and jewelry visible, as, if sold, might have paid for a decent house. It was almost clear that they did not belong to our part of the country, for they were engaged in very sensibly discussing the merits of a cold fowl and biscuits; yet they did not look like persons occupied in coining or forgery, or any other wicked work, and they did not fold up the handkerchief which served for a table cloth, or close the small basket which contained their commissariat, but went on eating like sensible and unromantic persons, while they returned the good morning of the stranger-for a man may say as much as that in these parts even to people whom he has never seen before. They added that the weather was fine, and I acknowledged that it had been splendid weather ever since July. Then the gentleman finding me rather communicative, inquired if I was well acquainted with these runs, and was given to understand that I once had been so. "The country," he said, "seems to go back in population; that's the fault of your aristocratic habits over here." Previously I supposed that I had caught the prospective heads of a Canadian family, in the act of devouring their dinner in backwoods fashion; but now it seemed clear that they were from Kentucky or Michigan, or some such State, and I had no notion of knocking under to a slave-owner, perhaps, on one's own soil, long consecrated, too, by the blood of martyrs and patriots; so I expressed the opinion that aristocratic assumptions flourished everywhere, and in some places with exceed ingly short roots." "We have nothing of the kind in our home," said the gentleman, "There all men are equal." Thanks to the lady who added, "James, you forget the convicts, poor things." "True, but they are under punishment. Here the bad are exalted, and the good are kept down." From that opinion I, of course, dissented; but with the view of changing the subject, for I saw that the parties were from our Australian colonies, I added that this particular spot was at one period, within my memory, inhabited, though it was lonely now. "The farmhouse of Braeside stood on that knoll, and you may see the foundation of the houses yet among the heather, and there are still some old flowers, where the Campbells had a sort of garden, and the shepherds' cottages stood here, and here, and there." My audience were evidently interested, for they stopped eating. To please them, I began to repeat my story of Elsie Lang's pet lamb. "I remember the sale upon the farm, and was much struck with a very pretty incident at its close. I have always recollected it since, and told it often. A pet lamb, belonging to two young girls, the daughters of one of the shepherds-two little motherless girls." The lady turned away her face-her tears fell fast. "You can excuse me, sir, for I remember your story well, and the little pet lamb." "My wife," said her companion, was Elsie Lang, and I bought the pet lamb-the ancestress it has been of many lambs since that day, for it got safe to Australia-and now you see I have taken to the lamb's mistress, and things being out of sorts with this gold business in our land, we thought to make a sort of jaunt over here, and see the old place." What could a man do in the circumstances but wish them much joy, and make a sort of apology for bringing up the subject ? but they both seemed rather obliged to me for remembering it, and laughed at my notion of this being their marriage tour. "The fact is, sir, we do all things in a contrary way at Australia, and we have taken our marriage trip at a time when we could better afford it, than just immediately after the event; but the old people will take care of the young, and we can tell them how the old place looks when we return." Their gig was left at Greystanes; although the tenant was changed since the day of the sale, and they had wandered over all the old ground around the houses, or where the houses stood, since morning, and Mrs. Campbell had traced the exact spot where her mother's bed stood when she died. Our acquaintance was very brief, but on the strength of that lamb, the disposer and the purchaser, I captured no more fish that afternoon, but passed it in hearing very pleasant tales of Australia. As an excuse for my want of effects in the creel on my return to Burnside, I told my new story, and was assured by Mrs. Fletcher that I had a knack of getting up adventures, for she might have travelled up and down the water for twelve months without meeting an Australian shepherdess. I met Elsie Lang and Mr. Campbell afterwards often. They have long since returned to their home in the very far south. Their story has not an atom of romance in it, although it is probable that, except for Mrs. Lang's death, the anecdote of the pet lamb never would have been told, and their expatriation to Australia was the original cause of their marriage, and of their patriarchal riches, for they were wealthy in flocks and herds. Still, when I suggested that they should be grateful for the clearance of Braeside, and for the voyage out that it made necessary, they both objected to that view of the landlord's proceedings, and held that they would have rather remained upon the old land. They were now reconciled to life in the bush, which promised soon to be neither bush nor wilderness, and their children will love the land they live in as their own. They knew the Robinsons in Australia; but theirs is a more interesting story, and to catch its loops I must go backwards through many years. CHAPTER XXVIII. THE WEMYSS FAMILY. THE WEMYSS FAMILY. AFTER David Robinson sailed, and Jessie Wemyss became