Victoria Valley

Nine Mile Marsh Convict Station, Victoria Valley

Jennifer Jacobs Member no 1826

I knew my husband was not going to be happy as we turned from the Lyell Highway into Strickland Road and the GPS announced that there was 16 km of unsealed road before us. That was before we turned right into Victoria Valley Road, to another unsealed 5 km section. Riding ahead with my sister, I watched through the rear vision mirror as he disappeared into clouds of billowing dust. We had spent two nights at Derwent Bridge and I had announced that as we were close enough on the way back, I wanted to see the remains of Nine Mile Marsh probation station at Victoria Valley.

My interest was aroused when, as part of one of the convict courses at UTAS, I had studied Frederick BISHOP, the second of my great, great grandmother’s three husbands. Upon arrival in 1845, Frederick had been sent to Victoria Valley.[1] Being completely unfamiliar with this probation station, I checked maps and researched the area. Discovering that it was north of Ouse, I spoke with my neighbour who had lived in the region for many years. A few days later she brought me a copy of the Highland Digest containing an article and a map, a copy of which I clutched as we bumped along the road.[2] So excited was I upon realising that we had reached the spot, that I missed the marker at the junction with Bashan Road.

Patchwork was the only word to describe the vast plain that appeared through the forest to my left. Amid the surrounding rolling landscape, it was just so flat. On this beautiful autumn day, it was hard to imagine the hardships, the cold and the desolation of this area in 1842, when the government used convicts to clear and drain the land to create a farm.[3] After three years, the 800 acres was to be sold in 50 acres lots to raise money to cover the cost of incarcerating 300 convicts whose duty it was to perform the task.

How excited they must have been when assigned the duty of digging a drain twenty one feet wide and nine feet deep across the landscape in order to capture the waters of Kenmere Rivulet which drowned the valley in winter.[4] A reservoir was to be constructed at the head of the marsh to provide irrigation in summer and to run the mill wheel which would grind the vast quantities of grain to be grown on the fertile ground.

Alas, a year later, the station was failing in its purpose. The potato plants had been spindly and sickly due, it was supposed, to poor preparation of the land. It had not been manured or turned over satisfactorily and the potatoes, planted with a dibble, after the New Zealand fashion, did not thrive.[5] Convicts were then ordered to break the ground between the rows and one can imagine that their aim with the hoe may have been a little astray. As winter arrived, frost descended heavily upon the plants. Accepting a challenge, the overseer charged the men with constructing “cats” each with 20 grass tails with which the icy residue was to be beaten away. Is it any wonder that the crop was looking a little sad? Pruning away the shattered and slimy remains did not improve the situation, yet somehow, it was still hoped to harvest a crop.

It seems that the one sergeant and twelve guards were finding their task overwhelming. In March 1843, a letter to the Colonial Times stated that scarcely a cart managed to get past the station without being robbed and thought should be given to arming the carters.[6] In November, it was suggested in another newspaper that the men were spending half their time “kangarooing” and the rest complaining about their provisions and abusing their overseers.[7] They may have had a basis for their complaints. When siting the station, thought had not been given to the distance and the time required to negotiate the rural roads and even when goods could be delivered without spoilage the transport cost of £9 per ton was prohibitive.[8] Fresh meat had to be abandoned in favour of salt.

Green spikes of wheat and oats gave new hope for a new direction in agriculture as spring arrived but the climate (which one correspondent likened to that of Macquarie Harbour) again took control and it failed to ripen.[9] Buildings had been erected for a doctor and other services but almost immediately abandoned. Nobody, it seems wanted to live there and suffer winter temperatures up to 17 degrees below freezing. Cattle were killed by the cold and wet, and sheep could survive only in the summers.

By April 1844, some progress had been made with road construction.[10] A bridge over the River Dee and more cleared roads had opened up the area considerably. However, there were still complaints that escaped prisoners roamed the area. In January, Mr BISDEE had been robbed at gunpoint and in June, George BULL had been threatened with a noose around his neck.[11] Fifteen prisoners previously from Norfolk Island, now of Victoria Valley broke out from the Hamilton lock-up in December in an attempt to steal arms and escape into the bush.[12] Clearly the penal station was not under control.

