Kangaroo Island, which stretches across the mouth of the
Gulf of St. Vincent. These heights are really the edge of a
plateau, and the plateau slopes gently away from the sea towards
the basin of the Murray. The Murray, at the great bend, turns
sharply southwards and reaches its outlet in Lake Alexandrina
just beyond the southern end of the highlands.

Between the plateau edge and the sea, Adelaide and the Gulf towns
lie along a narrow strip of lowland. The Gulf of St. Vincent
is merely part of a larger gulf which is interrupted by Yorke
Peninsula, so that we have really one great inlet running up to
Port Augusta at the head of Spencer Gulf. The west side of this
gulf is formed by another plateau which slopes away from the sea
towards the salt lakes and marshes of the interior. We thus have
two plateaus and a lowland in between, partly flooded by the sea.
A portion of the surface has dropped down between two lines of
cracks or faults, and a rift valley has been formed. Lake Torrens
occupies the northern end of this valley. It is the eastern
side of the valley, together with a small part of the back of
the plateau, which constitutes the real South Australia. We may
notice that the local railways are almost confined to this area.

There is, however, one important piece of the State outside
this area. South of Lake Alexandrina we see a long curving
coast, bounded by sandbanks enclosing a string of lagoons,
the Coorong; behind it is the scrub country which we have met
already in the north-west district of Victoria. Beyond this,
in the south-east corner, especially around Mount Gambier, we
find the same conditions as on the neighbouring coast regions
of Victoria. There is considerable rainfall and there are even 10
fresh-water lakes, as we see here. The soil, too, is fertile,
since Mount Gambier belongs to the volcanic area of Victoria; so
that there is agriculture and dairy farming, and oats are grown.
But the district is cut off from Adelaide by land and has rather
a detached existence, though the railways now being built or
planned will alter this.

We will now explore the country round Adelaide. In the Mount
Lofty ranges, east of the city, there are streams and waterfalls; 11
but the rivers of the plain are very small and do not suggest
a very heavy rainfall. Everywhere are orchards and vineyards
growing fruits which are not grown in the open air in England.
Here is an orchard quite near the city, and here is an orange 12
tree laden with ripening fruit. The rainfall is very light and
comes mostly in the winter, while the summers are hotter than 13
in most of the occupied regions of Australia. We have the sunny
climate of the Mediterranean and a corresponding vegetation.
Yet it is healthy for white people, in spite of the heat, owing
to the dry clear air; while the highlands only a few miles away
offer a refuge in the summer.

On the eastward side of the plateau there are again no large
rivers, and the rainfall is even less than at Adelaide; but there
is enough to grow fine crops of wheat. We see much the same
arrangement of zones as at the back of Sydney, but the wheat-belt
is narrower and the rainfall rather less. Very soon we drop down
into the rainless plains of the Murray basin, where the only
cultivation is in the irrigated district round Renmark. Here we 14
can see them drying the raisins and loading them on to the little
steamer which will take them down to near the mouth of the river. 15
They will then be sent on by rail to Adelaide, since the river
has no good outlet to the sea.

Yorke Peninsula and the western side of Spencer Gulf have a few
small towns on the coast; inland they have no rivers but only
dry pastures, salt lakes, and marshes. Here is one of these
lakes in the Peninsula. The character of this district will 16
change in the future, as much of it is adapted for the growing of
wheat which has already been introduced. The only considerable
population at present is on the coast strip from Adelaide to
Port Augusta, and on the back of the plateau, never more than a
hundred miles from the coast.

As we follow the railway northwards from Adelaide we shall find 17
that agriculture decreases with the decreasing rainfall; in place
of crops we see cattle and sheep. Here is a typical station only 18
a hundred miles north of Adelaide, where the sheep seem to be
in full possession. The further north we go the thinner is the
settlement; and north of Port Augusta we shall only find it at a
few favoured spots near the railway.

Beyond Lake Torrens the plateau edge to the east trends away
and disappears, and we enter the Lake Eyre basin. At one time
this may have been a vast inland sea, as the remains of extinct
animals show that the climate must have been very different from
the present. Now it is a great clay plain, broken by low plateaus
and ridges of sandstone, and with much of its surface covered
with stones or mulga scrub. The lakes are salt, while the long
rivers, shown on the map as flowing into them, may be only a
string of mudholes for years together. Much of this region is
still unexplored, and nearly the whole of it is useless.

The railway ends at Oodnadatta, to which a train runs at rare
intervals; and off the railway the camel, which has been 19
introduced into Australia for this purpose, is the only means of
transport. To the east of this line something may be made of the
country by boring through the clay to reach the artesian water,
as we have seen already in Queensland and New South Wales; so
that settlement may spread slowly towards these States. To the
west is the arid plateau which covers so much of the central part
of the continent--the Sahara of Australia.

