Though only away from Sydney three years, on my journey down I saw many
improvements, and in Sydney felt, like “Rip Van Winkle,” surely I had
been at least twenty years asleep. Such numbers of new buildings,
streets formed, the shores of the harbour cultivated, new wharves, and
numerous houses and stores in course of construction; the harbour alive
with steamers, and ships coming and going. Numbers of shops in the main
streets, where formerly there were only a few. Surrey Hills, where I
first stayed, had become an extensive suburb, and the South Head Road,
now Oxford Street, was full of shops. Service for that parish was held
in Darlinghurst court-house. The barracks at Paddington were finished,
and Wooloomooloo much altered. It was evident that Sydney was becoming
the most important city in the Southern hemisphere, though now she must
share the laurels with Melbourne, the latter being laid out with system,
and wide thoroughfares with a view to the future. When Sydney was laid
out no one could have anticipated her present position, and the
consequence was a total disregard of anything like good main
thoroughfares or proper alignment of the buildings. A hundred years ago
such matters were not so much looked after as they are now. Nature,
however, has been lavish in her bounty, and the early colonists were
wise enough to make choice of the best site possible for the first
Australian city. One who has travelled much says, “It ought to be one of
the healthiest, cleanest, and best drained cities of the world, and the
harbour will always give it the pre-eminence and proud title of the
‘Queen City of the South.’”
Spending nearly four idle months in Sydney gave me many opportunities of
marking the great progress made in and around it. The Museum, Grammar
School, and St. Mary’s Cathedral were being enlarged or rebuilt;
churches and schools rising in the suburbs, Balmain and Pyrmont were
becoming populous places; the Botanic Gardens were enlarged.
I went to a garden party with my future sister at Graycliff, a pretty
place near Watson’s Bay, where there is a beautiful view of the harbour;
but it was very difficult to get at by land. It was a lovely day, and
the hostess being an intimate friend of Soph’s, I was able to ramble
about _con amore_, walking to Vaucluse and taking mental sketches of its
many beauties.
After my brother’s marriage I went to Penrith for a few weeks’ stay at
“Sara Cottage” situated in the one street of that very quiet town, like
an English village with its general store, an inn or two, a church, a
doctor’s house, and several cottages. No Bank or School of Arts then,
the bridge not finished, and very few well-to-do residents in the town,
Mr. Richard’s property being one of the best, and comparing favourably
in every respect with his wife’s first home at Montefiores. It gave me
great pleasure to share her delight in its beauty and comfort. While
there I had an invitation to spend a few days at Dunheved, a real
old-fashioned Australian cottage, with its verandahs kept from falling
by a wisteria with branches as thick as my arm. It was a mass of
blossoms in every shade of lavender, and the sweet perfume pervaded the
atmosphere. What a picture it all was, as we drove up, the mistress of
the house and her two fair daughters standing under the graceful canopy
to welcome me! She was an admiral’s daughter, and her husband, a naval
man, had settled some years before in this district; I think their
eldest son still owns the property. It was through his visiting
Montefiores just before I left that I had now the pleasure of meeting
his family. Afterwards his mother wrote to me occasionally, but
gradually the correspondence ceased, and place as well as people are now
only a memory.
I then went again to Sydney to stay with an old friend at Surrey Hills,
a native of the colony, well educated, refined and intellectual. Her
father was in the commissariat department, and during the Peninsular War
married a Spanish lady. Kate inherited some of her mother’s national
character, being proud and passionate; but she was a devoted daughter,
and sacrificed her prospects in life to her one brother. She was
another of the Rev. Horatio’s children who blessed his teaching, and
bore her cross willingly. At this time she had just lost her widowed
mother. I was glad to be free to visit her, and remained until Mr.
Horatio found another home for me at The Glebe, strange to say, only a
few minutes’ walk from my father’s old home. Hereford House was a very
different abode, being quite a mansion. The grounds surrounding it were
extensive, and kept in exquisite order by a scientific gardener and
assistants. The rosary was perfect, with walls and arches of climbers,
beds of standard roses of every hue, a shrubbery of camellias, datura,
durante, dentzia, stephanotis, gardenia, tecoma, more the size of trees
than shrubs; oleanders, pepper trees, and other tropical plants. Then
the conservatory, with tea, coffee, and spices in flower, as well as a
magnificent specimen of the pitcher plant. I had never seen such a
garden in Australia; thirty-two years ago there were few to equal it.
