Sydney had now the University, with Dr. Woolley, a scholar of reputation, at its head. There were also many private schools for young men destined for the Church, with men like Mr. Baly, an Oxford man, and Dr. Forrest of the King School, Parramatta, and Moore College at Liverpool, to prepare them for it. Ladies’ schools were numerous; the Misses Moore, Flower, Thompson and Cooksey were doing good work, preparing young Australian women for their duties. The national school system for the masses had not yet been introduced, which, I regret to say, provides only a strictly secular education. A system which entirely puts religion aside can only end in the repudiation of that responsibility which raises mankind above the lower order of animal creation. The first lesson to inculcate in every child is obedience to God and His laws; obedience to man and his laws then becomes a part of the child’s nature. Another grave objection to the national system is, that it is not for the poorer class exclusively. Men with large incomes send their children to the State schools, paying merely the same rates as the poor man. Only imagine men with incomes of £800 a year sending their children to these schools! Those whose incomes are sufficiently large to enable them to be responsible for the cost of their children’s education should not rely on State aid. These children are taught not only reading, writing, and arithmetic, but languages, mathematics, algebra, drawing, music, and drill, for a few pence per week. Some of the parents may give their children a year or two at a private school to finish them; but we venture to say the national school system has bent the “twig” in such a way as to preclude almost any hope of straightening it, except in very rare instances. Teachers too are fallible, and are liable to show more interest in the well-to-do man’s child than in that of the poor man. The Government schools have been the means of lifting from the shoulders of thriving and even rich men the responsibility of looking after the education of their children, and the poor man’s child is educated in such a way that in nine cases out of ten he despises his parents, and has gained the notion that honest labour is beneath him. Where the parents are in good circumstances and pay proper attention to the religious training of their children at home, they may not be injured by the lack of it at school; but in the majority of cases the good accomplished at home is neutralised at school. This applies to the poor as well as the rich, only as the poor are often too wearied after their day’s labour to give much attention to the religious education of their children, how much more necessary is it in their case that it should be attended to in school.

That there have always been different grades in society, that it is necessary to the wellbeing of all that it should be so, and that these grades should bear a numerical proportion to each other which can be tolerably well fixed, history bears out. Does the system of education in the national schools tend to keep up this healthy proportion, or does it upset the social economy, in which large communities can only exist with safety to the majority? Is it a healthy state when Jack considers himself as good as his master, if not better? Yet this is the effect produced by public school teaching—a system of levelling. By all means let the State provide a sound, plain education for the children of those whose means are too small to allow of their defraying the expense of it. A certain period of attendance should be compulsory, and religious instruction should not be neglected.

When every church had its day school, it was easy to get domestics, male and female, plainly educated and well trained, or youths desirous of learning a business. I know many homes in the colony now where the heads of families were so educated, who are an example and blessing to all around them, holding good positions and training their children wisely and well.

The Roman Catholic Church is far wiser than the Protestant Church, as in every town and country parish where a church is built there is a school also. They know how necessary it is to sow the seed of religious belief with their daily lessons. To my fellow-Protestants in New South Wales or elsewhere I say, keep your church schools in every parish, and to what nobler or better use could the wealthy devote a portion of their riches than by the endowment of church schools? There cannot be a doubt that good training in the early life of a people minimises the necessity for asylums and gaols.

Many will consider my views on the national school question narrow, and ask, Why should the poor children who are clever be deprived of opportunities for cultivating their talents? My answer is, If there is talent, it will, as it always has done, make a way for itself, and did long before this system was thought of. Difficulties are to the talented boy or girl incentives to the exertion necessary to overcome them, and help to form the character. It would be well, after these qualities of talent have developed, that the State should give aid in the way of scholarships or otherwise.

After all, the knowledge acquired at such schools is very superficial; too much is attempted, and the results prove without doubt, “A little knowledge is a dangerous thing.”

We had several clever and eloquent men in the Sydney churches from Great Britain and some educated in the colony—men who not only performed their Sunday duties, but worked throughout the week without intermission. Parishes then covered very much larger areas than they do at present.

The Roman Catholic clergy, under their great and good head, Archbishop Polding, had worked wonders for their flock. St. Mary’s Cathedral was at this time a fine building, St. Patrick’s and others were commenced. Presbyterian, Congregational, and Wesleyans, all had large and well-filled chapels. The University was now finished, and the affiliated colleges in prospect. Many new and extensive buildings in the principal streets sprang up like magic; but the impetus given to advancement was more especially noticeable in the suburbs. Randwick was now formed into streets; the Destitute Children’s Asylum, founded by Dr. Cuthill, was finished; the racecourse formed; Wooloomooloo nearly covered with houses; William Street, where but a short time since there were only private houses, was now being converted into a thoroughfare of shops; Waverley and Surrey Hills were fast becoming populous neighbourhoods. Cleveland House, which I remember surrounded by gardens and shrubberies, and standing in its many acres of paddock, was being rapidly cut up; the Redfern Railway Station and station yard were formed on a portion of it; the Silent City close by still holds its silent warnings in the midst of man’s progress, “Thus far shalt thou go, and no farther.”

