The Wandering Years and Philip's Cave

From 1888 to 1890 Philip was in Victoria and Southern NSW. 

Having recrossed the Murray at Albury, he walked on to Bowna where he rested among the cockatoo farmers. 

Here he composed the companion piece to ‘Love's Awakening’, namely ‘Love's Constancy,’ both which are printed.

The winter of 1889 he spent on the Gulgong goldfields, in the Macquarie River district.

1888 December in Rutherglen Victoria. 

Next summer Philip was again down South, in Victoria, and in January 1890, at Seymour, where he wrote ‘My Approaching End' and some sweet verse all were printed in the newspapers. 

Retracing his steps, always writing by the way, he was again across the Murray at Albury, and soon after at Cootamundra and Wallendbeen, where he remained a month or two among his long term friends. 

He then started away over the Lachlan district and vast plains of the interior, to Caigan, Castlereagh River, and on to Inverell, New England. 

He found a few of his old friends still remaining there after nearly thirty years. 

In this district he stayed during the winter months of 1890. 

In Cootamundra, Philip wrote a poem of Miss Lily Pinkstone the daughter of The Editor of the Cootamundra Herald. 

Lily was likely one of his students at the Littledale School aged 7 years at the time of publishing in 1891 and the poem identifies the favour in which Lily is held. 

I'm sure her father with great glee published the poem about her early literary prowess.

Returning south, he was back again by the end of the year (midsummer) to Wallendbeen and Murrumburrah, where he generally found work of some sort on the station. 

That over, he walked back to the valleys of the Illawarra district where he felt most at home. 

The Southern Mail at Mittagong, published many of his poems : ‘Love Unspoken,’ ‘Rose,' ‘The Two Sisters’, ‘His Hand’,’The Empty Cradle’, ‘A Mountain Home’, ‘ Kangaroo Valley’ and two descriptive pieces, namely ‘Bundanoon’, and ‘Fitzroy Waterfall’.

1891 January Wollongong ‘Municipal Taxation As Now Imposed’. 

This poem talks of a block of land that Philip owned in the Wollongong area that accrued rates to a total of £20.

The Illawarra country is a few hours journey south of Sydney. 

It has retained its native name Elouera, or pleasant place, and certainly is romantic and beautiful. 

Lying between the main southern line of railway and the sea coast, its fine scenery, high ranges, numerous water courses, and an arm of the sea, almost land-locked. Lake Illawarra is not the least of its beauties.

The views from the lake are enchanting and the native names of places most musical : Wollongong, Jamberoo, Kiama, Cambewarra, Bundanoon, Unanderra, Nowra, Geringong, Keira, Wongawilla, Kembla, Bulli, Corrimal, Wonona, Mittagong ; and several waterfalls have received the names of Colonial Governors : Fitzroy, Belmore, Carrington, and Jersey. Macquarie Pass and Kangaroo Valley are in the district, which is also rich in natural products, possessing extensive coal mines, while its meadows and valleys are the chief source for supply of dairy produce to Sydney and suburbs. 

It was in this district of New South Wales that Philip Lorimer's muse found most encouragement. 

It will be remembered also that Kendall, the most musical of Australian poets, and Philips friend, was a native of the Illawarra country.

Philip would travel for days to look at a waterfall, and he has given it as his opinion that Belmore Falls surpass in beauty every other in New South Wales.  

 “It is not gigantic in its splendour like the falls of the Weatherboard, or those named Fitzroy — "Belmore is softly beautiful with a loveliness of its own." 

For the Robertson Advocate, Philip attempted a description of these falls. 

Those who have seen them, will judge whether our poet has been successful. 

At this period he lived for months almost within their hearing. 

This must have been the happiest year of his later life, for Philip then undertook for a time, the happiest of outdoor occupations, that of a gardener.

He assisted in laying out an orchard and planting it, in bedding and trenching and trellising. There were loquat trees, gooseberries, red and black currants, strawberries, passion fruit, oranges, lemons, and quinces; plum, walnut, apple, cherry and fig trees ; vines, tomatoes, pumpkins, melons, potatoes, and above all " the purest of human pleasures " — a flower garden.

There was also a hut of bark which Philip built for himself. In it he wrote ‘Belmore Falls’. 