A final potato crop was planted in the hope that the land could be sold at increased value before, in an incident packed final few days beginning late January 1845, the station was abandoned and the men were walked to Port Cygnet.[13] With one convict overseer to 100 men, supervision was not strong. Assembled near the Clyde Bridge in humid weather, they were allowed a cooling bathe in the river. However, they came close to the main road and were described as a disgusting and disgraceful sight and people could not cross the bridge while they were there. At “Shawfield,” they treated Mr SHAW in a brutal manner, forcibly stole several gallons of spirits from him, and attempted to rob other persons and buildings on their way. The whole entourage was stretched out over two or three miles on the road.

However, back at the Valley, the early autumn was preparing with icy tentacles of frost which would creep across the flats and one again melt the healthy green potato crop into a sodden mess. Profit from the planting was not forthcoming. Despite years of advertising and lowering of prices, nobody wanted to take on the gamble of Victoria Valley.

From a sign posted high point on the hill, we were able to see the remains of the drains crossing the manicured pasture. In 2017, it was hard to imagine the scene alive with busy workers and tilled paddocks as we shared the peace with a few birds and grasshoppers. Yet, there was more to see. A short way back along the road we found the track leading to a wide rock wall, the remains of the dam. Fifty feet through at its base, and curving across the rivulet, it was quite impressive despite the blackberries and scrub which threatened to engulf it. Of the mill for grinding the grain there was no sign, as it had never been built.

Though we did not see buildings, they were mentioned by J E Calder, Surveyer General when he visited in 1860.[14] ‘We “heave in sight” of some ungainly hovels that once formed the Victoria Valley Probation Station which have unluckily escaped destruction amongst the general wreck of the system of which they are remaining , though not a very abiding monument. These disconsolate looking wigwams appear to very little advantage by contrast with the rich and beautiful savannah on the margin of which they are planted.’

Calder also mentioned that in the winter of 1837, weather in the area had been so severe that all vegetation and timber of the lowlands had been destroyed and skeletons of dead trees dotted the landscape for years afterwards.

One has to question the wisdom of a government that decided that this was a good place for a Probation Station.

Arriving home, I reached to retrieve our bags from under the canopy of the ute. Thick brown dust had infiltrated every fold and caked itself along the zippers. My memories overrode the inconvenience.

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[1] TAHO, Con33/1/59. p. 13827, Frederick Bishop Barossa 2, 1844.

[2] SHOOBRIDGE, John, ‘TASMANIAN TRAIL CONVICT DAM’, The Highland Digest, Centralink, Ouse Online Access Centre. July 2016, p. 5.

[3] 'QUIT RENTS. (18 March 1842). The Courier (Hobart, Tas: 1840 - 1859)’, p. 2.

[4] ‘The United Services magazine Vol 42, H Coulbourn 1843 – E Books Google p. 210, 211

[5]  'PROBATION GANG FARMING. (14 February 1843) Colonial Times (Hobart, Tas: 1828 - 1857)’, p. 2.

[6]  ' DOMESTIC INTELLIGENCE. (16 May 1843) Colonial Times (Hobart, Tas: 1828 - 1857)’, p. 3.

[7] 'VICTORIA VALLEY. (1 Nov 1843) The Cornwall Chronicle (Launceston, Tas: 1835 - 1880)’,  p. 2.

[8] 'Ibid.

[9]  'LOCAL. ( 13 October 1843)The Courier (Hobart, Tas: 1840 - 1859)’, p. 2.

[10] ‘DOMESTIC INTELLIGENCE. ( 9 April 1844) Colonial Times (Hobart, Tas: 1828 - 1857)’, p. 3.

[11]  'THIS DAY'S POST. (17 January 1844) The Cornwall Chronicle (Launceston, Tas: 1835 - 1880)’, p. 3.

[12]  'MONEY. (18 December 1844) Launceston Examiner (Tas. : 1842 - 1899), , p. 3. (EVENING).

[13]  'HAMILTON. (6 February 1845), The Courier (Hobart, Tas. : 1840 - 1859), , p. 3.

[14] ‘TOPOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES OF TASMANIA. (27 Jan 1860) Hobart Town Daily Mercury (Tas: 1858 - 1860)’, p. 2.

