Part 17 (1/2)
”This is my business place,” said the merchant; ”but I shall not ask you to look at it now; we must be off again immediately for my country residence among the hills. Here, James, give the horses a little water; now then, let us start again.”
A few minutes more and they were rapidly crossing the Park Lands.
”These are gum trees, I suppose?” asked Hubert.
”Yes, they are,” said his uncle; ”but not worth much, either for timber, ornament, or shade. You wouldn't get much relief from the heat under the poor shadow of their ta.s.sel-like foliage.”
”What a very strange noise!” exclaimed Frank; ”it seems as if a number of stocking-looms were at work in the air.”
”See now,” said Mr Oliphant, ”the force of habit. I'm so used to the sound, that I was utterly unconscious of it. It is made by the cicada, an insect very common in this country. And now, where do you suppose we're coming to? This little village or towns.h.i.+p before us is Norwood, and then comes Kensington. I've no doubt it will strike you as one of the oddest things in this colony, till you get used to it, though, of course, it isn't peculiar to this colony, how places are made close neighbours here, which are very widely separated in the old country, from which they are borrowed.”
”But why not retain the native names?” asked Hubert.
”Ah, why not, indeed? What can be more musical in sound than Yatala, Aldinga, Kooringa, Onkaparinga. But then, we could not always find native names enough; and, besides this, the Englishman likes to keep the old country before him, by giving his place some dear familiar name that sounds like home.”
In about another half hour they reached their destination among the hills.
”The Rocks,” as Mr Abraham Oliphant's place was called, was situated on a hill-side, high above the valley, but on a moderate slope. A stout post-and-rail fence surrounded the estate, and one of a more compact nature enclosed the more private grounds. The house was large, and covered a considerable surface, as there were no rooms above the bas.e.m.e.nt floor. The front windows commanded a magnificent view of the city of Adelaide, with its surrounding lands, suburbs, and neighbouring villages, and of the sea in the extreme distance. At the back was a remarkable group of rocks, from which the estate took its name; these leaned on the hill-side, and were encased in a setting of wild shrubs and creeping plants of extraordinary beauty. A stream of purest spring water perpetually flowed through a wide cleft in these rocks, and afforded a deliciously cool supply, which never failed in the hottest summer. The house was surrounded by a wide verandah, which, like the building itself, was roofed with s.h.i.+ngles, and up the posts and along the edge of which there climbed a profusion of the multiflora rose. The garden sloped away from the house, and contained an abundance of both flowers and fruits. There was the aloe, and more than one kind of cactus, growing freely in the open air, with many other plants which would need the hothouse or greenhouse in a colder climate. Fig-trees, vines, standard peach, and nectarine trees were in great abundance, while a fence of the sharp Kangaroo Island acacia effectually kept all inquisitive cattle at a respectful distance. The inside of the house was tastefully but not unduly furnished, ancient and modern articles being ranged side by side in happy fraternity; for a thorough colonist suits his own taste, and is tolerably independent of fas.h.i.+on.
”Welcome once more to Australia!” exclaimed Mr Oliphant to his young companions; ”and more especially welcome to 'the Rocks.' Come in: here, let me introduce you to my eldest daughter and youngest son--Jane and Thomas, here's your cousin Hubert; and here's his friend, Mr Frank Oldfield; you must give them a hearty welcome.”
All parties were soon at their ease together. A sumptuous dinner-tea was soon spread on the table of the dining-room--the windows of which apartment commanded a view, across the valley, of the city and distant sea.
Mr Oliphant was a widower, with two daughters and four sons. Jane had taken her mother's place; the two eldest sons were married, and settled in other parts of the colony; the third son lived with his younger sister at a sheep-station about twenty-five miles up the country; the youngest son, Thomas, a boy about fifteen years old, was still at home, and rode in daily to the collegiate school, returning in the evening.
”You'll meet your other cousins before long, I hope,” said his uncle to Hubert. ”They know, of course, that you are coming; and when I send them word that you are actually come, we shall have them riding in at an early day. I suppose you're used to riding yourself? Ah, that's right; then you're pretty independent. Horseflesh is cheap enough here, but it isn't always of the choicest quality; however, I can furnish you with what you'll want in that way. All your cousins ride, of course, by a sort of colonial instinct. An Australian and his horse almost grow together like a centaur.”
”And do you ride much, Cousin Jane?” asked Hubert.
”Oh, never mind the 'cousin;' you must drop it at once,” said Mr Oliphant. ”It's Jane, and you're Hubert. But I beg Jane's pardon for smothering her answer.”
”Oh yes, Hubert,” replied his cousin; ”I ride, as a matter of course; we should never get over much ground, especially in the hot weather, if we walked as much as people seem to do in England. But I have not yet heard how you left my dear aunt and uncle. Seeing you seems half like seeing them; I've heard so much of them.”
”I suppose you hardly venture out kangaroo-hunting, Miss Oliphant?”
asked Frank.
”I have done so once or twice in the north,” she replied; ”but the kangaroo is not fond of so many white faces near his haunts, so he has retired from these parts altogether.”
”And you find you can all stand total abstinence here?” asked Hubert of his uncle.
”Stand it!” exclaimed Mr Oliphant; ”I should think so. Why, my dear nephew, it don't need standing; it's the drink I couldn't stand. You should see the whole lot of us when we meet at one of our great family gatherings. Well, it's not quite the thing perhaps for a father to say--and yet I fancy it's not very far from the truth--that you'll not see a stouter, a better grown--Jane, shall I say handsomer?--I certainly may say a healthier, family anywhere; and not one of us is indebted to any alcoholic stimulant for our good looks.”
”You have always, then, been an abstainer since you came to the colony?”
asked Frank.
”No, I have not; more's the pity,” was the reply; ”but only one or two of my children remember the day when I first became an abstainer. From the oldest to the youngest they have been brought up without fermented stimulants, and abhor the very sight of them.”
”And might I ask,” inquired Frank, ”what led to the change in your case, if the question is not an intrusive one?”