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The men—nine in number—were
busily employed in cooking in one place, our own man
roasting a couple of fowls for our next day’s journey;
at another the men [convicts], not the most
prepossessing in their appearance, with the glare of the
fires and the reflection of the moon shining on them, in
the midst of a forest, formed altogether such a scene as
I cannot describe. It resembled more a party of
banditti, such as I have read of, than anything else. I
turned from the view, took the arm of Hawkins, who was
seated at the table with the storekeeper, and went to
the back of the tent. Here we saw Tom and the three
eldest girls trying who could make the best fire, as
happy as it was possible for young hearts to be. Then I
seemed to pause. It was a moment I shall never forget.
For the first time for many a long month I seemed
capable of enjoying and feeling the present moment
without a dread for the future. ‘Tis true we had in a
manner bade adieu to the world, to our country and our
friends, but in our country we could no longer provide
for our children, and the world from that cause had lost
all its charm. You, Bowling, and all my friends and
acquaintances, I thought of with regret, but the dawn of
independence was opening on us. Hawkins was again an
officer under Government, a home to receive us, and the
certainty under any circumstances of never wanting the
common necessaries of life. You, my dear Ann, must have
suffered in mind what we had long suffered, to form an
idea of what we then felt. After a little while we
returned to the table. These were moments of such inward
rest that Hawkins took up a flute belonging to one of
the party, and calling Eliza to us, she danced in a
place where perhaps no one of her age had ever trod
before.
The next morning we took our
breakfast, and packing up our beds and provisions,
prepared to depart, but during the night our team of
bullocks and Hawkins’ horse had returned to Emu. It was
thought most desirable that we, with two drays, and Tom
for our guard, should proceed to Springwood, as there
was a house to go into. From the difficulty they had the
preceding day with the bullocks they took from our cart
the two horses, and gave us two bullocks. After a most
fatiguing journey of nine miles we arrived. The house
was inhabited by a corporal and two soldiers, kept
there, I believe, to superintend the Government stock.
Formerly a greater number of men were kept there, and
there was a large room or store where provisions had
been kept. A good barn in England would have been a
palace to this place. There was a large kitchen, with
an immense fireplace, and two small rooms behind. With
the exception of a green in front, the house was
completely in the wood.
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The
corporal’s wife, an old woman, who had
been transported above twenty years,
with fawning manner, came forward to
show us in. We entered the kitchen,
which contained a long table and form,
and some stumps of trees to answer the
purpose of chairs, of which there was
not one in the house. Several people
were here to rest for the night,
journeying from Bathurst to Sydney. We
were shown into the small back room,
which had nothing in it but a sofa, with
slips of bark laid on it for the seat.
Here I felt desolate and lonely. It was
nearly dark; still Hawkins did not
arrive, and we got quite miserable. At
length the storekeeper from Emu arrived,
and said to us that he could not get on
without some horses being sent to his
assistance. It was nearly nine o’clock
before he arrived. I went out (it was
dark), but such a scene of confusion as
there appeared from the glare of the
fires, the carts and drays, the men,
tired with their day’s work, swearing as
they extricated the bullocks and horses.
It was long before I could distinguish
Hawkins. I felt comparatively safe when
I did. The old woman, a most depraved
character and well-known thief, with a
candle held high above her head,
screamed out, ‘Welcome to Springwood,
sir!’
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He said,
when he looked round, he felt sure his
welcome would be the loss of whatever
she could steal from us. He was much
fatigued, not having had any refreshment
all day. It was my intention when I
first arrived to have pitched one tent
on the green, but it unfortunately was
on top of the dray left with Hawkins,
but having my mattresses, I spread them
in the storeroom. The earth was dirty,
damp and cold. We could not think of
undressing the children, and when in bed
all looked most miserable. I lay down
with my baby. A very few minutes
convinced me I should get no rest. The
bugs were crawling by hundreds. The
children were restless with them and the
confinement of their clothes. The old
woman had contrived to steal some
spirits from our provision bucket which
with what had been given to her made her
and the soldiers tipsy. All was noise
and confusion indoors; without, swearing
and wrangling with the men. Never did I
pass a night equal to it. Hawkins
remained all night on the green or in
the cart watching. In addition to other
noises, a flock of sheep had been driven
into the yard, and they, to avoid the
men, came close to the house and kept up
a continual pat with their feet. Could
any of our romance writers have been in
my situation they might have planned an
interesting scene to add to the horrors
of their volumes. You may be certain we
were happy when the morning came. We got
our breakfast, and packing up our beds,
bade adieu to the house at Springwood.
