Boating and cricket were the principal recreations of the young men. My father had belonged to one of the best cricket clubs in London, and I had seen matches played at Lord’s; but he did not join in anything in Sydney, devoting the whole of his spare time to entomology and botany. My brother H—— belonged to both cricket and boat clubs. They used to play on the racecourse in Elizabeth Street every evening. The new racecourse at Homebush was a centre of attraction to many; but we were not a racing family, so we never went. My parents were not fitted for colonial life, having been always accustomed to London comforts and amusements. My mother had no idea of housekeeping even there, keeping the same experienced and faithful servants for years. Even if fortune had proved kinder, she would never have liked the colony, and her five years there, spent wearily and sadly, I am certain helped to kill her. One of the few amusements then was the Military Band which played once a week in the Barrack Square, and afterwards in the Domain, attracting all the élite and idlers of Sydney. Dress was displayed and criticism indulged in. The drive in the Domain was the antipodean “Rotten Row.” The baths in the Domain were owned and managed by one of our fellow-passengers who had been home to see his friends in England. All through the summer at some time in the day we went to have a delightful bathe; most of the Australian women could swim.
The 26th of January, being the anniversary of the colony, was considered young Australia’s. The Regatta was the event of the year. Races on land were all very well; but the colonial “Vikings” revelled in their beautiful harbour, almost living in it. And, alas, sometimes dying in it!
One incident at this time made a deep impression on me. Two young men, sons of one of our first Australian friends, with two others, were in treaty for a boat, and being in Government offices, could only arrange to go out on Sunday morning with the owner to try it, my friend calling to his sister as he left, “I will be back in time to take you and mother to church.” The others had been to early service, and were to meet at Wooloomooloo Bay. When they left, it was a most lovely summer’s morning, with very little wind. At the time I was staying at Darling Point, and having dressed for church, was waiting in the verandah for my friends, when one said, “Look, Miss L——, there is the ‘White Squall’ you sing about.” In an instant the wind rose and the harbour was covered with waves; we watched some boats hastening for shelter to one or other of the numerous islands, and in less than an hour all was calm again. The next morning the news came that my friends had not returned. Hour by hour their anxious mother hoped on, but no tidings came, and never did, nor will until “the sea gives up her dead.” A very sad circumstance intensified my friend’s grief. Her eldest son had been in the constant habit of boating on Sunday mornings until about two years before, when his youngest sister, a schoolfellow of mine, died after a long illness of consumption. She was a true Christian, and when dying fretted at her brother’s Sunday boating, and as a last effort made him promise never to go out boating on Sunday again, which promise he had kept until the morning he was lost. Sunday was the only day he could go out, and no doubt he was not so well able to manage a boat as heretofore. It was supposed they had gone outside the “Heads” and were suddenly caught in the squall, as not a vestige of the boat or its occupants was ever found. My poor old friend was left with only one daughter, and she too died young. As I had been dancing only a few nights before the accident with the two others of the boating party, it was years before I could look on the water without fear, and never went in a sailing-boat again. One walk I shall never forget. We had waited for a friend who was finishing her drawing lesson in Liverpool Street, near the corner of Elizabeth Street; on turning down College Street I suggested going along the South Head Road, now Oxford Street, and taking a short cut through where they were quarrying stone for the new court-house, as I had passed this way a few days previous on my way to Darling Point. As all were agreeable, we soon entered the quarries; but what to see! A gang of men chained together, with armed warders on either side guarding them. I stood aghast! To my companions such sights were but too familiar; to me, for many a day, it cast a shadow over all that once had appeared beautiful. The face of one of the prisoners remained in my memory for years—a weak, though handsome face. We shrank back as he raised his dark eyes, and for a second when they met ours, the blush of shame could be seen through his tanned skin. Who and what was he? I have often thought since that he did not belong to the class of roughs that were his companions in the gang. I was young and sensitive, and shall never forget this, my first glimpse of the punishment of crime. That was the only time I saw a gang of prisoners outside the prison walls. Since then I became acquainted with the kindly family of the Governor of Darlinghurst Gaol, and have spent many hours in his house, listening to his daughters playing, or conversing with his amiable wife; but I could not feel really happy, not being able to banish from my mind the proximity to so much misery and crime.
