CHAPTER VI. VOYAGE--SYDNEY...
[Image of page 107]
CHAPTER VI.
VOYAGE--SYDNEY--VOYAGE TO HOBSON'S BAY.
JUNE 1ST. --Fairly off in the "Rangitoto," having started punctually at noon from the wharf. The weather kept up its character to the last. There was the ominous morning rainbow, the frequent heavy showers, and the deep, deep mud; but once away, and the climate seemed to change. We left all the rain behind us, and it now became so cold that I was glad to put on my whole stock of cloaks and shawls, and walk fast up and down the deck to keep myself as warm as I could. Every one else was either down below, or doing the same as myself; but all were strangers to me, and I was the only companionless one. I was glad to find, however, that my old acquaintance, Captain Randall, 1 had the command of the ship. The stewardess also was the same that was on board the "Lord Ashley" when I returned from Dunedin, and seemed pleased to recognize and welcome me on board.
In looking my last at Auckland, I must do it the justice to say that parts of it look well from the sea. The spire of St. Paul's Church stands forth with good effect. The office of the "New Zealander" newspaper is a conspicuous and good-looking building, with a little tower or observatory on the top. The convent, too, looks well; and Parnell, with its three steeples,
[Image of page 108]
looks very pretty. I could see nothing more to remark on. Speed away, therefore, and adieu for ever!
This is a fine vessel, very fast; and having at first a fair wind, we set sail, and seemed to cleave the water at a wonderful rate. We must have looked very pretty from the shore, if any one was looking at us; but we soon lost sight of all habited land, except the Kawau Island; the side we passed was very pretty, richly-wooded high land, and undulating pastures intermingled. It is about 3000 acres (as I was told) in extent, and the Governor has apparently chosen well in purchasing this island for himself. His residence is on the other side of it.
The large war steamer, "The Eclipse," started at about the same time that we did, and went to the island, either taking the Governor there or fetching him thence, we knew not which, for he is always going to and fro, and few seem to know whether he is here or in Auckland, for there is no flag (nor even a flagstaff) nor any other sign, to denote his presence at Government House when he is there.
We passed, late this evening, a high, perpendicular rock, rising abruptly and quite alone from the sea, overhanging at the top on one side, a wild, perfectly barren spot, and remarkable at a distance as having precisely the appearance of a huge ship. It is called the "Sail Rock." We soon after passed a number of other rocks, called the "Hen and Chickens." There are peculiarly-shaped rocks at the mouths of some of the rivers, and at the entrances of the bays of Auckland. They are perfectly flat at the tops, and appear like truncated cones. One of these at the mouth of the Waitamata has a high tree, or clumps of trees, in the centre of its flat tablelike top, which has a curious effect; it is called the "Sentinel." We have been averaging eleven and a half knots to-day. I have just learnt for the first time that a knot means more than a mile. Captain Randall tells me that a nautical mile (or knot) is a sixth part longer
[Image of page 109]
than a land mile, so that we have been doing nearly thirteen miles an hour throughout the day.
2nd. --A rough, stormy night, with thunder and lightning, and strong head wind; made pretty good way notwithstanding, but were not fairly round the North Cape until the afternoon. (The latitude of the North Cape of New Zealand is the same as that of Sydney.) Past more sail-shaped rocks in the distance, and before sunset came in sight of the Three King's Islands, being one large, and two smaller rocky islands, barren and uninhabited. We were rather alarmed in the night by the engine stopping, and the ship coming to a dead stand for about an hour. No one came to tell us what had happened, and the stewardess being herself ill, and so unable to attend to others, had taken herself off to sleep elsewhere. The smell of the fresh green paint in our cabin is very disagreeable, and has added to the usual amount of illness. Found on inquiry in the morning, that the stoppage was in consequence of the "bearings" becoming heated; and they had to be left to cool before work could be resumed.
Another rough night and a terrible swell; the ship, it seems, wants ballast, and from being too high out of the water the screw is frequently useless, and expending all its power without resistance, shakes the vessel every time, and its unfortunate inmates, as though it would shake us all into splinters and jelly. There is no other lady up but myself. They are two married ladies (without their husbands), and one has been in India, China, and Japan, she has now been visiting her friends in New Zealand, and is on her way to China again. Another stoppage of the engine to-day for half an hour. The captain says we shall not be in before the 7th--rather a disappointment; for as this steamer made the voyage from Sydney to Auckland in five and a half days, we had hoped she might be equally quick in going this way; but the wind is dead against us now, and this tremendous swell renders the screw so much less effective. The captain also says she wants cleaning outside;
[Image of page 110]
she seems, indeed, to need many improvements. The water is bad, owing to the tanks not being enamelled inside as is usual. An improved kind of screw, too, has to be put before she sails again, one invented by a man at Sydney, and which, being a patent, could not be had in England, where she was built. There is in the steward's compartment a very neat and ingenious machine for condensing the steam, and thus producing a constant supply of distilled hot water at every hour of the day and night.
