SIGHTS OF SYDNEY----BOTANY BAY AND PARAMATTA.
After leaving the Blue Mountains behind them, our friends were whirled
onward through a more fertile country than the one they had traversed on
the western slope. As they approached Sydney, they found the country
dotted with pleasant residences and diversified with fields and forest
in a very picturesque way. At the appointed hour the train rolled into
the station at Sydney, and landed the strangers in that ancient city;
ancient from an Australian point of view, as it is the oldest settlement
on the island continent, but exceedingly modern when compared with
London, Paris, and other European capitals.
As our friends drove in the direction of the hotel where they intended
to stay, they were struck by the narrowness of the streets, which seemed
to them very narrow indeed, after the wide streets of Melbourne.
Harry wondered how the difference of the streets of the two cities could
be accounted for.
"Oh, I understand," said Ned. "Sydney was laid out by an English
surveyor, and Melbourne by an American. Being a native of the little
island called England, the Britisher felt that he must make the most of
the land he had, while the American, coming from his own wide-spreading
country, took all the room that he wanted. That's the way of it, I'm
sure."
"Well, that will do for an explanation," said Harry, "until we get at
the real facts in the case."
"The probabilities are," the doctor remarked, "that as Sydney was
originally a convict settlement, the officers that came out in charge of
the expedition felt that it should be made as compact as possible for
the greater facility of guarding the convicts. In this way the
narrowness of the streets may be accounted for."
"They didn't foresee the tramways in the streets, and the steam cars
running upon them," said Harry, as a noisy little steam engine drawing
two passenger cars passed close to their carriage.
"No, indeed," responded Ned. "Street cars had not been invented at the
time Sydney was founded, and the locomotive was unknown. One would think
that steam cars, running through crowded streets like this, would cost a
considerable loss of life every year."
"I have heard that they do so," said Dr. Whitney. "You observe that they
have flagmen at some of the crossings, and that the trains do not stop
wherever passengers want to get on, but only at certain designated
points. There must be great danger to pedestrians, many of whom, in all
cities, are careless, and I wonder the authorities do not abolish this
steam traffic in the streets, and adopt the cable or the trolly."
"We'll take good care that they don't run over us while we are in
Sydney," remarked Harry, and there the tramway subject was dropped.
Our friends followed the same plan here as in the other cities they had
visited, of going out for a drive or stroll immediately after arranging
for their accommodations at the hotel, and removing the dust of travel
from their clothing. They thought there was less bustle and activity in
the streets of Sydney than in those of Melbourne, and accounted for the
difference that Sydney was the older and more dignified place of the
two, had a smaller population, and was not so much given over to
speculations in gold mines and other matters. They found it well
equipped with public buildings, most of them fully equal to the
corresponding edifices in the rival city. The city hall especially
roused their admiration, and they passed several churches which would do
honor to any city of Europe. The doctor remarked that the people of
Sydney had constructed their public buildings with a liberal hand, and
Harry answered that the liberal hand had been directed by excellent
taste.
"I am impatient to see the famous harbor of Sydney," Ned remarked soon
after they started on their drive. "You know it is the one thing we have
heard about more than any other."
"We will have an opportunity of seeing it in two or three ways," the
doctor remarked. Then he called to the driver, and told him to stop in
front of the city hall.
After giving a hasty glance at the interior of the building, the party
climbed to the cupola, which is one hundred and fifty feet above the
level of the street below. From their point of observation they had a
fine view in every direction. The whole city was in sight, and also a
good deal of the surrounding country. The magnificent harbor, too, was
at their feet. Fifteen miles to the westward, they could see the pretty
town of Paramatta, which is a favorite resort for Sydney merry-makers;
while to the eastward, the broad line of the Pacific Ocean was spread
before their gaze. They remained there for half an hour or so in the
cupola, taking in the view in general, and also in many of its details.
As they were about to descend, Ned remarked that the harbor fully met
his expectations, and in some points exceeded them. Afterward he wrote
as follows in his notebook:--
"The harbor may be said to consist of a series of coves or bays, uniting
together in a single body of water, which opens to the sea between two
promontories, called The Heads. Whether viewed from an elevation like
that of the tower of the city hall, or from points along its shores, or
from the deck of a vessel passing over it, Sydney harbor presents a most
admirable view."