We had occasional visits from celebrities, such as Anna Bishop, Catherine Hayes, G. W. Brooke, and others. Madame Bushelle, Carandini, and Sara Flower were our own; the latter having been with us since 1852. What a voice she had, and what a splendid teacher! I met her at her brother’s a few weeks after her arrival in Australia, before she had made her dÉbut before a Sydney audience. Poor thing! what a sad end was hers; but through years of work and privation she never lost her voice. We had an excellent opera company which she joined—in which were Squires, Madame Escott, Farquharson, Beaumont, with many others, as my contemporaries will remember.

Lovers of music had a great treat about this time in a series of concerts conducted by Lavenu, and held in the grand hall of our University. The oratorios of the “Messiah,” “Creation,” “Moses in Egypt,” and other works of the best composers were rendered in a masterly manner. The choirs of the Sydney churches which joined with the musical societies of Sydney, both vocal and instrumental, were most efficient. The opera company supplied the leading solos, Sara Flower being a host in herself—Mendelssohn’s music being her speciality, as she made her first appearance in it at the Exeter Hall concerts. Her grand contralto voice filled the hall, and many musical critics remarked that no one ever had sung or ever could sing such music better. This bringing together all the musical talent of Sydney was of inestimable benefit to our young Australians, giving fresh impetus to their decided taste for it.

The fine arts at this period had not made much headway; still, scattered over the country, were many pictures of merit by colonial artists. Architects were not numerous, but now there are several of great ability. In criticising their works, people are apt to forget the difficulties they have had to contend with, the absence of works of renowned men, and the distance from the countries where the finest models and examples are to be seen and studied. Some who have designed works here have never had these advantages, never having been away from their native land. Again I was with my old friends, James and Maria, close to my father’s old home at Redfern; this visit was most thoroughly enjoyed. One day we made a trip to Parramatta by train. I recalled my girlhood as I saw the familiar streets and houses of this old town, with its old-fashioned buildings without verandahs,—similar to those I pass on the road in this Hampshire village,—the trim little gardens full of flowers, the bricked kitchens, and old-world appearances. Parramatta is, next to Sydney, the oldest town in Australia, and even now retains many of its primitive features; the Domain or Park with its avenue of oaks; its old-fashioned Government House; and its factory buildings still left. There is some charming country round it, well cultivated, with orchards, vineyards, and the splendid orangeries, with their golden fruit. My title does not appear such a misnomer, taking into account the many golden-hued flowers, rivers with beds of golden sand, nuggets of gold and golden quartz—in fact, every touch of His, from glowing sunrise to sunset, proclaims it such. We spent several afternoons on board an American ship, which the captain and his young wife made their home. Trade with America was now becoming extensive. This vessel only carried cargo; but the saloon and cabins were fitted like a yacht’s. When on board, I could see from her deck what a marvellous change had taken place—the increase of wharves, the accommodation at the circular quay much enlarged, and the greater number of ships. Balmain, Pyrmont, and Wooloomooloo from the harbour appeared one mass of habitations; North Shore still was country, and the wooded heights of Darling Point, Edgecliff Road, and Woollahra remained partially free from vulgar bricks and mortar.

How well I remember a dance we attended in Campbell Street, near the Haymarket. Though there were cabs at this time, they were few in number, but omnibuses plied through most of the principal suburbs. That week, having been to a ball at Government House, Maria and I suggested, as that had entailed considerable expense, we would go by the omnibus and walk home by the railway works; so we started. Just as we entered our friend’s hall, the Rev. Mr. Hose, acting warden of the University, met us, reminding Maria she had promised him the first quadrille. “So I did; take my cloak, Kate.” I did so; and being engaged for the same dance as their vis-À-vis, hurried down just in time. The first figure ended, and when Maria advanced for L’ÉtÉ, I saw my partner laughing. I looked down, and there was Maria’s white satin boots with her goloshes over them; I waited till she had finished the figure and then told her. No one but an Irishwoman could have been so unconcerned. She stooped, took them off, handed them to her partner, saying, “You see the consequence of having a careful husband.” I felt it was a blessing the said husband was at the other end of the room. We danced until nearly daylight, then with the Rev. Mr. Hose we passed the Haymarket, just as the hay carts were arriving. Nearly thirty years have passed since then, and Sydney has now its “season” for fashionable people. Conventionality prevents many social gatherings. Mrs. Grundy has found her way to the Antipodes, interfering, as she always does, with that which is natural and innocent by her verdict, “It is not considered good form.” Yet I trust our kind, generous, and hearty Australian hospitality will never give in to her, and become as fearful of her “What will people think or say” as they are in England.