1847 - Angas, G. F. Savage Life and Scenes in Australia and New Zealand Vol.II - CHAPTER VI: SYDNEY AND ITS ENVIRONS

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CHAPTER VI.

LEAVING the rude and boisterous ocean, and entering the calm and fairy-like expanse of Sydney harbour, a sudden change of scene is presented to the voyager. The entrance to the harbour is between two perpendicular cliffs, called the North and South Head, and it appears as though the continuous wall of limestone rock that forms this iron-girt coast had been abruptly rent asunder, to open an entrance to one of the finest harbours in the world. These cliffs vary in height from one to four hundred feet, and they descend abruptly to the ocean, that foams and lashes in fury at their base; the waves rushing into the hollow caverns beneath with a sound like thunder.

On the summit of the southern cliff, or "head," as it is termed, stands a magnificent lighthouse, entirely built of the Sydney stone, which throws its friendly

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ray far and wide over the bosom of the vast Pacific. Near to it are the flag-staff and signal-station; the latter communicates with the one at the fort in Sydney, by which means every vessel entering, or even passing the heads, is immediately signalized in the city. It is said that this entrance, between the long coast-line of precipitous rocks, was discovered by a fore-top-man named Jackson, who was on the look-out with Captain Cook's expedition; and the harbour thus found was called, in consequence, Port Jackson: this appellation it still retains, though the general name of Sydney is more commonly used at the present time.

Inconceivably beautiful is the first sight of Sydney harbour. After entering the heads, and passing the small group of rocks called "The Sow and Pigs," the harbour appears completely land-locked, and in every direction the eye rests upon sloping grounds, scattered with trees and shrubs to the water's edge. The shores are indented by numerous charming little bays, where the transparent blue waters murmur gently upon a smooth beach of sand of the most dazzling whiteness; and these are relieved by clusters of deep rich foliage, with bold and rocky eminences jutting abruptly out from some miniature promontory. Houses, villas, and picturesque cottages are scattered about, in the most pleasing manner, around the varied shores of these enchanting little bays, peeping out of shrubberies, or from amongst gardens and cultivation. Many of these

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houses are tastefully built; the Gothic and Elizabetha styles being mostly adopted. After passing Watson's Bay and Camp Cove, where the pilots and water-police are stationed, the eye of the stranger is successively attracted by "Vaucluse," once the abode of Sir Henry Hay: the beautifully situated mansion of Point Piper, with its smooth lawn, gardens, and lemon grounds; the ornamental villa residences of Elizabeth Bay, amongst which those of Mr. M'Leay and Sir Thomas Mitchell are the most prominent; and lastly, the new Government House, a splendid gothic edifice, situated on a projecting slope. Beyond, extends Sydney Cove, with the city rising terrace-like from the water, and surmounting the surrounding hills with its wealth of daily increasing stone buildings. The numerous rocky islands studding the surface of the harbour are richly clothed with evergreen foliage, and add greatly to the beauty of the scene. On rounding the fort, off Government House, a busy and animated sight suddenly opens to view. Ships of all sizes, and many nations, crowd the cove, and the quays are lined with merchantmen, receiving the varied produce of New South Wales. The coup d'oeil is enlivening and striking: the city of Sydney, built almost entirely of the beautiful white stone that forms its foundation, presents a gay and imposing appearance, when seen beneath the pure bright sunshine of an unclouded sky. At one glance the eye takes in most of the principal structures. The churches, forts,

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hospitals, and barracks are all works of great labour and magnitude, and excite the astonishment of the stranger on beholding so vast and wealthy a city at the antipodes. Fifty years ago the site of Sydney was a barren rock, that boasted only a few huts and a handful of criminals, living in continual terror from the marauding bands of savages who were the then possessors of the soil. Whatever may be the defects of the convict system, it has done all this. The criminals of Great Britain have built a city that has risen to be the metropolis of the south. On landing, the stranger is still more astonished at the wonderful progress of the place: proceeding along handsome streets, lighted with gas, having elegant houses, well-paved foot-paths, and shops equalling those of many of our first towns in England; and seeing the highways traversed by coaches, cabs, and equipages of various kinds, and thronged with gaily dressed pedestrians, and an air of bustle and business pervading the whole city, he forgets that he is in Australia, and imagines for the moment that he is suddenly transported to the mother country.

