Our first 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 travelling via Blue’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 respectable and 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 the other 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 in its 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 sandy and 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 water percolating 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 we have 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.”