a frequent visitor at the Rose's, some years passed away-two or three-without making any change in the Wemyss family. The Baillie was a man of a common-place cast of mind, dour to a fault, and very stiff. Pride and vanity held, nevertheless, a very convenient sway, for his daughter, over his other leading characteristics, and thus, although he knew that her friendship with the Roses originated entirely in their gratitude to the suitor for his daughter's hand, whom the Baillie had rejected-he allowed the intimacy to continue, for the fascinations of Blinkbonnie and its wealth were irresistible to his mind. Of course, a correspondence in the case was very practicable under these circumstances; although we knew that the return of posts would not be too rapid. Changes at last came to the home of Baillie Wemyss. An idea prevailed among his friends that his wealth was gradually waning away-that his speculations had not recently been successfuland then many of these friends began also to be busy, or engaged, or unable from some cause to see him, and the Provost ship was no longer one of his expectancies. Perhaps these alterations affected the merchant's health, but at any rate it was weakened, and be at last became seriously ill, and died suddenly. The adjustment of a business under these circumstances is always attended with considerable loss; and when matters were closed in this case, they presented no surplus. The debts were collected, the goods were sold, the houses and the ships went next. Other men were busied in the counting-house, and their goods occupied the warehouses. The family were numerous, and their poverty was now understood; but when all the other property belonging to them was sold, a cottage residence was purchased for them. The indefatigable Mr. Cairns was the apparent purchaser, but the money in payment came from Blink bonnie, and was repaid, ultimately, from Australia. The members of the family were still young, but they set stout hearts to the stiff brae, and when their first sorrow passed over, they determined to work their way through the world. Miss Jeannie declined to return to Blinkbonnie, and, as in all such cases, it was compelled to come to her; but she had to work; and although she could have escaped that, yet she refused to accept money that resembled charity, although called a loan. Nearly twelvemonths had passed during which the Wemyss family had settled down, as it were, into their new place. Parties occurred as usual, but they were not often invited to meet a few friends at their former haunts. Tea drinkings went on in the good old town, as they have done from time immemorial; but the Wemyss's were allowed to take theirs at home. Mankind are frequently censoriO us upon themselves in these matters, although the 525 omissions are often judicious. After time becomes very valuable—is in reality daily bread-and an hour stands for a quartern loaf, many pleasant parties are a considerable tax, which the poor cannot pay. It was different when these young ladies ventured forth with all the work that they had completed, or on some errand that others were wont to do, at their request, to find prudent mammas of their own class shunning them as if they had carried the seven plagues in their shawls, and not for any personal dread that they experi enced, but entirely on account of their sons, who might, of course, have been entrapped by these foolish and very giddy girls. They were not very giddy, then, whatever they might have been before, and no little strength is needed to be giddy, when a young person works sixteen hours daily, merely to live. And as for the mothers' sons of that manufacturing and mercantile town, they generally acquire prudence instinctively, and at a very early age. The twelvemonths were nearly over when a report was circulated that Miss Jeannie was to leave Scotland in a Clyde vessel, for Australia, to be married. The arrangements had all been made very quietly, through Mr. Robinson, of the Netherstanes, who was well to do in the world by a suc cession of heavy crops in dear times, and who had been very attentive to his proposed daughter-inlaw, as was his use and wont to everybody. Many of Mr. Wemyss's old lady friends were doubtful of the perfect propriety of this voyage, seeing Austra lia was then an unsettled country, and David Robinson was a young man, who might in twelve months change his mind, and Miss Jeannie might arrive in time to act as a bridesmaid at his marriage if she felt so inclined. Some hearers improved the narrative, and had seen persons, just off the long voyage, who were acquainted with my southern friend, and knew that he was engaged to a native Australian, black as a blaeberrie, which is not black but blue, sky-blue, when it is eatable, or some housemaid, imported a week before they left from a poorhouse at Cork, for there were no union workhouses in those days. Altogether the young lady was supposed by her gossiping friends-who had recently exhibited as much interest in her fate as to forget her existence to be the victim of despair and folly, in the act of casting herself over a precipice, whereas she was, in the most sensible manner possible, taking a cabin passage in "The Corsair's Bride"the name of the vessel was a blemish—why should she have done anything so indelicate as take a passage by anybody's bride-no far-seeing prudent young woman ever would have done that; but the Wemysses were never prudent-the old gentleman was imprudent, and the elderly lady was upsetting, and poor Miss Jeannie was a pert minx-and so she went her way with these blessings