“Thus, O Nuremberg, a wanderer from a region far away,As he paced thy streets and courtyards, sang in thought his careless lay:Gathering from the pavement’s crevice, as a floweret of the soil,The nobility of labour,—the long pedigree of toil.”“Honour to those whose words or deedsThus help us in our daily needs,And by their overflowRaise us from what is low!”
“Thus, O Nuremberg, a wanderer from a region far away,As he paced thy streets and courtyards, sang in thought his careless lay:Gathering from the pavement’s crevice, as a floweret of the soil,The nobility of labour,—the long pedigree of toil.”“Honour to those whose words or deedsThus help us in our daily needs,And by their overflowRaise us from what is low!”
“Thus, O Nuremberg, a wanderer from a region far away,As he paced thy streets and courtyards, sang in thought his careless lay:Gathering from the pavement’s crevice, as a floweret of the soil,The nobility of labour,—the long pedigree of toil.”
“Honour to those whose words or deedsThus help us in our daily needs,And by their overflowRaise us from what is low!”
My health being still delicate, I found Wombo too bleak, so after a few months left for Sydney, where I spent several months visiting friends. Before returning I paid a visit to Morpeth by train, and found little alteration there; the same long, quiet, grass-grown streets, the same old houses. Altogether the northern district struck me as being far behind the western in every respect, owing no doubt to the absence of gold-fields in the immediate neighbourhood, as in the western and southern districts. There were many fine estates, such as Duckenfield and others, in this district; but East and West Maitland had not altered since my visit to them nearly ten years before. I heard, after the mining mania later on, when companies were formed to work old fields and new ones were started, business brightened here, as elsewhere in the colony.
On arriving in Sydney, diamonds were much talked about, owing to some fine stones having been found, and it was stated one very large stone was in Sydney, an Australian koh-i-noor. As the Mudgee district was said to be the best diamond field, I remembered the crystals given to me at Pipeclay diggings, some of which I had given to a friend. Staying at Clarendon House in town, where there were so many visitors, my diamonds caused quite a sensation, especially as one was as large as a pigeon’s egg.How earnestly, listening to the opinions for and against their being diamonds, did the gentle face of Mrs. Woolley brighten at the idea of my being so fortunate; what books were examined on the subject! At Mrs. Frederick’s too the same amount of interest was taken in them. One friend tested a specimen by fire, and several windows suffered by scratching on them. At last they were submitted to the best authority in Sydney, whose verdict soon shattered the airy castles of my friends, and my brief reign of having “great expectations” was over.
The different bands now played in the Botanic Gardens, a great improvement on the former custom of playing in the Domain, as there were so many shady seats for rest in the former, and flower-scented paths to stroll in. The view from the gardens,—embracing as it does Government House, Farm Cove, where H.M. ships and yachts lie at anchor, a large expanse of the harbour, with the north shore in the distance—is one that can scarcely be surpassed anywhere. We do not require glass houses for winter gardens in “The Golden South.” All the year round tropical plants and evergreens abound, and the sward is brilliantly green, though it is necessary to state that the hot winds in summer are most destructive to all kinds of vegetation. The camellias flower in the winter. What beds of anemones, ranunculus, and pansies have I seen there during the season we term winter, which is certainly not so cold as spring in England! At times the long-continued sunshine tired me, and made me long for grayer skies, especially as the air of Sydney is very relaxing.The summers are longer there than in the country, where cooler weather often begins in March and continues until October. In many parts of the western and southern districts geraniums, heliotropes, and all tropical shrubs have to be housed in winter; but even there the weather is only cool, not cold. Our flower shows used to be looked forward to as important events; now the agricultural shows share the popularity. Only the principal nurserymen and florists, with a few gardeners of wealthy residents, exhibit in Sydney, as the suburbs have their local shows. During this visit to Clarendon House one of my friend’s daughters was married; later on I saw two others of the same family stand at the altar of the dear old church so full of memories of the past. After the wedding was over, I went to my friends at Humberstone, where I remained an ever welcome guest, until I heard of an engagement in a family living near, the home of a widowed lady whose two youngest girls were my pupils. I was very happy, being near many friends, and having the society of an elder daughter of the house, and her young companions—girls of seventeen or eighteen. Miss Mossman was very bright and sang charmingly. Since those merry days she has married well, holds a high position in society, and while in England was presented at court. “The Grove” was a picturesque house, only a pleasant walk from Petersham and Marrickville, half an hour’s drive from Sydney or Burwood, and near two old estates, Annandale and Dobroyd. I am reminded continually of the first by our avenue of pines here, as theold trees at Annandale have been a landmark for years, no doubt to be soon removed by decay or progress. Since the time I am writing about, one portion of the estate has been built on, and is now a largely populated suburb, just as many others have sprung up in a decade or two. The Warren Estate, Hurstville, and Sutherland are instances enough of the growth of the suburbs of Sydney in a few years.
