After twelve months’ residence in Morpeth I left for another visit to
Penrith, by this time a much busier place, as the then railway terminus
for the Western district. The bridge over the Nepean River was finished,
so we could cross without that extremely disagreeable ferry. We spent a
few weeks in the mountains, visiting Govett’s Leap, the waterfalls, and
other well-known spots, while others we explored on our own account. How
lovely it all was! What complete solitude in the gullies and mountain
paths! The mountains might well be named “Blue,” for at times they were
intensely so. One sunset there was most beautiful. We had spent the
afternoon collecting ferns, waratahs, and mountain moss, heedless of
time, when a heavy storm came on. Taking shelter under some rocks, we
watched the sun emerging from the rain-clouds; in an instant every peak
was touched with golden tints, and every valley filled by innumerable
rainbows; gradually golden tints faded into purple, clouds broke into
silver turrets, and along the horizon was a sea of palest green. My
companion whispered, “Can heaven be more beautiful?” We could not so
conceive it. The beauty of the scene seemed to make the question “Is
there a God?” impossible. If this cannot reach the poorest soul, what
can? We often took a drive to “St. Mary’s,” quite an English village in
appearance then, with its pretty church and “silent dead” around it. Not
silent, for the inscriptions over these last homes are often “sermons in
stones.” One always attracted me. It was to the memory of the son of a
well-known English house, who, travelling in search of health, gave up
the quest here, and died suddenly at the little village inn unknown, in
this lonely far-away land. Nurtured in luxury, and favoured with
exceptional advantages, he would seem to some safe from common dangers.
“The Universal Reaper” says no. This record proves in few words how vain
are man’s efforts. But his mother could not have desired a fairer
resting-place for her child than here, amidst the humbler graves covered
with green turf and shaded by many trees, and under, at night, the
emblem of that son’s salvation, “The Southern Cross.”
Now we had a bridge over the Nepean, Mrs. Richard would often suggest
drives to various farms on or near Emu Plains. She delighted in paying
visits to the farmers’ wives, some of whom had known her in childhood,
and would sit and listen with interest to the various details of “how
the brindle cow had another calf,” or “when another pig would be
killed,” or “the trouble these new-fangled fowls were, not being good
mothers, you know,” until we, who were sitting in the waggonette, felt
very tired and hot, wishing the good woman to stop this no doubt
all-important subject to her. Sometimes our selfish impatience was
punished by the kindly offer of “milk and seedcake,” or “any flowers and
fruit we could gather.”
The main street of Penrith was not much altered; the railway station not
being in it, the post-office was still at a general shop, but the
letters were delivered through a window at the end of the verandah,
which was used only for that purpose,--a much better plan than that
adopted in this English village where I am now staying, twenty-seven
years later, where they are delivered at a counter covered with the
usual goods of a country store, whence also telegrams are sent, letters
registered, and money orders issued, so that inquisitive persons
standing near can study their neighbours’ business.
The volunteer movement had fired the ambition of the young men of this
district to become soldiers. The son of a captain in the army was the
head of “our regiment,” Mr. Richard the lieutenant. A grand volunteer
ball was to be held in the hall, and several visitors from Sydney were
expected. The stores were very busy, and nothing but the army ball was
talked of. It was a most successful affair; not over select certainly,
the captain’s wife dancing with one of his men, their butcher’s son,
much to her husband’s amusement, who whispered, “Look at my wife; she
has not the vaguest idea who her partner is; the uniform does it, you
know.” I discovered this later in the evening, when Captain James
introduced a partner to me; the face was familiar, and during the first
figure of the quadrille I wondered where I had seen it. He did not
speak, but danced solemnly; but while waiting for the next figure, he
called me “Miss,” and appeared to know me, yet his style of dancing
proved he was not accustomed to ladies as partners, for he would put his
arm round my waist instead of taking hands. At last I discovered who he
was, when, thinking to pay me a compliment, he alluded to my feet. Yes,
he had served me with a pair of shoes a few days before. Captain James
declared he and Mrs. Richard’s brother knew the instant I found this out
by my manner to the poor young man. They were wrong, for I did my best
to place him at his ease by talking about the district. It was a very
pretty scene; nearly all the men in uniform, and several very pretty
girls. The room was gaily decorated with flags. An excellent supper was
provided by the ladies of the district, and we left about two o’clock;
but the dancing continued till daylight. Being the first affair of the
kind, it served as a topic of conversation for months, and the local
belles voted picnics and tea-meetings slow by comparison.