Though Philip still travelled much, naturally, as he grew old, he became less and less inclined for new places and new faces. 

He had many friends and not a few of them were ministers of churches and chapels, chiefly of his own persuasion, Presbyterian. 

The officious, not of that body, would sometimes judge Philip by his outward appearance, or by what appeared to them his wayward life. Yet he was no Bohemian. 

1890 January Philip was in Seymour Victoria then travelled north to northern NSW.

1890 April 21 Philip was in Jail at Coonabarabran for 2 days charged with being Drunken.

By Christmas, Philip had travelled back again over the Blue Mountains, into the Illawarra district, where he wandered about at his own sweet will for several months. 

We also found him in the township of Moss Vale, the summer residence of the New South Wales Governors in Camden Village, the residence of the MacArthur family for nearly a century, at Robertson township, named after the eminent New South Wales premier, at Bowral, at Balmoral, at Mittagong, all townships along the main line of railway, at Jamberoo, at Wollongong, at Kiama, and other coastal towns. 

During his stay in the Blue Mountains, Philip had occasion to visit Katoomba, Penrith, and other places. 

On one of these excursions, he discovered near the summit of the mountains, not far from the Zigzag, between Lithgow and Big Hartley, a cave, and curiously enough made a home of it, and there stored his belongings.

This cave became to him during the next few years, a resting place, on his journeys between the Bathurst, the New England, Illawarra and Southern districts, and he lived in it for weeks at a time determined to be over the winter months. 

He often sat at the entrance in the mornings and the evenings smoking his pipe. 

'This, and a billy of tea, his only companions, admiring nature in its grandeur, watching the eagles as they soared or hovered over the deep gorges, or, sheltered from the dripping eaves, looking out in silent reverence at the awesome thunderstorms.'

This manner of life, no doubt, brought on Philip's illnesses.

In the cave he began to collect his fugitive poems arranging them in scrap-books for selection and revision with a view to their future publication as " My Cave Songs.” 

It is most likely that each scrap book was created in his time in the cave for the front pages of each to have a letter written for the intended recipient. 

Numerous scrap books were possibly created with the aim to increase the chances for future publication.

I was very fortunate during my time of research to have been entrusted with one such of these scrapbooks. 

It contains many of his published  works as well as some unpublished poems and also a sad letter to Reverend Gainsford, the selected recipient.

Philip was always conscious of the risks in future publication and he noted, many pieces incorrectly printed over the years, and that ruthless editors sometimes “clipped-out lines" in order to work them into the columns in which they appeared.

Within Philip’s ‘My Cave Songs’ scrapbook are the following poems in order, some unpublished and some that later were published in the book Songs and Verses in 1901. (SV).

New Years Thoughts 1894 December 1st published SV

Sorrows Jewels 1886 published 

Not Always 1892 published 

From Highest Heights unpublished SV

Reality of Beauty September 1889 published 

The Sweetest Face of Long Ago 6th August 1892 published 

I Live in the Wilds 28th October 1893 Unanderra published SV

Mourn I for Song 1893 unpublished 

My Mountain Cave 1892 Blue Mountains published SV

The First Blight of Life 1869 published SV

Wake Me Not May 18th 1893 Big Hartley published SV

Glimpses 1887 published 

The Poets Lay 1890 published SV

Girlies Grief 1891 unpublished 

With the Comeliness of Love 1886 published 

The Bell Bird June 10th 1893 published SV

Departing from My Cave October 22nd 1892 Cowra published SV

Lines for a Poetical Scrap Book unpublished 

The Wild Flower Show 1893 published 

The Larakin Tribe 1895 published 

We Cannot get all that we Wish or Desire. 1895 published SV

In Life’s Grey Afternoon January 1st 1895 Cowra published SV

Spare Me that Frown published 

I Know of a Place 1895 published 

When I am Gone 1895 published SV

Youth and Age 1894 published 

Good Bye 1870 published SV

This cave of Philip's would have been strategically located most probably across the other side of Farmers Creek, fitting the description between Lithgow and Big Hartley. 

Whether accessing on journeys between Windsor and his Cave, or Bathurst and his Cave, or Parramatta and his Cave, this location “not far from Bowenfels, 

‘ watching the eagles as they soared or hovered over the deep gorges l look at the awesome thunderstorms’. ‘An extremely wild scene is but to me my natural home’. 