I was glad to be constantly employed, for Death had been busy with his scythe this year. My kind friends, Mrs. Frederick and Mrs. du Moulin, left me sorrowing. Both being in delicate health for years, life was perhaps wearisome to them, and those who mourned for them knew that they had through life garnered above the “golden grain” of true charity. Losing three such friends in two years was a great trial, and certainly the best palliative for grief is the constant companionship of children. It would be selfish to cast a shadow from it over their young lives; their innocent hopes and confidences should never be darkened by the losses time invariably brings. Wreathe his brow with flowers for them; years will entwine the thorns only too soon. The dear old home in Cumberland Street, with the kind hearts there, and the true friends at Humberstone, ever ready to welcome me, with gentle Marian’s companionship always willing to sympathise and cheer, were still left to me.
I left the Grove, and after a short visit to Petersham wentto Clarendon House, where I remained until my marriage in September, the kind, generous friend there treating me as a daughter, and her children taking as much interest in my future as though I was one of themselves. Again the old church was visited, and I stood at the altar, where as a girl and woman I had so often knelt, and left many a burden of care and sorrow. Now if it should come, I should not have to bear it alone. The day was bright, and our drive to “Sans Souci” very charming; I had not been in that direction for years, and never beyond Cook’s River dam. Sans Souci was a favourite spot for the honeymoon, especially at this season of the year, when visitors were few. We were the sole visitors, except on one occasion, when the Rev. Mr. Pendrill (master of one of the principal private schools in Sydney) brought a party of young men there for the day. We were much amused at their evident desire to catch a glimpse of the bride, thinking very likely she was young and fair. The hotel being close to the water, we could wander amongst the rocks in one direction, and in another stroll through the bush gathering wildflowers, which at this season were to be found in profusion. The hotel was well managed, and our stay there a peaceful and propitious commencement of a new life to us both.
Ourfirst home, being on the North Shore, gave me an opportunity of seeing that hitherto to me unknown suburb which from its position made it difficult to visit. After trying Milsom’s Point and Lavender Bay, we decided on travellingviaBlue’s Point, as being equally near my husband’s office and the dear old house in Cumberland Street, where I was looked for every week at least, and often on Sunday. Our home was a very nice cottage near “Berry’s Bay,” and from the grounds at the back a beautiful view of the harbour, Parramatta River, and islands, with the Blue Mountains in the distance. This I painted and sent to our brother in England, it now hangs in his wife’s morning room. This with another sketch of Sans Souci are the only two left out of many. The North Shore is most picturesque, but the ascents are very steep, and the means for locomotion few at this time; we found it very trying.
The views of the harbour, bays, and city from the heights are exquisite, and now that there are plenty of vehicles and a tramway, the difficulties of visiting this district are small. Houses are rising rapidly and soon occupied.Near the shores of the harbour there are several superior houses, with grounds extending to the water. The Admiral of the station lives there, and also several leading men of the colony. A bridge across the harbour has been promised by one of our politicians; but this was during an electioneering contest, so it will be understood that such promises by such men generally prove to be words, idle words. When a bridge connects Sydney and the North Shore, another city will spring up that will rival Sydney; but it is to be hoped it will be better laid out, with the roads and streets of a respectable width, with trees planted to shade the side walks. The land towards Middle Harbour and in other directions will become valuable then as suburban sites. The scenery here, as in other portions of the harbour, is very beautiful. We engaged a boat at Pearl Bay and went some distance up the harbour; one of the party, who had just returned from a tour in Europe, remarked that it reminded him of parts of the Rhine, only here there were no ancient castles immortalised by romantic legends. We did see one solitary and dilapidated hut and a single figure fishing from a rock. The scenery on the Hawkesbury River I consider far more like the Rhine.