After leaving the city hall, our friends drove to Circular Quay, whose
character in one respect is described by its name, as it is of
semicircular shape, and encloses the most important of the divisions of
Sydney harbor. Harry and Ned were unable to say whether the amount of
shipping at Sydney was greater than that at Melbourne or not, but in one
thing they were agreed, that neither city had a right to be jealous of
the other on the score of marine business. There were ships of all
nations at Melbourne, and there were also ships of all nations at
Sydney. Sydney has the advantage of being the terminus of most of the
great steamship lines, and consequently their vessels are in port at
Sydney for a longer time than at Melbourne. There were great steamers
of the Orient line, of the Peninsular and Oriental (familiarly known as
the "P. & O."), the French line, or Messageries Maritimes, the North
German Lloyd, and other lines of lesser note. There was a steamer there,
from San Francisco, and there were several vessels belonging to the
Australian Steam Navigation Company.
As our friends were looking at the forest of masts and funnels, Harry
was the first to break the silence.
"You could start from here," he remarked, "for almost any other part of
the world. You could set out for Greenland's icy mountains or India's
coral strand with very little ease."
"I don't know about Greenland's icy mountains," said Ned, "as I don't
believe there is any line running to them from Sydney, but the P. & O.
boat and several other boats will take you to India's coral strand; of
that I am sure."
Circular Quay was formerly called Sydney Cove, and it was at the head of
this little cove that the first settlement was made. It is the principal
one of the coves or harbors where ships can lie, though Darling Cove is
nearly as important as the one just mentioned. The sheet of water into
which these coves open is called Port Jackson, and extends inland some
twenty miles from The Heads. Islands of various sizes are scattered
through Port Jackson, some of them occupied, and some remaining in a
state of nature. Our friends planned, while strolling about Circular
Quay, to make an excursion up the harbor as soon as they could do so
conveniently, and then, as it was getting pretty late in the afternoon,
they returned to their hotel.
On their arrival at the house they met a gentleman to whom they had a
letter of introduction. He had heard of their arrival, and came to hunt
them up without waiting for the delivery of their letter. This
circumstance led Harry to write as follows in his journal:--
"Wherever we go we are received with the most open-handed hospitality.
Persons who are entire strangers to us are always civil, ready to answer
any question we ask, and every one of them seems quite willing to go out
of his way to serve us. We have made the acquaintance of men in railway
trains and around the hotels, or elsewhere, who have ended up a brief
conversation by inviting us to visit their country places, their sheep
or cattle stations, if they have any, or their business establishments
in the city, and this, too, without knowing anything about us other than
that we are strangers in Australia. Those to whom we have letters throw
their houses open to us, and in every instance urge us to a longer stay
whenever we intimate that we must depart. Those to whom we are
introduced by these people are equally courteous and equally ready to
show us any hospitality. The whole country seems open to us, and if we
could and would accept half the invitations that have been given to us,
we should remain in Australia for years, perhaps for a decade or two.
"Many Australians, some of them born here of English parents, together
with natives of England who have lived here many years, complain that
when they go back to the old country they are received very coldly. It
is no wonder they feel that English customs are very frigid, when they
contrast them with the general kindness and liberal hospitality that
universally prevails throughout this island continent. Men who have
received strangers as freely as is the custom here, must have a
sensation of having ice water poured down their backs when they go to
London or New York, and are greeted with the formality customary to
those two cities.
"I have been told that it is not infrequently the case that an old
Australian who goes to England with the intention of spending not less
than a year there, is back in the antipodes in less than six months. The
cold formality is not at all to his liking, and, as one man expressed
it, he feels as though a southerly burster had dropped on him all at
once; and yet his English friends are no doubt glad to see him, and have
no thought whatever of giving the least offense.
"They are only adhering to the customs of centuries, and unless they
themselves have been in Australia, which is very rarely the case, they
cannot understand why the stranger should feel that he is being unkindly
treated. I am told that thirty years ago there was the same contrast
between the Atlantic and Pacific coasts of the United States, but since
railways have traversed the American continent, and communication is
made easier, the forms of hospitality of the peoples of the two sections
have become pretty much the same.
