We had some congenial visitors at this time in two officers and the artist belonging to H.M.S. Fly and Bramble, which were visiting Sydney occasionally, being on an exploring and surveying cruise among the islands in the Pacific. The explorer Leichhardt also spent some evenings at our house, my father taking so great an interest in the same pursuits. It was very pleasant listening to their conversation on such subjects. We also had men in the colony then worth listening to. Responsible government had not yet been granted, and for the real welfare of the country it would have been better if it had been withheld another twenty years at least. Such men as Wentworth, Darvall, Cowper, Windeyer, Lowe, and others, were fit to hold the reins, and knew how to legislate, and would not sell its best interests as long as they remained in power, as our later legislators have done.

We had two daily papers—the Sydney Morning Herald and the Empire. The latter became the political stepping-stone of the man whom some consider the chief cause of the large liabilities of New South Wales. In fact, nearly the whole of the Australian colonies have suffered through their legislators being needy men without any knowledge of financial matters,—men who were unable to finance their own small affairs, and have only existed on polities while in place, and borrowing while out.

What would the children of the present day think of there being only one toy-shop in Sydney—Reeves’s in Elizabeth Street,—where the lowest priced doll was five shillings, a common box of toys half a crown? There was another shop in Hunter Street where better class things could be purchased, principally in wood and ivory. I have often been in both, and since have seen the owner of the latter the companion of princes. Fortune plays extraordinary pranks sometimes, and certainly in a new country shows her usual fickleness more frequently than in older ones. Impudence, assurance, egotism, and a supreme belief in one’s own ability goes a long way with some people, and the everlasting I is believed in, and pushes its way to the front.

Nothing could be more beautiful than the views from our friend’s verandah at Darling Point, the clear intensely blue sky and the small islands covered with foliage dotted about the harbour. We used to sit there for hours after dinner watching the beautiful effects of light and shade on the sea. The mosquitoes were not so troublesome as in Sydney. Such a splendid garden and orchard full of novelty to us Londoners,—apricot, peach, nectarine, and bananas in blossom or fruit; Norfolk Island pines, eucalyptus, cedars, camphor laurels, and numbers of others I forget the names of. Beneath the gardens, on the rocks, we could gather oysters ad libitum, taking a hammer to dislodge them, and some bread and butter with porter for the elders. In this way we had many a delicious impromptu lunch, and then started for a long walk to Double and Rose Bays. There were no people’s grounds to trespass on until we reached Point Piper, but green swards and trees, almost to the water’s edge. Now there are gardens, terraced and flat, bathing-houses, and jetties, where lie yachts and pleasure boats. Picnics were the chief outdoor amusement (croquet and lawn-tennis were not known then): I really think I have been to all the available spots for these sometimes rather trying amusements, as with the thermometer at 90 to 100 degrees in the shade you had mosquitoes and flies innumerable, and what with ants of various sizes, and the horror of snakes, I often felt that “I would rather remain at home and keep the skin on my nose.” Nevertheless when there, I danced and sang with the rest. My brother started on a fishing excursion with a friend one Saturday afternoon, intending to return by moonlight. A southerly wind set in suddenly. They managed to get under the lee of an island, and then made for Middle Harbour; but their boat when near shelter capsized, and they with it were dashed against the rocks. Both escaped without injury, excepting the boat. They soon found an overhanging rock to shelter them, lighted a fire, and determined to remain the night, taking off their clothes by degrees to dry them, and then sat down to tea, damper, a smoke, and yarn. Presently a bright light roused them. On looking round they saw their clothes were on fire,—fortunately coats and hats only. The next morning they started early to walk to the nearest ferry so as to arrive in Sydney during church time. Such a disreputable pair made their appearance, footsore and weary! I said, “You will not go fishing again in a hurry, H——;” but he did, the next Saturday afternoon. Amusements were not plentiful in Sydney,—only one theatre, and that too poor in every respect for a family who had so recently seen the best in London. Concerts were occasionally held in the large room of the Royal Hotel, and lectures at the School of Arts. There were also some good private players and singers.

The flower shows were a great treat, held in a large marquee in the Domain. The display of flowers, fruit, and vegetables was most interesting to us, consisting as it did of so much we had been accustomed to consider rare or uncommon,—peaches, nectarines, loquats, and passion fruit. Then the flowers,—camellias, Daphnes, Bouganvilliers, Hoyas, Tecomas, and others I had never seen before. Now we revelled in them. My mother even acknowledged, “We could not obtain such in London.” At this time she would hardly allow that, as owing to the present system of railways, flowers like these are brought from Italy and the south of France in great quantities.

The Queen’s birthday was a great day for Sydney, a close holiday. LevÉe in the morning, a grand review in the afternoon, and the evening for the ball at Government House, with a grand display of bonfires and fireworks for the people. Can you imagine George Street closely packed with people, with squibs, rockets, and crackers being let off from one side of the street to the other, Catharine-wheels fastened to pieces of wood and held aloft? I saw this from a window between Market Street and the Royal Hotel in 184-. Saturday too for some years in the same locality presented a great contrast to its present quiet. The only market was very small, so carts, barrows, and baskets lined the street, filled with everything the poorer class could want,—second-hand clothes, boots, books, dairy produce, fruit, vegetables, poultry—in fact a regular Olla podrida, as is at present displayed in the stalls at “Paddy’s Market,” which was then only a hay market. A few months ago, to my great astonishment, in going from one part of the west end to another in London I was reminded of this; but the English street market was in the daytime. We have nothing of the kind in Sydney, neither is the pavement of our principal streets taken up by itinerant dealers displaying mechanical toys, or taking in the unwary by selling them wonderful bargains. Government House hospitalities were far more exclusive than now, only a certain class had the entrÉe; but on the Queen’s birthday the members of both Houses of Parliament, professional men, civil servants, and merchants were invited. Shopkeepers were excluded. What a change now! Ministers of the Government are hotel-keepers, and members of Parliament keep shops or stores; but this is gaining ground all over the world. Money makes the man, and if impecunious peers and peeresses in England take to trade, surely our colonists of every degree may try to legislate if they have education, talent, and means. It is the needy, self-seeking politician who will say and do anything to keep his place and pay, I object to. I hope for the wellbeing of the country I love that in the future there will be Australians who will legislate for the good of their country and not for their own selfish interests. Now, alas, though there are some few, disgusted with the present state of things, they cannot stem the power of the majority created by manhood suffrage, giving every loafer an equal voting power with the intelligent and honourable man.

