Dr. Cuthill little thought the Asylum for Destitute Children he founded there would so soon have in its vicinity such attractive residences. Certainly a more healthy or suitable site could not have been chosen for the little ones to grow and thrive in. I visited it many times when Mr. May was superintendent, and the several hundred children there looked well and happy. The earlier institutions for children were the Orphan School, Parramatta, and the School of Industry, Sydney. Now we have an Infants’ Home, Ashfield, in which a few charitable ladies take an interest. I went there once with a friend, one of the committee, and saw forty infants under two years of age; some in their cots asleep, others toddling about the rooms. The institution is beautifully kept, so well indeed that I thought, “These poor little mites are far better off than those reared in many well-to-do homes.” New South Wales has always been mindful of her sick and helpless, providing asylums for the aged, blind, deaf, and dumb. There are hospitals in Sydney and in nearly every country town. Lately a Sydney merchant left a large sum for a convalescent home, and another more recently has given a valuable property at Camden for a similar purpose. The situations of both will to many sick and weary be a foretaste of that rest “that passeth man’s understanding.”
CHAPTER XXIII
We lived for a time on the heights of Marrickville, our ground opening on to bush, or what in England would be termed wood or forest-land, leading to Cooks River, where there were vistas through which we could see houses “bosomed high in tufted trees;” cleared land, and luxurious foliage of pittosporum, lily-pilly, and other native trees: ferns too were very plentiful. We were near old friends, and became intimate with a family residing near us,—an Englishman, his wife, and five daughters; the parents arrived in the colony in the early days. The father, a university man, was master of a private school at Parramatta, and the mother was the true type of an Englishwoman,—tall, handsome, and clever, so it is needless to say the daughters of such parents were agreeable, and became intimate friends of ours. Their mother has gone; but her children live to show another generation of Australians the results of a brave unselfish life. A little later we welcomed another family to our home, as the introduction of a young gentlewoman who brought letters from my husband’s family ended in a close friendship with her relatives in Sydney, with whom she stayed a year.
Our little world in Australia was anticipating a great event, the opening of the first International Exhibition. The site chosen for the building was a “happy thought,” just inside the Domain gates, near the principal streets of the city, and with a panorama of earth, sea, and sky from every part of it, which few, if any exhibitions ever had before. The building could not be said to be original in design: still many said, “It was an exhibition in itself;” and certainly the site was unique for beauty. When filled with our own and the products from many lands, our anticipations of pleasure were fulfilled. The numerous courts were always crowded day after day. The Italian, Austrian, and German especially, so much so that we and others preferred visiting it early in the morning, and having a quiet view of the sculpture and pictures, including “St. Cecilia,” “Non Angli sed Angeli,” Meissonier’s marvellous works, and other poetry of the brush; the china, glass, furniture, jewellery, and silver, which it would be difficult to give any idea of from mere description. Several talented musicians visited us, so every day organ and pianoforte recitals, with concerts, gave pleasure and instruction to the ear, as so much that was beautiful did to the eye. The Queensland and island courts showed us much that was interesting,—pine-apples growing in huge pots, sugar-cane, native cloth, and many tinted shells; the Chinese and Japanese courts with their quaint wonders and delicious tea; India with her rich gems and stuffs,—all not only a pleasure but an educator. Week after week our people visited this exhibition and the annexes in the grounds, where machinery and other useful inventions were shown. Sydney was crowded with visitors, and the first tramway was opened to bring many from the railway station. From this time many improvements were made in our shops, as numberless things that had been sent from home for the first time as exhibits became common. At the end of this year ten years will have passed since it was opened, and when I left Sydney it was still talked of; nothing now remains of it except the lovely grounds where it once stood. Will another ever rise in its place, like a phœnix? It was a pity that it was destroyed; still, being built of perishable materials, it would have been a never-ending expense to the country to keep it in repair.
The last time I visited the building was to see “The Old English Fayre,”—a very pretty sight. The centre was arranged as a street in the olden time, with shops on either side with quaint old signs; the wares were sold by ladies in costumes of the time; and certainly our Australian beauties looked very fair.
