Atlas Page 21
By Francis Meyers,
F. J. Broomfield and J. P. Dowling

NEARLY a hundred years ago —in the month of November of the year 1788 —Governor Phillip went up to the head of the harbour to choose a site for a redoubt, and quarters for those who were to be employed in clearing and tilling the agricultural and in the vicinity. Two years later —so successful had the primitive tillage been —the Governor issued orders for the laying out of a regular town, which received the name of Parramatta.

This old settlement, with a record beginning with the earliest history of the colony, lies at the head of that farthest reaching arm of Port Jackson called the Parramatta River. Steamers of moderate draught run up from Sydney in about two hours, which are passed pleasantly enough. As the river narrows the scenery changes gradually to lower, less rugged and more fertile banks. From the head of the navigation, a tram-line, constructed by private enterprise, conveys passengers to the park gates on the westward side of the town. But there is another and beautiful route by the north shore of the river through Gladesville and Ryde, or longer still by the Lane Cove Road through Hornsby and Pennant Hills —a delightful drive, affording magnificent views of the city and its surroundings; of rolling woodlands, with occasional glimpses of the water, and of glorious orange groves rich with fruit or odorous with blooms.

The town of Parramatta nestles in the bosom of the hills at the head of the river, and is not only quaint but unmistakably old-fashioned. The tale of a hundred years is written plainly on the gray stone walls still backing up the ancient public buildings; on the broad leafy, crowns of the beautiful oaks and the great heads of the stone pines.

The churches, however, as seen from the hills, have by no means an ancient appearance, though the double-spired St. John’s dates as far back as 1803. There is little, however, of the original structure left, save the old foundations and some portions of the main walls. It was built originally to imitate the old church at Reculvers, on the Kentish coast, the last ecclesiastical edifice on which rested the eyes of Mrs. Macarthur when saying good-bye to old England, and which she piously vowed to reproduce in her new country if she ever lived to reach it in safety —the vow was kept. All Saints,’ with the tallest spire, is of recent date, and the handsome buildings erected by Roman Catholics and Congregationalists are also modern, typifying a new generation in contrast with the oaks, and the cottages they overshadow.

Among the buildings to be noted are the news paper office, the banks, the commodious public offices, the old courthouse, the post-office, deeply alcoved along its front, and the old-fashioned and well-named Woolpack Inn, lying behind its broad lawn fringed with tall and shady trees. Primary schools, both public and denominational, are good and commodious. But the one educational establishment whose history is inseparable from that of Parramatta, and whose influence extends far and wide through the colony is the old King’s School, under the direct control of the Episcopal Church. Founded in the year 1832 when Sir Richard Bourke was the head of the State and Bishop Broughton of the Church, it immediately became the great Church of England school of the colony. It is by no means a beautiful building, having suffered many additions wherein utility was the primary object. The excellence of its management is, however, evidenced by the positions of many old pupils, now in the foremost ranks of social, professional and political life.

Manufactures in the town have been in a small way successful. There are three establishments where wool is woven into tweed, tile and pipe works, and a soap and candle factory. In early days linen was made from flax grown on the Government farm, but that useful industry died out. Conspicuous in the old town are the penal and eleemosynary establishments —general and criminal lunatic asylums accommodating together eight hundred and fifty patients, a reformatory for girls, a benevolent asylum, a commodious gaol, a district hospital, and another for erysipelas. Quite early in the history of the colony Parramatta, a natural water supply, was selected for the pauper and criminal institutions, and most of them have been retained to this day.

To all of cultured, artistic, aesthetic, or even historic tastes, the chief glory of Parramatta is the park —the old Domain, admittance to which is by an archway built in the Tudor style. Within the enclosure oaks tower aloft and shake their leaves in the light summer breeze with a cool and pleasant rustle, and in the damp flats bend their boughs, mighty in their gift of perfect shade. Pines from Norfolk Island, only less beautiful and grand than those in the Sydney Gardens; pines from southern Italy; pines from the Californian slopes, and pines from Scottish and Norwegian hills, stand tall, strong and shady, contrasting with the trees of native birth still lingering beside the shallow and generally turgid waters of the characteristic Australian creek. The firs grew from cones, the oaks from acorns, the willows from slips, which Mr. George Suttor, Australia’s first gardener, brought over in his plant-house on the "Porpoise" in the year 1800.

