For there more than elsewhere in Australia—as much, perhaps, take the
whole year round, as anywhere in the world—do scenery and climate
invite retirement to country life. It is the Capua of the Australias.
Snow scarcely falls except to ornament the summits of Mount Wellington
and of the distant ranges of the uninhabited and almost unexplored west
coast. The frosts are seldom fatal even to the tenderest plant. The
stifling hot winds of the continent are cooled by a hundred miles of
sea before they reach the island. Nor is the air stagnant or sultry.
Hot as the sun is by day, the summer nights are cooler than in England.
English trees, flowers, and fruits, flourish with a rare luxuriance,
side by side with pines from Norfolk Island and New Zealand. Geraniums
blaze out in huge pink and scarlet masses, growing in almost wild
profusion. The English sweet-briar has been introduced, and has spread
of itself till in its luxuriance it has become a noxious weed to
the farmers. Fruit follows fruit so fast under the early summer sun
that apples ripen almost before strawberries are over. It is in such
profusion that it lies rotting on the ground for want of mouths to eat
it. Life is long here, and you seldom see the pale, thin, dried-up,
prematurely old faces and lean figures of the other colonies, which
almost make one doubt whether the English race was meant to live in
climates such as those of Queensland and of South Australia. Sometimes
indeed it seems as if the climate were _too_ Capuan, too little
compelling to exertion. Invalids bask in it, rheumatic people find in
it relief from pain, and the consumptive live out the full tale of
their days. But the strong and active seem to lose something of their
vigour, to ride where they used to walk, to walk where they used to
run, to drink stimulants when they used to eat. Children seem to grow
up less hardy for want of the nipping of the keen frost and the bitter
blast of the English east wind to compel them to activity and to make
repose for half the year, except by the fire-side, impossible.[8]
VII.
TASMANIA (_continued_).
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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