Whit-Sunday. --We have come 224 knots between noon yesterday and noon to-day, by the patent log, which machine I have not seen used on any ship before. It is a kind of brass tube, with four wings, or blades, round the lower part of it, which, by some ingenious mechanism, mark the number required. Quantities of albatrosses and petrels about. While sitting alone at the stern today, I observed a very pretty effect in a constant succession of ever-changing rainbows, caused by the spray and sunshine, not in the bow form, however, but lying along on the surface as it were; whenever the ship pitches, the screw, as before mentioned, rises out of the water, and as it plunges in again, the spray, dashing up to a great height, produces a beautiful prismatic appearance; I had it all to myself, for there was no one to enjoy it with me. The smoke is more disagreeable in this ship than I ever experienced before; this is another defect; the chimney is too low, and very wide, so that the thick volume of black smoke in this head-wind often blows straight down, spreading all over the deck, obscuring sea, sky, everything and everybody, and suffocating one with its very dirty and unsweet odour (the chimney is to be raised, they say, before another voyage). The engine, too, thumps far more than I ever felt one before; at night it is almost intolerable. Being so close to the ladies' cabin, it seems to be thumping just against one's head; I wonder what would become of a person with a bad headache under such an infliction. I can quite understand now what I had before
[Image of page 111]
heard of illnesses, and even deaths, caused by this passage, short as it is. These winds, it seems, generally prevail about here, making the voyage to Sydney longer and rougher than from thence to New Zealand. It is 1280 miles from Auckland to Sydney; we have done rather more to-day than we did yesterday.
5th. --Rather amusing to see the gentlemen trying to steady themselves to play quoits, with very little success; they soon had to give it up, and fall back upon their usual amusement of betting about the time of our probable arrival. Several squalls as the day wore on; much lightning, and every appearance of a very ugly night.
6th. --Blowing a gale all night, ship pitching and rolling tremendously, though not nearly so much, they say, as a less long vessel would do. I don't mind these motions at all, but, oh, the dreadful screw! Every half minute out of the water, shaking one as some ferocious beast of prey shakes its victim in its jaws before tearing it to pieces. If from exhaustion I dozed off for a few seconds, there came a wrench and the furious shake instantly to mock the attempt. This very great fault (being from insufficient ballast) of course increases daily and hourly, as the ship becomes lighter from the consumption of the coal (to the amount of about twenty tons a day), and is, I am told, a great strain and very injurious both to the vessel and the engine; indeed, it is quite evident it must be so, for every time it happens, the engine whirls on like a mad thing, the thumps, instead of going on with the proper measured beat, hurrying on with a rapidity and confusion as if pandemonium had broken loose. It was no easy task getting dressed this morning; to stand was impossible; the berths do not allow of your sitting up in them, and my box (the only seat) made nothing of flying across the little space of floor, with me on it, and coming bang up against the opposite berth; however, having managed it somehow at last, I climbed, and swung, and scrambled up the stairs to the deck. There was a grand sight indeed! Mountains of waves, with their foaming
[Image of page 112]
tops, and our ship certainly riding most gallantly and gracefully over, and down into the deep valleys of water, and up again on the next mountain, and at the same time very low down on one side. I could not help thinking of all the pictures of sea-storms and shipwrecks I had ever seen, and it was as grand as any imagination could paint, but fearfully cold. The gale continued nearly as bad all day, the waves dashing continually all over the deck. Two men were at the wheel all day and night, and hard work they had to hold on. While we were down in the saloon at dinner, a wave knocked both these men down, and nearly overboard; the same wave deluged one end of the saloon, coming down through one of the skylights in a fearful cascade. The wheel, I should mention, is made on some modern improved principle, not working with a chain, but by a screw, supposed not to make the noise of the old plan, but it seemed to me that it did, nevertheless, make as much noise as it could; they say, however, that this is the fault of the propelling screw jerking it so much.
Towards evening the weather moderated, and the captain, purser, and some of the gentlemen passengers gave a farewell concert in the saloon for the entertainment of the ladies. We had done but ninety-six knots in the last twenty-four hours, and that not all in the right course. Betting had run high, and one of the gentlemen was said to have lost to a very large amount. A sweepstakes had also been formed, in which the ladies were invited to join. There were twelve tickets corresponding to the twenty-four hours from noon on the 7th to noon on the 8th; the tickets were 10s. each, so that the winner would gain £6. I and one of the other ladies agreed to take one between us, but I afterwards gave up my share to the chief engineer, saying laughingly as I did so, that as I was always unlucky in such matters, it would be almost sure to lose if I kept it, and might win if any one else had it. And so it proved, for the number drawn upon that ticket was "between 8 and 9," and at that time in the morning of the 8th we arrived
[Image of page 113]
at Sydney. We had not seen a single vessel of any-kind the whole way, till we entered Sydney Harbour, and the captain told me they very rarely did meet any on this passage.