The park lands slope gently upward to a round knoll, where stands a plain old house about which cling many historic associations. It is the old Government House, the country residence of the sailor Governors, and of four at least of their successors —the place of their rest, and frequently of their most active labours. It was while walking in these grounds that John Macarthur met Governor Bligh in the earliest clays of a troubled administration. In one of, these old parlours they sat down together to breakfast with ex-Governor King, and when the meal was ended, they walked across to that other old house below the town by the river-side and inspected on the Elizabeth farm the little flock of sheep mustered on that estate. We can imagine the sheep folded in the evening for fear of the wild dogs, and the two distinguished officials looking curiously at the little flock whose development has been the main cause of the larger prosperity of Australia.

It has been well said that even had Parramatta been the least convenient of all towns, the beauty of its surroundings would have made it a desirable dwelling-place. Old residents say, with pride, "We can drive around through forty miles of oranges, and the statement is fairly accurate. From Parramatta to Ryde, Hornsby, Pennant and Baulkham Hills, and towards Prospect, orange groves fringe the road in almost endless succession. The trees are planted chiefly on the rich ridges or the higher eastern slopes of the hills. English fruit trees, caring little for an occasional bite of frost, do better in the hollows. The inland drives to Baulkham Hills or through Toongabbie towards Prospect, are charming, and it is as pleasant to be about Parramatta in September as in Kent in April. The orange is a winter fruit; in spring the trees are laden with their white and fragrant blossoms the green fruit forms and hangs during the summer getting its golden colour as autumn begins, and becoming fully ripe as the winter deepens. But the seasons are so mild that they intermix, and a tree may often be seen bearing at the same time the lingering fruit of last season and the blossoms and young fruit of the next.

The country lying between Parramatta and the Hawkesbury River is for the most part gently undulating. It was easily traversed in the earlier days, but, being thickly timbered, was comparatively neglected; the attention of the colonists being naturally drawn first to the rich alluvial land on the banks of the river, at once available for the growth of maize, wheat and hay. The principal track from Parramatta to this early granary of the colony ran north-west to Windsor, a town occupying an area of rising ground at the point where the river turns northward, and which was then the head of navigation. A second track, which crossed the Hawkesbury, went westward to Penrith, and from this place the explored route over the Blue Mountains was opened. Tillage on the banks of the Hawkesbury, early begun, has never ceased, for the deep rich soil seems incapable of exhaustion, though several times the settlers have seen their farms under water, having to run from their cottages, or, when too late for flight, to be rescued in boats. Back from this alluvial belt the land is of a poorer quality, though on the tops of the hills, where some fairly good red soil is to be found, many patches were cleared for wheat, till the persistent appearance of rust compelled the abandonment of this description of crop.

For many years the greater part of the district was subdivided into large grazing paddocks in which the sheep and cattle that had travelled down from the back country rested and fattened for market. On the western road a good deal of land has of late years been utilised for vineyards and orangeries, especially in the neighbourhood of Seven Hills, and still more recently this land has become valuable for residential purposes, particularly for those who desire a larger block than is easily obtainable eastward of Parramatta. The railway line as far as Blacktown serves the purpose both of the western and north-western roads, the branch to Richmond turning northwards from this junction. On the route is the station of Riverstone, where private enterprise has established a successful slaughtering and meat preserving establishment. The flocks and herds on their way down from the northern pastures are intercepted at this point and sent on as dressed meat to Sydney.

