A Ladys Visit to the Gold Diggings of Australia in 1852-53 | Page 4

I.
INTRODUCTORY REMARKS
Chapter II.
THE VOYAGE OUT
Chapter III.
STAY IN MELBOURNE
Chapter IV.
CAMPING UP--MELBOURNE TO THE BLACK FOREST
Chapter V.
CAMPING UP--BLACK FOREST TO EAGLE HAWK GULLY
Chapter VI.
THE DIGGINGS
Chapter VII.
EAGLE HAWK GULLY
Chapter VIII.
AN ADVENTURE
Chapter IX.
HARRIETTE WALTERS
Chapter X.
IRONBARK GULLY
Chapter XI.
FOREST CREEK
Chapter XII.
RETURN TO MELBOURNE
Chapter XIII.
BALLARAT
Chapter XIV.
NEW SOUTH WALES
Chapter XV.
SOUTH AUSTRALIA
Chapter XVI.

MELBOURNE AGAIN
Chapter XVII.
HOMEWARD BOUND
Chapter XVIII.
CONCLUSION APPENDIX. WHO SHOULD EMIGRATE?

Chapter I.

INTRODUCTORY REMARKS
It may be deemed presumptuous that one of my age and sex should
venture to give to the public an account of personal adventures in a land
which has so often been descanted upon by other and abler pens; but
when I reflect on the many mothers, wives, and sisters in England,
whose hearts are ever longing for information respecting the dangers
and privations to which their relatives at the antipodes are exposed, I
cannot but hope that the presumption of my undertaking may be
pardoned in consideration of the pleasure which an accurate description
of some of the Australian Gold Fields may perhaps afford to many; and
although the time of my residence in the colonies was short, I had the
advantage (not only in Melbourne, but whilst in the bush) of constant
intercourse with many experienced diggers and old colonists--thus
having every facility for acquiring information respecting Victoria and
the other colonies.
It was in the beginning of April, 185-, that the excitement occasioned
by the published accounts of the Victoria "Diggings," induced my
brother to fling aside his Homer and Euclid for the various "Guides"
printed for the benefit of the intending gold-seeker, or to ponder over
the shipping columns of the daily papers. The love of adventure must
be contagious, for three weeks after (so rapid were our preparations)
found myself accompanying him to those auriferous regions. The
following pages will give an accurate detail of my adventures there--in
a lack of the marvellous will consist their principal faults but not even
to please would I venture to turn uninteresting truth into agreeable
fiction. Of the few statistics which occur, I may safely say, as of the
more personal portions, that they are strictly true.

Chapter II.

THE VOYAGE OUT
Everything was ready--boxes packed, tinned, and corded; farewells
taken, and ourselves whirling down by rail to Gravesend--too much
excited--too full of the future to experience that sickening of the heart,
that desolation of the feelings, which usually accompanies an
expatriation, however voluntary, from the dearly loved shores of one's
native land. Although in the cloudy month of April, the sun shone
brightly on the masts of our bonny bark, which lay in full sight of the
windows of the "Old Falcon," where we had taken up our temporary
quarters. The sea was very rough, but as we were anxious to get on
board without farther delay, we entrusted our valuable lives in a
four-oared boat, despite the dismal prognostications of our worthy host.
A pleasant row that was, at one moment covered over with
salt-water--the next riding on the top of a wave, ten times the size of
our frail conveyance--then came a sudden concussion--in veering our
rudder smashed into a smaller boat, which immediately filled and sank,
and our rowers disheartened at this mishap would go no farther. The
return was still rougher--my face smarted dreadfully from the cutting
splashes of the salt-water; they contrived, however, to land us safely at
the "Old Falcon," though in a most pitiable plight; charging only a
sovereign for this delightful trip--very moderate, considering the
number of salt-water baths they had given us gratis. In the evening a
second trial proved more successful, and we reached our vessel safely.
A first night on board ship has in it something very strange, and the
first awakening in the morning is still more so. To find oneself in a
space of some six feet by eight, instead of a good-sized room, and lying
in a cot, scarce wide enough to turn round in, as a substitute for a
four-post bedstead, reminds you in no very agreeable manner that you
have exchanged the comforts of Old England for the "roughing it" of a
sea life. The first sound that awoke me was the "cheerily" song of the
sailors, as the anchor was heaved--not again, we trusted, to be lowered
till our eyes should rest on the waters of Port Philip. And then the cry

of "raise tacks and sheets" (which I, in nautical ignorance, interpreted
"hay-stacks and sheep") sent many a sluggard from their berths to bid a
last farewell to the banks of the Thames.
In the afternoon we parted company with our steam-tug, and next
morning, whilst off the