With the first dawn of light most of us were on deck, for we heard that land was in sight, and I was anxious to see what I had heard was one of the (if not the very) finest harbours in the world. The morning was raw and cold, and what was worse, misty, with no visible sunrise, so that all was seen to disadvantage. There can be no doubt, however, that this is a beautiful harbour, and the view of the city on approaching, very fine, leaving evidence all around of wealth, solidity, and prosperity, such as I had not seen any approach to since I left England, twelve and a-half years ago. We passed on too quickly for satisfactory observation of one half the places or things I saw. Among others, there was the soldiers' quarters, being a stone fort or barrack, with a row of little dwelling-houses; the whole thing being built out in the sea, and quite unconnected with the land. Then there was the Government House, which ought to be called a palace, and many handsome churches; the Domain and Botanical Gardens, and gentlemen's country-houses, with well laid-out grounds in the outskirts of the city.
On landing, I drove to a boarding-house that had been recommended to me, a fine, good-sized house, with very lofty and large rooms; but a single woman travelling alone, gets treated no better than a bachelor, and is stowed away anywhere in the smallest and worst apartments; I had therefore but a shabby little room allotted to me, with three rickety chairs, all of different makes, and no two things to match anywhere. I had scarcely arrived when it began to rain. I nevertheless went out and inquired my way to the post-office to ask for letters, and respecting the address of some Canterbury friends that I had hoped to find here. I was disappointed, however, they having left the place; and thus I found myself alone, without one acquaintance in
[Image of page 114]
or around this great town. I got very wet. It seems I am travelling too late in the season, and in wet weather it is as cold in Sydney as in New Zealand.
I am now sitting in my bed-room, the rain falling without, and everything looking as dreary as possible-- my window looks out upon the backs of houses in some other street. If I shut my eyes, I could believe myself to be still on the "Rangitoto," my head spinning, the floor heaving under me, the hoy-hoying of the sailors at the ropes still ringing in my ears, and though the actual thumping and shaking have ceased, yet, mentally, I feel them still.
They say it is nearly always fine here, but the bad weather seems to pursue me from place to place. Here is my second day at Sydney, and here is the rain still. I inquired yesterday of a gentleman whether, if the weather were fine, I could see the place pretty well in a week. He replied, "Oh, yes; and there's no fear of the weather not being fine here." Yet I was scarcely on shore before--down came the rain. Then I was told, "It will only be a shower--sure to clear up directly." Not a bit of it; rain, rain the whole day long, from ten in the morning, onward. Everybody agreed it was a very unusual thing--"did not know when such a thing happened before"--"quite sure of a fine day to-morrow." Not a bit better than yesterday. From half-past seven o'clock, when I rose this morning, up to this present time of noon, it has been one incessant straight-down torrent; every one surprised, and says I have brought the rain with me--not much consolation. However, at about three o'clock in the afternoon there were symptoms of some improvement, and one of the lady boarders came to my room, saying that it would probably hold up for about half an hour, and inviting me to go out with her into the town. I gladly agreed, and we were off without loss of time into the principal street (George Street) and some others. I saw many handsome solid-looking stone buildings in the town, and there is the luxury of paved streets and pretty good crossings; so
[Image of page 115]
that there was not much mud, and I enjoyed the run greatly.
They are a cheerful and pleasant set of people in this house; the landlady sits with her guests, and is very lively and good-natured; everything on a liberal scale, too, and terms moderate--not higher than Auckland, though all is better here beyond the possibility of comparison. There was a large party this evening, given by one of the lady residents to her own private friends, while the rest of us enjoyed ourselves in another of the handsome sitting-rooms--some playing cards, others reading or talking. We had some pleasant music, too. I only sat looking on, listening, half dozing occasionally (not having recovered the fatigue and sleeplessness of the voyage) in a comfortable easy-chair by the fireside, and sitting up late simply to enjoy the sociability of the scene, which formed so pleasant a contrast to my long solitariness in Auckland.
10th. --I was told, this morning, that I ought not to lose any time in securing my berth, if I wished to proceed by the next mail steamer, as they are often bespoken a month or more beforehand, therefore, rain still continuing most relentlessly, I sent for a cab (there are numerous stands of very nice cabs), and proceeded to the bank, and then to the shipping office. What vexatiously-stupid people they are at the bank I went to in Auckland! I took a bill of exchange from them, drawn on the corresponding bank here, and on going just now to present it for payment, found that they had neglected to send on my signature, and consequently the people here would not pay it until some one identified me to be myself. What was to be done? I know no one here. At last I mentioned the name of a gentleman to whom Captain Randall had introduced me on the morning of our arrival, and who was boarding in the same house as myself; and as he is well known, they said that if he would send a note, saying he believed my signature to be genuine, it would be sufficient. Great nonsense, it seems to me, for how can he tell whether I am the per-
[Image of page 116]
son I represent myself to be, or not? However, that is their affair. Had it been really necessary to pay my passage to-day, in order to secure it, it would have been very annoying, for I have no chance of seeing the gentleman in question before dinner-time this evening. However, I went on to the steamer office, and there found there was no hurry, and no risk in delay, for few people comparatively take the overland route at this time of year, the heat of the Red Sea in June and July being considered dangerous to many. It was to-day that I heard of the loss of one of the New Zealand steamers, formerly alluded to, going the course I had so lately come, between Wellington and Picton; she was seen no more after leaving the former place, and whether lost by storm, fire, explosion, or running on rocks, no one-can do more than conjecture. It is very strange and awful; it is but a six hours' passage, and was, perhaps, what I should have called the pleasantest and apparently safest part of the whole transit from the south to the north. There are supposed to have been above thirty passengers on board. How little did they think, when they left Wellington, that, near as the next landing-place was, their graves were yet nearer! It is the first time such a thing has happened there. She was a fine vessel, the "City of Dunedin." She lay alongside of us by the wharf at Nelson, when we were there in the "Airdale"; she was then returning south, and that must have been her last voyage before the one in which she disappeared. Had I delayed my departure for one month longer, as I had once thought of doing, I should have been in her.