The city of Sydney is supplied with water conveyed from Botany Bay, a distance of seven miles. The streets are kept beautifully clean by the prisoners, and the utmost order and regularity pervades the place. Indeed, if it were not for occasionally meeting a chain-gang of prisoners at work on the public quays, or proceeding homewards to the barracks in the evening, one would totally forget that he were in

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a penal settlement. The efficient system of police kept up in Sydney, renders it in appearance one of the most quiet and orderly cities in the world. There is a large open space, covered with grass and fenced in, called Hyde Park, at the southern end of which some elegant terraces are built. The neighbourhood of Wooloomooloo and Rushcutter's Bay is very pretty, being dotted with villas and cottages situated in blooming gardens laid out with considerable taste. But the Government gardens and domain are the most usual resort for the inhabitants; and they are well worthy of a visit: delightfully situated on the banks of a deep bay, the grounds and flower-gardens are alike enriched by the united beauties of nature and art. Nothing can be more delicious, during one of the hot days of summer, than to seek the deep shade in the sylvan recesses of these gardens, and occupy one of the numerous rustic seats that are placed about, beneath the evergreen foliage. The botanical specimens are very numerous, and have been brought from all parts of the world. Here the banana and the fan palm may be seen luxuriantly flourishing in the open air. But the most valued plants are the English primrose, the cowslip, violet, and daisy, which are shaded from the sun by screens, and treasured as carefully as the most tender exotics would be in England. These simple and homely memorials of our native land touch the heart with their eloquent silence, and the sternest soul is not insensible to their mute appeal. I remember to have

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seen an individual in tears at the unexpected sight of an English primrose, which awakened the memory of home. In a secluded part of these gardens is a damp and shady place overhung by weeping willows, and beneath their shade is erected a simple obelisk of white marble, bearing the following inscription: --

"To Allan Cunningham, the Botanist."

Amongst the various beautiful trees and flowering shrubs that ornament the Government domain, the Norfolk Island pine is the most striking and remarkable. It towers up to a great height, throwing out lateral branches, at regular intervals, of a dark and cypress-like character. It is a native of Norfolk Island, whence it derives its name, but it is now extensively planted about Sydney. The weeping willow, although generally considered to flourish best in damp situations and on the banks of rivers, here attains, even in the dryest situation, a size and luxuriance of foliage almost unequalled. These trees, as also the oaks, apples, and others of European introduction, shed their leaves during the winter; that is, the leaves fall about May, and in September the young buds again burst forth. All the indigenous trees are evergreen.

The domain is pleasantly situated near the Government gardens, and affords a delightful and fashionable pleasure-ground for the inhabitants, answering to our Hyde Park in London; and the many stylish

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equipages, such as chariots, gigs, and tandems, that may be seen driving about, together with the numerous equestrians, both male and female, render the domain a gay scene during the cool of the evening; especially when enlivened by the band of one of the regiments. A conspicuous ornament of the promenade is the statue erected to Governor Burke. During the summer months, the chirp of the cicada amongst the mimosa-trees, makes an incessant and almost deafening noise throughout the domain.

The climate of Sydney, although very fine, is not equal to that of South Australia. The hot winds are more felt here than in the latter colony, and less rain falls in Sydney than in Adelaide. The winter and spring are delicious; and at the period of my second visit, the bush and scrub in the neighbourhood of Sydney were gay with a profusion of native flowers of all hues, that perfumed the air with an aromatic fragrance.

One of the principal articles of export from New South Wales is wool; and after the shearing season, bullock-drays may be seen coming into town from all quarters--some of them from a distance of three hundred miles--piled up with bales, the produce of the flocks in the interior. At such seasons, Sydney is unusually gay: money is plentiful, and the harbour is full of shipping, waiting to convey the produce to England. Then, the settler and the out-squatter, who, perhaps, have lived like hermits in the bush for six or eight months past,

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seeing only their shepherds and their flocks, and buried, as it were, in the solitude of the interior, arrive on horseback from their distant stations to receive the value for their wool; this money is frequently squandered away in a reckless manner, and when it is all gone, the improvident squatter returns to his hut in the wilds, to pursue for another year the same round of monotonous, yet independent existence.

