I was born in the village of Leamington, County of Staffordshire, England, in 1839, and we (my father, mother, elder brother and sister, and self) sailed for Australia in 1840, in the sailing vessel Kent, arriving in Port Phillip in 1841, after about a six months' voyage. I have heard that some sensation was caused on the voyage by my sister falling through a skylight on to the table while the passengers were at dinner, but she was not hurt.

There were only a few cottages in Melbourne when we arrived, in one of which we stayed for some time while my father went into the country. He was comparatively a wealthy man, as he had about three hundred pounds.

He went off walking to Geelong, and thence up to what is now Rokewood, and stayed at Messrs. Aitcheson's station, Kuruc-a-ruc (bullfrog), for some little time, as he had a bad attack of illness, and he has told me that Mr. Geo. Aitcheson nursed him as well as a woman could. While he was there the Aitchesons had a dispute with Capt. Fyans, of Geelong, who was acting Governor at the time, about a licence to occupy Naringale, which was about fifteen miles to the westward of Rokewood, and they arranged matters by my father taking Naringale off their hands. He then got a dray and pair of bullocks, hired some convicts from Geelong, and went to Naringale. This would have been in the end of 1841. There was only a small slab hut there, on the west side of the Naringale Hill.

They began by going to the forest about Mount Erip splitting slabs, getting bark, spars, &c., and carting them, living meanwhile under the tarpaulins. They put up a small slab hut, with bark roof. I think it must have been about 20 feet by 12 feet, divided into two rooms, in which we all lived for about six years, and my younger brother Henry was born there. After that was built they put up a men's hut.

Then my father took the dray and a man, and started to get some sheep. He got 300 ewes at Little River, between Geelong and Melbourne, and started to take them up. His man left him, so he had to drive both sheep and dray . He has told me that he used to start the bullocks on the track, and follow with the sheep. There was plenty of grass so at night he hobbled the bullocks, camped the sheep, and turned in under his dray. He got them up, made a yard for them, and left the men in charge, while he took the dray to Melbourne for us. We must have been pretty well packed in the dray, but he got us all up to the station, and we commenced our life there.

There were a good many blacks about—fully a hundred —and they had a nominal chief, called Old Charley, who had a son, called Young Charley, of about my own age. The blacks were inclined to steal, and once took our Family Bible, but the chief got it back for us. They seemed to have lived on bandicoots, snakes, mussels, roots, grubs from the dead trees, &c., and did not seem to have had too much to eat, but they did not kill our sheep, for one thing. My father always treated them kindly, but firmly.

Once during the forties my father had some words with a powerful black, called Naringale Billy, who was of a bad disposition, and was making trouble. The blackfellow came up to the house one day soon afterwards, and asked for my father, at the same time keeping one hand behind his back. My father loaded his double-barrelled gun, and went out to speak to him. Just then the chief, Old Charley, came up and stood near.

Naringale Billy only asked a few questions, and then went away, and we saw that he had been holding a waddy in his hand all the time, and the old chief told us that he had intended to kill my father, but when he saw the gun he was frightened.

The blacks were very superstitious. One night, when they were camped near the creek and making a great noise, my father fired off both barrels of his gun, and they ran for their lives up the hill, as if the debil-debil was after them. I remember the patter-patter of their bare feet, and they did not come back till morning.

I got a great fright about that time. The blacks' camp was only a few bushes put in a half circle to break the wind, and one night there was a baby born. When my mother heard of it in the morning she sent me down with some gruel to the lubra, but when I got there she was up. Just then one of the other lubras brought out the baby and threw it into a large waterhole close by. I thought they meant to drown it, and was very frightened, but they all laughed, and the little thing, as soon as it came to the surface of the water, paddled with its hands like a puppy would. They then got it out, but it disappeared after a year or so.

The chief (Old Charley) had two wives, Mary and Flora, who had to do all the work. I can remember seeing him walking up the Naringale Hill, with his spears, boomerang, &c., and the wives toiling behind, loaded with all their household goods. His son (Young Charley) was a fine young fellow, but, as I heard afterwards, met with a sad end.