Again I wended my way to Sydney, to live with a friend who was a great
invalid, and undertake the management of the house and education of her
two children. We lived at Surrey Hills, close to the principal nursery
garden in Sydney, which was a very extensive property owned by a man
who came to the colony with Captain Wilson, R.A., grandfather of my
brother’s wife. The land, I think, was a grant from Government; it was a
sandy swamp, but eminently fitted for the use it was put to; beautiful
flowers and fine vegetables were grown at little outlay. At the time of
my brother’s marriage the owner of this extensive property was becoming
wealthy, and now it is worth many thousands. Much of it has been built
upon. Another very wealthy family in Sydney owe their first step to
riches to a similar source, their father having gone to the colony as
secretary to my sister-in-law’s grandfather, and acquired land. Captain
Wilson only left his children an honourable name; but as I have
previously remarked as a curious fact, the large grants of land made to,
or large areas purchased for a trifle by the early colonists, especially
military or naval men, are not owned by their descendants. The land,
apparently of little value, was sold by them to more business-like and
far-seeing men; sometimes almost given away.
Afterwards we left Surrey Hills for a house in town near to my first
home in the colony, and by doing so formed a close friendship with a
family in the neighbourhood; the head of that family was a clever
professional man, educated in England, who arrived in the colony when
such were few, and by ability and perseverance attained the position he
still so ably and honourably fills. A true Englishman of the old school,
straight in word and deed, kind and generous--in fact, an example in
every relation of life. If we had such men in our colonial parliaments,
how very differently they would be conducted, and the country governed;
but his professional and home duties during his early career occupied
the whole of his time, and now the state of political life is such that
good and honourable men often decline to enter the arena; however, he
uses his influence and talent in other channels for the benefit of his
adopted country.
When the volunteer movement commenced, he became captain of one of the
Sydney corps, entering into the various duties of the position with his
usual energy. To advance this patriotic movement he sacrificed many
precious evenings that otherwise would have been spent with his family
or in his well-stocked library. Of his wife it is impossible to speak
too highly; the best of mothers, sisters, and friends, she and her
sister are now the only two left near my own age of the intimate friends
of the “days that are no more.” Through these friends my life in
Elizabeth Street was passed in much happiness; their home was a
delightful one, well arranged, and as free from care as is possible;
their children were good and beautiful. In their carriage I had many
drives round Botany and Long Bays, Randwick, Waverley, Five Dock,
Burwood, and Homebush, thus gaining knowledge of the environs of Sydney.
Mrs. Dawson was one who really deserved a carriage; no one ever saw her
out driving alone. It was one of her greatest pleasures to take those
with her who were without such a luxury, just as it was a pleasure to
her husband to lend books from his library, or to welcome to his home
those who were not so well provided with this world’s goods. When I hear
people complain, “The world is very selfish,” I think of such as these
and others I have known in the limited sphere of colonial life, and
believe Charles Mackay is right in saying, “The world is what we make
it.”
