Rosewood History

Ipswich Observer and West Moreton Advocate (Qld) Thursday, 29 March 1877, page 3

The Traveller.
BUSH TOURS—NO. 15.
The Rosewood Gate.
[BY OUR TRAVELLING REPORTER.]

‘‘The Rosewood ! what a pretty name said a young lady, fond of wild flowers. “The Rosewood! What a great place for corn !” quoth a Brisbane produce merchant. “The Rosewood ! What a superior place to Gatton!” quoth a Rosewood man. “The Rosewood, Mr. Reporter; why, you will get lost there; it’s all corn and wilderness, and want of water, and ticks !” Pshaw ! never mind the wild flowers, natural jealousies, nor the ticks ! We have lots of readers there, and I must tell the world how they are living and bear the hot weather.

The Rosewood Scrub changes its industrial aspect every year. The first time I saw the Rosewood Scrub, cotton and corn were the abundant crops, and all the new selectors were falling, clearing, burning off, splitting, stumping, and fencing. There were no defined Government roads then. There were certainly roads or tracks to right of you, left of you, and before you; but if you wanted to go to a homestead, it was like going into Dante’s ” Inferno”-“ All hope abandon, ye who enter here.” If you met a woodsman, and asked him the track to Farmer Kempenfeldt’s, he would tell you there was a fine road all the way. My backwoodsman would direct you like a London policeman giving you the best short cut from Euston Station to Pall Mall: “Two turns to the right, left, and then the right; left again; pass two streets on your left, half-a-dozen right ahead, and then you are there.” It was no easy task to find anybody out in the scrub, it was six years ago since I was in the Rosewood. At that time, “the forest to clear,” as the baritone voice of Henry Russell would sing, “is the work to be done.” Rosewood then, and the Rosewood of to-day, differ considerably. All the scrub is taken up, the farmers are as thick as bees in a beehive, the forest has gone down before the power of man’s arm, daylight penetrates those nooks where all was shady and unproductiveness, the myriad tracks which set the traveller wrong are nowhere to be found, the farm clearings are better defined, better houses and fences are up, and the stumps scarcer; the children look more healthy and are not so much knocked about by cotton-picking, bad living, and sleeping accommodation; most of the settlers grow vegetables, feed cows, and bake good bread instead of using the eternal billy and damper. Stores have made their appearance in the haunts of the wallaby and where roosted the wonga-wonga; churches and schools have established themselves as the symbols of a Christian civilisation; and instead of this district being a useless part of West Moreton, it is now covered over with a large, active, and energetic population—the hardy pioneers of mankind-the advance guard of the great Anglo-Saxon, Teutonic, and Celtic races-enemies no more, but all one family, thriving, happy, contented, and agreeable under the colonial wing of the British Constitution. Now, this is the district which I am about to visit.

The morning was fine and balmy as I walked over the arch. Armed with a scroll-book, a Courier, and an Observer, I located myself for a quiet read until I reached the Rosewood Gate. I did not inform your contemporary whether I had a “ free pass” or not. I shall always refer them to that mystic Civil servant in Brisbane pulling the railway strings. In the carriage was my friend Haberdasher in the small goods line, upon which occasion he is monarch of all he surveys, and talks like an old woman upon politics, and will tell you about the financial standing of everybody, for nothing. Mr. Middlemarch tells me all about the loop lines of railway-Peak, Mount Esk, Rosewood Scrub, to the moon. A barrister for Toowoomba reads his brief in a corner of the car. A young lady watches her brother Tom, the little imp, who might fall out and got killed. A squatter of the back country is returning from his month’s spree in Brisbane, with his bloodshot eyes and shaky constitution. We have left the Ipswich cuttings and the celebrated “stewpot” far behind; and the eye, here and everywhere, looks upon a country stricken with drought. Straggling peach-trees and patchy acres of corn relieve the gaze with greenness. On a long journey I believe in soft seats. As Barney Williams said of American cars –

“No matter how you push on,
There’s nothing like a cushion,
Riding in a railroad car.”