Saving for The House that Jack Built

I know that credit has been given to “Jack”, but who actually built the house? The nursery tale has beginnings which go back a few centuries according to Wikipedia, and it has been a basis for storybooks and decorations on children’s items since.

My money box made from pressed tin is a little more modern but still historical. Patent applied for is printed on the back, but it is not clear exactly what was being patented. 

No waste went into its production. The base is printed on the inside with a Golden Syrup logo. Did someone print too many syrup tins or is this an example of recycling of used tins? It does not help date my little house however, as Lyle’s Golden Syrup made it into the Guinness Book of Records in 2007 for having the world’s longest unchanged brand packaging beginning in 1883.

The clue that the moneybox was well used, is the loss of paint in parts of the design on the base, though the threepences would not have had far to fall to cause damage. Wear on the corners shows in fact that it was handled quite often, yet not at all misshapen.

From memory of similar items in my childhood, once the money went in, it was stuck there. It was the only way to safeguard your money from curious siblings or for that matter yourself, in a moment of wanton desire. Only a knife, some solid manipulation and a surfeit of time was ever going to recover anything posted through the slot.

Did a past child have this moment of frustration? I think so. The lid of this box is now completely removable. Slight bends expose the guilt of the child who manoeuvred an object into the corners of the slot and prised away the ‘roof’ to reveal the treasure chest of silver and copper coins within.  Was there joy or disappointment at the contents? I hope it was well spent.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/This_Is_the_House_That_Jack_Built

https://www.lylesgoldensyrup.com/our-story

Ride a Country Mile

“Remember the day Dad put you on the sheep?” asked my sister.

How could I ever forget it? We were at my uncle’s farm, when I was lifted up and gently lowered onto the fleecy seat. Without hesitation, the placid animal turned into a live amusement park ride. Head down and breathing hard it bolted away from the house and along the muddy paddock. Above all, it was my mother’s wish that we always stayed clean. I knew it was to my peril that I fell off and marked my clothes. It also might hurt.

With clumps of greasy wool in each hand, I tucked my knees in and held on. With no steering mechanism in sight, I trusted that Lambie knew where she was taking me. A leap here and a swerve there maneuvered us

Uncle Lindsay, had his farm at Nietta

around the occasional rock and large tuft of grass. We were really travelling.

Behind me, I heard shouts fading as my rescuers were left far behind. They were never going to keep up with this pace. Through the gateway we powered, Lambie taking a right turn to avoid the bog stirred up from the hooves of 40 cows heading for the dairy. Spits of mud flew from her pounding feet as she squelched her way up the slope.

With open country in front of her, she chose the most unlikely option. The narrow doorway of the separating room invited her in and she accepted. I had not expected to be steeple chasing but I flattened into a streamlined position as we mounted the steps and tore through the room at a pace. No cows were waiting at the bails as we passed, and hung a sharp left into the waiting area.

Lambie did not slow down; I did. Through the rails she dived; a drop of several feet to the ground. Indecorously I was siphoned off her back, landing on the cement platform, my pride in tatters, but without a spot on my dress.

These days, I choose other methods of transport.

Cosy and Warm

I reached into the box of goodies my aunt had put aside for me: a bunch of old cigarette lighters, a possum skin, trinkets, several boxed pens, and then I found it. It was not an item you would normally pass down the generations, but I was now the proud owner of a frilly orange tea cosy.

At first bemused, I thought about its origins. Had my aunt found the pattern suddenly when going through a knitting book and been instantly drawn to little frills or had she wavered over another style. Orange and yellow were not colours I might have chosen, but in the seventies when this was likely made, they were all the rage.

Did she feel a sense of anticipation as she slid the crumpled label from the ball of yellow? She would certainly have been aware of the softness and the unique smell of new wool as she cast on the first stitches. After the first row, it was time for the orange to make its debut. Every row was pattern: knit two together, pass the slip stitch over, make one, cast off and cast on.

Sixty rows later, all was drawn together and the top was finished with a matching chequered ribbon. Leaving holes for the handle and spout, the sides were joined. It was time for a celebratory cuppa.