CHAPTER V
Circumstances at this period made me decide upon leaving home. I went to Newtown and spent nearly three happy years with a family there. My pupils were a boy and girl, the elder son riding to his school at Wooloomooloo every day. I was treated more as a daughter than governess. Mr. and Mrs. Johnson were English gentlefolks, and Mr. Johnson was one of the leading solicitors in Sydney. I had access to an excellent library, and also mixed in the best society as well as with the best musical talent of the colony. Our drives were picturesque and delightful. Sometimes we strolled across the paddocks to Redfern without meeting more than half a dozen people.
Newtown was very sparsely populated at this time, there being only a few houses on the main road. Away from the road there were several large houses surrounded by beautiful and well-kept grounds, such as “Enmore,” “The Pines,” “Linthorpe,” “The Grange,” and towards Cook’s River “Bella Retiro,” “Tempe,” and others. I knew these places well, and visited them with my friends. The nearest church, St. Stephen’s, was at Camperdown, where the third cemetery near Sydney was formed. The first, I think, was in George Street, in which stood St. Andrew’s Church, now the cathedral; the second, the one I have alluded to before, in Elizabeth Street. I am not quite certain about Cook’s River Church, but think it was built about this time, and had its churchyard round it.
All these places which I remember so well have been formed into streets and filled with houses. I used to walk across the sandhills to Pitt Street, Redfern, passing Henderson’s Nursery and Calder House, with its gardens and paddocks; round it to Woolcott’s Cottages, and so on, to my father’s house without meeting a single person. Then on the other side, now called Kingston, Petersham, Stanmore, Norwood, Marrickville, only some half-dozen houses, and these surrounded by gardens and paddocks. Now the railway passes through the gardens of most, if not of all of these places, and some of the houses have gone also; but my home is still left, though built in at the back, and the garden ending at the railway fence. I became thoroughly acquainted with this portion of Sydney, quite unknown to me till I went to live at “The Grange.” My relatives lived in another direction, and had never been to this part before. My friends, being young, possessing means, and wishing to make me happy and contented, we had many delightful excursions, picnics, and pleasant days at Botany, Kissing Point, and Cook’s River. Botany was most interesting to me, as being the first spot trodden by my countrymen. La Perouse’s monument is quite a relic of the olden time. Botany Bay was a bleak unpicturesque place compared with Sydney Harbour, and the drive to it, through the Waterloo Estate, sandy and barren. I had some knowledge of this district before, having been introduced to a family that had a wool-washing establishment at Botany. A few years after I visited the Water-works, just finished, for supplying Sydney with water from the Botany Swamps, and I have been twice since to the Sir Joseph Banks Hotel; but there had been little improvement on the road. Waterloo has now become the Whitechapel of Sydney, the abode of questionable white humanity and Chinese.
We had now a larger influx of emigrants, and consequently domestic matters were carried on more smoothly. We knew many bright and agreeable fresh arrivals from home, bringing with them new books, music, fashions, dances, and ideas. How well I remember Mr. Hamlyn, his two pretty daughters in the first Irish jaunting car I had ever seen drive up: their teaching me the polka after dinner one evening, and then singing some of Moore’s melodies. Then the Mayor’s Fancy Ball held in the Victoria Theatre, a very grand affair, dances at Enmore, our own house, and many others near.
Sydney was always a musical place. The members of the Choral Society and others were indefatigable, and by this time we had some good teachers wending their way to our distant shores. There was only one good music shop when we first arrived; but by this time others were established. The family I lived with were of great assistance in this respect. One member was the organist at St. James’s Church, another at Christ Church; so my musical education was not neglected.
I have often thought since my duties were very light, and how kind everybody was to me. A governess’s life at the Antipodes in 184- was an ideal one; but all were not so fortunate as myself. I have since heard of some who were in very different homes, and were treated as upper servants, slighted and neglected; but fortunately I never experienced such treatment then or at any future period. Leaving home was entirely my own act, as my mother felt that I was too young for such responsibility; afterwards she acknowledged the wisdom of the step, as it took me away from cares that might have crushed my spirit. And I was near enough to see her often and to be with her at the last when, weary and worn, she went to rest, her last hours soothed by my dear friend and pastor, the Rev. W. H. Walsh. My sister went to the country with my brother, the two younger children to school, and so for a time the home was broken up.