This cave was most likely facing west to southwest to see these storms thus most likely one of the caves in this generally close area. 

Following is the letter to Reverend Gainsford inside the cover of the scrapbook.

Parramatta on the 15th May 1896  Extracts from “My Cave Songs” – 

“these poems are a few that I intend at some future time to publish with the remainder in book form – and I may state that the majority of them came into being in a lovely cave in which I inhabit in the Blue Mountains not far from Bowenfells – and thus I have given them the appellation of “My Cave Songs” – I wrote them there while I have passed many secluded days – bitterly mourning over the false pride – and the cold heartedness of a portion of of my family who, in their abundance, could find no room in their hearts for one, although of the same flesh and blood took the course which nature called me to, and eventually became a writer of song – these poems I humbly present to Rev H Gainsford Parramatta, whose eminent late father I knew years ago in Sydney – I have never sought praise, but I have put my thoughts into song – and so I found many of my lonely hours made more beautiful over the time and more pleasant to retrace – I am an intense lover of nature – an extremely wild scene is but to me my natural home – raiment and food have been the great obstacles that hedged in a life – which would have forsaken all – for the supreme delighted converse with the wilds”. Philip D Lorimer 15th May 1896 Parramatta

Reverend Henry Gainsford was the chaplain at the Parramatta Congregational Church in Parramatta in 1895 to 1896 and Philip must have been a regular parishioner during this time. 

Reverend Gainsford’s father was Reverend Thomas Gainsford who Philip also new very well during the years 1871 to 1873 at the Mariners Church in George Street, Sydney. This fell in line with his involvement in the Orange Lodge.

Whether Philip’s scrapbook of poetry was presented to Reverend Henry Gainsford as committed in the letter is unknown but the letter clearly expresses an emotive intent to do so.

So where was Philip’s Cave? 

Following are extracts that pieced together provide clues as to where the cave may be-

“He discovered near the summit of the mountains, — not far from the Zigzag, between Lithgow and Big Hartley”, his cave.

Not far from Bowenfels, ‘ watching the eagles as they soared or hovered over the deep gorges l look at the awesome thunderstorms’. ‘An extremely wild scene is but to me my natural home’.

Departing from my Cave. 

'Today over the hills I have wandered away from my cave. I've left the long range and the lone valleys where in the day I loved often to roam. I've gathered my hopes full contented to be for a time far away from the dell that stretches and twines round the base of the range where the waters are crowned with foam that is spread like a veil for them to arrange round the feet of my high mountain home.'

My Mountain Cave. 

In the cave, I am living, I have quietude from life, there is no creature near me nor the hum of human strife. While my dreamings are horne onward by the swollen rivers flow. I lay upon the stonework in hidden high retreat. For a guard against intruders or a screening for my door, a wattle and a mountain ash, do the needful as of you.

But I'm throned upon a mountain in a hidden high retreat with my thoughts turned to the heavens.

Mourn I for Song.

 Morn breaks but ah! no boughs can see the sun. (Facing the west or south west?)

I live in the wilds where the rush of the stream is the song that awakes me in the morn. Where the leaning boughs droop low for the sun. For the blush that alights on them red.

I live in the wilds where the rush of the stream is the song that wakes me in the morning.

I'll climb the high range where boulders on boulders are seen.

Where was it that a rush of a stream or river was so close to, or below, his mountain cave? 

Where would he awaken to this sound in the morning and where the sound was to encourage his dreams of a night?  

Farmers Creek or Cox's River are the only real waterways close to Bowenfels that has a close near steep escarpment, and the only real mountain being Mount Walker, and possibly a cave close to or on it, where the stream could be visible from above?

Farmers Creek or Cox's River at the base of the mountain was fed by the upper catchment at this time between 1891 to 1895. This being prior to the construction of the first dam north east of Lithgow in 1896.

Waters would have flowed continually providing the torrent and stream that Philip passionately described and enjoyed during times especially with heavy rains. 

Following the dams construction though the flow would have slowed and all but stopped on Farmers Creek. 

Further changes were to though come realising today’s position where the dam at Rydal was constructed in 1982. 