Tea in this household was important. It was made strong; no golden liquid would enter a cup in this kitchen. You had to be prepared for the tannins and odd the floating ‘visitor’.

A trip to a clear mountain stream provided the water. Tap water was not acceptable. When the kettle sang, crisp dry tealeaves swirled and danced under the stream of liquid as it was poured from above. As the lid was slotted into place, they relaxed, producing a thick dark fluid. All was kept warm as the tea gained strength under the colourful cover.

If only this tea cosy could talk. How many secrets would it be able to tell? It must have heard discussions about the past, talk of the loud and riotous neighbours and expressions of anger and grief. For thirty or forty years it graced the table when visitors arrived. I saw it often and realise now, that it must have been kept for guests else it would have been stained and saddened. How nice to know that I was one of those special people.

“READ THE SIGNPOST. LOTS OF LAUNCESTON PEOPLE HAVE LEARNED TO READ IT CAREFULLY. Read the Sign-post correctly. The Sign-post of health is the back. You must read its aches and pains. You must know the language of the back. When you know it, the Sign-post reads: " Backache is kidney ache. Lame back is lame kidneys. Weak back is weak kidneys. To cure the back, cure the kidneys." Only one sure way to do this. Take Doan's Backache Kidney Pills. Mrs. George Bennett, 21 St. John-street, Launceston, says:.."[i]

Mary Ann Bennett certainly did read the sign post. She had been taking Doan’s pills since 1902. In fact, she was still endorsing them in 1925, even though she had been dead for several years! Not many medications can be that effective. She had inherited the opportunity to have her name coupled with these pills from her husband’s Uncle Henry.

Henry also found that they worked a treat, also after death. He committed suicide in Mary Ann’s home in 1899 by falling backwards onto a bradawl and severing his spine. One might have thought that that was enough to remove the pain but his advertisements continued for another twelve months!

Mary Ann’s sister in law Rose, preferred Dr Sheldon’s Magnetic Liniment. It not only cured her backache but also the gout of her adopted son. She then moved on to another product. Dr Sheldon produced ‘digestive tabules’ which really were a wonder, taking away all her stomach problems. After two years the advertisements stopped. Was she cured for life?

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[i] 1906 'READ THE SIGNPOST.', Examiner (Launceston, Tas. : 1900 - 1954), 1 December, p. 8 Edition: DAILY., viewed 8 February, 2016,

A Useful Tool

Did my face echo my doubts when my aunt handed over the two large, rusted and dirty rings?

"They were my Grandfather's," she explained, "Parts of a maul."

In the back of my mind, I had a vague idea,  but when seeing a real one in a forestry museum a little later, I could see how the rings worked. A large cylindrical, wooden head had a ring around each end to stop the wood from splitting when the tool was hit hard against another surface.

Internet searches told me that a maul was used by circuses to hammer tent pegs into the ground. I think Ephraim was more likely to have used it for splitting timber and for fencing. It must have had a myriad of uses in the bush.

I cannot imagine how difficult it was to use such a tool. There certainly would have been no need to go to the gym at the end of the day. In fact, I have used the rings as weights. 

Texture marks spill the secret that they have been home made. A depression would have been made into sandy soil and a tin placed in the centre. Hot metal poured into the resulting circular well would have been then left to cool. 

Once any sharp edges were beaten flat, they would have been reheated before hammering into position on the maul.

I have had these a while now. They have been cleaned and de-rusted. I have no use for a large wooden maul but they are wonderful to place on slippery fabric to stop it sliding away when I am cutting out a pattern.

Half Way House cont'd

It is always nice to be published and this week I had my second story published in the Tasmanian Family History magazine - and it was the story of the Half-Way House. It is quite difficult to decide how long an article should be. I have decided that four pages should be my maximum. After that, I tend to scan stories and not really read them deeply unless they are particularly relevant to me. 
Half Way House

She was not sober and was not drunk. She was just about half and half [1]. This description of my great great grandmother at the Half-way House at Lower Jerusalem in 1859 sent me on a journey of exploration. Exactly where was Lower Jerusalem, and were there any remains of the house? Where exactly did my ancestors live, and why was Bridget in this condition?