Mother,
myself, and three girls, as the morning
was fair, walked on before. It was such
a relief to get away from that place
that I never enjoyed a walk more. We
gathered most delicate nosegays from the
flowering shrubs that grew amongst the
trees. You must understand that the
whole of the road from beginning to the
end of the mountains is cut entirely
through a forest, nor can you go in a
direct line to Bathurst from one
mountain to another, but you are obliged
often to wind round the edges of them,
and at times to look down such
precipices as would make you shudder. We
ascended. Our cart had now three
bullocks, as we had so much trouble to
get on with two, but we were worse off
than ever. As the ascent became worse
they refused to drag, and every few
minutes first one and then another would
lie down. The dogs were summoned to bark
at them and bite their noses to make
them get up. The barking of the dogs,
the bellowing of the bullocks and the
swearing of the men made our heads ache,
and kept us in continual terror. That
was exactly the case every day of the
journey. Frequently it was necessary we
should all get out, and more frequently
our fears made us scream out: ‘Oh, do
let us get out. I am sure there is
danger.’ At length we came to a hill so
steep it seemed as if we could never get
up it. We alighted, and seating
ourselves on a fallen tree, waited for
the event. We were on the side of it; in
front it was almost perpendicular;
behind was a valley so deep the eye
could hardly distinguish the trees at
the bottom. To gain the top of this
mountain the road wound along the side.
The first dray with the horses got up.
They were then brought back to assist
the rest with the bullocks, but they
could not succeed in raising them from
one rock to another. With great noise a
sudden effort was made, and one shaft
was broken. This had to be repaired as
well as we could, some of the luggage
was taken off, and with the assistance
of the other horses, etc., it was got
up; the other was got up in like manner.
When at the top the men, who were much
fatigued, sought for a spring of water,
and with the addition of a bottle of
rum, were refreshed. We again set off,
and for the last two miles it was
perfectly dark, attended by heavy rain.
You can suppose the danger and misery we
rode in, not being able to see where we
went. We were obliged to go on until we
came to water. There our tent was
pitched in the road, and was dark, damp,
and dirty. We were obliged to remain in
the cart until the bedding was put in
the tent. Of course we again lay down in
our clothes. This very fatiguing day’s
journey we had only accomplished eight
miles. For fear I should tire you with a
repetition of the same scenes, I will
now tell you that every day on the
journey from Emu to Bathurst we were
subject to the same things, such as our
bullocks lying down constantly; the
others, not able to draw their load,
compelled to have the assistance of the
horses, which caused great delay.
Our
provisions consisted of half a pig,
which was salted for us at Emu, and some
beef. We had flour to make bread, tea,
sugar, butter, and when we stopped at
night we made our tea and had some cold
meat. It was our man’s business every
night to boil a piece of meat for the
next day, and bake a cake under the iron
pot. Breakfast and supper were the only
meals we had. I used to take a small
basket in the cart with me, a little
just to keep us from starving, and some
drink for baby, and during the eleven
nights we rested in the woods, Hawkins
never laid down until about three in the
morning, when the overseer would get up
and watch, and never but twice did he
take his clothes off as we occupied the
tent, his only resting place was the
cart. It rained the next morning, and
was very uncomfortable. The men went in
search of the cattle (they were obliged
to be turned loose at night to get water
and food), could not find them at all.
After waiting some time, we thought it
better to proceed, excepting one dray,
which the overseer was to watch while
his men sought the bullocks. As the road
this day was something better, we got
nine miles to two bark huts, which had
been erected by the men employed in
mending the roads, but were now empty.
We were very glad to take possession of
one, and our men of the other, as it
rained all day.
In England
you never saw anything like these huts,
and I fear from my description you will
not understand them. Some stakes of
trees are stuck in the ground, the
outside bark from the trees is tied
together, and to these with narrow
strips of what is called stringy bark;
being tough, it answers the purpose of
cord, and the roof is done in the same
manner. There was a kind of chimney but
neither window nor door, but a space
left to enter. As many men had been
obliged to sleep here, all round were
placed small stakes, and across and on
the top were laid pieces of bark, so as
to form a kind of broad shelf all round.