Adelaide is a little south of Sydney in latitude, and Oodnadatta 20
a little south of Brisbane, yet what a difference between the two
parallel journeys by rail! The explanation is to be found in the
rainfall figures: north of Port Augusta we enter the zone where
the annual amount is under ten inches. The railway reminds us
of those starting from the east coast and ending at some remote
point in the interior; but there seems very little country here
for our line to exploit or develop. To understand fully its
meaning we must look back at the past history of the region.

South Australia was founded by an Association formed in England
with the object of building up a model agricultural colony. The
plan was to sell the unoccupied land and use the proceeds to aid
suitable emigrants in settling there. With this idea Adelaide was
founded in 1836. For a few years the colony was poor, as it was
intended to be self-supporting and the capital in private hands
was insufficient to develop the country. But progress was helped
by the various discoveries of copper, from 1842 onwards, at
Kapunda, Burra and other places; and by 1855 the colony was able
to export large quantities of agricultural produce to the other
colonies, which had depended mainly on Tasmania up to this time.

It is curious that the State which is still mainly agricultural
was the first to develop its minerals on a large scale; but
as the mineral was copper and not gold, it led to no rush of
settlers, but only to a steady growth of population. The older
mines have been long worked out, but those in Yorke Peninsula and
in the Flinders Range still produce large quantities. Here are 21
views of the Wallaroo and Moonta mines in the Peninsula. 22

With the exception of some iron ore, which is not much worked,
South Australia has no other important minerals of its own: yet
at Port Pirie, on the east side of Spencer Gulf, we find large
smelting works. To explain this we must look back again at the
railway map. From the port a line runs north-east for two hundred
miles or more, to the Silverton country, just inside the New
South Wales border which we have already visited. It is the
natural outlet for this district, as Sydney is more than twice as
far away.

Here we see Port Pirie and some of the smelting works. The works 23
also handle iron ore which is brought down to the opposite shore 24
of the Gulf by a short railway from Iron Knob, near Lake Gilles,
in the dry interior of the western plateau. In the case of this
district we notice once again that the artificial boundary
following a line of longitude has no correspondence with the
natural features of the country.

We have already seen how, on the constitution of Queensland as
a separate State in 1859, the country to the west was left as 25
a detached portion of New South Wales. In 1855, Gregory had
crossed what is now the Northern Territory, from the Victoria
River in the west to the Flinders River, and so through North
Queensland to Brisbane, following the line taken earlier by
the explorer Leichhardt, but further inland. At the same time,
various explorers had been following up Eyre’s discoveries in
South Australia, and miners and shepherds were pushing steadily
northwards from Yorke Peninsula along the line of the present
railway. In 1859, South Australia offered a prize for the first
explorer to cross the continent from south to north, urged on
by the proposal to connect Australia with England by a cable
which must be landed somewhere on the north coast. A party from
Victoria, under Burke, started first, and following roughly the
western boundaries of New South Wales and Queensland, came out
by way of the Flinders River to the Gulf of Carpentaria. But
on their return Burke and Wills perished at Cooper’s Creek of
starvation, and only one member of the party was rescued.

In 1862, Stuart, for South Australia, succeeded in crossing to
the north coast and returning to Adelaide by the route west of
Lake Eyre which is now followed by the railway and telegraph.
The immediate result was that the Northern Territory became
politically part of South Australia, instead of being an annex
to New South Wales; but it has recently been transferred to the
Commonwealth Government by which it is now administered. By 1872,
the telegraph line was completed to Palmerston, the northern
capital, on Port Darwin, where the cable is landed. By 1889, the
railway from the south had been pushed forward to Oodnadatta,
nearly seven hundred miles from Adelaide; while in the north one
hundred and fifty miles of line was built southwards. Some day,
probably in the near future, the rail will stretch from shore to
shore, but there still remains a gap of over a thousand miles.

North of Lake Eyre, and on the Tropic, the Territory is crossed
by the Macdonell Ranges, running east and west. Then comes a
stretch of five hundred miles of sandy plains, with scrub and
spinifex, and then the peninsula of Arnhem Land, a low plateau
with a considerable rainfall. Right on the coast are mangrove
swamps and tropical rainfall, as in North Queensland. Though
some of this country is suited to cattle, and gold has also
been discovered, progress has not been very rapid, in spite of
the importance of the magnificent harbour of Port Darwin. The
population consists of a few hundred Europeans, as many Asiatics,
mainly Chinese, and some thousands of aborigines.