A young lady visitor here, who is considered a very fine pianoforte performer, played to us this afternoon-- all being kept prisoners by the weather. She played very difficult pieces with much execution, but thumped most stunningly. They were a lively and agreeable party, all ladies, sitting round the table and the fire, at their various employments, chiefly fancy works, and on the table stood a large glass vase, filled with bon-bons,
[Image of page 117]
from which all the ladies helped themselves by handfuls --she who was playing for the amusement of the rest taking hers with her to the piano, and returning every now and then for a fresh stock.
People changed their opinion now about the probability of the weather clearing, and said, that as the rain had continued so long, it would be likely to go on for a month. Hearing this, I became desperate. If that was the case, I said it was of no use waiting for it. To leave, and see nothing of the place, was out of the question. I resolved, therefore, to go out at once, and. every day while I stayed, rain or no rain; and out I went forthwith. I was rewarded, for my boldness by getting a rather pleasant walk of about an hour and a half, and not very wet, after all. I went first down to the market, where I was amused by seeing the great variety of live commodities; large cages, filled with birds of every description; white cockatoos, screaming with rage at one another, and at the spectators; parrots of all varieties of brilliant plumage, perfect aviaries of small birds in infinite variety, domestic fowls of all sorts, peacocks, pretty fancy rabbits, monkeys, and beautiful little dogs--all in cages. I saw no plants in flower, except camelias, the season being almost past; a great abundance of fruit, such as oranges, mandarins, apples, pineapples, bananas, etc. --all of which grow here, though the apples, I believe, come, for the most part, from America.
The market-place is very extensive, commodious, and well arranged. George Street is said to be two miles long. I went about a mile and a half down it, and then into various other streets. It is a fine town, and one can walk immediately after, or even in, the rain without much mud, for even where the streets are not paved, they are hard and rocky. None of the streets are steep, though many of them have a gentle rise, which carries the wet off; they are never slippery or sticky. The city is built upon a rock. The stone is of a yellowish-white, or shaded yellow, and easy to work;
[Image of page 118]
What is excavated for the foundations of the houses is generally used in building them, and in some unpaved parts you walk on the original and natural layers of stone. This is especially evident on one side of the building used at present for the post-office, which is a very extensive, but only temporary, wooden erection; the handsome one of stone having been found too small for the increased amount of business, another very large and handsome post-office is now being built. The having such abundance of stone close at hand and beneath their feet is a great advantage. I observed, as we approached Sydney by sea, that the cliffs are in form more like those of England than any I have seen on this side of the world; perpendicular and rocky; unlike the generally wooded or grassy hills of the New Zealand shores, sloping down to the water.
11th, Trinity Sunday (and St. Barnabas). --Went with one of my new acquaintances to the temporary cathedral for morning service. This is a rather small wooden structure, used pending the completion of the handsome cathedral begun above twenty years ago, as I am told, and stopped for want of funds, though the roof is on, and it looks outside as if nearly finished. I had the gratification of hearing the Bishop of Sydney preach from Isa. vi. 5-8. I never heard a more able sermon on the subject of the Holy Trinity; the I and Us in the last verse being especially dwelt upon, and various illustrations brought forward. The sermon combined three objects, and was made to apply equally well to all; i. e., to the day itself, to the ordination of a deacon which took place during the service, and to the collection made in aid of the ministry on the Gold Coast; the text was admirably adapted to the threefold purpose. The delivery of the bishop is impressive, but somewhat too slow to please most people. The sermon, which was extemporary, was given at the close of Morning Prayer, then followed the ordination service, including the Litany and Holy Communion. We fortunately got there (about a quarter of an hour's-
[Image of page 119]
walk) without rain, but it came down heavily while we were there, and also as I returned to the house, which I (having stayed to the end) did not reach till past two o'clock when dinner (early on Sundays) was partly over. There is not much to be said of the building (being only pro tem.), but still it is sufficiently cathedral-like on a small scale; it is named St. Andrew's. The dean and a deacon read the prayers, both well and impressively, but the reading-desk is oddly placed in about the middle of the church, facing the altar, so that the reader faces no one, his back being turned to one half of the congregation, and the other half turning their backs on him. It has a pretty good organ and choir, but the choristers have no gowns. In the town is a place called Church Hill, on the top of which is a large open space, with three handsome stone churches standing round it, or four to all appearance, one being a Roman Catholic school built church fashion. One is an English church, St. Philip's, a fine imposing-looking building, with a tower and peal of bells; the other two are Roman Catholic and Presbyterian. Lower down in the town is a very plain and ugly red brick church and steeple, called St. James's; this also is an English church, and is, I believe, considered the first in importance, as it no doubt is in date.