One of the beliefs of the natives was that if one of the men died, someone of another tribe had caused his death, and that his spirit would not rest until one of another tribe was killed, and so on. One of the Wickliffe men died, and our chief (Old Charley) was hiding about our house for some days, until they killed someone else. Another belief they had was that if you rubbed yourself with the kidney fat of an enemy it made you very brave, and, as I heard, some of the Wickliffe tribe caught Young Charley, cut him open, took out his kidney fat, and left him to die.

There were some fine young fellows amongst the Naringale tribe, but they soon disappeared. Civilization was too much for them. They were very fond of swimming and diving, and were quite at home in the water, but were very dirty otherwise.

My father built a new house about 1847, which was considered then a very grand one, and is still standing.

We had a good deal of trouble in the early days. The dingoes (wild dogs) were about, and all the sheep had to be yarded and watched at night. It was the custom to have two men to a flock—one to cook, and the other to shepherd the sheep in the daytime, and at night time the cook took charge and slept in a small portable watch-box close to the yard. These boxes were made with handles and legs, and were about 8 ft. x 3 ft., with roof, and two men could move them about easily. Later on we had movable huts, built on stout runners, and pulled them about with bullocks.

Our sheep increased, but wool was not very valuable. We used to wash them in the creek as well as we could, but the highest price that I remember our getting was 1s. per lb., and that was not until the fifties.

One year towards the end of the forties my father boiled down a flock of fat wethers, as sheep were unsaleable. Only the fattest parts were used, and I can remember the fine legs of mutton thrown away. The tallow was put in large casks, and carted to Geelong for sale, but I do not remember what we got for it.

The scab also got amongst the sheep, and as no one knew how to cure it there was a great deal of unnecessary work. The earliest mode of dipping was to stretch a bullock hide on a frame, to put the dip stuff in, and two men held every sheep and soaked it; then placed it on some pieces of board at the end, and scraped the stuff out with a piece of hoop-iron. At that time we used arsenic, and killed a good many sheep, besides spoiling the wool, by making it dry and harsh. Spotting (pouring stuff on where the sheep had plucked the wool) was also done, but was no good.

Afterwards, when tobacco and sulphur were discovered to be a cure, it was a very simple matter to get rid of it. The way was to dip one day, then again in nine days, and then again in nine days, which, if done properly and the sheep kept from mixing with others, will cure any scab.

We also had a good deal of foot-rot, owing probably to the long grass and the sheep being yarded, but once the yarding was left off it was not so bad.

Our neighbours in the early days were old Captain Downey, who had what is now Glenfine; Mr. Lynitt, who had Mr. Mack's Berry-Bank; Messrs. Tennant and Lyon (Guarkeet), Mr. Duncan Hoyle (Mt. Bute); Mr. Hardy, who had what is now part of Mr. Morey's, part of Comeralghip, and what is now Mindai. Then further off were Messrs. McMillan and Wilson, at what is now Comeralghip; the Aitchisons—David and George—at Kuruc-Kuruc; A. L. Robertson, of Corangamite (now Struan); J. L. Currie, of Lara; Brown, of what is now Galla and Titanga (then called Brown's water holes); the Lintons (of Linton Park); Captain Gibb, at what is now Clarke's (Happy Valley); John Brown, near Newtown; and Gordon Bros., about what is now Brookside.

Times were very hard in the early days. There were no stores to go to, and not much money. When the drays took the wool down as much as could be afforded was brought back, and had to last until next season. One year I remember my father getting the sheep shorn twice, and that just carried him on. Our mail consisted of a horseman going once a week between Shelford and Darlington (then called Elephant Bridge), and calling at the different stations on his way. Things went on very quietly until 1851, when gold was discovered.

My father got some rams from Mr. J. L. Currie (of Lara), who was then celebrated for breeding them. They were long open woolled sheep, with bare faces and bare legs below the knee, and were called Pure Saxony.