The history of the Rosewood Gate dates from the time when Station-master Vance first sat down here ten years ago. The two plains had not been discovered then; yet it is upon record that a Robin Hood sort of individual had a track of his own into Sally Owen’s Plains, where he had a still, and the “crather” which he brought out of the scrub was so captivating that its fame reached the ears of the King or the Kilfedor of the period. The police went round the scrub, into the scrub, about the scrub, but they never reached the famous nectar.of the lover of Sally Owen. They smelt the poteen nil the while, complained of their in’ards, and watched the Rosewood Dunville for months without success. They had no medium, and the spirits would not come out. At last the timber men found out the secrets of the dense scrubland. They were watched one day, tracked, and some Monteith, amongst the pine and cellar hunters, led the “bobbies” right into the still quarters of the distiller; but the worm had been “nipped in the bud,” at least it was gone and saved St. Helena the presence of a gentleman boarder at Her Majesty’s expense. Distiller Kays deserted the Rosewood after that, and it has been Vanceville ever since. Its ad-vance-ment has been rapid-lying so near to the railway and Ipswich, which were inducement for people to settle.

At that time people thought that the rich scrub-land would grow the cotton plant well, but the plant ran too much into wood instead of podding. Sugar-cane was also expected to lift up its head in tho district, but the everlasting maize and pumpkins have stuck to the place.

Tho township of the Gate is scattered, but there are some important buildings. There is a school-house, several churches near at hand, a store, a hotel, railway station and telegraph houses, and several others. Mr. Vance has got a good country store, keeps the post-office, has the best selections about the Gate except the Moores—and he has got some well-bred cattle. Mr. Vance is the “oldest inhabitant,” very pushing and energetic, and is a man of intellectual and literary tastes. He has an honest conviction that the future of the Rosewood will be great. So say I, but the settlers must learn to labor and to wait, until all the stumps are out, when they can go in for ploughing and more payable crops. 

About the station the soil is a black and chocolate loam, very rich, and in wet weather it sticks to you like glue. Mr. Vance is agent for the leading papers. He is also well up in the working of railways, as he has opened up several wayside stations in the S. and W. Railway since it was first opened. He has a comfortable homestead near his store, and a large family. He is a useful man to the district; always to the front in working for the interests of all round about him. The milch cows I saw in the home meadow were fat and heavy, bearing evidence that they have been carefully, selected and well grazed. He has nearly a thousand acres, here and there altogether, scattered about; over 300 at the Gate, all fenced in and, divided into paddocks. He has nearly 80 acres cleared, and has grown almost everything -from cotton down to pumpkins. The leading crop with him is corn, like everyone else. He means to utilise his cultivation to great advantage when he gets all the stumps out. He believes in the plough for scrub land, as well as for forest. His property is so close to the railway that it will before long be a valuable spot. I should like to see started at the Rosewood a local agricultural association—it would do good to the residents.

The school-house is of the ordinary size, but with a broad verandah, which every bush primary school should have. The master and children in the hot summers must feel the advantage of the broad verandah to teach upon.  Such a verandah is much wanted at the Primary Schools of Tent Hill and Murphy‘s Creek.

There is a large number on the roll. Children thrive well at the Rosewood. Mr. Debois is the teacher. He has had an attack of the blight, like his pupils. He gets the name of being a good teacher, and brings the scholars on wonderfully. The school is properly fitted up, but I think there is not an over-stock of educational properties sent him by the Board.  More maps are wanted for one thing, and illustrations of natural history. I don’t know exactly if the Board supply these things, but the should do so to all primary schools, and also copies of the Graphical or Illustrated London News, both of which are educators. I am told it would be looked upon as a great boon if the Minister for Works and Railways would time the many trains which run, to suit the requirements of those from Gatton to Ipswich, for the purpose of taking farmers earlier to town, and advanced scholars to the Ipswich Grammar School. The goods and passenger trains crowd upon each other too quickly. If a train was to leave Gatton every morning to arrive in Ipswich at nine o’clock, it would be a great boon to the farmers and to those parents who wish to give their children a Grammar School education. I am told, upon the basis of figures, that there are about fifty boys which would be sent to Ipswich if they had a train to suit—to take the children to and fro every day. Parents would send their children if they could come home every night. I hope the Honourable George will give this idea his calm consideration in the interests of education, Ipswich, the rising generation, the revenue, and the agricultural population. The time has come when there should be an early morning train from Gatton or Laidley to Ipswich.