Went to the evening service at St. Philip's. Very handsome inside, and lofty; lighted with handsome standard gas lamps. Here I heard a Mr. Riley read and preach; he is much thought of, and I was pronounced lucky to have heard him at St. Philip's, as his church is the cathedral, where I was so fortunate as to hear the bishop in the morning.
Monday. -- Went to the bank again to-day. The gentleman whom I had named having kindly written to them to certify that I was myself, and that I had not stolen the bills of exchange, as they had appeared to think possible, they made no more difficulty about paying the money; but their manner generally was impertinent and offensive on my first visit, and the
[Image of page 120]
same to-day, though in a less degree. I had determined, therefore, that they should not make more out of me than I could avoid, and finding that they intended charging one and a half per cent, on drafts (on England), even at sixty days' sight, I proposed taking their notes, which I supposed I could get cashed at any of their branch banks. They said that four or five per cent, would be charged on them. Then I said I would take all in sovereigns. They told me I should lose still more, perhaps ten per cent., on them, as Australian gold was not legal tender elsewhere. This I did not quite believe, so replied that I would take my chance for that. A clerk surlily counted out the sovereigns, and shovelled them over to me loose. I demanded a canvas bag, which he very sulkily and hesitatingly produced, saying, "You'd better have taken a draft." "Yes," I said, "and so I should, but I have had enough of drafts after the trouble I have had here with one." So I filled my bag, and sturdily walked off with it. I can't very well take it on in this form, so must get a draft for it elsewhere, but they shall not have the profit of it. There is no greater trouble in travelling than the transfer of money; every place has its own coins and notes, which will pass nowhere else, and you are constantly losing on the exchange.
I got very wet to-day, and had to go home and change my things; while I was doing so a lady came to my door, and invited me to go shopping with her, which I did, and as it had then become fine, she lionized me about, and showed me some nice places, and pretty walks, that I had not seen before. We passed a most beautiful and elegant church and spire, the handsomest building of the kind here, where there are so many handsome ones; but no, it is not a church, it is another Presbyterian chapel! Still the Dissenters outdo us, even here, where we have such a church as St. Philip's, they go beyond us in the extreme beauty of this chapel. I regretted much that I could find no photograph or print of this edifice; indeed, photographic views are
[Image of page 121]
unaccountably scarce here; and I have to content myself with prints. I was completely driven out of the drawing-room this morning, by the intolerable thumping of our great pianiste, the echo in these high rooms (they are said to be 18 feet high) is rather distressing when there is much noise going on. One or two of the ladies have rather loud voices, and when they and the five or six young ones, and some of the gentlemen were all talking and laughing together, and the tortured piano heard above the whole, echo and all, the din was enough to drive one crazy. I tried the experiment of reading a bit of my book aloud to myself, and could not hear my own voice, neither did any one else. The young people go on in a strangely-independent way, the girls go about by themselves, where and when they please, and no one seems to think anything of it. Two quite young ladies who are boarding here alone, were joined by two others, equally young, this evening, and all went off to a glee club concert, composed of men only, without chaperon of any kind; they will let themselves in on their return, as late as they please, with a latch key. We have always one or two card-tables of an evening; I sometimes play, but generally prefer reading--the comfortable easy-chairs, and gas chandeliers hung high above one's head, being well adapted for this employment; there is generally also music going on.
Tuesday. --One of the worst days I have had yet here; went out notwithstanding, and found my way to the wharf from which the Melbourne steamers start. Secured my berth for next Saturday, per "Rangitira," which will sail five days before the mail steamer leaves, and this arrangement gives me a little time to see Melbourne, which I am told is an immense city, to which Sydney is but as a village, yet the latter seems to be like a little London. Went to another bank, and settled my money business satisfactorily; could not do much more in such pitiless weather.