Here we spread our beds. Mother and I
soon found it was impossible to get any
rest from the bugs and fleas. Helen and
Louisa were laid head and foot. Finding
them restless, we looked, and found,
poor things, that from some of the
pieces of bark not being close to the
outside, they had tumbled through, and
being suspended by their arms, we had
some difficulty to drag them up.
The next
morning another overseer came to us from
Emu to say the bullocks had again
reached home, but would be sent to the
dray with two more to assist us. We were
obliged to wait that day at the huts for
its arrival, and now Mr. Riley, a person
who had acted as assistant to the former
storekeeper at Bathurst, and who had
left Emu with us [found that] two young
horses belonging to Government, which he
was to take to Bathurst, [had] got away
from him, and could not be found. He had
likewise lost his bridle, but declared
he would hasten on and get the
commandant to send us some assistance.
With a piece of rope round his horse’s
face, and slips of sheepskin tied to it
for a bridle, and a merry heart he left
us. Another night was forced to be
passed in the hut without rest.
|
The next morning was
fine, and we again
ascended the cart. This
day we accomplished nine
miles, much in the same
way as before. The
following morning, the
18th, a morning never to
be forgotten, for to all
my complaints about the
road I was continually
silenced by, ‘Say
nothing about it until
you get to the big
hill.’ We were now
within eleven miles of
it, but the road being
tolerably good and the
morning fine, in
expectation of something
very wonderful, our
spirits were by no means
bad, for after this day
our greatest
difficulties were over.
Hawkins shot some birds,
the boys hunted a
kangaroo rat; we laughed
and talked, and went
cheerfully on until we
were within a mile of
Mount York, or more
commonly called the ‘Big
Hill’. I desired Tom to
ride on and give us some
account of it. He soon
came galloping back.
‘Oh! Ma, you will never
get up, I am sure you
won’t. [Presumably Tom
said, or meant to say,
down.] I can’t see much
of the road, but I can
see the valley you are
to reach. It is
dreadful.’ Our courage
began to fail by the
time we reached the top.
Here, my dear Ann, I
think I had better stop.
I leave it to your
imagination. I feel it
out of my power to give
a proper description of
it. I have offered the
pen to Hawkins, but he
refuses. I tell him I
must take a leap from
top to bottom, but that
he will not allow, so I
must write on as well as
I can. So now all
stopped to recover
resolution. I gave all
something to eat and
some wine to drink. The
men began to cut down
trees necessary to chain
behind the drays. This
appeared a terrible
precaution to take. We
thought it better to
commence our walk down.
First Tom led his pony,
Hawkins his horse. We
had proceeded but a
short distance when it
appeared so impossible
for any cart to descend
the place we were at
that Hawkins refused to
go any further with me.
Ann was forced to be
carried, and mother and
myself had to carry
Edward. How we got down
I cannot tell, but I
believe the fear lest
any accident should
happen to him gave us
strength and resolution
to keep our own footing.
We were often obliged to
sit down on a fallen
tree, but when we did
the pains in our legs
and the violent
trembling all over us
made it difficult to get
up again. We at last
reached the bottom in
safety.
To give an account of
the road is not in my
power, but you have read
Miss Porter’s Scottish
Chiefs, where the rocks
and glens are so well
described; but even that
can convey but a faint
idea of this mountain.
The descent is about a
mile. It is four
thousand feet above the
level of the sea, all
rocks and cavities,
awfully grand to behold,
but from it being
impossible to make some
parts of the road safe
from the projecting
pieces of rock, we were
rendered very uneasy
about our luggage. It
was about three o’clock
when we seated ourselves
on some trees. It was
extremely hot. I had
given a piece of sugar
candy to one of the
children in a small tin
can we had brought down,
and as Tom and Eliza
found a spring of water,
the can became useful to
us to drink from and the
sugar served to quiet
the little ones. We
waited a considerable
time, could hear nothing
of the rest, and then
desired Tom to go and
meet them, and when he
found them safe, to call
out. An hour passed and
still we heard nothing.
Mother and I then
thought to walk a little
way and listen.