It is most feasible that in Philip's Cave years he would have been able to access the Cave most likely on the southern side of Mount Walker from the main road often taken from Old Bowenfels to Bathurst.

This is the most feasible location fitting descriptions in editorials and poetry. 

Within Songs and Verses naturally some of his many writings are missed. 

Most so — ‘Easter Morning' and ' Spring On the Blue Mountains,' 

for long considered by the old man as his best effusions. 

Following are rewritten copies taken from newspapers of the time. 

He often complained that editors in report of him persisted in calling him ' a bush poet.' 

This title was not ambitious sufficient to him. 

He preferred rather to be thought of as 'the mountain poet‘ and to this effect much can be found in his later poetry relating to his most cherished times in his Mountain and Cave.

Easter Morning

‘‘Twas Easter Morn – grief lingered still my guest,-

All ——- on weary lids, oh! Unwept tears-had prest,

And at the quickening of the holy dawn, I fled

The smiles of men, and stood beside the dead –

Where ‘neath a pall of roses, white and red,

Like a rich jewel in its casket, lay

A two years babe – in the sweet sleep of death

B———(Blue eyes) dim – folded from the light away,

L—————flowers, the dark fringed lids——.

Lips sealed ———- so sound they would not miss,

Through the (long night) a mother’s lingering kiss;

Small restless feet, forevermore at rest,

Hands clasped above a dead white lily on the breast,

Waiting the Resurrection of the Blest.

Through all my stricken soul, doubt hurled his dart,

And in the bitter anguish of my heart,

I cried “O Christ the Resurrection and the Life!

From out the dreary void of doubt and strife

Answer Thou me – not through Thine Angel, Lord,

With thine own lips Divine, speak Thou the word!

Is some bright sphere beyond the reach of pain,

Will this fair sinless baby live again?

These starry eyes unclose and see Thy face?

These sweet dumb lips exulting lisp Thy praise?

These hands unfold the Palm branch with the blest,

Or like this dead white lily on her breast,

Must she go down to Chaos, dim and lorn –

O better, Lord, she never has been born!

Then all the golden glory of the morn

Smote the dead flower, and ‘neath my mortal sight

Slowly, from out the dry and rustling sheath

There brake a royal lily, crisp and white,

As Andean snows – Life from the womb of Death!

And out upon the silvery silence there

Floated a Voice so calm, so sweet, so clear;

So passing sweet all Heaven might pause to hear.

And all the Air with glory seemed rife

And at the Voice fled doubt and vanished pain;

“I am the Resurrection and the Life!

Though she be dead, yet shall she live again!”

Ballarat Star 1884 2nd August

Spring on the Blue Mountains

Balancing gently, the last falling leaf

Is robed with the glint of winters faint sheen,

The wild pillared aisles of forest and vale

Are wooing with song the changing of scene;

Twittered vines cloistered are clinging to ferns,

Toying together with expectant glee.

Soft is the twitter near brooklets on boughs,

Coming with spring in it’s mirth merrily;

The honeycombed rocks, grey, yellow and white,

Are crowned with the fringed violets so fair;

Wattles are fanning the breeze with their spray,

With tints that the golden eves often wear.

Beauty, subduing the soul and the sight,

Now is receiving with exquisite bliss,

In blushes, the touch of conceptions hand,

Sipping from angels their annual kiss.

Away the chill trance of winter is sped,

And whispers are heard o’er mountain and glen;

Louder and louder they call abroad, “Live,”

“Let nature arise to gladden all men.”

Gaily the waterfalls leap in response,

Bright is the gleam on the rainbow-barred spray,

Jewelled the slopes of the moss-covered banks,

Where loveliness treads in her freedom to-day.

Old hollowed trees moan a murmuring Voice,

Glades of white heather do gather their song;

Kingfishers sweep on the emerald wings,

O’er pools that are dazzling all the day long.

Glittering mirrors reflecting the skies

A thousand times o’er ‘neath bright azure gleams;

Tree ferns, o’ershadowed with out spreading palms,

Are kissing the flow of the mountains streams.

Man, wond’ring, gazes on all with delight,

Through bridal veils reared from waterfall’s foam;

The wings of his soul in rapturous flight,

Encircle the joy of nature’s wild home.