After Stuart’s journey there remained only to complete the
conquest of the desert from east to west. In 1840, Eyre had
succeeded in travelling from Adelaide to West Australia along
the shores of the Great Australian Bight. It was 1870 before Sir
John Forrest traversed the same route in the opposite direction.
The result was the occupation of Eucla, in the middle of the
Bight, and the completion of the overland wire from Adelaide to
Albany in 1877. Finally, in 1874, Forrest crossed the middle of
the great plateau, from Geraldton to the north-south telegraph
line. A few daring journeys and the two telegraph lines still
represent the only land links between the detached areas of
settlement which fringe the central plateau block; but a stronger
link will soon be forged. Already the work is in hand. A survey
of the route was completed in 1909 by the Federal Government;
and at the end of 1911 a Bill was passed for the construction of
a railway from Port Augusta to Kalgoorlie, a distance of over
1000 miles. This line will not only shorten the mail route to the
eastern States, but may also lead to some pastoral settlement, as
not all the country traversed is desert.

South and Western Australia, with the Northern Territory,
together include nearly two-thirds of the continent. Western
Australia alone includes nearly a third. It is rather more than
five times the size of Spain, but its population is smaller
than that of any of the States of the mainland. The reason for
this contrast is partly a matter of history, as the State is
comparatively young, and partly due to geographical causes, as we
shall see when we have examined the country.

The map shows Western Australia stretching from north to south, 26
across the whole breadth of the continent, with the Tropic
running through the middle. It corresponds in position to
Queensland and New South Wales; for Cape Londonderry is in the
same latitude as the middle of Cape York Peninsula in Queensland,
while Albany is a little south of Sydney. The greater part of
the State is occupied by a broad plateau, from a thousand to
fifteen hundred feet high; between this and the sea is a narrow
coastal plain, irregular and deeply indented in the north,
narrower and more uniform towards the south, and disappearing
in the south-west corner where the plateau edge approaches the
sea. We may notice a certain likeness here to the structure of
the eastern end of the continent. We shall find nearly the whole
of the agricultural population collected along a comparatively
narrow belt of country from Geraldton to Albany, with Perth, the
capital, in the middle. On the plateau there are no great rivers,
but many short streams run down from its western edge to the sea;
and though the map shows large lakes in the interior we shall
find that in this case the map is not entirely to be trusted.

The Swan River was discovered by Captain Stirling on his
exploring mission from Sydney in 1827. Two years later Captain
Fremantle took formal possession, and the Swan River Settlement
was founded. The Home Government was at first doubtful about
the project, but was urged on to the settlement through fear of
French occupation. Perth itself lies twelve miles up the river; 27
its port is Fremantle, at the mouth of the river, on a deep and
safe harbour, crowded with wharves and shipping. It is the main 28
outlet for the trade of all this part of Western Australia.

Instead of taking the train we will travel by launch up the Swan
River; on our way we notice the large flocks of black swans 29
which are now collected here and preserved by the Government.
The city of Perth is smaller and more irregular than Adelaide
or Melbourne, and we see it at its best as we approach by the
river. It lies rather in a hollow, and from the higher land in 30
the King’s Park we get a fine view along the river front. The
main streets differ little from those of other Australian cities;
but in St. George’s Terrace they are working on the road, and 31
we notice that the old tree stumps are not yet removed. Although
Perth is making very rapid progress, everything is as yet
somewhat quieter, more picturesque and on a smaller scale than
in the great capitals of the eastern States. On the outskirts of
the city, especially overlooking the river, are the gardens and
houses of the wealthier residents. Here is one of these; notice 32
the lemon trees laden with fruit, although it is winter. In the
country round we shall feel quite at home. Here we have a picture
with pasture and scattered trees and fat cattle; and we pass a 33
poultry farm which might well be in a corner of Surrey.

Let us follow the Swan, now become the Avon River, inland. First
we come to Newcastle, where there are many orange orchards in
the broad valley; then we pass the township of Northam, where we
meet a native woman on the road, and finally we reach York. From 34
one of the surrounding hills we look down on a broad expanse of
plain, dotted with farmhouses, and with a background of hills in 35
the distance. There is a flour mill which might be in our own
Yorkshire, and a very English-looking church on the sloping bank 36
above the river. All looks settled and civilised. On the other 37
hand, the King’s Head hotel is entirely primitive, and carries 38
us back to the days of the early settlers, as it is one of the
oldest buildings in the State. As we cross the bridge we notice
that the trees are standing in the water, for the river is in
flood.

We have here a country full of English place-names, and with
scenery which often reminds us of England; but at the same time
we find wheat and oranges growing side by side, and trees in
fruit and flower in the winter. This suggests something very
different from our own climate. We must remember that Perth is
in latitude 32° S. and that this district therefore corresponds
to Egypt or Morocco. It is a land where frosts are unknown in
the lowlands and valleys near the sea, and where the summers are
hot and dry, though tempered by the sea breezes. Most of the rain
falls in the winter, which is therefore the growing time; we
have already noticed the Avon in flood. Even in the winter there
is plenty of sun, as the rain falls largely in heavy showers at
night.

