In December 185- we left Sydney to spend four months in Tasmania. I had not been outside Sydney Heads since our arrival in 184-, and being a good sailor enjoyed the short voyage. At this time Tasmania was the principal health resort for the Australian colonies. Our New South Wales railway was only completed as far as Penrith, so Mount Victoria, Blackheath, and Katoomba on the western line; Bowral, Moss Vale, and Sutton Forest on the southern line, were not thought of for that purpose. Hobart Town, therefore, in the season was filled with wealthy tourists from New South Wales and Victoria. Those who were not blessed with too large a proportion of this world’s goods had to be content without change, or be satisfied with Mauly Beach, Botany, and Coogee, all very primitive as to hotels and lodging-houses then. And really, as is the case with many other luxuries, we were just as well without this, now considered a necessity. Nevertheless I was delighted at an opportunity of visiting another colony. I heard a gentleman say, who had travelled over most of the civilised portions of the globe, “that Tasmania bore the palm for salubrity; its climate being neither too hot nor too cold; its scenery charming, with splendid trees and ferns—in fact, an earthly paradise.” It really appeared so to me, with the English fruits and flowers. Its magnificent trees, hawthorn hedges, and general appearance of cultivation reminded me of the land of my birth, which I so longed to see again. The indigenous trees of Tasmania are finer and more luxuriant in foliage than most of those on the Australian continent; the huon pine is of immense height and girth; so is the Eucalyptus globulus—Tasmanian blue gum—and many others.

Hobart Town is situated on the River Derwent; and with Mount Wellington for a background is most picturesque, and certainly at that time struck me as being beautifully clean.

The beaches, with one exception, being shingly, there was an absence of that terrible sand and dust we were accustomed to in Sydney. The traffic was considerably less also. There I saw a mail-coach of the old English type leave for Launceston; and the roads are much better, while the air is more delightful and exhilarating than in New South Wales or Victoria. There were many pretty girls with fresh complexions, and the children looked the picture of health. It struck one as being like a quiet seaside town in England, and Mrs. Frederick and I enjoyed the change very much.

The Domain and gardens were smaller than ours, but the Government House, not quite finished at that time, appeared larger; we called there, as also at the bishop’s at New Town, and left cards. We also attended the opening of the Legislative Assembly; but as Mrs. Frederick was not equal to much visiting, we merely went out during the daytime. As there had been a terrible accident to one of a party attending a picnic on Mount Wellington but recently, I did not accept an invitation “to ascend it.” On the mountain there is a place called “The Ploughed Field,” consisting of masses of rock scattered over the surface as though by an earthquake: to stray alone in this place is most dangerous. On the occasion I have referred to, a young man left the party, his friends thinking “he had returned to Hobart Town by another route.” They “coo-eed” vigorously for a time, and receiving no reply, wended their way home; however, finding he had not returned, they went in search of him, but in vain. Some considerable time after the body was found, with the legs fixed between the rocks, not very far from where a search party had rested a few days after he was lost.

As the house Mr. Frederick had taken had but a small garden, he arranged for us to gather any fruit we required from an orchard near, where there were quantities of red, white, and black currants, strawberries, and cherries; later on plums of all kinds, apples and pears. In one garden at New Town we often spent an afternoon.

We had numberless drives to many pretty spots, and along the Sandy Bay road. I also went for a few days’ visit to a pretty place on the other side of the river, the name of which has slipped my memory; it was the residence of Captain Forster, a retired naval officer, and his wife, such a dear old lady. We sometimes went fishing; but were far from successful in this, though there were quantities of fine fish in the Derwent, and scarcely a day passed while at Hobart without having some. New Norfolk about this time was becoming famous for its salmon ponds, as well as the surrounding scenery, which was indeed lovely. The ferns were very beautiful, and in great variety; but I do not think the native flowers were equal to those of New South Wales; perhaps it was past the season, or I may have sought them in the wrong localities. One fact struck me, after thunderstorms and rain the air became deliciously cool and refreshing—so different from New South Wales, where in the summer after rain it is generally steamy, close, and sultry, especially near Sydney—and I am inclined to think that Tasmania will again rival many of the health resorts the extended railway service has made accessible in New South Wales, now that the sea voyage is so short between Melbourne and Launceston.