As the mistress of a house, the domestic problem had to be solved; and with one or two exceptions, I have not found any difficulty in that respect. My maids for thirteen years were colonials, from the age of fifteen to twenty-four. Some required training; all were respectableand well behaved, and are well married. It is the emigrants, principally Irish, who give the most trouble to mistresses. They leave their own country perfectly ignorant of their duties, with the idea of very high wages and little to do, or that they will get married shortly after landing. They soon grow discontented, and what they consider independent; change from one place to another, and too often, poor creatures, drift into the depths of degradation. We had but one emigrant; she is a Scotch girl of the better class, who left “Bonnie Scotland” five years ago with her family, and has been with us ever since her arrival in the colony, leaving all her family in Australia, to be our greatest comfort in what to me now is almost a foreign land. The working classes in Australia are exceedingly well off, having high wages, generally plenty of work, short hours, and plenty of time for pleasure. Seventeen years ago wages were lower, but so were rents, and provisions were cheaper,—meat at that time being twopence per pound, and fruit almost given away. I have bought peaches, nectarines, and apricots at twopence the dozen, while grapes could be had for a penny the pound. Every year things are becoming dearer as the population increases, but still there is plenty for all. Discontent and strikes have increased the proportion of those requiring assistance at our doors. There is a class who emigrate totally unfitted for a new country, perhaps for any. To the credit of the colonies, be it said, that whenever distress is made known assistance is forthcoming.
We have heard a great deal lately of the unemployed in Sydney, and the Government (I think unwisely) finding work for them at the public expense. Nearly two years ago, when a portion of the Southern and Northern Junction Railway was open, I went with a friend to see the country, passing through Concord, then over the bridge across Parramatta River, until we came in sight of what we thought must be a volunteer encampment, as under the trees there were several snowy tents pitched and men clustered about. Presently we stopped at an impromptu platform, and at once the train was met by several men, the officials from the trucks throwing out loaves of bread, and lifting out whole sheep and sides of beef. “What is it?” we inquired. “The week’s rations for the unemployed who are clearing the bush at Hornsby and other places.” Out of the crowd there we only noticed two men who looked really deserving. One poor fellow was quite concerned at the rough treatment the bread received, and lifted the loaves carefully, dusting the dirt off with his ragged sleeve; at last he remonstrated, saying, “Don’t throw good food about like that! Had you known the want of it, as I have in the old country, you would be more careful of it.”
Up to this time we had not held any intercolonial exhibition; some public men arranged for the erection of a spacious building in Prince Alfred Park, Redfern, where exhibits from the adjoining colonies gave a good idea of their progress as well as our own. It was well attended, and brought numbers of people from the country and theother colonies. In the grounds outside the building an agricultural show was held,—implements, horses, sheep, cattle, poultry, dogs, and produce showing to me the advance made in thirty years. This exhibition building, the property of the city, has since been used for various amusements,—concerts, meetings, balls, dinners, fancy fairs,—and the winter before I left was converted into a skating rink, open to the public night and day, excepting when engaged for private parties for skating and afternoon tea.
The new buildings in Sydney are imposing structures, and as the value of city property is rapidly increasing, the old houses are fast disappearing, and others more lofty and of better design rise in their places. Great expense has been gone to in the erection of public offices, the University and its affiliated colleges, offices of companies, banks, and private firms, mostly of sandstone of excellent quality from the Pyrmont quarries.