The white stately gum with aged gnarled roots,

Is watching above from terrible height;

The sassafras, ash, and bleak gloomy groves,

Bring in the noonday the blues of dark night.

‘Tween the cliffs that are cleft and hewn with time,

E’er sombre and grey, hid ‘way from the sun

By precipice, crags, and frowning sheer steeps,

Where rivers from fonts in silver cords run.

These to whispers from spring are unfolding

Wonderful treasures to beautiful light;

Grateful the heart, happy the spirit,

Accepting the scene as a heav’nly sight.

Sydney Mail 1888 22nd September

May 1891 Herman Ritz wrote a most complimentary piece for the Illawarra Mercury that captures the emotions of many regarding Philip. 

At the time Herman Ritz was first master of the Presbyterian Cooerwull Academy at “The School” at Bowenfels just west of Lithgow and not far from Philips Cave. 

There would have been a respected fear of approaching Philip especially upon possible instruction to the students that no contact be made with him. 

Herman Ritz would have often seen Philip in his wanderings, and upon reading his poetry he would have categorised him as did many as a rare soul.

September 1891 Appoleine. This poem talks of a past love reflected on and adored seemingly referring to his book of photos probably during reflection times in his cave. (See photo below)

1892 5th September Bowral Free Press. Phil. Lorimer Esq. Poet, Traveller, Stargazer, visited Camden last Saturday. Philip says he is a believer in ghosts, and has seen them. Upon being pressed to give his reasons or believing in the existence of ghosts he said – 

“One night I went to sleep, when I heard a voice speaking to me. 

Upon opening my eyes (I was then neither as asleep or awake) I saw a man with a freckled face, covered with red hair. 

He touched me on the arm, and said, “I want you to read the funeral service for me. Don't forget.” I replied “alright old man; I'll do it.” 

In the morning, I told the shepherd what I saw and heard. The man in charge of the sheep remarked if the man was lying around dead the sheep would soon find him. By driving sheep at you can easily tell if there is anything wrong by their movements. 

We drove the sheep about, and found the body of a dead man fifteen miles off. 

There, was the very man I saw in my dream. His face was freckled, and he had red hair. One side of his face was black, and a bit decomposed. 

I never saw the man before in my life and never heard of his description. 

How can you account for this?"

1892 17th September Windsor and Richmond Gazette Philip Lorimer, the Australian Bush Poet, and nomad, was introduced to Lady Jersey the wife of the NSW Governor, during her visit in Kiama who gave him a good meal, tobacco, some jam, some loaf sugar, and a sovereign and complimented him on his poetry.

1892 1st October Bowral Free Press. On meeting Lady Jersey, The Kangaroo Valley Poet says there is no truth in the report and vehemently asserts :- 

“If poor old Phil Lorimer were in the habit of wearing a long sleeve hat adorning himself with bogus jewellery and paying his creditors by mileage some of our contemporaries would doubtless refer to him in a more flattering strain.”   

1892 8th October in the Bowral Press. 

A scrutineer says it is rumoured that Mr Philip D. Lorimer will be a candidate for the position of poet laureate, in the old country, that is if Lady Jersey – who also is a poetess of no mean order – will propose him to the queen.

1893 ‘Phil McDermott and his hundred pounds’

"We are afforded occasional glimpses of Philip as he became well known." One friend writes, "there was something very gentle about him, his soft blue eyes and musical voice, and he always spoke as a wellbred man.” 

Following him by the dates of his different pieces, we find that in February 1893 Philip made another journey to the south, and was once more travelling to the Lachlan gold-mining district. 

The editor of the Robertson Advocate (March 21 1893)  

" We have had a pathetic letter from the poet Lorimer. Phil fell by the wayside and was taken to the hospital at Young. 

He writes humorously of the manner in which he was conveyed to the hospital in a cart that was designed for carrying the dead not the living. But if Phil was as bad as he says, the cart must have answered the purpose very well. However we are glad to know that we have our Poet still.”

While in hospital Philip wrote verse. One of his pieces contains some beautiful lines descriptive of a summer noontide scene in one of the higher valleys of the Blue Mountains, but like many more of the poet's effusions it is too imperfect for publication. 