My dear old friend, the Rev. W. H. Walsh, was on a visit at Bishop Bromby’s, so we had the pleasure of seeing him occasionally; also Mrs. Augustus of Graycliff, who was staying at Hobart Town for change, as she had been seriously ill since I was at her garden party a few years back; but she was still very beautiful. She and her sister were the two handsomest women I ever met, tall, elegant in figure, and perfect in face. The wife of one of our governors had an album of Australian beauties, amongst them Mrs. Augustus and her sister, two nieces of my Hereford House friends, and many others I had seen. I have photos of many of the young people of the present day quite equal to any I have met in England in face or figure, and without partiality, displaying more expression and decidedly more winning manners. Certainly my means of judging may have been limited, still I have been to many places of amusement—to theatres, the Handel Festival, the Royal Academy, and other exhibitions—walking and riding; but could not help remarking that the one prevailing expression in the faces I have seen was supercilious, and never once have I noticed the courtesy to elderly people I have been accustomed to see in Australia. There appears to me in England a dread of being natural for fear of “what people will think.”

Hobart Town was very quiet, though it was the height of the season; but as the girls remarked, “What was the use of thinking of dances, picnics, or any other amusement when there were neither partners nor escorts?” there being so many ladies, and so very few of the sterner sex. The arrival of the steamer from Sydney was an event which caused half the population at least to wend their way to the wharf. The arrival of the mail was another source of great excitement; we seemed to be so far removed from Sydney then—almost as far away as England is from Australia at the present time, when there is a weekly mail, and when we can read a cablegram in this morning’s newspaper of the doings in the colonies not a day ago.

We were to leave in the beginning of May, and by that time the weather was really cold. Mount Wellington had already a little snow on its summit, and furs were in requisition.

Our friend Mr. W. H. Walsh returned to Sydney with us, and when we arrived at Twofold Bay, Maria and James came on board in the custom-house officer’s boat to see me. They were out on horseback when the steamer was signalled, and had only just time to ride down to the boat before she pulled off from the shore. We were delighted to meet again; they both thought Tasmania had benefited us considerably. They told me, had they known in time when we were in the Bay before, I could have gone to their cottage at Eden. “Yes,” said Maria, “and you would not have thought it ugly then.” It was hard to say “Good-bye”; but we all felt it would not be for long, as they hoped to be in Sydney again soon.

We had enjoyed our four months’ stay; but how delightful it was to be once more at “Hurst,” in our own rooms and with our own surroundings. The feeling of being at home is enhanced by these changes, however well conducted the lodging-house may be. We often laughed over our Hobart Town experiences and at Mrs. Mills, the owner of the house where we stayed, who would shut all the windows immediately we were out of the house, which it was my mission to open immediately we returned. When her cooking had not been quite satisfactory, and we had ordered things from the pastry-cook’s, our dear old friend W. H. Walsh, desiring to please her, praised some dish which it was high treason to have ordered from outside. All these little matters we could now laugh at, being once more at home, where life had charms not to be compassed elsewhere. Our old pursuits gained value by the change, and the old walks and drives in interest. The winter in New South Wales is very enjoyable from May until November, and life is indeed worth living, after the heat, dust, and mosquitoes, which are most trying.

Now after a year in England, without clear skies, much rain, fog, and snow, I am bound to agree with many who say, “If I were once again in Australia I would never return to this miserable climate.” I shake my head, and call to mind the many discomforts of a hot, dry climate.

My old friends were about to return to the colony and I had promised to go to them again, so my stay at Hurst was drawing to a close. It was a wrench to leave the children I had learned to love; but they were so young compared with others I had taught, and felt I was losing ground in many branches; besides, I had promised. Unfortunately Mrs. Woolley had decided on living in Sydney, so after remaining with them a few months, I had to leave, as my health completely gave way, and an attack of congestion of the lungs rendered me an idle woman for many months. This gave me time to realise what had been accomplished during eighteen years.