About this time we lost our dear old friend in Cumberland Street, and the home was broken up. James left for a responsible position in Western Australia, and by regular correspondence kept us fully informed of all that was going on there. From his description I gleaned that society there was exactly as it had been in Sydney over thirty years ago, consisting of Government officials, wealthy squatters, and a few merchants. But the advantages of constant and quick communication with the mother country and the more advanced colonies of Australia, with a railway from Freemantle to Perth—the seat of Government,—made life more pleasant. Western Australia will assist in absorbing the surplus of population from older countries; part of it is well adapted for sheep and cattle. In the northwestern portion there is the Fitzroy River, falling into King Sound, which is about sixty miles long from the mouth of the Fitzroy to the islands at its entrance from the ocean, and about thirty miles wide in the broadest part; the river is two hundred and forty miles in length, and flows through large tracts of good pasturage. The timber is good,—the jarrah, pine, cajeput, cork-bark, acacia, banksia, and eucalyptus—one variety of the latter peculiar to Western Australia bearing a beautiful scarlet flower. The wildflowers are somewhat different from New South Wales,—the desert pea and everlastings of many colours, with others whose names are unknown to me.
Perth has a fine Government house, town-hall, and other public buildings, better than Sydney could boast of when I first saw it, but from James’s letters everything in the way of business was flat compared to Sydney. I have forgotten to mention the pearl fishing industry. We had some pearls sent to us which were large and of good colour; and when mounted, they appear equal to any from other parts. Gold, lead, and coal have been found there. Though containing the largest area of land of any of the Australian colonies, and a climate varying from tropical to temperate, there is much difficulty in exploring, as water is scarce in many parts, and this retards settlement. Queensland inits northern portion is similar in climate to the northern part of Western Australia, and the former has for many years been famous for sheep. I have four young friends settled in Queensland; one on a station a hundred miles from post or telegraph office, another near a township; but the heat is so great, she has to spend the summers with her mother, near Sydney; another has a luxurious home near Rockhampton; but even there she soon lost her youthful bloom. Yet it appears to be a healthy climate for men, as these ladies’ husbands are all from home and enjoy good health. Their wives are of the second generation of Australians; perhaps this is the reason that they suffer from the climate more. Another brave girl friend of mine by this time has gone as a bride to the borders of South Australia, leaving mother, sisters, and large circle of friends, to make a home for her husband there. She is a true Australian girl, an accomplished musician, a champion tennis player; and better than all, an excellent housekeeper. No one knows better than myself how deserving of pity an English girl is who marries to go into bush life in the northern portions of these colonies; however willing, her training has unfitted her to rough it or to make the best of everything.
We were now living in Sydney in quite a new neighbourhood, at the top of Elizabeth Street, where a Hunter Street tradesman had purchased the lease of portion of Sir Daniel Cooper’s Waterloo estate, building thereon rows of neat cottages and terraces of houses. The soil was sandyand rather swampy in parts, with a thick layer of decayed vegetable soil on the surface: this, when dug in and mixed with the sand, formed a splendid soil for flowers. In less than a year we had bushes of fuchsias, begonias, and pelargoniums, and the dividing fences covered with dolichos, maurandria, and hoya. The street terminated in sandhills. On the summit of the highest, “Mount Carmel,” stands the Roman Catholic Church, which is built on the best sites for the purpose in Sydney. At this church I heard Archbishop Vaughan preach, whose death was an irreparable loss to his people. The lower part of the Waterloo estate, towards Botany, was and is the “east end” of Sydney, chiefly occupied by the lower classes; the vicious, idle, and worthless congregate there. Of late years the Chinese have flocked to this neighbourhood, which has not improved its cleanliness or morality.
Sydney at this time was supplied with water from the Lachlan and Botany Swamps, considering the area, a wonderful watershed. Increased population has rendered it necessary to construct other works, and the Prospect dam closes in the waters of an enormous catchment area.
A very great mistake has been made in allowing any portion of the old watershed to be built upon, or otherwise used till the works at Prospect had received the severest test. Instead of this precaution (which would strike all thinking men) being taken, a park has been formed, by filling in the lower portions with any filth and refuse brought for the purpose, which will pollute the waterpercolating through it to the lower levels, and for years to come, especially during the extreme heat of summer, will give off fever germs to the surrounding neighbourhood. Certainly the Nepean works have not been sufficiently tested. Already there are dangerous signs of the dam being faulty, and patching in such works, I am informed, is of very little use, sometimes hastening the mischief. There really was no necessity for this park being formed, as Sydney is rich in parks (perhaps too rich),—Hyde, Moore, Prince Alfred, Belmore, and Victoria, all of large areas, with the Domain and Botanical Gardens. These ought to be sufficient, especially as every suburb is getting a park of its own. Hyde Park, once the bare, ill-kept racecourse, is now worthy of its name, with its green sward, fine avenue of trees, and beds filled with flowers. Moore Park is the great playground of the people, having a recreation ground. The Zoological Gardens and Rifle butts are close by. It is also on the road to Randwick, where the principal race meetings of the year are held.