whispered of her by very old friends-as old as she could well have, who was still but very young. Mrs. Cairns, in consequence of some papers 526 AUSTRALIA'S METROPOLIS AND ITS ENVIRONS. which she had found on Mr. Cairns's table, in the inner office, when she called for him to come home with her to dinner one day, and read in his absence, acting, of course, upon the characteristic of her first ancestress, whose curiosity brought so much woe upon herself, her husband, and their descendants, was able to give a different version of Miss Jeannie's prospects, and Mr. Robinson Junior's purposes and realities in Australia, for she found a remittance of £250 to pay the Blinkbonnie family, for the little cottage in which the Wemysses lived, and she spread the story, until another set of gossips took up the tale and adorned it with certain memoranda of the terms upon which Mrs. Wemyss disposed of her daughter. Mr. Rose accepted the money, along with the interest which Mr. Robinson of the Netherstanes was commissioned to pay. However, the young ladies of Blinkbonnie knew the entire outfit of their friend; and when they left her on the quay at Greenock, with hearts half sorrowful and half not, and the ship was running out between the Ayrshire land and the Argyleshire mountains, nearing the Cumbraes, the captain gave one of his pas sengers a packet containing a duplicate bill of lading of articles carefully shipped in her name as her property, on which Mr. Cairns' agent had effected insurance against sea risk to the value of £323 16s., for Mr. Cairns was a methodical man, yet he never supposed that if Mr. Robinson did not get safe to hand the lady whom he did expect, it would be any consolation for him to know that certain old gentlemen on the Glasgow Exchange were losers of £323 16s. for goods he did not expect. AUSTRALIA'S METROPOLIS AND ITS ENVIRONS. There, a soft clime and a soil ever teeming, The bright southern cross, in the firmament gleaming, "FROM Sydney to Liverpool by rail." I don't mean Liverpool in dear old England, gentle reader, for New South Wales, as well as England, has its Liverpool; such, however, was the announcement which some months ago told of the completion of another step towards uniting the metropolis of Victoria and the above colony; it is, however, but a small step-twenty-two miles-and still requires nearly four hundred more to be added to complete the design. A long absence from "Home, sweet home," gives anyone a relish for many things that bear association with others formerly known there; at least, so I ventured to think, and decided that some day I would, memorandum-book in hand, go by rail, see Liverpool, and as much more as possible, and be looked upon as a "chiel taking notes," not forgetting that the readers of "Tait" were to have the reversionary interest in them. Proceeding one day to the Sydney railway station, I found it to be somewhat similar to a second-rate one in England; there were two or three long roofs, from under one of which the trains started; on one side of the latter was a broad platform, and doors opening into a refreshment room, waiting rooms, and ticket offices. Now an official, in workman's costume advances, after he sees that you have procured a ticket "First class, sir; get in, sir;" another minute, and the train, consisting of about five carriages, is off. You are lucky if two or three very scrubby people don't get in, and assure you that they "never travelled in a first class before." They may think it pleasant, but you don't. We presently -plunge into a tunnel, and are as soon out of it again; the railway, for about the first mile, passes by little villas, with here and there pretty gardens attached, in which, among other decorations, may be seen the rose, the honeysuckle, and heliotrope; another mile, and the Newtown station is reached. Newtown is a large village, with its church, a few gentlemen's houses, and it boasts some moderate shops. Near it, the New Sydney University, rapidly raises its head. It is built in the Elizabethan style, in a large green space of some acres in extent, and bids fair to become a worthy addition to the numerous fine buildings about Sydney. Further on is the Protestant burial-ground, many acres in extent, with its young trees and shrubs, reminding one of the old Saxon nameGod's acre-and Longfellow's works Into its furrows shall we all be cast, In the sure faith that we shall rise again. Continuing on, the railway passes by various fields, some partly under cultivation, one with its white posts, is evidently devoted to the Homebush Races which take place annually here, the grand stand is scarce equal to that at "Goodwood," being but a wooden construction accommodating scarce a hundred persons; after passing this, the scenery is by no means inviting, as the way leads through the bush consisting of young gum trees with long straight stems, some white, others brown, and a few black. The leaves seem to confine themselves to the top of these, to huddle together in a bunch, and they remind one of juvenile attempts at tree drawing; the underwood is about three feet high and not very thick, here and there the almost snow white trunk of an old tenant of the forest, lies on the ground branchless and dead; some of these measure ten or twelve feet in LIVERPOOL, PARRAMATTA, SYDNEY. circumference. Before arriving at the Paramatta | The rest of the way to Liverpool is through the bush, and it is only just before arriving there that the latter ceases. Liverpool is built close to a small stream called George's River, which runs into Botany Bay, it