The Valuation Rolls of 1859 had provided the information that Bridget DOE and her husband Ephraim had rented parts of two properties, one called Penrice (sic) at Lower Jerusalem, the other closer to Jerusalem. In February of that year, Ephraim was charged and found guilty, under the provisions of the slaughtering act, of having meat secreted in the bush, for which he could not account. He was fined £50 in lieu of three months imprisonment. Not wishing to be incarcerated, he headed for Launceston for eight weeks to try to raise his fine, leaving Bridget to manage the two farms. She began to empty the farm at Lower Jerusalem of all their belongings with the plan to move all to the other property. The owner of the Penrise property, William BROWN, received word of what was happening and immediately sent for a bailiff to recover rent, before his lessees could skip away without paying.

The bailiff named William HUMPHREYS accompanied William Brown, on a visit to Bridget at her home to serve a distraint order to collect rent of £40 and bailiff’s fee of £15. Unable to pay, Bridget drowned her sorrows as the bailiff removed two mares and a foal from her barn and to keep as surety for the debt.

While Bridget was packing her farm implements and other belongings on the cart to move them, Humphreys was offering her lifestock for sale at an auction held that very day. He raised an amount equivalent to what was owed, plus £10 which he deposited neatly in his own pocket. Unaware of this development, the half drunk Bridget, drove her laden cart to the Half-Way House where she suggested to the owner James CAVEY that he might buy the animals in order to allow her to settle the debt. Bridget had travelled to Tasmania on the convict ship Tory 2 along with James’s wife Margaret or Martha MCDONALD and may have been on good terms with them. However, the offer was not taken up.

Some weeks later, Ephraim Doe returned from his jaunt to Launceston having failed to raise his fine and was jailed for three months. Bridget placed her two children, Ephraim and Mary Ann in the orphan school where they remained for five months, and waited for her world to reconstruct itself. [2] By December, Ephraim had been released and had brought a court action against William Brown as his horses had been illegally sold and he had not received the monies raised from the sale, over and above the size of his debt. All goods seized should have been held for 15 days before going to sale. The verdict was in Ephraim’s favour.

I enquired at a TFHS meeting whether anyone knew exactly where Lower Jerusalem was, and received emails a few days later to say that it is now called Lowdina and is north of Campania. I collected original land maps of the area and overlaid them with a modern Tasmap. A search on Trove found several references to the Half-way House, two very useful ones being sales of land next to and opposite it.[3] Armed with my research, I visited the Deed’s Office in Macquarie Street, paid a fee and was asked whether I would like assistance. This was most unexpected. I thought I would be doing this all on my own. Doing as much research as possible before my visit and being able to clearly define my search was of great benefit. The assistance provided was brilliant. The site was isolated, (being part of a larger property) and the current reference documents found. I was stunned when reading them to discover that the building still onsite was described as having been built in 1850 from stone – and had a colorbond roof! I had expected to find a few broken bricks or a blank landscape. Google Earth was consulted and I set my eyes on a view of the Half-Way House. I could not wait to visit and take my own photo, and maybe share a glass of wine with Bridget’s ghost. Within a couple of days, I was standing on the doorstep being informed by the current resident, “Everyone knows this is the Half Way House.” The house has been extended at the back in recent years and many broken stones have been replaced in the walls. The colorbond roof is quite new.

The Half-Way House Lower Jerusalem

The earliest reference I could find for this property was in April 1848 when a convict muster was held there. [4] In 1849, it was advertised for sale as a farm of 90 acres with a four room stone house, a blacksmith and a wheelwright’s shop, and currently occupied by Mr John Hopson. [5] By June 20 1851, it had been renamed “Bird-in-Hand” and a shooting match was held there, the prize being a six year old horse.[6] Entry in the competition was £1, advertised by J FOSTER . By 1853, the licence was transferred from William KEARNEY jnr  to George URCH and the name changed back to Half-way House. [7] Wm Kearney had not given up the licence voluntarily. He had been murdered in an altercation over a shovel in January of that year. [8] James CAVEY appears in newspaper records in 1856 as Licensed Victualler of Lower Jerusalem and seems to have held the lease for several years, the owner being Joseph FOSTER..[9]

On 23 Feb 1859, Joseph Foster advertised in the newspaper for 30 wethers which had strayed or been stolen from his paddock on the night of February 15^th. [10] On March 2^nd, Ephraim Doe was reported having been arrested. Was he responsible for this theft, or was the meat found on his property from another source? The imposed fine of £50, suggests, that the quantity of meat was large.