Leaving the township of Young, he proceeded to his old station at Wallendbeen, but was back again at his Cave in May, and then once more took the north road to the Mudgee district, tramping along the bush track, over the Liverpool Ranges to Gunnedah on the Namoi River, and thence across the Liverpool Plains to Bingara on the Gwydir ; to Warialda and Inverell on the McIntyre — altogether a journey of nearly 350 miles.

On this journey Philip wrote several poems — ‘ Wake me not,’ ‘The Bell Bird,' ‘Our Store of Hope' and several others — some being printed in the newspapers. 

While in the New England district he visited his old friends at Yellowroi and Trigamon, writing memorial and anniversary verses. He arrived back in the Illawarra district in October 1893.

Philip's next journey was to Bathurst, Carcoar, and Cowra, whence he returned to Liverpool, Sydney (North Shore), and Windsor in April 1994. 

1894 20th April Philip was admitted to Liverpool Asylum 

At the local Gazette office in the last mentioned town, he dropped in promiscuously and laid down a bundle of ‘screed’ with the remark, ‘That is some of my own.' "From the bundle of verses left by the wandering bard, the kind editor selected ‘A Sunset Wish ' and others which were duly printed in his paper.

A month or two later, Philip was again at Wallendbeen, where he rested a few days and then went on to Cootamundra, whence he wrote on 10th July 1894, to the Editor of the National Advocate Bathurst : 

'According to my promise, I send you a couple of poems. I would have sent them before, but I could get no stamps until now. Work is very scarce ; the diggings up here have filled the roads with travellers and swagmen, and many a time my circumstances and ration-bags were in a sad state of financial ruin.’ 

Crossing the Murrumbidgee and the Murray, and the plains between, the Poet now paid his last visit to Victoria. A two hundred miles' journey brought him to Daylesford in the ranges, but he passed on by way of Malden and reached Ballarat in September, the month which, in Australia, as Kendall beautifully says, “brings spring in its raiment." 

This was the year after the great collapse of financial institutions in Australia, the banks closed or ‘reconstructing’, trade and commerce almost at a standstill, nothing enduring but hope. 

To his friend, the editor of the Illawarra Mercury  Wollongong, Philip wrote : —

“Don't be surprised, but after a weary and watery walk, I find myself to-day in this ‘Golden City’. Alas ! the times and changes are trying to strangle it out of existence, and that high sounding name ought to be changed to ‘Poverty's Point.'

Victoria is in a sad state all through for want of money, while all trade is paralysed. Public houses are empty and publicans turned into labourers on their own holdings, while in the streets it is almost impossible to find business men decently clothed. Your poet finds his business at a standstill. I am gathering a lot of information to help me and others who may require it, and I trust to be in Wollongong about the end of next week.

1894 September Peter Lorimer was assaulted at address of ‘Braeside’ Fitzroy and Kirribilli Streets North Sydney per report.

On his previous visit to Ballarat Philip had sold several poems. On this occasion though he had a full wallet of new pieces, he disposed of none. 

On this tour he appears to have paid a short visit to Melbourne, but he could not stay, and soon was back again in New South Wales. He has left some verses written on the route at Yass, at Como, Bowral, Kiama and at Unanderra, where he spent Christmas 1894. 

On New Year's Day 1895, he arrived in Bathurst after a nine months' absence.

From Bathurst he passed on to Blayney and Cowra, writing  ‘Reconciliation’ and ‘Life's Grey Afternoon.'

“We had a visit,'' wrote the editor of the Cowra Guardian during the week "from Philip D. Lorimer, the wandering poet, who is now on his periodical grand tour of the western and south western districts on his way South. 

Phil is a remarkable long distance pedestrian. He has “padded the hoof through Victoria, returning thence to New South Wales, where he followed the railway from Albury to Campbelltown. From there he struck away to Wollongong. Shortly after we find this child of nature and of the poetical muse, making his way over the Blue Mountains. Eventually he arrived here and is now en route for the South again."

If Philip was en route to the South, he must have altered his plans, for five weeks later he was at Glen Innes in New England, on his way to Queensland!

At Warwick and at Brisbane, editors patronised and published some of the poet's verse. 

While on this last visit to Queensland, Philip took the opportunity of visiting Roma and the station at Wallumbilla where he had been employed nearly thirty years before where he penned some of his early pieces.