Wednesday. --Went to the Domain, and through that
[Image of page 122]
to the Botanical Gardens; the former is just a large park, with handsome trees, carefully railed round to preserve them from damage; it would take long to go all over it, and at present it was very wet in most parts. At the principal entrance within the gates, stands a colossal bronze statue to General Sir R. Bourke, a former governor. The gardens are truly beautiful, but should be visited again and again to be thoroughly appreciated. The trees, plants, and shrubs are magnificent, and many of them very rare. I did so wish I had some one with me who understood them all, or even one who did not, but could admire them as I did. One feels such a solitary being wandering about these great places alone. After exploring a good part of these gardens (in spite of many showers), I had but just time to take a short view of the aviaries, and returned home to lunch; after which I again sallied forth with the intention of seeing some of the adjacent country by means of the railroad. My time being now so short, I felt I must set the weather at defiance, so proceeded in the rain down to Pitt Street, where I entered the tramway omnibus, a most commodious vehicle, calculated to carry a good number of passengers comfortably, with space enough to walk up and down the middle if you wished to do so, and high, enough to stand upright in; they go very smoothly and rapidly. This tramway runs along the whole length of the street (which is as long, I believe, as George Street, and parallel to it) leading to the railway, where I took a return ticket for Paramatta. I thought it exceedingly dear at seven shillings (the journey occupying only forty-seven minutes) each way; the first-class carriages are nothing to compare in comfort or finish with those in our young settlement of Canterbury, and are much more noisy. There are six or seven stations between Sydney and Paramatta; but nothing very interesting to see on the road, which is cut through a wood the greater part of the way, and the country flat on both sides. Though this is midwinter, the trees are in full foliage, and owing to the late rains, particularly fresh
[Image of page 123]
and green, many of them putting forth their young shoots as though it were spring. Paramatta appears to be a rather extensive town, but owing to the pitiless pouring down rain, I could, only take a pretty good general view of it from the platform of the station; but the whole place was enveloped in mist and mizzle. The train went no further than this; after a time, therefore, I reseated myself in the same carriage and returned. This railway goes as far as a place called Picton, but it was too late in the day to wait for another train. I have lost my kind new acquaintance who escorted me in some of my first walks here. She left by the Newcastle steamer at eleven o'clock to-night; I wished much I could have accompanied her, to see the Hunter River and coal district, but I cannot spare the time. It is a ten or eleven hours' voyage, and is always performed at night, in order that they may arrive by daylight--the approaches being considered dangerous in the dark.
Thursday. --A fine day at last, bright sun, and very hot. Went out in the morning, and proceeded to the Museum, which I had been told was open all day long. Saw a notice on the gate, however, "Open from 12 to 5," and now it was scarcely eleven. This is some new winter arrangement, I believe, and rather inconvenient, after a long walk on purpose. Walked away, and found a new road to the Domain, leading to a different part of it to that I had seen before; discovered some bathing-houses, longed to avail myself of them, but felt too heated and fatigued; so prudence prevailed. Not being able to find a way into the gardens I was in yesterday, began to think I should have to retrace my steps the same way back again, for there was no one anywhere whom I could ask. At last, however, I met a very old woman, who looked very hard at me, as if she wished to speak. I stopped, and asked her, "Which is the way to the gardens?" "Did you speak?" I repeated the question louder. "Eh?" was the answer. "Gardens!" I shouted. "Dogs?" she inquired. "Botanical Gar-
[Image of page 124]
dens!" I screamed. "My daughter, did you ask for?" I once more repeated, in a despairing tone, "Gardens!" at the same time pointing inquiringly where I supposed them to be. "Oh yes; Mrs. Gordon you said, to be sure;" and thereupon she at once commenced such a rigmarole of a history, that it seemed as if it would have no end, about blankets and bedding, and all sorts of people and all their children, etc., and what had become of each; and "my daughter is two hundred miles away from me, and has lost her child; and Johnny's dead, and Archy's dead--all dead, all dead but me!" And here she began to cry, of which break I took advantage to leave her with a sympathizing look. Poor old thing, I should have liked to ask her how old she was, and whether she was poor; but as it was utterly impossible to make her hear, I could do nothing. I never saw anything so withered and skinny before; she turned up her sleeves above her elbows, as if unconsciously, while talking, and the arms were those of a skeleton, frightful to look at. I wished afterwards that I had offered her money, but I thought at the time I might have offended her by doing so.
Soon after leaving her, I came suddenly upon an entrance to the gardens, and I was, if possible, more pleased with them even than yesterday. There is a beautiful shrub here which I have also seen growing in a little cottage-garden in the town; they are from seven to ten feet high, I should think, with a light, spreading, very bright green foliage of large leaves, a brilliant scarlet flower in great abundance, and in form something like the leaf of the horse-chesnut-tree, in detached spreading out petals. The name placed upon them is Euphorbiaceae, Poinsettia pulchurima, from Mexico. I wrote down the names of one or two other things that I admired much, but not being very learned in these wonderful words it was not very satisfactory; and so thinking it only a waste of precious time, made my way, admiring as I went, to the aviaries, and ponds, and cages of animals, all in endless variety. The wondrously
[Image of page 125]
beautiful plumage of the Carolina, or summer duck, struck me much; what a fanciful mood Nature must have been in when she so curiously marked and so exquisitely coloured them with such various hues. To attempt a description of this collection would fill a good-sized book, so I must leave it, only adding that the birds, large and small, are curious, beautiful, and various, from eagles and vultures, tearing the raw flesh hideously off some bones with their powerful beaks and claws, down to the Java sparrows and canaries. Everything is perfectly kept, not a weed to be seen anywhere; fountains playing in the clear ponds, tasteful drinking-fountains, seats, and summer-houses everywhere in abundance. It is altogether a most fascinating spot, nature and art have acted so harmoniously together. It is situated on a bay of the sea, and the natural rocks are left; even where the waters have formerly been, and have worn out hollows, advantage is taken of them to place picturesque seats. A raised, terrace, walled against the sea, forms a broad walk all round the bay.