If we travel eastward from York we shall soon find a change 39
in the face of the country, as the rainfall decreases quickly
towards the interior. But for the present we will keep within the
zone of moderate rainfall, not far from the coast, and continue
our journey southwards. Much of the land round Perth has been
cleared for agriculture, though it was formerly covered with
forest. Beginning north of Perth, and stretching southwards at
a distance of twenty to thirty miles from the coast, is a long
belt of timber-country, marking the zone of heaviest rainfall.
This belt broadens out and fills the whole peninsula in the
south-west corner, between Flinders Bay and Geographe Bay, and
finally disappears a few miles to the north-east of Albany. The
dense forest clothes the western face of the plateau, and thins
out eastward to open scrub country with scattered gum trees of
various kinds. It consists in the main of Jarrah, with some
blocks of Karri in the south and south-west.

Jarrah is a very hard red-coloured wood which is useful for
jetties, railway sleepers and all other work where there is great
exposure to damp and weather. We may often walk over it in the
streets of our cities, as it makes an excellent pavement. Here
we see the appearance of the original tree: it is tall, perhaps 40
a hundred feet high, with a trunk a yard or more thick and a
dark-grey furrowed bark.

With the Jarrah is found the Karri, of much the same character
but less durable. It is one of the finest and tallest trees of
the Australian forest. Its bark is yellowish white, and peels
off, leaving the tree clean, so that the Karri is sometimes
called the white gum. The tree sometimes grows to a height of 41
three hundred feet, and is far too large to handle; while even
the smaller specimens need a whole team to haul a single log.
So that, although there is a very large area of forest land, we
can understand that cutting only goes on within easy reach of
one of the short branch railway lines running down to the sea.
The forests of Western Australia have recently been estimated to
contain two hundred and twenty million tons of valuable timber,
worth about three hundred million pounds sterling.

Where the forest thins out eastward the red gum is one of the
most useful trees, as it is spreading and branched, and so gives 42
more shade than the other gum trees. This is important for the
stockowner in a dry, hot country.

We have already seen something of the agricultural district
round York; and we shall find little difference as we follow the
railway southwards to Albany, keeping always about a hundred
miles from the coast. There are the same wheatfields and sheep
and occasional orchards; it is not very different from the
country round Perth, except that it is rather cooler as we
travel southwards. In the summer, especially on the eastern edge
of this belt, it is very dry and parched; but after the winter
rains, though there is too little water for trees, the flowers
and grasses spring up everywhere, especially everlasting flowers
which grow in great profusion, as we see from the picture before 43
us.

So we have a coast belt associated with timber, and a parallel
belt inland where agriculture is developing along the track of
the railway. The southern terminus of the railway is Albany, on 44
King George’s Sound, one of the best harbours of the Australian 45
continent. Albany is a fortified coaling port, and is likely to
grow in importance with the organisation of Australian defence
in the future. This seems a small corner on the map, yet the
area available for agriculture is considerably larger than the
total area under cultivation in Great Britain; while beyond it,
in the region of lessening rainfall, is a wide belt suited for
sheep-raising. Further eastward still, beyond this belt, we
enter another type of country. The railway from Northam Junction
carries us across the dry country and through Southern Cross
to the mining centre of Coolgardie. A little further on, at
Kalgoorlie, it turns northward, to end at Laverton, about four
hundred miles from Perth and the same distance from the sea to
the south. This is the limit of that part of West Australian
settlement which is based on gold.

The gold-bearing country is in two bands, running north and
south, through Southern Cross and Kalgoorlie; and we find quite
a large population in the midst of waterless country. Here is
a view of Kalgoorlie, a prosperous-looking town, in spite of 46
its arid surroundings. This is the region of Australia where
gold-mining has developed most rapidly in recent years. It is
very different from Ballarat or the Queensland mines, where the
gold lies in the midst of a fertile agricultural country, easily
reached from the sea.

_Copyright._) (_See page 90._

MILFORD SOUND.]

_Copyright._) (_See page 91._

DUNEDIN.]

_Copyright._) (_See page 94._

LOOKING UP TASMAN GLACIER.]

_Copyright._) (_See page 97._

THE AVON: CHRISTCHURCH.]

After leaving the agricultural belt we pass through a stony
country with low hills covered with deadwood and scrub. Yet the
map shows us many lakes and pools, and as it is winter we shall
find them according to our expectations. Here is a pool of fresh 47
water just after the rains; notice that it even has trees growing
round it. Here again is one of the larger lakes; though there 48
seems to be plenty of water here it is really only a flat clay
marsh, flooded to the depth of a few inches. Notice the gold mine
in the distance. In the hot weather the water in these shallow
lakes soon evaporates, often leaving a deposit of salt, so that
in place of a sheet of water there is a dreary clay flat covered
with stones. On these flats near the shrunken lakes the only 49
vegetation is the salt-bush, with occasional patches of very dry
scrub.