Dr. Cuthill little thought the Asylum for Destitute Children he founded there would so soon have in its vicinity such attractive residences. Certainly a more healthy or suitable site could not have been chosen for the little ones to grow and thrive in. I visited it many times when Mr. May was superintendent, and the several hundred children there looked well and happy. The earlier institutions for children were the Orphan School, Parramatta, and the School of Industry, Sydney. Now wehave an Infants’ Home, Ashfield, in which a few charitable ladies take an interest. I went there once with a friend, one of the committee, and saw forty infants under two years of age; some in their cots asleep, others toddling about the rooms. The institution is beautifully kept, so well indeed that I thought, “These poor little mites are far better off than those reared in many well-to-do homes.” New South Wales has always been mindful of her sick and helpless, providing asylums for the aged, blind, deaf, and dumb. There are hospitals in Sydney and in nearly every country town. Lately a Sydney merchant left a large sum for a convalescent home, and another more recently has given a valuable property at Camden for a similar purpose. The situations of both will to many sick and weary be a foretaste of that rest “that passeth man’s understanding.”
Welived for a time on the heights of Marrickville, our ground opening on to bush, or what in England would be termed wood or forest-land, leading to Cooks River, where there were vistas through which we could see houses “bosomed high in tufted trees;” cleared land, and luxurious foliage of pittosporum, lily-pilly, and other native trees: ferns too were very plentiful. We were near old friends, and became intimate with a family residing near us,—an Englishman, his wife, and five daughters; the parents arrived in the colony in the early days. The father, a university man, was master of a private school at Parramatta, and the mother was the true type of an Englishwoman,—tall, handsome, and clever, so it is needless to say the daughters of such parents were agreeable, and became intimate friends of ours. Their mother has gone; but her children live to show another generation of Australians the results of a brave unselfish life. A little later we welcomed another family to our home, as the introduction of a young gentlewoman who brought letters from my husband’s family ended in a close friendship with her relatives in Sydney, with whom she stayed a year.
Our little world in Australia was anticipating a great event, the opening of the first International Exhibition. The site chosen for the building was a “happy thought,” just inside the Domain gates, near the principal streets of the city, and with a panorama of earth, sea, and sky from every part of it, which few, if any exhibitions ever had before. The building could not be said to be original in design: still many said, “It was an exhibition in itself;” and certainly the site was unique for beauty. When filled with our own and the products from many lands, our anticipations of pleasure were fulfilled. The numerous courts were always crowded day after day. The Italian, Austrian, and German especially, so much so that we and others preferred visiting it early in the morning, and having a quiet view of the sculpture and pictures, including “St. Cecilia,” “Non Angli sed Angeli,” Meissonier’s marvellous works, and other poetry of the brush; the china, glass, furniture, jewellery, and silver, which it would be difficult to give any idea of from mere description. Several talented musicians visited us, so every day organ and pianoforte recitals, with concerts, gave pleasure and instruction to the ear, as so much that was beautiful did to the eye. The Queensland and island courts showed us much that was interesting,—pine-apples growing in huge pots, sugar-cane, native cloth, and many tinted shells; the Chinese and Japanese courts with their quaint wonders and delicious tea; India with her rich gems and stuffs,—all not only a pleasure but an educator. Week after week our peoplevisited this exhibition and the annexes in the grounds, where machinery and other useful inventions were shown. Sydney was crowded with visitors, and the first tramway was opened to bring many from the railway station. From this time many improvements were made in our shops, as numberless things that had been sent from home for the first time as exhibits became common. At the end of this year ten years will have passed since it was opened, and when I left Sydney it was still talked of; nothing now remains of it except the lovely grounds where it once stood. Will another ever rise in its place, like a phœnix? It was a pity that it was destroyed; still, being built of perishable materials, it would have been a never-ending expense to the country to keep it in repair.