We went for a change to Manly Beach this summer staying at the Lagoon, a
pretty little place on the ocean side. Thallie and I did not find fault
with the rooms being small, nor did we feel the want of piano, or books,
as we lived as much as we could out of doors, exploring rocks, beach,
and bush. Here were fairy nooks, silent beaches, all unknown to the
public, for Manly was not, as at present, a fashionable watering-place,
or inhabited by wealthy citizens. Two steamers were quite sufficient for
passenger traffic except on holidays. Lodging-houses, two or three
hotels, and small shops constituted “our village.” The view of the ocean
outside of the North Head is very fine. I used to sit on the beach,
watching the white-winged ships “come and go,” earnestly wishing I could
sail away to my “ain countrie,” that was hallowed by youthful
recollections into sacred ground, where the great and noble lived and
died. I am in that land now, learning over again that anticipation is
often illusive. Unfortunately we have had an unusually rainy season;
this, with fog, snow, and dull skies, by comparison with our sunny,
clear Australian weather, has considerably damped my patriotic ardour,
and has made me feel sometimes that before another winter I will go,
like the swallows, to a more genial clime. To compare England with the
Golden South would be folly; the two countries are so utterly unlike. In
the cities of one age has darkened, and progress improved and added to
the massive constructions of a wealthy nation’s palaces, churches, and
homes. The country too in summer is like a well-kept farm or garden,
rather too well kept, as where we live nearly every acre is private
property, nothing but the roads that you may walk on. Only the other day
a friend went (into what we call a paddock) to gather some wildflowers,
when she was ordered off by a man, and the flowers she had picked by the
public roadside taken from her. Thousands of acres covered with fern,
heath, and firs are kept to give pleasure only to the few. I cannot
understand this, as in Australia, except in grounds immediately
surrounding the houses or in a state of cultivation, few persons object
to sharing the beauties of nature with their kind. This closing up of
all the best features of English country spoils its charm, beautiful as
it is, when one can only view it by peeping through hedges or barred
gates. Who will wonder if I prefer the country where all who possess
land are willing to share the pleasures of it with others? How often
have we walked through pleasant grassy slopes instead of keeping the
dusty highway, resting when tired under the trees’ shade; if riding or
driving, taking down the slip-rails to avail ourselves of shady spots,
and this through the property of people we did not even know. One old
friend of ours at Burwood allows football and cricket-matches to be
played on his grounds without a murmur of disapproval. This is another
digression for which I must beg my readers’ pardon--another wandering
from the subject to many years later. Let me see what event happened at
this period. A new cricket ground was opened on what was only a few
years ago sandhill and swamp; the roads to it were, and are still,
through that terrible enemy of Sydney housekeepers, red dust and sand. A
visit to the ground (Albert) was a treat indeed, as the relatives and
friends of the knights of the “Willow” could also enjoy their Saturday
afternoons and holidays watching from the grand stand, or seated on the
grassy terraces, the prowess and skill of the players. Not being a judge
of the game, or specially interested in any of the players, one visit
was sufficient for me at that time. When I saw the place again, shrubs
and trees surrounded it. My English readers know how well our colonial
youths play their favourite game, having witnessed it on many a
well-fought field. In this as well as in all outdoor sports they are
proficient, and as time rolls on, year after year will bring them more
to the front intellectually. Steam now bridges the ocean. During the few
weeks spent on board our floating hotels on their way to the centre of
the empire and of intellectual culture they become more cosmopolitan in
their views every day. I know this to be the case, as last year we
experienced it on the P. and O. boat. We had Englishmen returning from a
tour in the colonies, Americans, a judge from India, a Chinese
lieutenant, two governors from English colonies, and some members of the
aristocracy, with a few colonials who had not been beyond their own
land. Before we left the steamer I could see what an impression had been
made upon our young people.
I will name a few Australians who in earlier days made their
mark with fewer advantages, compared with those of the present
generation--Wentworth, Dalley, Cowper, Windeyer, Stephen, Kendall,
Macarthur, Hamilton, Hume, and Kemmis; then Martin, Dowling, and others,
who, though not born in, were educated in the colonies, and this at a
time when it took months instead of weeks to learn what was going on
beyond the waves of the broad Pacific. Every young man who can afford it
would benefit by spending some time in the older parts of the world
before he settles down, that his views may be enlarged by learning what
class of men there are to compete with. It may be the want of such
extended competition that makes so many rest content in Australia, where
it is comparatively small. Much has been done during the last twenty
years to increase the number of our good men; and when some of our
present political charlatans, only greedy for place, patronage, and pay,
die out, I hope they will work with voice and pen for the real benefit
of the country. Our girls must not be forgotten; but so many have been
chosen by Englishmen, and transplanted into English homes, that their
qualities are better known. That they are equal in accomplishments,
love of literature, personal appearance, and all that makes woman the
light of home to their English sisters, I can truthfully state, having
seen three generations of them in their homes.