Sometimes we could just
hear the sound of
voices, and all again
was still. We returned
to our children. It was
nearly sunset, and in
this country it is dark
almost immediately. I
asked Eliza if she would
venture up with the
female servant to
inquire what we were to
do, as I was convinced
some accident had
happened. It was nearly
dark when they returned
with two cloaks,
lantern, and tinder-box,
on account of the first
dray having upset at
what is called the
‘Forty-nine mile pinch,’
and [saying] that the
cart would be sent down
to us. I soon after
heard Tom’s voice high
above my head. I blamed
him for keeping me so
long in suspense, but he
said I had desired him
to call if they were
safe, which he did as
soon as the dray was
unloaded and reloaded.
Tired as we were, all
were employed in
breaking wood and making
fires.
It was quite dark before
the cart came. In it
were two great coats and
a shawl, a piece of
bread, and a little
arrowroot. I gave it to
the poor children. To
little Neddy I gave the
arrowroot, and we hushed
him off to sleep. Mother
sat down with him in her
lap before a fire. Ann
and George were wrapped
up and laid on the
ground beside her. The
four girls I laid in the
cart with a great coat
over them. I began to
feel very weary and
chilly. About nine, two
drays arrived, but to
stand and listen as I
had previously done to
the noise of the men
endeavouring to cheer
the cattle, and the
dreadful rumbling with
which they descended,
was enough to create a
sensation of terror in a
very stout heart; to see
them was impossible
until they got close to
us.
Hawkins was still at the
top of the hill,
remaining with the last
drays, which from the
darkness and the fatigue
of the horses and men it
was found could not be
got down that night.
They had now to get
water and put the
tea-kettle on, and some
were obliged to walk up
the hill and bring down
our provisions, and many
things which we could
not do without, and two
men to remain and watch
the dray. Hawkins came
down with the others,
very much fatigued. We
now had our supper and
the tent pitched. It was
eleven o’clock when it
was ready for us. We got
the children from the
ground and cart into it,
and laid ourselves down.
The next morning we all
felt the effects of
being exposed so long to
the night air, and the
great fatigue we had.
After breakfast we
walked up to a small
rock, and, sitting down,
viewed the scene around,
and felt thankful that
the little property we
possessed was safe, for
the injury caused by the
dray’s upsetting was
trifling. Here as we sat
we observed three
persons winding among
the trees in the valley
on horseback. They
proved to be a clergyman
from Parramatta, another
gentleman, and a
servant. They spoke in
rapture of the country
from which they were
returning.
I now felt myself so ill
from fatigue that I was
forced to go into the
tent and lie down. I
fell asleep, and did not
wake until the last dray
came rumbling by me.
Before commencing the
journey again, which we
did about one o’clock, I
cannot help remarking on
the extreme fatigue the
men endured the
preceding day without
any refreshment from
breakfast until their
supper at eleven
o’clock. One man in
particular, who was the
head driver of our cart,
a Folkstone man, a
countryman of our own,
behaved uncommonly well
when the dray
overturned.
Nothing saved the lives
of the horses and our
property but the stump
of a tree by the
roadside. It was
suspended over an
immense precipice. This
man was the first who
got on top, and, hanging
by the ropes, laboured
hard to lighten the
dray. He, likewise, was
one who went at night to
bring down our
provisions. Hawkins told
him his conduct had been
such that he should
strongly recommend him
to the commanding
officer, which he has
done, and in all
probability he will
either be made an
overseer of a party; or
have a ticket-of-leave
given, so that he may
work for himself, which
is a reward given to
them when their
behaviour has been very
good.
|
There
are but
few
birds on
the
mountains,
but
their
plumage
is more
beautiful
than I
ever
beheld
before.
They are
called
‘Blue
Mountaineers’.
Then,
with a
green
variety
of
parrots,
which
may be
heard
chattering
in the
trees,
there
are also
birds
called
‘Laughing
Jackasses
which
startled
us the
preceding
evening
just at
sunset.
They
appeared
to be
all
round
us,
making
their
horrid
noise.
It was
the same
at
sunrise.
I should
say
there
never
before
was such
a party
of
females
without
any
protection
for so
many
hours at
the foot
of the
mountains.
Had any
snakes
attacked
us I
fear we
should
have
lost our
lives,
for none
of us
would
have had
the
courage
to kill
them.