The last time I visited the building was to see “The Old English Fayre,”—a very pretty sight. The centre was arranged as a street in the olden time, with shops on either side with quaint old signs; the wares were sold by ladies in costumes of the time; and certainly our Australian beauties looked very fair.
When the Exhibition closed, almost every one felt, “What shall we do with our afternoons?” For me this was soon answered. My husband’s health failing, the doctor ordered change, and we left for a tour in the Western district. This was my first journey by train over the Blue Mountains. I did not enjoy it; in fact, when we wound our devious way over the wonderful zigzag, I wished we were on the old road I had last travelled, with all its discomfortsattached to it. When near, terribly near the edge of the precipices, I held my breath, and looking back on the way we had come, said, “I wish we were safe at home.” My husband, to reassure me, remarked, “The engineer-in-chief is in the next carriage, so it is all right.” “What of that! clever as he is, he cannot prevent accidents. Perhaps there is something wrong.” Just then we stopped, and not at a station. “I am sure there is.” “No, nothing of importance,” as the panting engine went on again. The worst was over when we reached Hartley Vale, and by the time we reached Bathurst I was no longer nervous. After dinner we left our hotel and walked through the town, so altered and improved that I could scarcely recognise it. We inspected the new block of public buildings, and after trying in vain to find the cottage residence where I stayed nearly thirty years ago, returned to the hotel, which we left next morning and took the train to Orange, remaining there a week with our old friend Marian. We visited a young friend, whose husband had the best brewery in the town, and inspected the shops and numerous buildings erected since I drove through some years previous. We were present at a cricket match and at the laying of the foundation stone of a public school. Several speeches were made, the best (and that is not saying much in praise) from an Australian orator, whose voice is bad, and who never forgets one letter in the alphabet, though often another, while speaking. We then left for Wellington, where my brother met us at the railway station. If I had feltlike Rip van Winkle in Sydney after being absent three years, what did I feel now in Wellington? Now I saw a busy little town with churches, banks, shops, private residences, and hotels; a substantial road bridge over the Macquarie, and another, an iron bridge, nearly finished, for the railway. A few brick cottages in Montefiores was the only difference there except at Gobolion, now a large comfortable cottage with gardens and orchard. The children I had left were married, with children of their own. Since our visit many other improvements had taken place,—handsome bank buildings, a hall, where last winter they had a skating rink, had been built, and a volunteer corps and a band founded. The town is now a municipality, and the Corporation have an idea of lighting it by electricity. This, for a small town two hundred miles from Sydney, proves Australian progress. My niece, who has always taken a great interest in Church affairs, Sunday school, and choir, and has played the organ in the church for two years, had been presented with a gold watch and handsome brooch.
Ournext excitement was the arrival of H.M.S.Bacchantewith the young princes; but this I was too ill to join in. After this, our contingent left for the Soudan, a matter already sufficiently described.
I had paid several visits to my dearest young friend at Darling Point, where the child I loved so well was now a wife and mother, and the mistress of a large household, fulfilling her life’s duties kindly and well. Two visits with her and her generous husband to their country house in the Southern district gave me an opportunity of seeing that part of the country which is more like England; the trees are larger and fuller in foliage, owing to the cooler climate. All the English trees, fruits, and flowers flourish there. Bowral, Moss Vale, and Sutton Forest present a cultivated appearance. There are many country houses belonging to Sydney people, besides those of the permanent residents in the neighbourhood. Erridge Park is my ideal of a country home, with its acres of garden, orchard, and meadow land. My friend had his coursing establishment here, his pretty cattle and dairy. The interior to the house is inaccordance with the exterior,—ornamental ceilings, dadoes to walls, artistic furniture, and though in the country, water laid on from a spring, and gas generated in a building in the garden.
While at Erridge Park we called on an old resident in the district, whom we found busy preparing for a large family party of over seventy; she, being the head, was looking forward to it with natural pleasure. Children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren hoped to meet in a few days in their early home, a large residence with hundreds of acres around it, once rented for a governor’s country house. In the earlier days, no doubt, it was the home of a family corresponding with many I knew in the Western district, such as the families of White, Windeyer, Throsby, Campbell, Chisholm, Badgery, Gibson, Macarthur, and Manning.