Windsor, which next to Parramatta is the oldest of the country towns, still retains the characteristics of early days. The ivy creeps over the old brick walls; the trees look almost weary with age neglected gardens. Old men in checked cotton shirts, moleskin trousers and cabbage-tree hats, sit beneath the long verandahs of one-storied inns and tell tales of the old, old times. Characteristic, too, of those times is St. Matthews’s Church, built substantially on high ground in the Basilican style of architecture. The foundation stone of this church was laid, says the official record, a little after sunset on Sunday, October 11th 1817, by Governor Macquarie, and his speech on that spring evening was short and very much to the point. He saw the "holey dollar" (the Spanish dollar with the centre cut out) safely deposited in the bottle, he tried the stone with a square, tapped it with the mallet, and saying "God bless St. Matthew’s Church," left it in peace, but not, as shown in the sequel, in security. For that night sundry rascals uplifted the stone, broke the bottle and abstracted the dollar. His Excellency, holding to the belief that coin of the realm was the only sure foundation for the church, began the proceedings de novo, called together the whole of the respectable inhabitants and the notabilities of the viceregal court, addressed them in a pathetic manner, passed a high eulogy on the clergy and planted other dollars, which alas for the morality of the times, were within two days likewise abstracted. After this it appears that the Governor contented himself with fulminating against the probable robbers, and permitting the walls to rise without the silver basis. Yet no good luck attended this. For we read that "two years after, the walls of the building had to be pulled down to the very foundation owing, to some defect in their construction, and another building of much larger dimensions and of the best materials was commenced on its site." This church is the St. Matthew’s of to-day.

Four miles west of Windsor is Richmond, another village dating from the first decade of the colony. It is not so busy now as it has been —for the railways have diverted the great trade on which its early prosperity was built —but it still shows evidence, not only of past vigour, but of present vitality. Two great stock routes converge on the slope of the hills on the other side of the river. By the northern one, known as the Bulga Road, came down sheep and cattle from Patrick’s Plains, on the Hunter River, along a rough and somewhat grassless track. The other route came from the far west, and crossed the Blue Mountains by what is still known, after the surveyor who discovered it, as Bell’s line. This route takes the dividing ridge between the waters of the Grose and those of the Colo, and joins the other line near Mount Clarence. Richmond, therefore, was the gateway through which for many years passed the greater portion of the live stock destined for the Sydney market. The Kurrajong hills look down upon Richmond from the northern side of the river. Their seaward slope is covered with singularly fertile soil, originally thickly timbered, and clothed with a dense undergrowth of rich scrub vegetation. Most of this has now been cleared away, and orange-trees have been planted to the summit —an elevation of nearly two thousand feet. The drive up the steep ascent is very beautiful, the undulating ground of the fertile lower slopes presenting a landscape of remarkably soft and varied aspect. The hill has long been celebrated for the purity and mildness of its air, and is a favourite resort for invalids. Over the ridge to the west the aspect of the country changes. Rugged sandstone comes to the surface, and remains characteristic of Bell’s line, broken only by the rich patches of Mount Tomah and Mount Wilson, where the trap-rock has burst through the sandstone, producing the soil that has given birth to magnificent tree-ferns and a rich jungle of semi-tropical appearance.

From Blacktown junction the Great Western Railway continues through slightly undulating country. Rooty Hill was once a thickly timbered elevation, and still yields a supply of firewood and railway sleepers; but it has become more celebrated for its coursing-ground, a great lover of sport having fixed his headquarters here. The line crosses South Creek, the valley of which is in flood time filled with back-water. After this the country is moderately level as far as Penrith. This is one of the old-fashioned roadside townships —a place where the carriers used to rest before starting for the heavy pull up the mountains, or after coming down. Delay, too, was sometimes caused by the river being swollen by heavy rains, when the punt could not be worked.

Above Penrith is a beautiful reach of the Nepean, with still deep water for about fifteen miles up to its junction with the Warragamba. For a mile or two above the bridge the banks are moderately low, but gradually become steep and rocky. During the great floods the scene here is magnificent. The waters that come rolling down, gathered from an enormous watershed, are piled up between the steep rocky banks because there is no lateral discharge for them. Flood marks on the trees show that the river has risen sixty and even eighty feet above the ordinary height; but as it rushes out of the gorge and spreads out over the low land, which is mostly on the eastern side, the level sinks rapidly.