About seven miles from Sydney, in a south-east direction, lies the celebrated Botany Bay, where the first settlement for convicts was established by the British Government in the month of January 1786. The bay, as is well known, derived its name from the number of new and singular plants found there by Sir Joseph Banks and Dr. Solander, during Captain Cook's first voyage; and it still merits its distinctive appellation. This spot is interesting, also, from the fact of its being the place where the immortal Cook, with his intrepid companions, first set foot on the shores of Australia, and took possession, for Britain, of a continent destined to be the birthplace of a mighty nation. Several friends having, like myself, resolved to spend a day at "Botany," as the "Currency" 1 people term it, we started on horseback, pursuing our way across a sandy scrub enlivened with a variety of beautiful heaths and other flowers. On arriving at the margin

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of the bay, the blue waters of which looked beautifully clear and pellucid, the scene somewhat resembled in its natural features the neighbouring harbour of Port Jackson, but divested of all its wealth of civilization, and busy life. Botany Bay is a lone neglected spot, remaining even now very much in the same state as it was when the great navigator first set foot upon its shores; indeed it is comparatively unknown: thousands are born, live and die in the colony without ever dreaming of going to see Botany Bay, and many are actually ignorant of its existence. After stopping to lunch at a small solitary inn, prettily situated on the margin of the bay, we rode on for several miles through the woods to-

wards the heads, to visit the monument erected by the French to the memory of the unfortunate La

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Perouse. Our ride was a charming one: a narrow road winding through woods, teeming with beauty and perfume, led us over hill and dale, to an open spot overlooking the wide expanse of the bay, where, within a small inclosure, stands the column to La Perouse. The summit is surmounted by a globe, and the sides bear the following inscription: --

A la Memoire
de
Monsieur de la Perouse
cette terre
qu'il visita en MDCCLXXXVIII.
est la derniere d'ou il a fait parvenir
de ses nouvelles.
Erige au nom de la France
par les soins de MM. Bougainville et Ducampier
commandant la Fregate La Thetis et la Corvette L'Esperance
en relache au Port Jackson
En MDCCCXXV.

Near this spot is the well dug by Captain Cook, which is shaded from the sun by the overhanging branches of dark mimosa bushes. In the face of the cliff, just inside the entrance to the bay, a copper plate is let into the rock, in an almost inaccessible spot, recording the date of the landing of Captain Cook's expedition; but this, like the well, is unregarded. The rocks are covered with geraniums and wild flowers, and golden masses of blossom of the fragrant mimosa exhaled a sweet spicy perfume that rendered the balmy air delicious as we passed along; whilst brilliant parroquets, and other birds of exquisite plumage, sported through the woods. The

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lycopodium, and a small species of palm, are abundant on the margin of the bay. We returned to Sydney late in the evening, after a delightful moonlight ride through the scrub, laden with botanical specimens from the renowned bay.

Such is Botany Bay at the present time. An account of the arrival there of the first fleet of convict ships, and their subsequent removal to Sydney Cove, may be interesting, as contrasting the present with the past.

"It being determined to send the convicts to New South Wales, six transports were hired for this purpose by his Majesty's commissioners; these were to be accompanied by three store-ships. A quantity of tools and implements of husbandry were put on board for the new establishment, and also a sufficiency of provisions for two years. The government of the colony was intrusted to Arthur Phillips, Esq., who hoisted his pendant on board the Sirius, a twenty-gun ship. The number of convicts sent out was 565 men and 192 women. Distributed amongst the transports and in the Sirius, was a body of 160 marines with their officers.

"The fleet set sail from the Mother Bank on 13th May, 1787, with a leading wind through the Needles passage. The fleet soon reached Teneriffe, where they took in provisions and water, and at the end of one week put to sea again. The passage to Rio Janiero was performed in eight weeks; the convicts were also in a very healthful state. During their stay

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this port, which was about a month, the convicts and crew were plentifully supplied with fresh meat, vegetables, and fruits, to enable them to resist the attacks of the scurvy to which they might be exposed by the length of the voyage. The fleet crossed over from one continent to the other in about five weeks, which was a run of 1,100 leagues.