Writing to the editor of the Illawarra Mercury from Warwick, 4th March 1895, Philip says : —

''After a good deal of hard walking I find myself in this town having walked about 130 miles since I left the train at Glen Innes. It is 27 years since I was last in this place. 

The town of course is very much larger and the inhabitants to a certain degree seem to follow suit, for they are very stout and burly as a rule. But whether their corporations are attained through the natural functions of health or excessive beer drinking I cannot say. The temperature is not icy here but rather the other way. 

Queensland is in a bad state, suffering from the same complaint as Victoria and New South Wales, no money. The ‘reconstructing' play is going on with a vengeance. Federation with Queensland would mean a heavy millstone round the neck of New South Wales and Victoria. For instance, there is not a made road in Queensland, nothing but bush tracks. Federation would put her right with the other colonies."

Writing again to the same editor from Inverell, New England, three weeks later, Philip says :—

"My wandering life with its attendant habits must often place me before the world as a mystery, which was once exemplified by a Highlander asking another of his clan how he liked the new minister."

Well, quote the latter, ‘six days in the week he is invisible, and on the seventh he is incomprehensible. ‘So he was a mystery, like your poet. I cannot say where or when I shall pop up again to take the pen in hand for communicating to my friends, but today, my text (being Sunday) is in Inverell, and on it for a subject to commence.

When I left Brisbane I took a rail ticket to Stanthorpe, and walked from there to this shop — some 86 miles. 

I was glad to leave Queensland. The poverty there is too much for the sensitive to bear. It has a parallel alone in Victoria. Protection has ruined, them both. . . . 

No, there is not a better colony than New South Wales, notwithstanding the depression. When the banks restore the divs., public confidence will be cemented stronger than ever, and this colony will go ahead ; in fact, a change is gradually taking place for the better now, notwithstanding Wragge's forecast of a drought for 18 months. 

This township is a fair-sized place — about the same size as Wollongong, or a little smaller. The squatters around are well off and I have been putting on my London side for work. 

Some contract work I am looking for, such as a heap of fire-wood for hospitals for the winter coming on.

When I put on ‘side,’ as they call it, it would amuse you to hear me talking big and business. A great many know me individually here. Others know me by name and repute, and I think I may score well. 

However, the ' tucker bag ' is full, and I can get a week or two supply when I am in need. . . . This is not a milk or dairying district,  too far away from rail carriage. The rail extension from Narrabri to Moree will be a great boon to these parts, but as a rule I feel happier and do better where the iron horse does not compete with the time-honoured horse or bullock wagon.. 

I like the steam for post communication, but nothing else. I had rain since I left you, only once, when I was caught in a hail storm at Glen Innes passing through on my way here. It was at 4 p.m., and a good-natured Boniface in the shape of a widow, gave me a large bowl of soup, soaked bread and vegetables in it, and a square shake down for the night, thus staving off one unpleasant catastrophe in my journey. 

While in Warwick I met with Essex Evans, the Bulletin poet, through the Rev. Mr. Pugh, the archdeacon, Church of England. I could not see Brunton Stephens in Brisbane, and was very disappointed. I trust things will soon look up, and that Wollongong will be topping the whole of Illawarra."

At Inverell on this return journey, 28th March 1895 Philip wrote his poem ‘Illawarra' —" I know of a place where my love cannot die " 

Reaching Gunnedah, in July 1895 he took the train for Sydney find passed on to Berrima, Unanderra, Jamberoo, and Nowra.

In September 1895 he was in Bowral. From Bowral Philip passed on to Moss Vale, taking the train South, his last journey in that direction, stopping at Marulan, Gunning, and Cootamundra. 

He bade ‘good bye’ to his friend Mr. William Miller in some  ‘Farewell' lines, and wrote two love songs, one of which ‘Dawn upon Me in Thy Beauty,' is now reprinted.

The editor of the Cootamundra Liberal noticed the arrival of Philip the wanderer, or ‘the Illawarra Poet,' and that; 

"He now walks with a stick. He is fifty two. Far has he tramped since last he rested upon our office stool and he sits in dumb silence for awhile to get his breath and as he relates his experiences.