There were some cattle and horse thieves about towards the end of the forties, and they stole two of our horses, and took them to Hamilton (then called The Grange) and offered them for sale, but as the police had been informed, Const. Bloomfield, who was then at The Grange, took them and sent for my father to identify the horses, which he did, and brought them home. The two men were started for Geelong, but on the way the policemen were supposed to have been hocussed, and the men got away, so we had no further trouble.

Black Thursday, 6th February, 1851, was a very disastrous day. There was a very high wind, and lots of grass, and the fire travelled very fast. I was on the top of the Naringale Hill in the evening, and as far as I could see was all black, except the homestead, which escaped somehow. However, we did not lose many sheep, and the grass soon grew again. There was some difficulty in getting the sheep shorn, but it was managed. I should have mentioned that at the beginning of 1851 Mr. Frank Beggs bought Guarkeet from Messrs. Tennant and Lyon, and as he thought it was too large for him my father took the portion that is called East Guarkeet off his hands. The winter of 1852 was a very severe one, the month of August especially being very stormy. Everything was flooded, and as all the men had left for the diggings, we had to work the place all the year by ourselves. We had some trouble at the shearing of 1852 to get men, and they were a rough lot.

Then some shipments of Chinese came. We got two, who turned out very well. one of them (Hadji) is buried at Naringale. Then some families arrived from the Isle of Skye, so we soon got enough, and as the Chinamen and other young fellows learnt to shear, matters got better and we worked on.

When the diggings at Mt. Mercer were in full swing, about 1855 or 1856, we had some cattle stolen, which were supposed to have been taken there. My father and I tracked them from Murdoch's (now the Dip) on to the main road from Cressy to Lismore, but there we lost the tracks. We went to Lismore, then to Galla's, back near Berry Bank, then across to A. L. Robertson's (now Struan), on to Camperdown, back by Fox-how to Cressy, and then home, but heard nothing of them. Afterwards we heard that a man on horseback, with a dog, had crossed a small lot of cattle over the Woady Yalloak, below what is now Bailey's, so I suppose the Mt. Mercer diggers eat them

About the middle of the fifties the Government offered the squatters a pre-emptive right to purchase 640 acres round their homesteads, and I think all took advantage of it. Afterwards they began to survey the land and put some of it up for sale. There was not much competition, and it was mostly got at the upset.

Under, I think, Haines' Act, the allotments were divided into A's and B's, and you could buy A and lease B for a term of years, when it became freehold. My father bought all that was put up of his own run, but some of the squatters did not do so, and they had to pay dearly for it afterwards. (Doctor) John Chirnside, of Glenfine, left a lot of ground, thinking nobody would trouble him, but Doctor Dickson, from Mosquito Plains, came about 1856, and took up a large block, and was a great nuisance.

Duffy's Act came in force in 1862, under which you could select up to 320 acres. You paid 2s. 6d. per acre down, and 2s. 6d. per acre for seven years afterwards, but you had either to put up a habitable dwelling, cultivate one acre in ten, or fence the allot. A great many small men got land under this act. There was also Heale's Act, but I forget how it worked, but it did not last long.

The end of 1857 my father bought Glenfine from Doctor (John) Chirnside. My elder brother went there for a while. Glenfine had about 16,000 sheep and 400 Cattle at this time, and Naringale about 12,000 sheep and 200 cattle and both were thought stocked.

We did some good trade in beef with the diggings. Beef was worth 6d. per lb. wholesale and 1s. per lb. retail.

My sister was married to W. I. Faris in 1858, and he was given a small share in Glenfine and the management, but he only stayed about a year. Then he got a small place near Cressy. My elder brother took the management of Glenfine and eventually bought it.

Meanwhile I was managing Naringale until the end of 1863, when I left to get married, and went away to the westward, near Coleraine, and my brother Henry took charge. At my father's death, in 1866, he got it, and after some years he sold it to Sir Samuel Wilson, who had previously purchased Mt. Bute and Guarkut. Some years later my elder brother bought it back again.

Signed Chas Rowe (1839 - 1919)