To the west of the river lie the Emu Plains, gently sloping to the foot of the hills. They are mostly above flood level; the soil is fertile, and this mile-wide belt was early occupied and tilled. It has never ceased to be profitable to the farmer. Where the plains end the mountains at once begin. In the old coaching days there were little more than roadside inns all the way until the mountain was descended on the other side, when agricultural and pastoral occupation once more began. But since the railway has been at work some coal mines have been opened up, hotels have been built, and little townships have sprung up, such as at Springwood, Katoomba, Blackheath and Mount Victoria. The older road, which was superseded by a better one down Mount Victoria, made its descent into the western country, at Mount York; but the railway engineers decided on going west and making the descent, not into the Vale of Hartley, but into the Valley of Lithgow. The line, therefore, after passing Mount Victoria, keeps its elevation for some distance, running along the Darling Causeway —the dividing ridge between the head of the Grose and the valley of the Lett. On the left is a branch constructed by the Hartley Kerosene Company; the line makes a steep descent into the Vale of Hartley, the trucks being drawn up by a rope.

After all the rugged gorges at the head of the Grose have been passed, the point of junction with Bell’s line of road is reached at Mount Wilson station. The railway then tunnels under Mount Clarence and emerges on a spur looking down upon Lithgow. To make the descent the engineers had recourse once more to a zig-zag —a much more difficult piece of work than that by which the mountain was climbed on the eastern side. The road down is in turn sidling, viaduct, tunnel and cutting. Below there are two or three points of vantage whence may be seen the manner in which the line sweeps down the face of this bold inland cliff —the three ledges, one above another, being commanded in one view.

At the foot of the Zig-zag are the two adjoining townships of Eskbank and Lithgow. We are here at the western outcrop of the immense coal seams which underlie the whole of the Blue Mountains, and it is this which gives character to the industries of the place. At several points the seams have been attacked, sometimes by adits driven into the hills, sometimes by shallow shafts. A good market for the coal is found along the line of railway both west and east, as well as in Sydney. The existence of iron ore in the neighbourhood naturally suggested the possibility of smelting works, but the enterprise has met with many difficulties. The ore is scattered, and not cheaply raised, the lime has to be brought from a distance, and colonial labour is costly. It has been impossible, therefore, to produce iron as cheaply as it can be imported. But the basis of the industry has been laid, and its further development only awaits more favourable conditions. Meanwhile a good deal of work has, been done for the Government in re-rolling old rails. Lithgow Valley is also well supplied with a great variety of clay; a successful pottery has been established, which is equipped with the most recent machinery. The coarser productions are naturally those for which there is the greater demand, and drain-pipes, tiles, and bricks are the articles principally manufactured. Enough, however, has been done with pottery of the finer kinds to show the potentialities of the industry, and with abundance of the best clay close to coal, Lithgow has its hope in reserve.

Beyond Lithgow is the pretty old roadside village of Bowenfels, and still farther on Wallerawang —a township lying in the centre of a district rich in mineral wealth. At this point a branch line strikes off in a north-westerly direction to the town of Mudgee, about eighty miles distant. The route lies through somewhat rugged country, and only sparsely populated. The line runs not far from the dividing ridge, and skirts the heads of the streams running down into the Colo. On the western side stretches a large area of country unmistakably auriferous, and in which rich patches of gold have been found. The enthusiasm for mining has, however, greatly fallen off, and a systematic investigation of the district awaits the time when underground work can be carried on more economically. At Cudgegong, which is near the railway route, cinnabar ore has been found, but only in quantities to tempt, not to reward, the enterprise of the miner.