Our
journey
for five
miles
was very
good. We
now had
reached
Cox’s
River,
which
has a
bridge
over it,
but a
very
steep
bank to
descend,
and when
there
has been
much
rain on
the
mountains
it is
rendered
impassable
from its
overflowing
the
bridge.
Fortunately
we got
safe
over. We
had now
reached
the spot
we had
looked
forward
to from
the time
of
leaving
Emu as a
place of
rest, as
here it
is
customary
for all
drivers
of
cattle
and
luggage
to rest
for a
day or
two, as
there is
good
grass.
We were
all much
fatigued.
We
pitched
our tent
in a
field in
front of
the
house,
which
was
inhabited
by a
corporal
and his
wife.
She was
both
clean
and
civil.
Hearing
of our
coming,
she had
procured
a bucket
of milk,
and
never
was
anything
more
enjoyed.
In the
evening,
Mr.
Lowe, a
chief
magistrate,
arrived,
a
traveler
like
ourselves.
He
commenced
his
journey
in the
morning,
but we
remained.
I took
this
opportunity
of
giving
the
children
all a
good
washing
and
change
of
clothes.
This, as
the day
was
extremely
sultry;
and not
a tree
to shade
us in
the
tent,
made it,
instead
of a day
of rest,
one of
great
fatigue
to me.
Being
all now
so
completely
sick and
tired of
the
journey,
we
decided
on
setting
off the
next
morning,
more
particularly
as the
weather
was
showery
and from
the
season
of the
year
heavy
rain
might be
expected.
We were
reinforced
by a
cart and
two
horses
from
Bathurst,
accompanied
by Mr.
Riley,
as he
had
promised.
We again
ascended
our cart
on the
twenty-first.
We had
been
sitting
for some
time on
the
banks of
the
river
seeing
the
whole
cavalcade
cross,
and when
it came
to our
turn it
was with
many
fears we
entered
the
water
nearly
up to
the
horses’
bellies,
and the
bottom
covered
with
large
pieces
of rock
and
stone,
enough
to
overturn
the cart
and jolt
us to
death. A
man
offered
to carry
little
Neddy
over in
his
arms.
With
anxious
eyes I
watched
him
through
fear his
feet
might
slip and
our
darling
boy have
his head
dashed
against
a stone.
With
talking,
swearing,
beating
our poor
bullocks,
we got
safe on
the bank
on the
opposite
side. We
had now
a very
long and
steep
hill
before
us, and,
as
usual,
they
refused
to go.
It was
decided
that we
must
have two
good
horses,
as it
was
impossible
we could
ever get
on. ‘Sir
Noby
Redmond’
and
‘Lion’
(names I
can
never
forget)
were
placed
in a
dray
with a
horse
behind
and
another
before
them,
but from
it being
a
constant
succession
of steep
hills,
we were
only
able
that day
to
perform
eight
miles,
and
rested
at eight
in a
valley.
Here we
were
joined
by five
more
bullocks
from
Bathurst.
We set
off
early
next
morning;
after
going
eight
miles
reached
the Fish
River;
after
crossing
which we
had to
ascend
our last
hill,
which
was very
long,
very
steep. I
thought
I could
never
have
walked
to the
top. The
drays
were a
considerable
time In
getting
up and
were
obliged
to
assist
each
other.
We now
descended
into a
most
beautiful
country
to
Sidmouth
Valley.
We had
to go
through
a very
bad
swamp
before
we got
to our
resting
place,
which
was
where
Mr.
Lowe’s
overseer
lived,
who had
the care
of his
stock.
He had
desired
his tent
to
remain
for us,
and we
were
very
glad to
take
possession
of it,
as it
was
raining
here. A
gentleman
from
Bathurst,
whom we
had
known in
Sydney,
came to
meet us,
and
accompanied
us back.
We had
now, my
dear
Ann,
accomplished
our
journey
over the
mountains.
The last
ten
miles we
had
hardly a
spot of
level
ground;
all was
steep
hills.
We were
now but
eighteen
miles
from
Bathurst,
the
country
extremely
beautiful,
gently
rising
hills
covered
with
wood. We
passed
Macquarie
Plains,
crossed
Fish
River,
and
entered
on the
plains
of
Bathurst.
The road
was
good,
and,
being
determined
to reach
home
that
night,
we
almost
trotted,
which
jolted
us so
dreadfully
that I
thought
every
bone
would be
disjointed.
