The Hillyars and the Burtons by Henry Kingsley

I HAVE no doubt that I should have been very much astonished by everything I saw, when I first found solid ground under my feet, and looked round to take my first view of Australia. I was prepared for any amount of astonishment: I will go further, I was determined to be astonished. But it was no good. The very first thing I saw, on the wharf, was Mrs. Bill Avery, in a blue cloth habit, with a low-crowned hat and feather, riding a three-quarters bred horse, and accompanied by a new, but devoted husband, in breeches, butcher's boots, a white coat, and a cabbage--tree hat!

That cured me of wondering. I pointed her out to my mother, and she gave utterance to the remarkable expressions which I have described her as using, when I mentioned this wonderful rencontre almost at the beginning of my narrative: in addition to which, as I now remember, she said that you might knock her down with a feather, --which must be considered as a trope, or figure of speech, because I never saw a woman of any size of age stronger on her legs than my mother.