- Early in the morning a light air
carried us towards the entrance of Port Jackson.
Instead
of beholding a verdant country, interspersed with
fine houses, a straight line of yellowish cliff brought to our
minds the coast of Patagonia. A solitary lighthouse, built of
white stone, alone told us that we were near a great and
populous city. Having entered the harbour, it appears fine
and spacious, with cliff-formed shores of horizontally
stratified sandstone. The nearly level country is covered with
thin scrubby trees, bespeaking the curse of sterility.
Proceeding further inland, the country improves: beautiful
villas and nice cottages are here and there scattered along the
beach. In the distance stone houses, two and three stories high,
and windmills standing on the edge of a bank, pointed out to us
the neighbourhood of the capital of Australia.
At last we anchored within Sydney Cove. We found the
little basin occupied by many large ships, and surrounded by
warehouses. In the evening I walked through the town, and
returned full of admiration at the whole scene. It is a most
magnificent testimony to the power of the British nation.
Here, in a less promising country, scores of years have done
many more times more than an equal number of centuries
have effected in South America. My first feeling was to
congratulate myself that I was born an Englishman. Upon
seeing more of the town afterwards, perhaps my admiration
fell a little; but yet it is a fine town. The streets are
regular, broad, clean, and kept in excellent order; the houses
are of a good size, and the shops well furnished. It may be
faithfully compared to the large suburbs which stretch out from
London and a few other great towns in England; but not even near
London or Birmingham is there an appearance of such rapid
growth. The number of large houses and other buildings just
finished was truly surprising; nevertheless, every one
complained of the high rents and difficulty in procuring a
house. Coming from South America, where in the towns every man
of property is known, no one thing surprised me more than
not being able to ascertain at once to whom this or that
carriage belonged.
I hired a man and two horses to take me to Bathurst, a
village about one hundred and twenty miles in the interior,
and the centre of a great pastoral district. By this means I
hoped to gain a general idea of the appearance of the country.
On the morning of the 16th (January) I set out on my excursion.
The first stage took us to Paramatta, a small country
town, next to Sydney in importance. The roads were excellent,
and made upon the MacAdam principle, whinstone having
been brought for the purpose from the distance of several
miles. In all respects there was a close resemblance to England:
perhaps the alehouses here were more numerous. The iron gangs,
or parties of convicts who have committed here some offense,
appeared the least like England:
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