There was a fine garden at Toxteth Park full of flowers, but being
larger, was not so well kept or so varied. The Glebe was famous for its
floral treasures; being well sheltered from the sea air, they flourished
better than in many other situations near Sydney.
All the arrangements of Hereford House were in good taste; the owner, an
Englishman, and his pretty gentle wife, an Australian, treated their
children’s governess as a trusted friend. We had a pretty ante-room,
with French windows opening on to the garden, for study,--not with bare
walls and uncarpeted floor, too often considered good enough for a
schoolroom, but pictures, bookcase, and covered desks. As my eldest
pupil was nearly sixteen, teaching under such auspices was delightful
indeed. Amongst many visitors there, I met two young people with whom I
formed a friendship, to end only by the “Great Reaper’s scythe.” They
had been in the colony a year or two, when they met our mutual friends
travelling in the interior. James was an engineer of no mean ability,
having been appointed before he had reached his twenty-first birthday to
superintend some important engineering work in Spain. And at the time
the gold fever was at its height, he resigned an excellent appointment
in London to accompany a friend to Sydney in one of the large steamers
so frequently leaving for the New El Dorado, where he met a young Irish
lady travelling with some friends, hoping to meet a brother in
Melbourne, if not, to return to her family by the same steamer; but “Don
Cupid” stepped in, and there was no going back for Maria, as before they
arrived in Sydney she was James’s promised wife. Like two foolish young
people, they married at once, and might have realised the proverb “Marry
in haste” had not James’s very excellent testimonials and letters of
introduction soon procured him a Government appointment. His first work
was the superintendence of the construction of engineers’ workshops and
a dry dock at an island in Sydney Harbour, where they were residing in a
pretty cottage when I met them at Hereford House. When I used to
complain of the miserable accommodation of Bush inns, Maria would
remind me it was through that they met Mr. and Mrs. Woolley, who,
travelling with an invalid child, arrived at the best inn at Mittagong,
to find the only private sitting-room occupied by James and Maria, he
having been inspecting some iron-mines in the district. Of course they
offered the room, and from that time had become their intimate friends,
always welcome at Hereford House as long as his duties would permit them
to stay. They were an acquisition to our circle, he a fine handsome
fellow, who had seen a good deal of the world, and she as fascinating
and bright as young Irishwomen generally are.
How sorry we were when our friends left for a long sojourn in England,
the beautiful home broken up, the house and lovely garden left to
strangers! I felt more lonely than ever, after being nearly a year with
such a family, the mother like an elder sister, the children so
companionable. James and Maria made me pay them a visit at their island
home, which brightened me considerably. It was impossible to be
low-spirited there, for he was full of fun, and her housekeeping was a
constant source of amusement to us all. When anything was lost, she
would say, “Have you looked on the floor?” On one occasion, when some
friend sent them a basket of small aloes for the garden, she thought
they were Australian artichokes, and told their convict servant to
prepare them for dinner. She was a great favourite with every one,
kind-hearted and generous. James used to say “inconveniently generous
sometimes.” I remember an occasion when this was the case. A lady she
knew, who had seen better days, called on her in great distress; she had
been promised an appointment, and had been given several articles of
clothing, requisite to make her presentable to her employer in a
respectable manner, but, sad to say, her boots were terribly worn. “Why,
Mrs. ----, mine will fit you, so you need not cry about that.” At once a
pair was sent for, and that little difficulty arranged, forgetting she
was going out that afternoon with James and me. What a walk we had! He
kept asking, “Why she allowed her dress to sweep the roads? Look at Miss
L----, she holds hers up, why don’t you?” “You know, James, it tires
me.” “Well, I will hold it up for you.” “How absurd that will look!”
“Well, I shall go on first, for the dust is covering all of us.” I
whispered, “Tell him.” “I dare not; he will be so vexed; he has not
forgotten about the coat.” The coat meant that he had, at her urgent
request, consented to his wife’s giving away some worn clothes of his to
one of her numerous pensioners, and she in her impulsive way had given
away a nearly new coat. We arrived at our destination without discovery,
but unfortunately when leaving, one of our friend’s daughters remarked,
“You have forgotten to change your shoes, Mrs. ----” He looked, and we
were no sooner outside the house than I told him. He was such a
kind-hearted man, so did not say much, but suggested that “she should
always keep a pair in reserve,” and telling me “he would never be
surprised to find his wardrobe consisted only of the clothes he had on.”