It was
as much
as we
could do
to keep
ourselves
on the
seats
and hold
the
children.
As if to
the very
last our
journey
was to
be made
uncomfortable,
a fine
rain
began,
which
beat in
our
faces,
and made
us very
cold. At
length
our
house
was
pointed
out to
us. What
a
welcome
sight!
The rain
was now
powerful,
and
before
we could
reach
home we
had to
cross
the
Macquarie
River,
the most
dangerous
of all.
You
descend
a steep
bank,
and
suddenly
plunge
into the
water,
which
was as
high as
the
bottom
of the
cart.
The
first
dray got
over,
but the
rest,
being
lower,
we were
obliged
to seek
another
ford for
them. We
remained
alone.
The
driver
of the
first
brought
one of
his
horses
over,
put it
to ours,
and in
we
plunged.
We felt
more
alarmed
for our
personal
safety
at that
moment
than we
had done
during
the
whole
journey.
We
reached
the
opposite
side,
and all
at one
moment
exclaimed,
‘We are
over.’ A
few
minutes
brought
us to
our
house,
where
there
was a
blazing
wood
fire to
warm and
cheer
us.
On this
side of
the
river
the land
is
chiefly
belonging
to
Government;
on the
opposite
side to
the
settlers,
or, more
properly
speaking,
grants
to
gentlemen,
who as
yet have
only
huts
there
for the
stock-keepers
to
reside
in and
they pay
only
occasional
visits.
The
Governor
is
coming
in the
spring,
when
great
improvements
are
expected.
Two
hundred
men are
to be
employed
on the
roads to
make
them
passable,
and a
plan for
the town
will be
laid
out, and
if a
chaplain
and
surgeon
are sent
we shall
have a
little
society.
They
are
beginning
to build
a very
good
brick
house
for us,
which
Sir
Thomas,
on
account
of our
family,
has
consented
shall be
of two
storeys.
It will
be some
time
before
it is
ready
for us,
but when
we get
in we
shall be
very
comfortable.
The one
we now
occupy
contains
three
rooms
and a
pantry,
all
brick
floors.
The
front
door
opens
into the
sitting
room,
immediately
opposite
is the
back
door,
between
the two
is a
ladder
which
leads
into a
loft, to
which,
as yet,
there is
no trap
door.
Our
bedrooms,
likewise,
lead
from the
room,
and
where we
all at
present
sleep is
open to
the
roof,
which is
shingled
slips of
wood,
which at
a little
distance
look
like
slates.
Mr.
Lawson,
the
commandant,
who
resides
in the
Government
House,
has
ordered
two
additional
rooms to
be
added,
and in
another
month I
hope to
be able
to sleep
in them.
We shall
then be
much
more
comfortable,
for
though
in
England
this
would be
considered
a homely
residence,
here it
is
thought
a very
good
one.
We are
allowed
certain
rations
for six
months,
of meat,
wheat,
tea and
sugar,
sufficient
for our
family
and
servants.
In
respect
of the
situation,
the
nominal
value of
it is
but five
shillings
a day,
with
rations
for
Hawkins
and
servant,
but
there
are many
advantages
attached
to it
sufficient
to
supply
the
wants of
our
family
and
prevent
our
wanting
any
ready
money
for
housekeeping.
We live
very
well,
get
excellent
fish,
and the
wild
ducks
are
delicious.
We are
supplied
with
vegetables
from the
Government
garden,
and we
are
allowed
the use
of two
cows,
which,
with two
we have
of our
own,
give us
butter
and
milk.
You must
not
judge of
the
produce
of four
cows
here by
what
they
give in
England,
for,
being
naturally
wild,
and the
calves
never
weaned
from
them for
fear
they
should
not
thrive
so well,
they can
only be
milked
once a
day. I
am
desired
by Eliza
and Mary
to tell
their
cousin
Ann they
churned
the
first
butter.
The
Government
carts
bring us
a good
supply
of
firewood,
so that,
altogether,
my dear
Ann, we
have no
reason
to
complain
of our
present
situation,
if
retirement
and
seclusion
from the
world is
not
considered
a
trouble,
which I
am happy
to say
it is
not. I
often
wish we
could
have
beer and
yeast to
make
bread,
for not
having
the
means of
properly
dressing
our
wheat,
our
bread is
not
English
bread.
