1896
1 August 1896
Among the Pastoralists and Producers.
By Harold M. Mackenzie.
WANDOONA.
Whenever the thinking portion of this great island-continent sits down to ruminate over the question of how Great Britain became possessed of such a gem in her crown as the Australias, there must naturally arise in man's mind a rightful feeling of shame and disgust, 'nay, a spirit of vengeance, against those who have so wantonly and brutally shot down the blacks. Without one cartridge fired even in self-defence of their territory, flying, terrified, with hunted expressions, like animals driven to bay, gins and piccaninies not even spared before the wrath and deadly aim of the white settler, these human beings, with souls to be saved, and awaiting the dawn of Christianity to enlighten them, a thing that was denied them, have rapidly and cruelly been wiped off the face of the earth. This murderous blot, which can never be effaced from the pages of Australasian history so long as the mother tongue is spoken, is laughed off by many when the subject is broached, but as soft silk and lint may hide a gaping and festering wound, so does the gloss of Christianity and what is termed civilising influence cover deeds unmentionable "Peace with dishonour" might be largely written over the whole of Australasia, more especially in Queensland, where the butchery of blacks has been on a gigantic sale, and butchered for what? Simply because a number of grasping, unprincipled pioneers, wishing to parcel out the territory among themselves, resolved to do so by hook or by crook, and when, as was naturally to be expected from a savage race, they used to find their cattle at times speared, these Britishers armed themselves with "six-shooters" and shotguns, and potted the aborigines with little less compunction than that of native cats.
I have been in the far north, and amongst the wildest of the wild, in country where our cattle were frequently speared, have seen patrolling parties ready to go forth on their deadly errand, have heard them with glee recounting their deeds of infamy over a whisky bottle after the "bag" had been made, have also met these same men in Melbourne married and living in fine houses, surrounded by their children. Have they forgotten their Queensland days? Outwardly perhaps, for by their manner they show no sign, but inwardly there must be moments of terrible reproach, if they have consciences at all, when they reflect upon those wanton sacrifices made in order to pave their way to wealth and position.
The picture is not overdrawn: it is true! Dark as this part of Queensland history may be, there is, happily, a bright ray or two of hope shining through the clouds, and some reparation being made in latter days by educating and enlightening the few poor tribes that we have still with us. And that our blacks are not quite the animals that many suppose, let those who feel an interest in them pay a visit to one of the schools and learn how wild things, like the very dingoes, can in time be trained and taught most things, and eventually rise to the same state of intellectual ability as the average State school child.
In my travels I occasionally, but very rarely, come across a colony of aborigines, as most have long since died out in these parts; but when the opportunity presents itself I am always interested and considerably amused to visit the camp and have a chat with the aged monarch, if there be one. At Wollar there are still a small number, who have cosy quarters on the creek bank, living peaceably and happily enough, and at times doing little odd jobs in the shape of "ringing," burning off, and other things. The police are most particular about persons visiting the encampment without a permit, and he who infringes this rule runs the risk of incurring a substantial fine. Such a provision is very wise, as the blackfellow's predilection for rum, and the not over-scrupulous morals of the white man where an encampment is concerned, have led to much trouble, and compelled Government to take extraordinary measures to see that the blacks are not interfered with.
It is a curious and unaccountable fact that no matter how comfortable you may try to make a blackfellow, giving him a warm house to live in, and chairs even to sit upon, he will not feel at home. In cold weather actually he prefers to lie out in the open with his heels to the dying embers, encased in a well worn blanket, and with nothing to temper the biting wind except a rude "lean-to" covered with boughs. In this cheerless fashion kings, queens, "gins," piccaninnies, and dogs of various breeds - lie huddled together until dawn breaks, when they rise, shake themselves, and are quite ready for the day's routine. Happy unwashed creatures!
Being desirous one morning of photographing "King Jimmy," "Fat 'Liza," weighing 16st., and other distinguished personages, Mr. King, who was on a visit from Miller's Forest, accompanied me to the camp, where we found the company congregated round the fire making ready for the operation, of which, of course, we had apprised them previously.
Had our sitters been professional beauties no greater length of time in arranging their back hair and "getting themselves up" generally could have been occupied. First of all, "Fat 'Liza" discovered that her gown wouldn't button behind, and the more she giggled at the idea the harder became the endeavours of the aged dame, who admonished her with smacks and angry looks. Then "Jimmy," who had plastered his hair down with bear's-grease or something, quite spoiling his wild Australian shock head of hair, thought an addition of cockatoo's feathers would improve his appearance, so dived into the hut to re-appear like a yellow-crested devil smiling with self-satisfaction. As the arrangement of the figures devolved upon my shoulders - King being the operator - the business was attended with no slight risk considering the affectionate regard that a yellow dog, named "Joker," had for my calves. As soon as I began to elevate "Liza's" chin, or tuck in a piccaninie's legs, this carnivorous animal "went" for me properly, sending the whole group into fits of laughter, and demoralising things generally. This sort of thing continued for some time, trying King's patience to a degree that raised him to the standard of a martyr - and possibly would have continued indefinitely had not "Joker" been forcibly seized and chained up. The features of the blacks became composed after this - in fact they took the operation a little too seriously - but on the whole the negative was good, and had the Weekly Mercury been an illustrated paper, I should have been pleased to give my readers an idea of this funny group with your humble servant in the midst of them. Originality is a thing to be desired and so far as an unique specimen of photography goes, I have been fortunate to secure one.