"After remaining at the Cape of Good Hope for four weeks, the fleet proceeded to New South Wales, the place of its final destination, and on the 20th January, 1788, the whole fleet were safely anchored in Botany Bay; thus this long voyage was happily completed in eight months and one week, and only thirty-two persons had died since their leaving England. The Governor, who had gained a little on the rest of the fleet, employed his time in examining the bay, but not finding a satisfactory place where he might form a settlement, he set off, in company with some of the officers, in three open boats, to examine the adjacent harbours of Port Jackson and Broken Bay. The first prospect of Port Jackson was unpromising, and the natives everywhere greeted the little fleet with shouts of defiance, and "warra, warra" "go away, go away," resounded wherever they appeared. 2 However, they had the happiness

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to find a harbour capable of affording security for a very considerable fleet. In one of the coves of this capacious harbour, the Governor determined to fix the future seat of Government, it having been found to possess a sufficiency of water and soil. After three days, the Governor returned to Botany Bay, and gave directions for the immediate removal of the fleet to Port Jackson. Two strange sail that appeared in the offing, caused much speculation; they proved to be the two French ships under the command of M. de la Perouse, then on a voyage of discovery. These ships entered Botany Bay just at the time the English vessels were abandoning the harbour, and their commanders had barely time to exchange civilities. The spot chosen for the settlement was at the head of the cove, near a run of fresh water, which stole silently through a very thick wood, the stillness of which had then, for the first time since the creation, been interrupted by the sound of the labourer's axe."

On this very spot now stands the busy city of Sydney. How little did Cook dream, when, sixty years since, he first landed on the shores of this vast and mysterious continent, that in this short space of time it would become a populous and thriving colony, rivalling in extent and wealth many kingdoms in Europe.

Among the most interesting spots within Sydney

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harbour is Camp Cove, one of the many picturesque little bays that indent the shores of Port Jackson. The water-police station occupies this cove; and here, in company with my friend Mr. Miles, who is well known as an antiquarian and a man of science, I spent many a pleasant day. We established our head-quarters at the cottage of the superintendent, which is almost concealed amidst the luxuriance of the creeping plants that surround it, and is backed by high rocks that gradually ascend towards the south head. We made short boating excursions for the purposes of sketching the charming bits of scenery that occur at every turn of the harbour, and enjoying the beauties of nature around us. Climbing to the giddy verge of the south head, from a ledge overhanging the precipice beneath, we beheld the wide expanse of the blue Pacific stretched out below and beyond till the eye was lost in the distance of the dim horizon. It was a glorious sight: I could have sat from the rising to the setting sun gazing upon that broad, boundless ocean, encircling the southern hemisphere with its mighty waters, on whose vast bosom the vessels appeared as little specks, glistening white upon the sapphire of the watery plain. I used to watch the vessels from that giddy height pass out one by one from between the cliffs that form a barrier to the ocean, tracing them with the eye till the weary gaze could follow them no farther, and speculating on the varied destinies of each little bark. At other times we would climb over the fallen rocks

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at the base of the cliffs, against which the thundering surf dashes its waves into snowy foam.

In the deep water below the rocks along this part of the coast there grows a most beautiful coralline, varying in colour from the deepest scarlet to a pale rose tint, with other varieties of a brilliant yellow: the natives, by diving, brought us up a considerable quantity of very fine specimens.

It is a wild and picturesque sight to watch a party of natives spearing fish by torch-light, in the sheltered bays around Camp Cove, and in Camp Cove itself. They wade into the water until about knee deep, each man brandishing a flaming torch, made of inflammable bark; this attracts the fish, and with their four-pronged spears they strike them with wonderful dexterity. The glare of the lights upon the gently undulating surface of the water, and the dark figures moving rapidly about, in strong contrast with the torch-light, produce a lively and romantic effect.

Across the harbour is Spring Cove, where vessels lie that are under quarantine; and not far from the shore is the quarantine burial-ground, the approach to which is from a small well-sheltered bay just within the north head. The surrounding scenery is enchanting; hills environ the burial-ground, and upon their declivities are erected the hospitals, while in the hollow is a beautiful dell, with a narrow and moss-grown path leading into it, following which you reach the burial-place midway. I came upon it unexpectedly in a joyous and merry mood, but instantly

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THE QUARANTINE BURIAL GROUND
Spring Cove -- Sydney harbour --N. S. Wales

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felt the influence of the scene. The tombstones of spectral whiteness contrasting with the dark foliage-- the gurgling of the stream through the dell, and the occasional note of the whip-bird breaking the spell of silence--the old gum tree stretching its leafless arms over those decaying beneath the soil it once had shadowed--the mellowed light of evening upon the distant land (telling of a day for ever lost)--the tranquil solitude--all combined to give an air of solemn sadness to the scene. I have seen no spot where the dead repose which is more melancholy or more exquisitely picturesque than this lonely burial-place in the wilderness, where the howling of the storm, and the muffled beat of the surge sound a requiem to the dead-- those hapless dead, who voyaged so many thousand miles, hopeful and expectant, and perished at the very entrance of the looked-for harbour, there to lie