We have now a permanent country residence at Moss Vale for our governors, where Lord and Lady Carrington rest from their labours, and escape some of the most trying weather of Sydney. I say rest, and surely well earned, for though we have been favoured with some energetic representatives of Her Majesty, we have never had one to equal the present. From the arrival of His Excellency Lord Carrington to the present time, he has indeed worked hard in fulfilling his duty to Her Majesty and the colony, in which he has had the able co-operation of Lady Carrington. It is not to the Government House receptions and gaieties that I refer only, but to the interest shown in all public and social gatherings, their kindly sympathy with the sorrowsand bereavements of all classes, as well as joining in the pleasures of the humblest, from purchasing a doll at a bazaar to give to a poor little girl, to visiting the Children’s Hospital, that they have won a place in the hearts of the people, and long after they return to their home in their native land, their names will be “household words” in “The Golden South.”
I have been anticipating, as I should have devoted some space to a fancy fair held at Government House during Lady Loftus’s reign. It was in aid of Bishop Selwyn’s mission, and was highly successful; many ladies held stalls filled with the work of fair hands. It was a very gay scene, as most people were pleased to avail themselves of the opportunity of going to Government House, if only to a bazaar. I heard that two thousand pounds was the result, and was very glad, as I had taken great interest in Bishop Selwyn and his work, begun by his father, whom I met and heard preach at the dear old church, as I had also the Bishop of Melanesia,—that martyr who, while on his Master’s work, was killed by the natives, and his body sent adrift in a boat on the lonely sea. Such men as these two and Commodore Goodenough are fine examples of those devoting their lives to good work.
A bright idea for raising funds to assist in either building, paying off the debt of a church, or other good purpose struck some residents at Manly Beach. It was to have a show of wildflowers of the colony. This quiteoriginal scheme was carried out with wonderful success, and took numbers from Sydney to visit this “hall of flowers.”
I thought most of the varieties of native flowers were known to me, being a favourite study, but did not think them well fitted for decorative purposes, owing to the insignificance of their foliage; but this show quite dispelled both illusions. Here were pillars wreathed with waratahs, Keneydia’s purple bloom, native begonia, lily-pillies entwined with ferns, at the end of the hall dado formed with native roses (Boronia serrulata), blandfordia, flannel flower, or Australian edelweis, epacris longiflora or native fuchsia, boronia pinnata, and many others. An enormous group of staghorn ferns and rock-lilies formed into Prince of Wales’s feathers reached the roof. The stalls were full of flowers arranged as crosses, anchors, hearts; baskets of all sizes filled with flowers and ferns, bouquets and wreaths of every hue; in fact, such a display of Nature’s handiwork, unaided by cultivation, has never before been seen in Australia or any other country, as with us the wildflowers, with few exceptions, bloom at one season.
My health for some time prevented my visiting the country, or taking part in the numerous social and public amusements. An occasional visit to the theatre, where I heard all Gilbert and Sullivan’s operas; a suburban concert, an amateur performance, sale of work, enlivened bytableaux vivantsunder the electric light, and visits to ournearest friends, was all I could venture on; but my numerous young friends, married and single, kept me posted up in all that was going on, so I heard of Leidertafel concerts, receptions at Government House, at the town-hall by the mayoress, tennis parties, at homes, and garden parties.
I was glad to have the opportunity of accompanying some friends to “The Woman’s Concert,” held in the University Hall, entirely conducted by ladies, and organised by two of the principal music teachers—Miss Woolley and Miss Pedley; the latter having for some time instructed a St. Cecilia choir of Sydney ladies, who at this concert were most efficient and of great assistance in the rendering of part songs and choruses. Several ladies played the organ, piano, and violin. The rather critical audience were satisfied, and pronounced it a success. This concert confirmed my opinion that Australians have a special talent for music. Already the general public know this, with such performers as Lucy Chambers, the Carandinis, Howsons, Fischers, Miss Sherwin, and Armes Beaumont, with others whose names I forget.
Several quiet afternoons spent in our art gallery showed also that in the sister art there will some day be evidences of no mean ability. I have often sat and listened to the criticisms, and been astonished at the quickness of our young people in finding the pictures which show the most talent, and was very pleased to readin the account of the Melbourne Exhibition many names of Australian aspirants to fame.