The Wandoona estate, owned by Mr. H. E. Single, lies but a mile distant from the town-ship on a picturesque site overlooking the fertile flats and well-grassed paddocks stretching away to the blue hills beyond. The Wollar creek, from which Wandoona estate derives most of its water supply, is permanent, and at its source - I am informed by Mr. Single - shoots up with great force, similar in character to an artesian well. It is a peculiarity in this district that all water being contributed to creeks and gullies by the eastern watershed is very palatable and good for stock purposes, but the Cudgegong, for example,- on which Mudgee is situate, and western water generally, is absolutely refused in many cases by horses and cattle from the Wollar country.
Wandoona, comprising 5000 acres, and well subdivided into many small paddocks, was originally, a grant to Mr. Robert FitzGerald, "Tongy," but better known perhaps in connection with his other place, "Davey," near Rylstone. The country hereabouts contains a good deal of white-box, and as far as fattening capabilities go, is no mean rival of the celebrated Bylong. In fact to cite a case in point it may be mentioned that Mr. Single on one occasion started fattening a draft at the same time as Mr. Lee, both lots being sold at auction in Mudgee on the same day, with the gratifying result to the owner of Wandoona that his brought £1 per head more than Bylong. The cattle strangely enough are from Lee bulls too, and have earned for themselves a good name among Mudgee buyers. In Sydney also the Wandoona bullocks always give a good account of themselves, a splendid lot, not very long ago, having brought only 1s less than the famous A.A. Co.'s beasts. Mr. Single is simply a cattle-fattener and has long ago given up breeding - if he ever did - on his own account, taking care, however, to weed out all bad doers, giving the best only a chance of putting on flesh quickly, which all stud cattle can do in a comparatively short period.
Mr. Single, being Chairman of Directors in connection with the Wollar Butter Factory, has a word or two to say on the subject, and regrets that there is not more co-operation shown in connection with the establishment. This gentleman sets a splendid example to suppliers by contributing himself no less than 70 gals, per day, which means milking every morning a considerable number of cows and other work in connection with getting the milk to the creamery at an early hour in the day. Mr. Single informs me that so far as the financial position of the company goes they have nothing to complain of, and although they are not justified - or were not in May last - paying more than 2d per gallon for milk, they could still show a clean sheet, besides declaring a dividend of 8 per cent. This speaks well for so small a concern, which is quite the exception with most businesses of the kind.
Another good example shown by Mr. Single which others would do well to follow is the growing of lucerne for winter feed, which "stand-by" last season he found to be of priceless character. In fact, if Mr. Single's contribution of milk were discontinued during the winter it is hard to say what position the factory would be in. The havoc made among stock last June and July through short supplies of feed was not felt in any degree at Wandoona, where, owing to stacks of lucerne, the cows were milked as usual, and the ordinary quantity sent in. The only loss was three head of very old cows, which, perhaps, in any case would have succumbed irrespective of feed. The farmers surrounding, although too lazy to store for themselves, were not too lazy on this occasion to call round and ask Mr. Single if he were willing to supply them with hay at a price, which illustrates amusingly enough, the utter short-sightedness which possesses most of our agriculturists. They wait until the crash comes and then cry for help.
The carriage of 6d per bushel for maize or other crops from Wandoona to Mudgee practically prohibits Mr. Single from entering largely into cultivation, besides having no private team of his own, hence cereal crops are rarely seen in any quantity. It is a mystery, moveover, why agriculturists have never sought this locality out to cultivate - the land being particularly good in parts and suitable for the now fashionable "halves" system. Wheat, for example, is a crop that thrives well at Wandoona, the return per acre in a good season having been as high as 30 bushels.
"The great civilising track," one of Mr. Reid's happy phrases, will, no doubt, in time to come, completely revolutionize matters in all this splendid Goulburn valley, and become one of the chief granaries in New South Wales. The time is not yet, however, and much "dead-horse" will have to be worked off in the shape of white elephant lines such as the Mudgee and others, before the Treasury will agree to shell out for the Muswellbrook - Cassilis, or other proposed railways. The Mudgee branch is generally alluded to as a dead loss, the line running through a region of white-gum and stringy-bark with a sparse population, "The good that men do lives after them" runs the proverb, which, let us hope, may some day be credited to those far-seeing individuals, who in this year of grace aro talking of running more lines out west.
Mr. Reid is certainly the most grandiloquent, not to say bombastic, Premier that New South Wales has overseen; as witness his promise to the Broken Hill people, that their railway is within the region of practical politics, - a line, bear in mind, that is intended to run from Condobolin to Broken Hill, a distance of 600 miles, through the most grassless, most waterless, most rabbit-infested, and most sparsely-populated country in this great continent of Australia1
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