was thought in former days that this river would be the Thames of New South Wales, but time has proved the contrary; indeed, it is far too small to be navigable by ships. The town, as it is called, consists of a church, sufficiently large to accommodate about three hundred and fifty people, some fifteen houses of two flats, and three or four dozen small cottages, many of them singled roomed; one large house, with the word "hotel" on it, is tenantless and "to let," so that the traveller has to put up at one of four or five public houses. The shops do not seem to flourish much; one boasts the title of "confectioner's," but the window contains tobacco and clay pipes, soap, blacking, needles and thread, with four glasses of biscuits and ginger nuts. About half a mile off is a large infirmary, formerly used as a convict prison, with some halfdozen houses of a moderate description. These constitute the "town," which has no importance other than that derived from the fact of its being on the high road to the interior, and consequently a great halting place for the wool waggoners. It cannot be said that there is much of that which Dr. Syntax travelled in search of-the picturesque-at Liverpool, and the sameness of the country through which the railway passes, tempts one to return to Sydney via Parramatta. From its station to the town is a distance of about one mile, and a good road soon brings one within sight of it. The principal street boasts of many good houses, and shop succeeds shop for about half a mile, when a bridge over the river seems to mark the termination of Parramatta in a northerly direc tion. Bisecting this street is another which runs parallel to the river, about a quarter of a mile in a westerly direction, where it terminates at the Government Domain-gate. It was at this gate that Lady Mary FitzRoy, the wife of the late Governor-General, was thrown from her carriage and killed. Nearly a similar accident, with, unhappily, the same result, has recently occurred to Lady Barkley, at Melbourne. Until lately the Government-house, with its domain, has been used as a country residence by the Viceroy. That portion of the road running easterly is about a mile in length, and the various villas on each side of it, surrounded by their gardens, gives it a very pretty appearance. The Parramatta river is shallow. Its distance from the sea prevents the tides having their full influence at the town, and the contribution of fresh water being small, it is not navigable even by the 527 small river steamers, except at a distance of nearly two miles from the town itself. The steamers that ply between Parramatta and Sydney are, for the most part fast, but, to a nervous individual, the few moments that precede the start by no means tend to create a feeling of security on board, for a trembling motion goes on constantly, and this increases rapidly; first the benches, then the stanchions and gratings, and, lastly, the wheel itself and the boat at the stern take it up, and one looks round involuntarily-being fully persuaded that there will be a terrible explosion-to see if the people on board are not going to make a rush for the shore; the wheels, however, beginning to revolve, the trembling suddenly almost ceases. The river is a continuation of the harbour of Port Jackson. On account of its numerous turnings the town is placed some twenty-five miles from the sea, though it is not nearly that in a direct line. The scenery on its banks is not totally uninteresting, there being some few picturesque spots on them. A About four fifths of the way to Sydney are several little islands; and one, about three quarters of a mile in circumference, is used as a convict depot. The dry dock is being constructed here, and has been so for many years, although its completion is expected nearly a year hence. private dry dock is already built by an enterprising settler, and outside of it is a splendid wharf, built for the accommodation of the mail steamers, which now gladden the hearts of the inhabitants of these colonies by their monthly call, with news from those homes to which so many have bid a long adieu. Further on is Goat Island, used as a gunpowder depot; it swarms with rabbits, whose great safety lies in being so near to that which is generally used for their destruction. On arriving near Sydney one is struck by the numberless little steamers, of five tons burthen and upwards, which seem to run from wharf to wharf, and shore to shore, like so many ants in a garden walk; these little steamers have engines of such small power, that, though they may start at a a fair speed, they come up to their destination, even though it may not be a mile off, literally panting, and at quite a reduced speed, but ready in five minutas to run off again as smart as ever. The harbour boasts of many little islands nearer its mouth; among them is Denison Island, rather a more pleasing name than that given to it by a person who was once half starved on it, and which it retained for years; this island is now the site of a Martello tower. Garden Island follows certainly the prettiest of all, and a favourite resort for picnic parties;-glass bottles are great tell tales, and in no place more than in Sydney harbour, for every favourite picnic spot may be known by its little "memorial" heap. Besides the above, there are some three or four islands, but of no interest; near the heads are two sets of rocks-one near the shore called the Bottle, and Glass, from their fancied resemblance; the other in mid-channel, called the "Sow and Pigs." Each vessel has to steer round the