Recollections of a Visit to Port Phillip

bedroom. A little old waiter who, 'though banished, yet a trueborn Englishman' was the most remarkable specimen of domestic politeness and attention I ever met within the Colony. He frisked about amazingly, as if it had been a delight of his old heart to attend to our wants. When our party, which numbered eight or nine altogether, felt generally disposed to turn in for the night, the small waiter brought in to the room, stretcher after stretcher, rolls of mattresses and piles of blankets and with wonderful arrangement, disposed of us all for the night on the floor of the grand salon, or small parlour, which term may be considered most appropriate.

The little waiter was up when we arose which was with the sun and made ready some coffee for us, before we started in the clear, cold morning air.

Horses were not considered very secure in the stables at the inns, as it not infrequently happened that the stables were broken into at night and the steed stolen. That a perplexity, such as this would have been to our onwards movements did not happen to us, I now regret, as it would have been something to record of our journey which was without anything like adventure.

Our fare at these villainous specimens of the hotel tribe was usually mutton chops and bread and, according to the choice of each individual of our party, tea or something more potent, for which we had to pay most extravagantly.

At the Carlsruhe Inn we stopped for luncheon, consisting of some greasy chops and ale, costing us somewhere about 10 shillings a head, the ale charged at eight shillings a bottle. Two of the mounted police arrived while we were there. They had been out in search of a bushranger who had been reported at the Mount Macedon Police Station as prowling in the Black Forest.

Somemiles from Carlsruhe, they came upon a man on horseback, whose appearance excited their suspicions that he was the bush ranger they were in search of. He was at some distance when they first got eyes upon him and upon their making towards him, he set off at full speed in another direction. The police gave chase and after an exciting run of some miles, came upon the man whom they brought to bay. But policemen can be but short-sighted mortals everywhere.

To their amazement the notorious bushranger who they had so gallantly captured turned out to be a terrified ‘squatter’ who, seeing two disagreeable looking characters coming towards him, the policemen having been in plain clothes, took alarm and took his horse to speed to escape from their clutches.

Captors and captive, deceiving and deceived, enjoyed a hearty laugh at the whole affair, the former returning to their quarters disappointed of their prey, while the latter was glad to return to his home intact with both his possessions, his horse and his wearing apparel."