The most important result of our rambles around the bays and rocky promontories of Port Jackson, was the discovery of a new and remarkable feature connected with the history of the natives formerly inhabiting this portion of New South Wales. I refer to their carvings in outline, cut into the surface of flat rocks in the neighbourhood, and especially on the summits of the various promontories about the harbours of the coast. Although these carvings exist in considerable numbers, covering all the flat rocks

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upon many of the headlands overlooking the water, it is a singular fact that up to the present time they appear to have remained unobserved, and it was not until my friend Mr. Miles first noticed the rude figure of a kangaroo cut upon the surface of a flat rock near Camp Cove, that we were led to make a careful search for these singular and interesting remains of a people who are now nearly extinct. About a dozen natives of the Sydney and Broken Bay tribes were encamped amongst the bushes on the margin of a small fresh-water lake close to Camp Cove, and from amongst them we selected "Old Queen Gooseberry" (as she is generally styled by the colonists) to be our guide, promising her a reward of flour and tobacco if she would tell us what she knew about these carvings, and conduct us to all the rocks and headlands in the neighbourhood where like figures existed. At first the old woman objected, saying that such places were all koradjee ground, or "priests' ground," and that she must not visit them; but at length, becoming more communicative, she told us all she knew and all that she had heard her father say respecting them. She likewise consented at last to guide us to several spots near the North head, where she said the carvings existed in great numbers; as also impressions of hands upon the sides of high rocks. With some difficulty we prevailed upon the haggard old creature to venture with us into a whale-boat; so, with Queen Gooseberry for our guide, we crossed to the North head. After examining the flat rocks in every direc-

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tion we found sufficient examples of these singular outlines to confirm at once the opinion that they were executed by the aboriginal inhabitants; but at what period, is quite uncertain. From the half-obliterated state of many of them (although the lines are cut nearly an inch deep into the hard rock), and the fact that from several of them we were compelled to clear away soil and shrubs of long continued growth, it is evident that they have been executed a very long time. At first we could not bring ourselves to believe that these carvings were the work of savages; and we conjectured that the figure of the kangaroo might have been the work of some European; but when, pursuing our researches further, we found all the most out-of-the-way and least accessible headlands adorned with similar carvings, and also that the whole of the subjects represented indigenous objects--such as kangaroos, opossums, sharks, the hieleman or shield, the bomerang, and, above all, the human figure in the attitudes of the corobbory dances-- we could come to no other conclusion than that they were of native origin. Europeans would have drawn ships, and horses, and men with hats upon their heads, had they attempted such a laborious and tedious occupation. 3 Some of the figures of fish

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measured twenty-five feet in length; and it is curious that the representations of the shield exactly correspond with that used by the natives of Port Stephens at the present day. These sculptured forms prove that the New Hollanders exercised the arts of design: which has been questioned; and they also serve to corroborate Captain Grey's discoveries of native delineations in caves upon the north-west coast of Australia, during his expedition of discovery. 4 At Lane Cove, at Port Aiken, and at Point Piper, we also met with similar carvings. Whilst on a visit at the latter place, it occurred to me that on the flat rocks at the extremity of the grounds belonging to the estate where I was staying, there might be carvings similar to those at the Heads; and on searching carefully, I found considerable numbers of them in a tolerably perfect state of preservation. Of all these I took measurements, and made careful fac-simile drawings on the spot. 5 These may be regarded as examples of the general character of all the sculptured outlines.

Amongst the many rambles in the neighbourhood, I was particularly fond of the north shore, to which one of the numerous little steam-boats that enliven the harbour plies every quarter of an hour. Leaving the bustle of Sydney, one is soon transported to the secluded and picturesque scenery on the opposite shore, where the pathways leading through the bush

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are gemmed with wild flowers, and the hills may be said to resemble, at this time of the year (the spring), one vast flower-garden. I never visited the north shore but I returned with some new addition to my collection of plants, so numerous are the species that spring from amongst the rocks and the sandy soil around Port Jackson.