I must describe an excellent arrangement for suburban recreation at Strathfield, where ground has been purchased and planted, several tennis courts made in grass and asphalt, a bowling green, and gymnasium. The latter is a building with verandahs, and rooms for billiards, chess, and other games. This is supported by members living near, and a committee of management elected. Living near, I was invited to spend many afternoons watching the players, and meeting friends and taking afternoon tea there. Occasionally tournaments were played, and prizes presented by residents of the neighbourhood.
Our last opportunity of meeting friends at Strathfield was at a garden party on Centennial Day, when a large party met for tennis, bowls, and afternoon tea in our friends’ pretty grounds. Often since, we have thought, how pleasant a farewell it was to a place full of kindly, grateful memories. It was not indeed the only one, as a few weeks after we had a similar pleasure at Darling Point, Humberstone, and Derry Vale, the last, on the day before leaving, being full of old and valued friends to bid us “Adieu.”
The most terrible ordeal which taxed my fortitude severely was while standing on the deck of the steamer next morning, surrounded by old friends and their children, known from their infancy. The whole week had been atrying one, as day after day we had to “bid good-bye,” and this was the end, “after years of friendship,” for me to think, “Good-bye on earth, though not for ever.” Fortunately the officers of my husband’s branch of the service thronged around us, and when the steamer got under way, kept pace with us in their steam-launch to the “Heads,” cheering us to the last. Gratification for a time kept me up, and having one beside me all my own, and our faithful young friend and maid, who was and has been our greatest comfort, made me determined to try and follow the advice, “Look not mournfully into the past; it comes not back. Wisely improve the present; it is thine. Go forth to meet the shadowy future without fear, and a manly heart.”
At last I saw Melbourne, and was certainly surprised with its appearance. No wonder the citizens are proud of it,—the wide streets and splendid buildings, with a general air of importance. The tramways looked small compared with our steam motors and vehicles, owing perhaps to the width of the roads, as their buildings look better for the same reason. Our post-office, for instance, if in Collins Street would appear to better advantage than as it is, crowded up between George and Pitt Streets. I was somewhat disappointed with the various shops we entered, and the approach through Williamstown is very bad. They have not the natural advantages of Sydney, but have displayed ingenuity in making the best of the position.
We left Melbourne for Glenelg, South Australia, but were not able to visit Adelaide. From photos the city appears attractive, and vast strides have been made during half a century. My husband recollects it when first settled, and Governor Hindmarsh and family were there. Then it was merely a few straggling wooden buildings, though the streets were laid out and properly pegged. Captain Hindmarsh, afterwards Admiral Sir John Hindmarsh, after leaving South Australia, was appointed Governor of Heligoland. He was a naval officer in Nelson’s time, and a very good account of his naval career is given in James’sAustralia.
Our next departure is for Albany, King George Sound, Western Australia. This is a very important position as a coaling station, and should be well protected by men and fortifications, as in time of war it would be open to attack. Though the township is not large, it is a thriving place, and the climate is lovely, in fact almost perpetual spring. The coast scenery passed in reaching the anchorage is very picturesque, with the sea dashing in foam upon the headlands.
The mails being on board, we shall soon take our farewell of Australia’s shores, when Cape Leeuwin has been passed, and our course shaped for Colombo. Of our trip and other places touched at beyond this point there is no occasion to write, as they have been often and ably described.
In taking our farewell of “The Golden South,” hopestill lingers with us that we may yet see it again. If not—
“And, when the streamWhich overflowed the soul was passed away,A consciousness remained that it had left,Deposited upon the silent shoreOf memory, images and precious thoughtsThat shall not die, and cannot be destroyed.”
“And, when the streamWhich overflowed the soul was passed away,A consciousness remained that it had left,Deposited upon the silent shoreOf memory, images and precious thoughtsThat shall not die, and cannot be destroyed.”
“And, when the streamWhich overflowed the soul was passed away,A consciousness remained that it had left,Deposited upon the silent shoreOf memory, images and precious thoughtsThat shall not die, and cannot be destroyed.”
THE END
Printed byR. & R. Clark,Edinburgh