"Of one thing you may be sure: we shall never forget the courtesies that
we have received, and when we leave the shores of Australia we shall
treasure long in our memories the warm hospitality which we have
encountered since the day we first set foot upon Australian soil."
That evening the party visited one of the clubs where all three were
"put up" for the time of their stay in Sydney, their host intimating to
Dr. Whitney that, as his nephews were under age, they would not be
expected to visit the club, except in his company. Before they had been
in town twenty-four hours, our friends had received the offer of the
hospitality of no fewer than four clubs, together with several
invitations to dinner. The three agreed that Sydney was certainly a very
hospitable place, and that a stranger suffering from indigestion, or in
poor health, generally would find it too much for him.
The next day our friends were taken on a drive through some of the
parks, of which Sydney has a liberal supply. Most of the parks are of
considerable extent, one of them, called the Domain, occupying one
hundred acres of ground on the shore of one of the coves. Other parks
are projected, and it was evident to Harry and Ned that the authorities
of Sydney were thorough believers in having plenty of breathing space
for the people.
The drive included the Botanical Gardens, which proved to be full of
interest. Nearly every plant and tree of the whole of Australia is
represented in the Botanical Gardens, and there are many trees and
plants there from other parts of the world. Everything planted in these
gardens seems to thrive, the products of high latitudes growing side by
side to those of very low ones.
The Botanical Gardens are not of recent origin, some of the trees they
contain having been planted there seventy or eighty years ago. Among
these trees are Norfolk pines, which have attained a height of one
hundred feet, and a diameter of five feet at the base. Dr. Whitney had
visited the pine forests of California, and said that the specimens in
the Botanical Gardens at Sydney reminded him of the magnificent trees of
the Golden State.
At one place during their visit to the gardens Ned observed the smell of
musk, and looked around to ascertain whence it came. The gentleman who
accompanied him noted his curiosity and said:--
"I think you are looking for the musk tree. Here it is."
And there it was, sure enough. The tree is a product of Australia, and
has the peculiarity of constantly giving out the odor of musk, which is
perceptible at quite a distance. Ned asked if any perfume was
manufactured from the tree or its leaves, and was answered in the
negative.
All the parks of the city appeared to be tastefully laid out and well
kept. Ned recalled the numerous parks that they saw at Melbourne, and
remarked that neither city had occasion to be jealous of the other in
the matter of pleasant resorts for the people.
Our young friends asked if any of the prisons or other buildings that
were erected at the time of the settlement of Sydney were still in
existence.
"There is hardly a trace of any of them," was the reply. "As the city
has grown, the old buildings have been destroyed, to make place for new
ones of a more substantial character. One of the churches occupies the
site of the original cemetery which was established soon after the
foundation of the city, and a business house covers the ground where the
principal prison stood. There is no desire on the part of any of us to
preserve the buildings of the original settlement, as they recall
unpleasant memories.
"We want to forget as much as we can," he continued, "all that is
disagreeable in the history of Sydney, just as an individual usually
wants to forget anything unpleasant about his own origin or history. The
subject comes up occasionally, and we have no squeamishness about
discussing it, and the history of the colony is well known to every
intelligent inhabitant of the place. Transportation to this colony
ceased about fifty years ago, and consequently there are few men now
living in New South Wales who came here as involuntary emigrants. The
old disputes between Emancipists and Free Settlers were ended long ago,
and the questions that greatly agitated the population of the first half
of the century have now become matters of history."
As the gentleman paused, Harry thanked him for his information, and then
asked if Port Jackson and Botany Bay were the same thing.
"They are quite distinct from each other," was the reply. "Botany Bay is
situated a little to the south of Port Jackson and opens into the
Pacific Ocean. It is a singular circumstance that Captain Cook missed
the entrance of Port Jackson, which he does not seem to have discovered
at all. It is only five miles across the land from one body of water to
the other, and it is evident that he did not venture very far inland, or
he would have found Port Jackson an infinitely better harbor than Botany
Bay.
"It was in Botany Bay," continued the gentleman, "that the first
expedition to form a settlement in Australia cast anchor. Captain
Phillip, who commanded the expedition, and some of his officers examined
the land around Botany Bay, and found it quite unfit for a settlement.