In a spot embowered by the shade of a grove of eucalyptus, and overlooking one of the most lovely prospects in New South Wales, my friend Martens, who was draughtsman to the expedition of the Beagle, has chosen to locate himself and his family, and has built a snug picturesque cottage in keeping with the charming seclusion selected for its site. Below the garden is a deep dell, through which runs a gurgling stream, almost choked with the luxuriance of the flowers that surround it; amongst which the gay warrator rears its crimson-blossomed head, like a huge peony. Here and there the decaying and whitened branches of some aged gum-tree stretch their leafless arms against the blue sky, whilst the distant scene embraces the windings of the harbour, backed by the far off range of the Blue Mountains.

Not far from his pretty cottage. Mr. Martens has, by his own labour, erected a little church, the chaste design of which is entirely his own. The great interest he took in its completion may be inferred from the fact that, when I last saw him, he was at work sculpturing the font out of a block of white Sydney stone with his own hands.

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From the numerous whalers and other vessels trading from Sydney, that visit the various groups of islands in the Pacific Ocean, it occasionally happens that some of the natives of these islands visit Sydney. The traders are glad to bring over one or two of the young people from some of the more barbarous islands, whither they trade for sandal-wood, in order to show them the wealth and power of a civilized nation, and by making them presents and treating them well, to ensure their aid and friendship on their return.

One of the most amusing and best-known characters in Sydney is "Little Jacky," the orange-merchant-- a lad about twelve years of age, and a native of Lee-foo, near New Caledonia. His real name is Duono, and he was brought home by a vessel trading thither for sandal-wood. He had been two years in Sydney, spoke English perfectly, and made a good livelihood by selling oranges, -- every body preferring to buy of this witty little urchin. His remarks are so droll and full of point, that I have frequently seen him set a whole company in a roar of laughter.

I also met with a boy of Khuria, one of the Kingsmill group of islands near the line, whose history is remarkable. On the 18th May 1843, the brig Clarence of Sydney, on a whaling voyage, fell in with a canoe at sea containing twelve men, eleven women, seven boys, and two girls, all in a state of nudity. On coming alongside they stove in their canoe, and were taken

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on board in a very exhausted state, having been at sea twenty-two days, four of which they were without food or water. On the 20th, the captain, Joseph White, landed the whole of the natives on one of the islands, excepting one young man, whom he named William Clarence, and the boy referred to, who is called Joseph White. This boy was taken great notice of by one of the crew, who taught him his prayers, and actually took the trouble to cut out of sperm whalebone the alphabet, which he learned and could arrange in a correct manner. He is now in Sydney, adopted by a gentleman in the Audit Office, who is giving him an education. He is supposed to be ten years of age, can read and write uncommonly well, considering the time he has been at school, and lately obtained a prize at a public examination.

About ten or a dozen miles from Sydney is the town of Parramatta, situated on the river of the same name. Steam-boats ply daily between the two places, affording a pleasant excursion up the broad and picturesque creek known as Parramatta River; which is, in reality, one of the numerous branches of Sydney harbour, having a small stream falling into it higher up. Not far from Sydney is Cockatoo Island, the place of banishment for the more refractory prisoners, or those who have been recommitted since their transportation. This small island is entirely occupied as a prison, and every approach to it

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is guarded, day and night, by sentinels: no boat is allowed to come within a certain distance of its shores. As the gay steamers pass and repass, with bands of music on board, and thronged with merry faces, it is melancholy to see the vacant, abject, hopeless gaze with which the prisoners of Cockatoo Island stare at them; the sight of liberty making them ten times more weary of their bondage. Passing Five-dock Farm, where the races are held every spring, Bedlam appears in view at a turn of the river; a large building, beautifully situated, for the reception of the lunatics of New South Wales. Farther up the river, the scenery becomes more open and pleasing: orange gardens and peach orchards diversify the banks; the former revealing their wealth of golden fruit from amongst the deep foliage of the trees, and the latter clothed with a spring mantle of pink blossom.

At Ermington the river again widens, and from thence a fine view of the distant scenery is obtained, backed by the noble ridge of the Blue Mountains. The foreground is diversified by Australian plants and trees; the eucalyptus rearing its lofty branches of evergreen foliage, with parrots of the most brilliant colours chattering in the sunshine amongst its blossoms, or extracting honey from the cones of the nectariferous Banksiae. Parramatta itself is a military station, and the female convicts are chiefly quartered here. They are confined with-

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in the walls of an extensive building termed the "Factory," where they are kept under a strict discipline and engaged in washing and other feminine employments. In the neighbourhood of Parramatta are some fine gardens, and many of the better class reside in its vicinity.