Before the line reaches Mudgee the character of the country improves, and a fine grazing district comes into View. The town itself exhibits a curious mixture of the old and the new. It was an early centre of pastoral occupation, but it is now showing the effects of railway communication. The trees on the river are old, the crumbling cottages on the outskirts are old, the ways of the people savour of old colonisation, while the new churches, banks, and public buildings appear as innovations on an established order. Mudgee is the first place on a western journey where the true bush life is reached men with genuine Australian swags on their backs pass frequently station hands, lithe, spare, and brown from much riding under hot skies, come in booted and spurred. On the road by the racecourse a trim jockey exercises a well-clothed racer, and past him rides a "cockatoo-boy" on a palfrey whose hide knows no more of grooming than that of a kangaroo. Mudgee has the capabilities of a beautiful town, being laid out on a rich flat, surrounded by well-grassed, highly-timbered hills.

It is more than fifty years since the first settlers came to, Mudgee. They obtained large grants of the rich soil, and all throve on them; they have passed away, leaving their sons to reign in their stead. Their homesteads stand on the surrounding hills, three or four miles from the town —substantial, comfortable places, with broad and shady trees on the lawns and roses in the gardens, making Australian November fragrant as English June. The climate and soil are similar to those of the eastern valleys of the Himalayas —the cradle of the merino race —the tablelands of Spain, and the high lands of Algiers, and were therefore specially suitable for stud flocks. The best available blood was early taken up there, and good breeding was backed by liberal feeding, and thus was produced the distinct and profitable strain of merinos now so much sought after by flockmasters throughout Australia. The sheep are small in size, but the fleeces are dense and the staple is fine. It is in requisition for the delicate fabrics of the French looms, and has realised in the market over four shillings a pound. The effect of climate in some parts of Australia, both on the framework of the animals and the quality of the wool, is very quickly seen by a deterioration in type. Fresh strains are therefore regularly needed. To supply these, the choice stock is carried away to less favoured, districts, and there is consequently a perpetual demand for Mudgee sheep. Buyers from all parts of the continent gather at the sale of stud rams, which makes an annual festival in the town. At these fairs, and at the races, Mudgee seems suddenly to start into life. The streets are busy, the hotels are full. Stylish equipages roll down from the hills, and colonial lads scamper along the dusty roads on steeds that an Arab Sheikh might envy. But at other times all is very dull. Morning, noon and night the town seems half asleep, and it is a matter of marvel where the people come from who on Sundays fill the really handsome and commodious churches, which in Mudgee are far superior to any other buildings. Some of the banks are substantial and handsome, but on the usual public buildings no money has been uselessly wasted, nor have storekeepers raised any very notable structures. The school of arts is a fine building, well equipped, and, what is not always the case with these institutions, out of debt.

The soil and climate of Mudgee are favourable to the growth of many English flowers, and seem also to be well adapted to the cultivation of the grape. The medals in the cellars of Mr. Bucholtz, of Fredericksburgh, tell of success that has already been achieved, and indicate the possibilities of the future. Maize grows freely, and yields its abundant harvest within a few months of the sowing, and hay runs up a luxuriant crop. In a good spring season all the flats are green with the young Indian corn, or fragrant with the odour of new-mown hay; while amongst the rich native grasses run the clean-looking sheep just relieved of their weighty and valuable fleeces. Around Mudgee there has been a good deal of gold mining but the known alluvial deposit has nearly all been gathered, and the development of quartz reefs proceeds but slowly. There are indications of copper and silver, and also of coal. A line of rail-way has been surveyed up the Colo Valley from Richmond, which would strike the Mudgee line about Rylstone, and a far easier gradient could be secured by this route than obtains on the present railway. A trunk line from Sydney may in the future follow the course of this Valley, in which case the present Mudgee line could be extended to the north-west. At present the town is a railway terminus, but does not concentrate very much traffic, because Dubbo catches the inland trade.