One evening James and I were sitting in the verandah enjoying the cool
sea breeze after a fearful hot wind all day. Maria was playing and
singing in the drawing-room, when between one of her songs we heard the
sound of screaming from the opposite shore; we listened, but it ceased,
so Maria continued her music. As it was growing late and the moon
setting, we thought of retiring, when the sound of a boat approaching
the island--a very unusual and dangerous proceeding at that hour--roused
James, and seeing only a woman in the boat, he left us and went down to
the wharf near his cottage. The constable had seen the boat, and was
speaking to the occupant, warning her not to come nearer. “What do you
want at this hour of the night?” asked my friend. “Oh, sir,” answered a
girlish voice, “do, for God’s sake, come with me to the other side, or
murder will be done.” Here sobs stopped her utterance. Addressing the
girl, my friend asked, “Was it you I heard screaming some time ago?”
“Yes.” Turning to the constable, “Blake, it’s all right; I will go.”
“Thank you, sir,” said the girl. He ran back and told us he would not be
back for an hour or two, that Maria and I need not be uneasy. The girl
was evidently well accustomed to the use of the sculls, and made rapid
way to the opposite shore. By the time they landed the moon had set, and
heavy clouds rising from the south rendered the night dark and gloomy.
He followed the girl through the scrub, her light frock being the only
guide. At last they came to a small slab building, and a young man met
the girl. “Where have you been, Sarah?” “To Cockatoo Island for
assistance.” “No need for that; what a fool!” “But you told me to go.”
“Did I?” James here advanced, asking, “What does all this mean? what
dark work has been going on here?” “No dark work, sir, only a man in a
fit.” “That’s all nonsense; girls don’t risk a shot for that. Well, I am
here, and intend going into the house and seeing for myself, so lead the
way at once.” After a few whispered words with the girl, the young
fellow said, “Go in, Sarah, and see how he is now.” In a few minutes she
returned, saying, “I think he is asleep.” James followed his young guide
into a room, where, lying on a rough bush bedstead, was a man half
dressed. He stood looking down on the recumbent figure, and heard some
whispering in another room. Touching the man, he inquired, “Are you
awake?” “Who are you? You have come too late,” and a pair of keen gray
eyes were raised to his face. “Oh! I am a doctor.” “Are you? what do you
want here?” “I heard that some one was ill.” “Did you?” with a frown,
and looking towards the girl. “That’s what you say, is it? then I am
well now and out of danger.” The girl and young man stood like
sentinels, watching. “Can I help you in any way?” asked my friend
abruptly. “I suppose I have been brought out at this hour for a
purpose.” “Yes, we three agreed it would be better to have a witness,
but it is all settled without. They have got all they wanted, so will
let me rest in peace,” with a heavy sigh, turning round, as if to
intimate all was over. As the man evidently did not wish him to remain,
James followed the girl and young man out of the room, and when outside
said, “I am not at all satisfied with your conduct; who are the others
in the hut?” “There is no one.” “That is false; I heard voices. Have you
been bought since your sister left? Is that man your father?” “No,
brother.” “Why, he is years older than either of you.” Here the girl,
who James saw was much cowed and frightened, said, “He is our
stepbrother.” James stood considering for a minute, then said, “Well,
take me back to the island.” He was about to utter a warning as to the
steps he intended to take, but decided it would be imprudent and put
them on their guard. The young man said, “I will row you over, sir;
Sarah is too done up.” “I am quite agreeable, as long as I get back to
Cockatoo Island quickly.” He tried in vain to get the young man into
conversation on the way, but a laconic “Yes” or “No” was the extent of
his answers. The mystery of that night was never cleared up. My friend
tried to find the slab building, but it seemed to have disappeared. The
night had been so dark, and the bush so dense, as to preclude any
certainty as to the direction taken after leaving the boat. Even if he
had succeeded in finding the place, an investigation thirty years ago,
with such evidence, would have been difficult to carry through, when the
principal in the affair had evidently given in.
Sir William Denison was Governor of New South Wales at this time, and
taking great interest in my friend’s work at the island, often visited
it. The officers of Her Majesty’s ships found the cottage very pleasant
to spend the evenings at, for Maria, like many of her countrywomen, was
fascinating, full of life, and fond of society. She could sing and play
with expression, and was never put out if half a dozen came in when
three were only prepared for; she somehow so managed that you would
suppose her resources were inexhaustible. I really think this is a
peculiarity of the Irish, as I have known many with the same gift of
making the best of everything. It was a strange life for Maria on this
island, as there was only one other family to visit there.