Our
candles
we make
ourselves.
I have
now, my
dear
Bowling
and Ann,
brought
you to
the end
of my
journey,
but I
cannot
close
this
long
letter
without
adding a
little
more. I
tell
Hawkins
that had
it been
possible
to have
gone any
further
(as he
was
always
famous
for
moving
us
about)
we
should
have
done it,
but
beyond
here
there is
no road.
Mother
bore the
fatigue
uncommonly
well. A
journey
such as
I have
described
of
eighteen
days
was, at
her age,
a very
great
undertaking,
but she
has
recovered
from it,
and is
better
than I
am, for
I am
very
thin and
not very
strong.
Our
children
are all
well and
happy.
I think
there
can be
no doubt
but we
shall do
well,
and in a
few
years
prosper;
but I
would
never
persuade
anyone
with a
large
family
as mine,
and
slender
means as
we
possessed,
to leave
England,
for not
one in a
thousand
could
expect
to be as
fortunate
as we
have
been,
for
without
the
appointment
we have,
and the
assistance
of the
Government
to bring
us here,
we never
could
have
come, or
without
it we
must
have
been
subject
to many
hardships
and
privations
that we
have
never
felt.
But I do
wish
that a
few
respectable
families,
who on
their
arrival
here
would be
in
possession
of a few
hundred
or one
thousand
pounds,
would
come,
for with
such
means
they
must do
well—there
can be
nothing
to
prevent
it.
Before I
entirely
take
leave of
the
mountains
I must
tell you
that the
tree
which we
chained
at the
back of
the last
dray
when
descending
the big
hill was
forty-eight
feet
long,
and at
the
extremity,
on the
boughs,
were
seated
three
men. By
this
necessary
precaution
you will
be
enabled
to judge
better
than I
have
described
it to
you the
steepness
and
hazard
for
luggage
to
descend.
Till
bridges
are
thrown
over the
river,
and the
road
much
improved
there
can be
little
communication
with
this
country;
but that
is to be
done
after
[the
governor]
has
crossed
the
mountains.
The land
on this
side is
so good
for
rearing
cattle
that
nearly
the
whole
consumption
of the
colony
depends
upon it,
and many
who
cannot
obtain
land
here are
glad to
send
their
cattle.
In
addition
to our
cavalcade,
we had
thirty-four
head,
which
belonged
to our
landlord,
on the
following
terms:
One
third of
the
produce
to be
ours, to
be
divided
at the
end of
seven
years.
We have
an
increase
of one
calf
since we
have
been
here.
Although
we have
not got
our own
land
marked
out for
us yet,
Hawkins
has
selected
his
spot,
and
applied
for it,
still
until
then we
can have
the use
of as
much as
we want
for any
cattle
we may
possess.
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The Commandant’s eldest son took Tom last week to visit their men and cattle. They returned with a bullock to kill and put in store. Yesterday they again left us to be absent a week. He has huts on different parts of their land where their men reside who take care of their stock; at these huts they will rest at night, and he desired me to give his love to his cousin Tom, and to ask him how he would like to sleep before a large fire on a sheep-skin laid on bark, and in the day to go into the woods and hunt the kangaroos. He has gone away very happy, mounted on a large horse, accompanied by young Lawson and a man with seven or eight dogs, and he promised to bring home a kangaroo, an emu and a wild turkey. We must encourage him in this kind of life, for in a few years I hope he will be of great service to us.
The greatest drawback in this country are the snakes, which are so extremely venomous that no person who has been bitten has been known to live many moments. They will not attack you unless molested. The only one I have seen was brought home by Tom the other day. It rose to bite the dog that barked at it, and the man killed it.
Tom and the children are all well; George is the most delicate; little Edward, the plaything of our leisure moments, and the darling of all. He has ever been a treasured babe from an idea that he was deprived of those little comforts attached to infants; he is a most lovely and healthy and lovely child, and it will be worthy of remark that, born in England, his first birthday was spent at Bathurst, the day on which his father took on himself the duties of commissariat. No child so young, I should ever travel so far.
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hope, my dear friend, I have not wearied you in the perusal of this long letter, which has not been written without many interruptions, but I cannot undertake to correct its errors. And now, and for ever, may God bless you all.
Bathurst is 137 miles from Sydney; we were eighteen days on the road.
E. Hawkins |
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