From Wallerawang westward to Bathurst the railway line runs through undulating and sometimes rather rough country. The soil is of poor quality though here and there are clearings and little farms. At Rydal may be seen drays loading for the Sunny Corner silver mines, which for a time were very productive, a hundred tons of pure silver having been obtained during a period of six months. But the lode thinned out, and none of the other promising claims in the neighbourhood has as yet realised expectations. The district, however, is of a strongly-marked mineral character, and though eager speculators are quickly discouraged, it is the opinion of geologists that valuable mines will yet be developed in this locality.

Farther to the west is Tarana, the station from which visitors usually start for the Jenolan Caves, although other routes are now open. These caves will be described in a separate chapter. The road falls as the Bathurst plains come in sight —that rich instalment of the great western country which gladdened the eyes of the first explorers, and gave a stimulus to early pastoral occupation.

Bathurst has naturally become the capital of the west, for its site was well chosen. Placed on the banks of the Macquarie it has a secure supply of fresh water, and when viewed from the city the surrounding country is seen to be a girdle of undulating hills, some bare, some highly timbered. The soil is rich, and fails to yield its harvest only in those years of drought when Nature, to put a little restraint on the avarice of man, compels a fallow. The value of the land was keenly appreciated by the early settlers, and the homesteads of the great proprietors crown the hills that make a circle round the town, which is placed on the north bank of the river, and is the centre of a district which from the first has been one of rural industry. Upon that its prosperity still mainly depends, though it has also been the centre to which the business of several mining districts converged. Hill End, Sofala, Turon and Trunkey have all at different times been rushed by miners. The glory of these goldfields, however, has for the present departed, and their thorough development awaits the day when mining shall be more scientifically and economically conducted.

Each of the four great denominations is well represented in Bathurst. The Anglican church of All Saints’ is perhaps the finest building, and, surrounded by exceptionally well-kept grounds, a chief ornament of the town. But more pleasant to the eye is the square-towered cathedral of the Roman Catholics, by reason of the great trees growing close beside and tempering with their deep green tints the dull red of its massive brick walls. The priest walking there at eventide studiously perusing his breviary, the sisters in the neighbouring convent chanting the Angelus, the rolling organ with its deep and solemn tones pealing through open windows and doors, together form a picture and leave a memory singularly in contrast with the ordinary sentiment of the inner Austral land.

But the block of buildings the Bathurst people regard with most pride, is situated in the centre of the town, and comprises the whole of the public offices —the lands, police, post and telegraph offices, together with the courthouse and the gaol. A dome, well-proportioned, though somewhat lacking in elevation, rises from the centre of the block. The wings, formed by long corridors, are, pleasantly broken and diversified by open quadrangles, planted with trees and flowers. The block is compact, convenient, sufficiently ornate, and yet free from any air of pretension.

The hospital, built on the breadth of another hill about a mile to the north, is in every respect a creditable establishment. There is no building of the kind in the colony better fitted or better situated for hospital work. The wards are lofty and roomy, with windows opening on to an unimpeded view of the fresh green downs. The architectural effect is good, the red brick and the white stone having been blended in an excellent modern Gothic design.

All Saints’ Grammar School, nearer the city, is an important local institution, with a creditable record of good work well done; and the public school, centrally situated, is a worthy representative of the system which levies a tax of one pound sterling a head on every unit of the population for educational work. The Roman Catholic College of St. Stanislaus takes a high rank amongst kindred institutions. The school of arts, in which educational work and recreation are combined, is one of the best of its kind out of the metropolis. The commercial buildings, however, make no particular display; banks, insurance offices and stores are commodious and sufficient, but not imposing. Manufactures have not secured much footing in the town, though a few tall chimneys indicate flour-mills, breweries and agricultural implement works. A mile up the river is the pumping-engine which supplies water to the town.