Phil, in answer to inquiries, says he has gone all over Southern Queensland since he was last here ; has seen Roma and Toowoomba, Goondiwindi, and crossed the border at Texas ; and soon he will be likely to cross the further border which hides that land from ours."

Philip had one more journey before he laid down his swag and staff. 

He retraced his steps northward, resting awhile at Glenfield on the way to his Cave, his last visit there, I think writing verses on ‘Fads,' ‘New Year Wishes' and ‘Illawarra Centenary' celebrations.  Then he tramped down to Camden and on to Moss Vale where he rested again.

Then he passed on to Mr. Fackender's farm at Unanderra, where he remained a few days. Here he wrote a story in verse  ‘How Captain Short was Found,' — too long and too imperfect for publication, some stanzas for the albums of his younger friends, and a ‘cantata ' for the centenary of Illawarra, which was printed in the local newspaper. Once more he ascended Mount Kembla and took ‘A Walk round Bulli at Night' recording his feelings in verse. 

A story from Wollongong appeared. It is however improbable that a certain clergyman who once visited Wollongong will send along this little one to the publisher. Phil was engaged by him as a odd job man and had taken the post as a rest from travel. He, however, began to accumulate little grievances at a rate which threatened early rupture. One morning according to Phil’s version, he was aroused by a loud noise at his cabin door. He got up, and on opening it found his master there in an irate state demanding to be told how it was that he hadn't been up and had the cow milked, he the speaker had been thundering at the door since 5 am without being taken notice of. Phil looked at the boss steadily, and in his grave and somewhat tender tone said “I thought Ananias was dead, but Lo here he is in the flesh! Then he picked up a bucket of water and slashed it over the pastor, after which he rolled up his swag and left.

1895 to 1896 spent time at Fackender's Dairy Farm Unanderra probable location of photo of older Philip.

Interestingly this sketch is of the same photo appearing in Songs and Verses from 1901 by Petherick. This would indicate this being the only photo of Philip available at the time.. 

The photo in the album as a result was probably not sent back to the family by Philip otherwise Charlotte and the family would have had a copy, and a sketch of it would have most likely also appeared in the book she arranged to be produced, Songs and Verses.

Once more too, he bade good bye to his friends at Unanderra, and a fortnight after was in Parramatta in 1896, having written by the way an ode ‘to Unanderra’,  lines on ‘The I's of Life,' and others to the memory of ‘Sir Henry Parkes’ who had just passed away.

Parramatta, literally ‘head of the waters,’ a few miles from Sydney is, next to that city, the oldest town in Australia. 

Extensively planted with oaks and English trees, with orchards and orangeries, and gardens of pleasure, the oldest homes in the Commonwealth are found in its vicinity. 

Philip continued there some time, very often going into the Cumberland Argus office, to have a chat with his friend Mr Button who says " every day he looked in to see me and it was a treat to hear the romantic stories of his travels through the country."

A chat with a friend and a social pipe Philip thoroughly enjoyed, very little made him happy. 

As he had written in an unfinished poem, ‘We cannot get all that we wish or desire ', on his journey southward, from Brisbane early in 1895.

1896 “Gems we know in Illawarra” booklet printed by J Button of the Argus Parramatta

During his stay in Parramatta, Philip was introduced to the Leisure Hour Club, and he wrote some stanzas in honour of it. These were among the last verses which he composed.

Encouraged by some of his friends out of his natural timidity, Philip offered a number of his best descriptive pieces to a Sydney publisher but without success. 

Mr Joe Button then kindly had a few pieces printed in pamphlet form ‘Gems We Know in Illawarra’  and sent them on to him at Unanderra. 

Joe Button’s son in law was Mr William Miller jnr, having married his daughter Pearl. 

William was to be an ongoing support for Philip together with his father and Mr Button. 

Such a relationship explained the recorded close ties to Mr. Button of the Argus Parramatta. 

All of Philip’s manuscripts were left in the hands of his good friend Mr Will Miller Snr, who ever acted a staunch friend to poor Old Phil. There were stated to be about 150 or 200 altogether and they were left with Mr Miller with the request that when he died that they would be published. 

The poems beared dates from 1858, when Phil was a lad at 15, to the time of his death.  

Among the friends who patronised Phil, Mr. Kenneth Mackay, Member of the Legislative Assembly and also a poet, should be mentioned.