I have been present at several birthday balls in the far-away days, and could relate many amusing episodes, but will not, to raise a laugh at the ignorance or gaucherie of kindly people. Lady G——’s guests were from all classes: some from the lonely “Bush” living in country style, and only visiting Sydney once a year, who, if they were a little awkward, or talked about dairies, poultry, and their children, thought finger-glasses were “tumblers” and bonbons “fireworks,” were warm-hearted, hospitable, and generous. “Being from the old country” was a passport to admit the stranger to their hearths and homes. And I have no doubt at this time in England there are many living in country places the iron-horse has not yet reached just as unsophisticated, for even now in this village, only one hour’s train ride from London, there is a woman who never heard of false teeth, but thought “dentists could make teeth grow.”

Boating and cricket were the principal recreations of the young men. My father had belonged to one of the best cricket clubs in London, and I had seen matches played at Lord’s; but he did not join in anything in Sydney, devoting the whole of his spare time to entomology and botany. My brother H—— belonged to both cricket and boat clubs. They used to play on the racecourse in Elizabeth Street every evening. The new racecourse at Homebush was a centre of attraction to many; but we were not a racing family, so we never went. My parents were not fitted for colonial life, having been always accustomed to London comforts and amusements. My mother had no idea of housekeeping even there, keeping the same experienced and faithful servants for years. Even if fortune had proved kinder, she would never have liked the colony, and her five years there, spent wearily and sadly, I am certain helped to kill her. One of the few amusements then was the Military Band which played once a week in the Barrack Square, and afterwards in the Domain, attracting all the Élite and idlers of Sydney. Dress was displayed and criticism indulged in. The drive in the Domain was the antipodean “Rotten Row.” The baths in the Domain were owned and managed by one of our fellow-passengers who had been home to see his friends in England. All through the summer at some time in the day we went to have a delightful bathe; most of the Australian women could swim.

The 26th of January, being the anniversary of the colony, was considered young Australia’s. The Regatta was the event of the year. Races on land were all very well; but the colonial “Vikings” revelled in their beautiful harbour, almost living in it. And, alas, sometimes dying in it!

One incident at this time made a deep impression on me. Two young men, sons of one of our first Australian friends, with two others, were in treaty for a boat, and being in Government offices, could only arrange to go out on Sunday morning with the owner to try it, my friend calling to his sister as he left, “I will be back in time to take you and mother to church.” The others had been to early service, and were to meet at Wooloomooloo Bay. When they left, it was a most lovely summer’s morning, with very little wind. At the time I was staying at Darling Point, and having dressed for church, was waiting in the verandah for my friends, when one said, “Look, Miss L——, there is the ‘White Squall’ you sing about.” In an instant the wind rose and the harbour was covered with waves; we watched some boats hastening for shelter to one or other of the numerous islands, and in less than an hour all was calm again. The next morning the news came that my friends had not returned. Hour by hour their anxious mother hoped on, but no tidings came, and never did, nor will until “the sea gives up her dead.” A very sad circumstance intensified my friend’s grief. Her eldest son had been in the constant habit of boating on Sunday mornings until about two years before, when his youngest sister, a schoolfellow of mine, died after a long illness of consumption. She was a true Christian, and when dying fretted at her brother’s Sunday boating, and as a last effort made him promise never to go out boating on Sunday again, which promise he had kept until the morning he was lost. Sunday was the only day he could go out, and no doubt he was not so well able to manage a boat as heretofore. It was supposed they had gone outside the “Heads” and were suddenly caught in the squall, as not a vestige of the boat or its occupants was ever found. My poor old friend was left with only one daughter, and she too died young. As I had been dancing only a few nights before the accident with the two others of the boating party, it was years before I could look on the water without fear, and never went in a sailing-boat again. One walk I shall never forget. We had waited for a friend who was finishing her drawing lesson in Liverpool Street, near the corner of Elizabeth Street; on turning down College Street I suggested going along the South Head Road, now Oxford Street, and taking a short cut through where they were quarrying stone for the new court-house, as I had passed this way a few days previous on my way to Darling Point. As all were agreeable, we soon entered the quarries; but what to see! A gang of men chained together, with armed warders on either side guarding them. I stood aghast! To my companions such sights were but too familiar; to me, for many a day, it cast a shadow over all that once had appeared beautiful. The face of one of the prisoners remained in my memory for years—a weak, though handsome face. We shrank back as he raised his dark eyes, and for a second when they met ours, the blush of shame could be seen through his tanned skin. Who and what was he? I have often thought since that he did not belong to the class of roughs that were his companions in the gang. I was young and sensitive, and shall never forget this, my first glimpse of the punishment of crime. That was the only time I saw a gang of prisoners outside the prison walls. Since then I became acquainted with the kindly family of the Governor of Darlinghurst Gaol, and have spent many hours in his house, listening to his daughters playing, or conversing with his amiable wife; but I could not feel really happy, not being able to banish from my mind the proximity to so much misery and crime.