Returned home to lunch and rest, before making a second attempt upon the Museum. The present building used for this purpose stands behind a splendid new one now nearly completed for the collection, and which is built of the shaded yellow stone before mentioned; the effect is extremely good and pleasing to the eye. I entered at exactly a quarter to four, thinking to have above an hour for the survey; walked round, looking at the skeleton and stuffed Australian animals; took a passing glance at the mineral and geological specimens, and was about ascending to a gallery above, when a man shouted out, "Four o'clock, doors must be locked." I took no notice at first, but he came up to me and repeated the sentence. I said, "Five o'clock is the hour mentioned on the gate." "That's not for now," he answered, "we shuts at four." "Well," I said, "but I suppose those who are in need not go out immediately." "Yes, doors'll be locked." "Can I not go up to the gallery for five minutes? I am going away
[Image of page 126]
from the place, and can't come again," I said. "No, mum, not a minute," growled the man; "four o'clock, and rules is rules," pointing at the same time towards a scrap of written paper wafered on the door, and looking as if just put there. Certainly there it was, "Closes at four," but so small that no one could have been expected, to observe it unless it were pointed out to them; there were only two ladies in besides myself, so there was no help for it. Had there been a gentleman it might have been different, but out we went, and so there was an end of that.
It is all very well and liberal to have these places freely open to the public, but the authorities should make their hours more convenient, their rules less absurd, and their servants less uncivil. The sun does not set till five o'clock, why, then, shut up at four; and not only prevent any one coming in after that hour, but even refuse five minutes to those that are in already? Above all, why leave a wrong notice placed conspicuously on the gate? However, it was, I daresay, as well for me, as I was quite tired enough.
Some of our ladies, who are Roman Catholics, are gone to spend the night in their cathedral, St. Mary's (for theirs has long been completed, though ours is still left unfinished); the forty hours' service is going on there, a ceremony which is held twice a year to commemorate, as they say, the forty hours of our Saviour's lying in the grave. When the forty hours are completed in the cathedral, the other Roman Catholic church takes up the service, and continues it for forty hours more. No one, of course, is expected to remain the whole time; they go in at any hour of the day or night that suits them; it commenced this morning at ten, and the music sounded very grand and solemn as I passed the cathedral. They have a fine peal of eight bells in a separate building erected for them, at a little distance from the main building. Two large statues of St. Peter, and the Virgin and Child, stand in front of the cathedral. There is a Sisterhood of Charity of the
[Image of page 127]
Order of St. Vincent de Paul. I cannot attempt to name one half of the places I have seen in Sydney, and. there are many I have not been able to inspect at all. I wished to have gone over the University, which they say is well worth a visit, but I have not had time. I cannot omit to mention, however, a very high and handsome obelisk in the park (called Hyde Park), this I supposed at first to be a monument to some person or of some event, but I find it is an ornamental and elegant means of disposing of the bad and unhealthy vapours from all the sewers of the town--a tall kind of chimney, in fact. The inscription at the base simply states that it was erected by the Municipal Council, without stating for what purpose. It is an excellent idea, and keeps the town very healthy. There is no river in the town, consequently no bridges, excepting one over a part of the bay, but there must be plenty of springs, for there is no scarcity of water. Drinking fountains are placed in many streets, but I have seen no artesian springs, such as we have in Christchurch. There is as curious a medley of names given to places here as in New Zealand. I passed to-day, for instance, through Bommerrang Road and Woolloomooloo Street; this last name is on many of the omnibuses, and is, I believe, a suburb adjoining the town, then there is Paddington, Surrey Hills, Waverley, etc., etc.