The railway from Bathurst goes westward in the direction of Blayney. For the first few miles it follows the direction of a pleasant road beside the watercourse of George’s Vale, the creek winding in long curves fringed with willows. On either side are clover paddocks and cornfields, orchards and gardens; homesteads of all sorts —from the substantial house of the wealthy settler, to the mud-walled cabin of the humble tenant who rents a little patch of rich alluvial land. After continuing thus for eight miles, the line enters rougher country which does not invite to agriculture, and which even in a good year is only scantily clothed with short wiry grass. The hills arc sparsely timbered and strewn with boulders. The township of Blayney is built chiefly on a flat by the side of the Belubula River. It is a moderately prosperous place, because at no great distance there is some fine agricultural land. At Blayney, there is also a railway junction, the main line going off to the north-west; but towards the south-west there is a cross-country line connecting the western and southern railways. This line will go through Carcoar, Cowra and Young to Murrumburrah, and will be the direct route from the colony of Victoria to the western slopes of New South Wales and thence on to Bourke. It is likely to become a great route for the transmission of live-stock from Queensland to the Melbourne market. The first considerable township on this line is Carcoar, the centre of a mining district, situated in a deep mountain valley; some engineering difficulties had to be encountered to make the descent. The next important place is Cowra, in the valley of the Lachlan. Prior to the advent of the iron horse it was little, more than a halting-place for carriers and drovers, but the railway makes a speedy change where the land is fertile. Selections are taken up, farms are tilled, the old camping-place becomes a village, and in a few years the village grows to a town. Westward of Cowra lies Grenfell, once a prosperous alluvial goldfield, where shafts and batteries still make a busy show, though the maize and wheatfields and the rich red soil of the newly-cleared land indicate that the larger hope of the future lies in agriculture.

Twenty miles beyond Blayney along the railway line is Orange. The route trends over elevated ground, the line at one part being over three thousand feet above the level of the sea. Clearings and paddocks are to be seen all along the line, and at some intervening villages, such as Millthorpe and Springhill, large areas of land have been brought under tillage. Near the town the country is more open, and the rich red volcanic soil is well adapted for every description of agriculture. Orange lies among grassy hills over which tower the Canoblas, capped through several months of the year with snow. There is no river near but there is an abundant rainfall, and water is seldom scarce. The district is commonly said to have the most English look of any in the colony, the farms and the vegetation reminding one of English rural scenes. The range of temperature is that of our mountain climate generally —hot in the middle of the day in summer, but cool in the evening, and very cold and bracing in winter. In the gardens and fields the influence of the cooler climate is very noticeable. The daphnes, magnolias, and oleanders of the Sydney gardens are absent, but the hawthorne hedges are vigorous, currants and gooseberries come to perfection, and the wheat harvest is later than that of Bathurst. The district was taken up for a cattle station about the year 1830, and made a great start at the time of the gold fever of 1851. It was at Lewis Ponds, a small tributary of Summer Hill Creek, about three miles from the town, that Mr. E. H. Hargraves made his first discovery of Australian gold, and this set everybody on the alert to look for auriferous indications. Near Lucknow some gravel carted on to a newly-constructed bridge attracted the attention of a few Cornishmen, who during the night carried it down to the creek, washed it, and in the morning sold the results of their night’s labour for sixty pounds a man. Of course there was a wild rush to the pit from which the gravel had been taken. Claims were pegged out in all directions. Shopmen, shoemakers, tailors, took to digging holes, and washing gravel in nail-cans, buckets and tubs. Little fortunes were quickly made and quickly spent. A similar discovery subsequently took place at Ophir, followed by a similar excitement till the alluvial patch was worked out. Orange, as the local centre, grew rapidly during the gold-digging days, but after them had a non-progressive time. The construction of the railway gave a great stimulus to agricultural development; forests were cleared and land was tilled, and the basis of a permanent prosperity was laid. Mining, too, was resumed, and auriferous ground that had been hastily scratched in the first instance was more, thoroughly examined and systematically worked. Several gold-bearing reefs yielding large and continuous returns were opened. At Lucknow some excellent in mining machinery is employed. Rock-drills are worked by compressed air, and the free gold is treated in the usual way; but the more complex ore of antimony silver, lead and gold are sent to Germany.

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