When the Exhibition closed, almost every one felt, “What shall we do with our afternoons?” For me this was soon answered. My husband’s health failing, the doctor ordered change, and we left for a tour in the Western district. This was my first journey by train over the Blue Mountains. I did not enjoy it; in fact, when we wound our devious way over the wonderful zigzag, I wished we were on the old road I had last travelled, with all its discomforts attached to it. When near, terribly near the edge of the precipices, I held my breath, and looking back on the way we had come, said, “I wish we were safe at home.” My husband, to reassure me, remarked, “The engineer-in-chief is in the next carriage, so it is all right.” “What of that! clever as he is, he cannot prevent accidents. Perhaps there is something wrong.” Just then we stopped, and not at a station. “I am sure there is.” “No, nothing of importance,” as the panting engine went on again. The worst was over when we reached Hartley Vale, and by the time we reached Bathurst I was no longer nervous. After dinner we left our hotel and walked through the town, so altered and improved that I could scarcely recognise it. We inspected the new block of public buildings, and after trying in vain to find the cottage residence where I stayed nearly thirty years ago, returned to the hotel, which we left next morning and took the train to Orange, remaining there a week with our old friend Marian. We visited a young friend, whose husband had the best brewery in the town, and inspected the shops and numerous buildings erected since I drove through some years previous. We were present at a cricket match and at the laying of the foundation stone of a public school. Several speeches were made, the best (and that is not saying much in praise) from an Australian orator, whose voice is bad, and who never forgets one letter in the alphabet, though often another, while speaking. We then left for Wellington, where my brother met us at the railway station. If I had felt like Rip van Winkle in Sydney after being absent three years, what did I feel now in Wellington? Now I saw a busy little town with churches, banks, shops, private residences, and hotels; a substantial road bridge over the Macquarie, and another, an iron bridge, nearly finished, for the railway. A few brick cottages in Montefiores was the only difference there except at Gobolion, now a large comfortable cottage with gardens and orchard. The children I had left were married, with children of their own. Since our visit many other improvements had taken place,—handsome bank buildings, a hall, where last winter they had a skating rink, had been built, and a volunteer corps and a band founded. The town is now a municipality, and the Corporation have an idea of lighting it by electricity. This, for a small town two hundred miles from Sydney, proves Australian progress. My niece, who has always taken a great interest in Church affairs, Sunday school, and choir, and has played the organ in the church for two years, had been presented with a gold watch and handsome brooch.
CHAPTER XXIV
Our next excitement was the arrival of H.M.S. Bacchante with the young princes; but this I was too ill to join in. After this, our contingent left for the Soudan, a matter already sufficiently described.
I had paid several visits to my dearest young friend at Darling Point, where the child I loved so well was now a wife and mother, and the mistress of a large household, fulfilling her life’s duties kindly and well. Two visits with her and her generous husband to their country house in the Southern district gave me an opportunity of seeing that part of the country which is more like England; the trees are larger and fuller in foliage, owing to the cooler climate. All the English trees, fruits, and flowers flourish there. Bowral, Moss Vale, and Sutton Forest present a cultivated appearance. There are many country houses belonging to Sydney people, besides those of the permanent residents in the neighbourhood. Erridge Park is my ideal of a country home, with its acres of garden, orchard, and meadow land. My friend had his coursing establishment here, his pretty cattle and dairy. The interior to the house is in accordance with the exterior,—ornamental ceilings, dadoes to walls, artistic furniture, and though in the country, water laid on from a spring, and gas generated in a building in the garden.
While at Erridge Park we called on an old resident in the district, whom we found busy preparing for a large family party of over seventy; she, being the head, was looking forward to it with natural pleasure. Children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren hoped to meet in a few days in their early home, a large residence with hundreds of acres around it, once rented for a governor’s country house. In the earlier days, no doubt, it was the home of a family corresponding with many I knew in the Western district, such as the families of White, Windeyer, Throsby, Campbell, Chisholm, Badgery, Gibson, Macarthur, and Manning.