While making their examinations they discovered Port Jackson, and
immediately perceived its superior advantages. The ships were at once
moved around to this harbor, and then the convicts and the soldiers who
guarded them were brought on land for the first time. But the name of
Botany Bay clung to the settlement for a long while, and became a name
of terror to the criminal classes of England."
"It is a very pretty name when divested of its association," remarked
Harry. "I wonder how Captain Cook happened to hit upon it."
"He gave it that name," was the reply, "on account of the great number
of flowers and flowering plants which he found all around the bay. Quite
likely he would have given the same name to Port Jackson if he had
discovered it, as there were just as many flowers here as at the other
place."
On another day our friends took a drive to Botany Bay, which is only
five miles from Sydney. They found quite a pretty place, and were not
surprised to learn that it is a favorite resort of the residents of
Sydney. Their attention was called to the monument which marks the spot
where Captain Cook landed in 1770, and took possession of Australia in
the name of the British government.
Another trip that they made was to Paramatta, going there by rail and
returning by water. Of this excursion Harry wrote as follows:--
"The journey is a short one, as Paramatta is only fifteen miles from
Sydney. It is on what they call the Paramatta River, which isn't really
a river, but simply an arm of the bay, and is a favorite place for
rowing races. Next to Sydney, it is the oldest town in the colony.
Governor Phillip, the first governor of New South Wales, laid it out in
1788, his object being to utilize the labors of the convicts in farming.
The first grain fields were established here, being cultivated by
convict labor, and the governor had a space of ground cleared, and a
house erected for his country residence.
"The experiment of cultivating grain was so successful during the first
year, that it was continued on a larger scale during the second and
subsequent years. Free settlers took up ground at Paramatta, which was
then called Rosehill, the name which the governor gave to the little
elevation where his house was built. Settlers who came out to Sydney of
their own accord received allotments of land, and were supplied with a
sufficient number of convicts to do their work.
"These were known as assigned servants, and the practise of having
assigned servants spread everywhere and became very popular, as the
parties to whom the convicts were assigned got their labor for
practically nothing. Sometimes the wives of convicts came out as
passengers in the same ships with their husbands, or followed them
later. When they arrived and set up housekeeping, they would apply for
servants to be assigned to them, and would name their husbands as the
men they preferred. The plan was found to work very well in nearly all
cases, and the government encouraged the practise. Sometimes, though, it
happened that the husbands were inclined to abuse and beat their wives,
but this did not happen often, as the wives had the power, like other
employers of assigned servants, of sending their husbands to be flogged.
"Whenever, in the early days, the sentence of a convict expired, he was
given a farm at Paramatta, or in its neighborhood, and in this way quite
a farming community grew up. The agricultural features of Paramatta have
continued down to the present time, and all about it there are pretty
farms and gardens, which make the place look very much like an English
town of the same size. It is regularly laid out, the principal street
extending about a mile back from the landing place, with a width of two
hundred feet. Many business men of Sydney have their residences here,
and there is a goodly number of public buildings, including hospitals,
asylums, churches, and the like.
"Our attention was called to several manufactories, but we were less
interested in them than we were in the orange groves and orchards, which
are numerous and extensive. They showed us some orange trees which they
claim are the largest in the world, but whether that is the case or not,
I am unable to say. They showed us one tree from which ten thousand
oranges had been taken in a single year, and after we had looked at the
orange groves, we were shown through several flower gardens, which
seemed to be literally masses of flowers. When we returned to Sydney by
the boat, we observed that the banks of the river were lined with flower
gardens, and were not surprised to learn that almost the entire flower
market of Sydney is supplied from Paramatta.
"We were unfortunate in not being here in the season of fruits, as they
told us that the Paramatta oranges are among the finest in the world,
and the same could be said of the other fruits grown in the place. I
think we have said before that the climate of Australia is very
favorable to the cultivation of fruits, those of the tropics as well as
those of the temperate zones showing a universal tendency to thrive in
the genial atmosphere."
Dr. Whitney and his young companions spent two or three days at some of
the country residences in the neighborhood of Sydney, and were charmed
with the warmth of the hospitality and the beauty of the places that
they visited. It was impossible for them to accept a tenth part of the
invitations they received, as their time was limited, and they were
anxious to press on to the northward. So one day they bade farewell to
their friends and took the train for Newcastle, the principal point of
the coal-mining industry of the colony.