A few months later, Joseph Foster moved in to become the next landlord of the Half-way house. He was an entrepreneur and tried various ways to attract business. Every few months he would advertise shooting matches with generous prizes. In 1860, a fat bullock was offered. Entry fees were 6 people at 30 shillings each or 12 at £1.  Later in the year, prizes were £5, £3 and £1. In 1861, Professor Eagle appeared to perform his myriad of magic tricks including the production of various types of liquor, all from the same bottle. [11]On the Queen’s Birthday holiday in 1862, shooting matches, cricket and skittles were advertised. [12] In 1863, gold and silver women’s watches became the prizes. No doubt, each of these events drew a crowd of spectators to drink and eat at the establishment.

By 1865, William CORRIGAN had taken over as landlord but business had slowed and Joseph Foster ordered that all of his property be sold for distraint (unpaid rent). [13] Fat pigs became the prize in August of that year and a good upstanding horse in October when William KEARNEY snr held the lease. By Easter Monday 1870, horse races had been added to the entertainment with a maiden plate, hurdle race and publican’s purse. In October, a ploughing match took place with 16 teams in the main event. There were confectionery, cake and orange stalls and an excellent cold dinner laid out in the barn as the house was too small. [14]

In 1872, the business was put out to tender and John White took over. He held a pigeon match but the attendance was small. Ploughing matches, hurdle races and sweeps were held on the greater property which belonged to George Stokell, the 8 acres on which the Half-Way House stood having been subdivided from the rest of the farm. The area was going into decline as nearby Campania developed and by 1883, it was offered for sale as a farm and dwelling rather than a business. Again on the market in June 1892, it was to be auctioned. Further advertisements appeared in 1893 and 1896.

Over the years, the Half-way House also hosted political meetings and several inquests following murders, deaths and accidents on the roads and nearby farms. Many horse shoes have been dug up around the site of the blacksmith’s shop, evidence of the work required to keep hoses and carts on the road in the early days. Travellers rested and ate there and many would have drowned their sorrows or celebrated at the bar.

In March1894, the Launceston Examiner reported that the name of Lower Jerusalem would change to Woodlands and in June the Post Office would take on the new name. [15] Ten years later, a petition signed by residents requested that the Post Office be moved to Lowdina Siding where a platform and goods shed were required to service the railway which was now the transport hub of the community.[16] Today the area is signposted as Lowdina and there is little evidence of the interesting history of the Half-way House.

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[1] 1859 'SUPREME COURT.', The Hobart Town Daily Mercury(Tas. : 1858 - 1860), 24 December, p. 2, viewed 16 June, 2015, http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article3259998

[2] TAHO SWD6

[3] 1861 'Advertising.', The Mercury (Hobart, Tas. : 1860 - 1954), 13 September, p. 1, viewed 16 June, 2015, http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article8801047

[4] 1848 'TICKET-OF-LEAVE MUSTER.', Colonial Times 11 April, p. 3,

[5] 1849  Colonial Times  8 May, p. 3,

[6] 1851 'Classified Advertising.', The Courier (Hobart, Tas. : 1840 - 1859), 24 May, p. 3,

[7] 1853 'LOCAL.', The Courier 16 February, p. 3

[8] 1853 'SUPREME COURT.', Hobarton Guardian, or, True Friend of Tasmania 22 January, p. 2,

[9] 1856 'RICHMOND.',The Courier ), 16 April, p. 3,

[10] 1859 'Classified Advertising.', The Hobart Town Daily Mercury 21 February, p. 3

[11]  The Mercury (Hobart, Tas. : 1860 – 1954), 16 September, p. 2,

[12] 1862 The Hobart Town Daily Mercury ‘7 June, p. 2,

[13] 1865 'Advertising.', The Mercury 12 May, p. 4,

[14] 1870, The Mercury 26 October, p. 2,

[15] 1894 Launceston Examiner 22 March, p. 1,

[16] 1914 The Mercury 12 March, p. 7