The state of religion in the scrub is well attended to, as there are plenty of churches-belonging to the Wesleyan, Methodist, Baptist, German, and Congregational. These scattered little churches do not only implant a happy moral and Christian tone to the country districts, but reflect great credit upon the people who have those esteemed British institutions, the Sunday-schools. The Rev. Mr. Mossop resides in the district, and it is regularly visited by the chiefs of other denominations, and by the Catholic clergymen included. But there is a marked absence of two great Churches in the bushland-the Churches of Scotland and England! Echo answers- “Where are they!” The stranger asks in vain-“Where are they!” Have they no power, no influence, no friends, no resolve to plant branches of those two great intellectual bodies, which secured in the hour of danger and darkness, the social, political, and religious rights and liberties of the whole modern world! Oh, Churchmen of Brisbane, pause and reflect! Are there no Churchmen in the remote and outlandish bush? Do not mock, my indifferent reader, those little churches on the wayside bush, for they tell you, “Man is distant, but God is near.’’

The Rising Sun Hotel has lately changed hands from Mr. Ryan to Mr. James Brady, of Ipswich. Mr. Brady has resolved to spend £250 upon the premises, in order that it shall be a first-class house and worthy of all respectability. Mr. Farrelly is the contractor of the new improvements, which really, according to the plans placed before me, mean a complete metamorphosis of the present building. The interior will all be taken out and rearranged; it will be lined, ceiled, and papered. Mr. Kelleher, the new landlord, was lately teacher of the Primary School at Alfred, and as he will add a general store to the hotel. Like Mr. England of Gatton, he should do very well. I believe there is lots of room for both Mr. Vance and Mr. Kelleher at the Rosewood. A little opposition never does any harm in business; it rather develops it, and finds a true workable level. The store building will be 45 x 20, and a new building altogether. Mr. Kelleher took possession a few days ago, and I can assure you the new improvements will be in keeping with the furniture, which is a mighty improvement. In digging the postholes for the store this week, the contractor struck upon a pure seam of coal.

There is no police-station yet. The people want it changed from Walloon to the Rosewood Gate, Mr. Vance says it should be removed to the Gate. I went up in the train with Constable M’Govern. I think it is all on to him whore the police station is-he does his duty, after which a soldier and policeman can die happy. This guardian of the peace, law, and order, was telling me that he had been collecting the pastoral and agricultural returns of the Rosewood Scrub. “What!” said I. I took the liberty to state that he had not done so completely. He assured me he had. I hold that it is impossible to ferret out all the settlers of the Scrub. I had been in the Rosewood Scrub four days at one time and I did not see one half of them.

The Station-house is nicely situated. Mr. Black is a faithful and attentive servant to his duties, and careful of the interests of the line. If anything goes wrong at his station, it will not be from want of attention and devotion to duty. He was not very fond of giving State secrets, but I got a few particulars from another party, which are not far wrong in illustrating the trade and importance of the place. In 1876, the number of passengers was about 3300, and the tonnage about 2050 tons. In 1875, the passengers were 2250, and the goods forwarded from the Rosewood Gate weighed 1480 tons. I am glad to know that extra accommodation is being added to the residence of the Station-master. While I was at the Rosewood Gate, I saw a fine mob of 200 cattle belonging to Mr. Michael Daisey pass en route for Mr. Daisey’s new station on the Moonie River, in the Surat district.