Friday. --To-morrow I shall be off for Melbourne. My impressions of Sydney are most favourable, both of the place and climate, which last, barring the accident of rain, is delicious, at any rate at this time of year. There was rain again last night, but it held up by daylight. Asked my landlady which was the most direct road to the baths, but she only answered, in an injured tone, that she had baths attached to the house, "both plunge and shower," if I wanted them. I did not know this before, but now that I do I shall still prefer the others, as being sea water, and having also other advantages over these. Sallied forth, therefore, to find my own unaided way; found them, and enjoyed a nice
[Image of page 128]
bathe. I wonder there are none a little more stylish than these, or that these are not improved as they might be. There are five large square divisions for bathers, and little dressing compartments all round them; these are all as rough as can well be. The water is staked in and enclosed, left open at the top, and has a clear, chalky bottom; the many little flights of wooden or rock steps down into them are very badly kept, being so exceedingly slippery, from weed and slimy sediment, that the greatest care is necessary to avoid a fall, in which one could scarcely fail to be seriously hurt against the steps. It is a pity there should be so great a defect, probably, however, when there are more bathers, as in the summer, the owners may take the trouble to clean them. I had the whole thing to myself upon this occasion, price sixpence. There are some other ladies' baths near (the gentlemen's are further off), the building of which looks better, but, on reading the board of regulations at the entrance, I concluded they were intended for the lower class of ladies, since, among other rather startling prohibitions, came a warning that any person "in a state of intoxication" would not be allowed to bathe; these baths were price four-pence. The sun to-day was so hot it felt like a fierce furnace. I explored more of the town in the morning, but had to devote most of the afternoon to packing.
Saturday. --Went again to the baths, and then to take a farewell view of the gardens, which improve upon one every time they are visited. The camelias grow to a very large size, and are as full of flowers as they can hold, looking like gigantic rose-trees at a little distance; the foliage is very full and rich, but the flowers did not appear to me generally so perfect in form as I have seen them in New Zealand and in England. Roses, particularly a large white kind, are still in bloom, also some of the fuchsias, and there is the purple-flowered koromica, in great perfection, and a beautiful shrub named Solanacae Harbrothamnus elegans, from Mexico, with clusters of small scarlet bell-shaped flowers; the
[Image of page 129]
hydrangeas, azaleas, and hibiscus are in full flower (there is a beautiful specimen of the last called a hybrid), and all this, be it remembered, in mid-winter.
The prickly pear grows here to a great height, some of them, I should think, above twelve feet. Aloes and cactusses of all kinds, and banana-trees (bananas are sold in the market at one penny or three halfpence each). The Indian bamboo-cane grows as high as any tree I think I ever saw, and many of them are of a great thickness round the lower part; these are planted always in groups, and seats are generally placed under them. There is a magnificent kind of pine-tree, the handsomest and largest I have ever seen; I saw some of them at Auckland, but not nearly so fine as these; they are called the Conifera araucaria excelsa Pine, from Norfolk Island. The spice-tree, too, from Ceylon, does well here, and none of these trees (nor any others) have lost their leaves; it seems like one lasting summer. At three o'clock went down to the wharf, and on board the "City of Adelaide" steamer, which has been substituted for the "Rangitira." This last is a Maori word, meaning great and good, and is the title given to any great chief who has particularly signalized himself. However, plain "City of Adelaide" is good enough, for she is by far the most comfortable and largest steamer I have yet been in, three-masted, and 1000 tons burthen; she has two engines and four boilers, also a smaller engine, used for hoisting coal, cargo, etc. They say she burns forty-five tons of coal per day. The ladies' cabin is as comfortable as anything can be that is not altogether private to one's self, and fortunately there is but one other lady, an agreeable and friendly person, and we became acquainted immediately. We started from the wharf punctually to the appointed hour, four o'clock, but remained hanging about, and not getting fairly off till nearly five. We had light enough to see and look our last (probably for me) at that lovely harbour, and had a glorious sunset. If I lived here I should never be satisfied till I had sailed in and out of all parts of it, and
[Image of page 130]
explored the whole of its beautiful inlets and islands. Our cabin is at least four times as large as any I have had experience of before. Four sofas occupy two sides of it, and six berths the other two sides, the floor oil-clothed and carpeted, and a table in the centre; crimson curtains, with gold-coloured trimming, before all the berths and sofas; two port-holes with large squares of glass (or openings) for fine weather such as this, and shutters with the ordinary round bull's-eyes, for bad weather; also a large skylight, which, however, is now blocked up with innumerable cases of oranges and lemons, with which cargo, also, the whole of the lower deck, and a good part of the upper, is crowded up. We hear nothing of the engine in this cabin. The saloon is very pretty, light-grained wood, ornamented with gold.
Sunday. --Still fine and smooth, land very distant on the left hand. Expostulated about our skylight, and succeeded in getting it partly unburied from under the oranges and lemons, and with this and our two windows open, we get a thorough draught, which is very pleasant. A gorgeous sunset; green, blue, and gold round the west, and rich rose-coloured mountain-shaped clouds round the east, sea calm as a lake, and reflecting all these various colours on its surface.
Monday. --We had nearly all our sails set during a part of yesterday, but to-day the wind is more against us, and our speed has dwindled from over eleven knots to seven and a half. Passed numbers of rocky islands on both sides of us, but nearest to those on our right, on one of which we saw above a hundred seals lying at rest; they are called the Seal Islands. All are barren and uninhabited. I observed one to be very curiously hollowed out into a large cave, high above the water, but all have evidently been under the water for some considerable period in former times, as they are rounded off quite smoothly. The sea has become rather rough to-day, and the weather very cold. We expect to enter Hobson's Bay in the course of to-night. The distance from Sydney to Melbourne is 560 miles.
