After passing the wide stretch of country called the Riverina, we had breakfast at Goulburn, the seat of a bishopric. These are the barren plains, which extend 900 miles to the west of Sydney, and form the centre of the great pastoral industry. The country became more populous as we approached Sydney towards twelve o'clock. We found the carriage waiting at the station to take us to Government House, where we received a most cordial welcome from Lord and Lady Augustus Loftus, who had known C. in St. Petersburg and Berlin, where his Excellency had been ambassador. After luncheon they proposed that we should have some fresh air, and take our first impression of Sydney from its beautiful harbour, by going out in the Nea, the steam-launch.
Sydney Cove was alive with launches, steamers, and yachts, and with the large ferry-boats that ply to and fro to the North Shore. Vessels belonging to every nation in the world were lying in its docks, or at anchor in the Cove. We passed the Carthage, of the Peninsular and Oriental Company, bearing down the harbour out to sea, and from the windows of Government House the arrival of a mail steamer is a frequent object of interest. We saw many a vessel painted entirely white, that had come from the tropical climates of Chili, Peru, or the South Sea Islands. Wool warehouses, sugar manufactories, and timber-yards line the banks, giving us some idea of the vast shipping and commercial interest that centres in Sydney. We gathered, too, some idea of the size of the town from the straggling suburbs that extend out a long way up the Parramatta. Bearing up this river, we passed Cockatoo Island, famous in the convict annals of earlier days, a remembrance of which still lingers in the stone sentinel box of the keeper in charge of the gangs. It is now used as a dock for war-ships, and another island farther up as a gunpowder magazine. Leaving all traces of the busy town-life behind us, we were out in the country; the low river-banks bordered with gum trees, and houses with their gardens sloping down to the water's edge. Once we were suddenly transported back to some happy days spent on the beautiful shores of the Italian lakes; for a stone terrace with pillars and steps down to the water made us exclaim,—"Isola Bella!" We turned homewards under the huge Lunatic Asylum standing on the hill, and where the Claimant's brother is now confined.
Government House is an architecturally picturesque building of Bath stone, built by convict labour. The entrance is very pretty, driving up under the archway of the tower. The windows of the central hail are filled with stained glass, and the walls hung with full-length portraits of former governors. The grounds overlook the harbour, and slope down to the water from all sides of the promontory on which Government House is built. But the accommodation is inadequate to the requirements of the house, as is also the ball-room for entertaining. The Government House at Melbourne is far more imposing, but for comfort and every day living the one at Sydney is far preferable.
I went out into the verandah in the evening after dinner, to see the powerful revolving electric light of the lighthouse on the "Heads" at the entrance to the Harbour. At first you see only a glimmer of light, and then the broad rays coming sweeping round, shimmering in the darkness, till the full blaze of light dazzles the eyes for a moment. But the charms of sitting out in this verandah and garden are spoilt by the plague of mosquitoes, and for the first time I was obliged to sleep within the filmy shadow of the mosquito-curtain.
Saturday, November 15th.—A bright morning, promising to be very hot during the day. The view from our sitting-room window was beautiful this morning; the haze over the distant hills, and the blue water of the harbour, dancing and glinting in the sunlight. From the garden beneath there came up through the open window the sweet, sickly smell from a magnificent magnolia-tree, thirty feet high, and from the beds of gardenias, which bloom at the rate of 100 a day during the summer months.
We took a hansom after breakfast, to explore the streets of Sydney. Macquarie Street faces the open space where the Exhibition buildings stood which were burnt down, the large hospital, which remains unfinished for want of funds, the Mint, and the Houses of Parliament. It ends in Hyde Park, where, within the railings, stands the bronze statue of Albert the Good, and opposite is the granite pedestal in the square, laid by the Princes Albert Victor and George, when they visited Sydney in the Bacchante, awaiting the statue of her Majesty the Queen.
The streets of Sydney are narrow and crooked, but it is a prettier and more interesting town than Melbourne; it has, too, a much more old-world look. The most notable feature in the streets are the huge silent locomotives, black monsters, that come gliding noiselessly round the corners. These steam tramways appear most dangerous to strangers, as the level crossings are unguarded, and there is no warning whistle. They consist of a "traction" engine, and two large omnibus cars, and there is a covered station where they start from. Omnibuses, which ply every hour between the suburbs and the town, and hansoms are the other vehicles most in use. The latter are very unsuitable for the steep streets in the town and the hills in the suburbs, throwing as they do all the weight when going down hill upon the horses' fore-legs.
The shops are moderately good, and though not actually so expensive as those at Melbourne, are in reality more so, when the comparative absence of duty is taken into account. With the exception of Macquarie Street and Macleay Street, all "society" lives without the town in the suburbs, clustering on the points or round the bays of "Our Harbour," such as on Darling Point, and Pott's Point, or Rose Bay, Double Bay, and Wooloomooloo. There is, too, the "North Shore," a very beautiful suburb, lying between the harbour and the sea, and only communicating with Sydney by a ferry at present, though before long there will be a bridge built.
The jealousy between Victoria and New South Wales is carried to the most ludicrous pitch. The Sydney people declare that when they built any institution, Melbourne copied them in it, only building one larger and finer. Melbourne points to its buildings, and Sydney to its harbour; and it reached a culminating point last year, when New South Wales talked of the Victorians as "Our friends in the cabbage garden." Having just come from the "cabbage garden," we were close questioned as to our impressions by comparison with Sydney; I was very glad that we had been to Melbourne first, for I honestly preferred the former town.
Lady Augustus Loftus had a garden-party in the afternoon; the excellent band of the Permanent Force, which has since furnished the splendid contingent for the Soudan, playing in the garden. I was very much struck how far quieter and less well-dressed the people in Sydney were, how much more "behind the times," when compared to their sisters in the rival city.