There is much disappointment in this district re the 18,000 acres of land resumed from the Tarampa run and alienated for selection, while only 2240 acres are open to the public. If the remaining 15,000 acres were thrown open to the Rosewood residents for their cattle, it would be wise legislation; because scrub farms, as yet, do not afford much facility to graze cattle. The crumbling going on about only offering for selection as homesteads, on the 19th of April, the 2000 acres, is great. Mr. Patrick should be able to sympathise with the people of the Rosewood about the tinkering with this 18,000 acres of land. It will do no good to the district by offering 2000 acres out of 18,000. Why not offer the whole for selection, as the total area is only small? The letter signed “Farmer,” in the Observer dated 13th March, is just exposition of the question at issue. The area for grazing is too small, and the area for farming is too large. The price does not give satisfaction to the general population hereabouts. Fifteen shillings an acre for the residue of land, after the squatter has been satisfied, is not fair to the homestead selector in 1877. The 1868 Act is more satisfactory. 

The coal shaft of the Messrs. Moore is 95 feet deep. The engine began last Wednesday to pump the water out, and the proprietors and manager have studied their operations well in developing the coal-beds upon the estate, or they never would have spent so much money, erected such works, or procured so much machinery for the speculation. Coal is all over the district, and I would be glad to see the Messrs. Moore successful in their coalfields. They were squatters before they settled down at the Rosewood, and still hold a vast estate; and from the cattle in the paddocks and their command of capital, they will help to a great extent in making the Rosewood a great place in the future. Their manager believes in the dictum of Thomas Carlyle, that “the eternal truth of silence is golden,“ and I give him the benefit of the doubt, but hoping to narrate his present labours at some future time.

Mr. M‘Geary is the butcher of the district; he lives in the late public-house building, and supples the residents with good beef. I did not see any nuisance about his place: and so if “traveller” should come this way after, me, he need not call at the slaughter-yard.

The post-office must be one of the important offices in the colony, judging from the work and business done. One hundred and twenty-three mails have been despatched during the month of February, which the number of letters received and despatched for the same month amounts to 1064. This does not include newspapers, which are legion. Births, deaths, and marriages are also registered at the local post-office. The new telegraphic office has been well built by Mr. Cramb. It is a neat building, well finished off in the exterior and the interior.

Mr. Best is the shoemaker, and he does his best to make the farmers understand that there is nothing like leather. If I have mentioned him last, he is not least in the district.

The settlers around the Rosewood Gate are plentiful, but they mostly work upon the railway line or graze a few cattle. Mr. Ryan has a large number of acres, with 300 head of cattle. He now will devote himself to cattle, since he has sold off to Mr. Brady his right and title to the hotel and land for £500. 

Nichol’s farm was sold here lately by the indefatigable Jenkins, at the rate of £3 per acre, with all improvements. Moran has 80 acres of land; he farms a few acres and grazes several head of cattle. Pedrazini has 120 acres, which he partly cultivates, and feeds a few head of cattle. Mr. Matthews rents 80 acres; he has both cattle and cultivation, which looks well. Ludwig Zabel has 80 acres, and has got both cattle and crops, all of which thrive well. Mr. Hogan has selected 80 acres, which he sets apart for cattle. M’Pherson has selected 120 acres; he works upon the road, does not cultivate, much but has several head of cattle running in his paddock. Mullholland has 160 acres in two farms, and only goes in for cattle -no crops or cultivation. J. Farrell has 300 acres altogether, and grazes 80 head of cattle. Mr. Tierney’s land amounts to 234 acres, which he rents to Seymour. Mr. M’Cartney has two splendid farms, comprising 160 acres of the finest grass in the district. The house is close to the line of railway, is a good property, and well stocked with cattle and horses.

With this resume of the Rosewood Gate, in my next, I shall devote special attention to my peregrinations in the outlandish by-ways and selections of the Rosewood scrub. Mr. Rae’s farms, the saw-mills of Messrs. C. Smith, and, Hancock and Sons, will also be duly described in my next.