latter, before it can take a fair run up the harbour to the quays. The most picturesque part of the harbour is that lying between its mouth and the metropolis. A steamer from the latter affords the best opportunity of seeing what there is to be seen to advantage. Starting from the Phoenix wharf, it passes by the various more important wharves, and runs close to Davis Battery, and is situated at the end of the western shore of Sydney Cove. New Royal Artillery barracks are building; near it and from the battery an uninterrupted view of the harbour, to within two miles of the heads, is obtained. Sydney Cove is next passed. It is in the shape of a horse-shoe, and has numerous large stores and the Custom House, ranged round it. Nearly every ship that arrives from England discharges here, and takes in cargo. Fort Macquarie stands at the end of the eastern shore of the cove, more useful as a temporary store for the men of war, when refitting, than anything else; the anchoring ground for the latter is close to it. Opposite is Kirribili Battery, and on the right Denison Island, from the fort, a beautiful view of Government House, with its grounds, is obtained; and stretching out to the left of the latter are seen the Botanical gardens, terminating at Lady Macquarie's Chair, a promontory on which a masked battery has lately been built. The next promontory is called Pott's Point; it has numerous pretty houses and gardens, some of which reach almost to the water's edge-just off it is Garden Island. The steamer, passing by all these, rounds Bradley's head, and then many pretty milk-white beaches, with backgrounds of trees and houses, are disclosed to view; a few minutes, and Watson's bay, one of the last on the southern shore, before arriving at the heads, is reached. A little village is springing up here, and it bids fair to become one of the prettiest in the harbour. A person desirous of obtaining a good view of the entrance of the port, can, leaving the steamer, pursue his way on foot by a path leading up the greater part of the hill to the end of the cliff. A short scramble through the bushes brings one to the edge of the South Head, where are the left-off beginnings of a half-moon battery, which, it was intended, should command about four miles of a ship's course, coming into the harbour. The view from this spot is very grand; to the right, the vast Pacific, stretch ing far as the eye can see; in front, a neck of water; the entrance, beyond it the bold cliffs of the North Head, two hundred feet in height; a little to the left, the North harbour, running up some miles, with here and there a projecting point of land. Further on to the left is the Middle Head, and its two half finished and abandoned batteries; at one's feet, far below, the waves are rolling over, and among the immense rocks that lie detached from the main mass. There is a way of getting down to these rocks, and when once there, it is comparatively easy, by jumping from rock to rock, to get round the head, and some little way along the ocean shore, at last, however, one is obliged to arrest one's steps, for the sea lashes the side of the cliff itself; but glance at the stupendous rock, which seems to rush upwards from the water, is quite enough to put to flight any intentions as to further progression. It assumes in this part the shape of a horseshoe, and the sides, after appearing to tower up to the blue sky above, hang over at the top some twenty feet or more in some places, threatening to crush the wanderer below. The North Head, high and bold as it is, is joined to the main land by a low narrow neck of sand, which has the gentle ripples of the North Harbour laving it on the one side, and the giant waves of the ocean rolling themselves along it on the other; the South Head is not altogether unlike its companion in this respect, for the land in one part takes a sudden dip to about half its general height, and then gradually rises again. The best way to return to Sydney- for a good walker-is by the South Head road, commencing about two miles from the extremity of the head, and then branching off into two, called the upper and lower, roads; the upper affords many views of the sea, but not much else, the lower passes by numerous houses, the country residences of the Sydney merchants &c., and the various views are in many places more picturesque than those from the upper road. Houses rise rapidly on either side of these roads, and the land about bids fair very soon to be crowded with houses and gardens, for three or four miles from Sydney. The inhabitants seem to be sadly deficient in the art of roadmaking, or the will to make them well. The consequence is that, when a few weeks' rain takes place, the best roads become in many places one sea of mud, with ruts here and there, varying from one to sixteen or eighteen inches in depth. This is easily accounted for, from the description of stones used for repairing the public highways, a common loose sandstone, which crumbles without much pressure; a stone not unlike granite, called "blue metal," is used for the more important streets, but its comparative scarcity, and the high price of labour bring its use to a cost of thousands of ponuds per mile-it is, however, very durable. There is also a stone used for building purposes, which may be said to rank next to the harder stone, it can be carved with moderate ease, and the Sydney University boasts of many specimens of carving in this stone; the most beautiful, in spite of the number of stonecutters arrived from England who are employed, being executed by a native Australian. |