The Old Helmet. Volume II

"And the magic charm of foreign lands,
With shadows of palm, and shining sands,
Where the tumbling surf
O'er the coral reefs of Madagascar,
Washes the feet of the swarthy 'Lascar.' – "

It was but the next day, and Eleanor was sitting as usual on deck looking over the waters in a lovely bright morning, when a sound was heard which almost stopped her heart's beating for a moment. It was the cry, rung out from the mast-head, "Land, ho!"

"Where is it?" she said to the captain, who was behind her. "I do not see it anywhere."

"You will see it in a little while. Wait a bit. If you could go aloft I could shew it you now."

"What land? do you know?"

"Australia – the finest land the sun shines upon!"

"I suppose you mean, besides England."

"No, I don't, begging your pardon. England is very well for those who can take the ripe side of the cherry; poorer folks had better come here, if they want any chance at all."

The lucky sailor was coming down from the mast-head, and the captain went off to join those who were giving him sundry rewarding tokens of their joy for his news. Eleanor looked over the waste of waters eastward, feeling as if her breath had been taken away.

So much of her journey done! The rest seemed, and was, but little. Australia was almost —home. And what sort of a home? And could Mr. Rhys possibly be at Sydney to meet her? Eleanor knew he could not; yet the physical possibility would assert itself in spite of all the well-allowed moral impossibility. But at any rate at Sydney she would find letters; at Sydney she would find, perhaps very soon, the means of making the remainder of her voyage; at Sydney she could no longer prevent herself from thinking. Eleanor had staved off thought all the way by wisely saying and insisting to herself "Time enough when I get to Sydney." Yes; she was nearing home now. So deep, so engrossing, were her meditations and sensations, that Mr. Amos who had come up to congratulate her on the approaching termination of the voyage, spoke to her once and again without being heard. He could not see her face, but the little straw bonnet was as motionless as if its wearer had been in a dream. He smiled and went away.

Then appeared on the distant horizon somewhat like a low blue cloud, which gathered distinctness and strength of outline by degrees. It was the land, beyond doubt; the coast of New Holland itself, as the captain informed Eleanor; and going on and passing through Bass's Strait the vessel soon directed her course northward. Little remained then before reaching port.

It was under a fair and beautiful sunlight morning that they were at last approaching Sydney. Mr. Amos was on deck as well as Eleanor, the captain standing with them; for a pilot had come on board; the captain had given up his charge, and was in command no longer. Before the watching three stretched a low unpromising shore of sandstone cliffs and sand.

"It is good to see it," said Mr. Amos; "but in this first view it don't shew for much."

"Don't shew for anything," said Captain Fox. "Wait till we get inside the Heads. It don't shew for anything; but it's the most glorious land the sun shines on!"

"In what particular respects?" said Mr. Amos.

"In every respect of making a living and enjoying it," said the captain. "That makes a good land, don't it?"

Mr. Amos allowed that it did.

"It's the most beautiful country, if you come to that," Captain Fox went on; – "that's what Miss Powle thinks of. I wish this was Melbourne we were coming to, instead of Sydney. I'd like to have her look at it."

"Better than this?" said Mr. Amos, for Eleanor was silent.

"A better colony, for beauty and riches," said the captain. "It's the most glorious country, sir, you ever saw! hundreds of square miles of it are as handsome as a duke's park; and good for something, which a duke's park ain't. There's a great tract of country up round Mt. Macedon – thirty or forty miles back into the land – its softly rolling ground without a stone on it, as nice as ever you saw; and spotted with the trees they call she-oaks – beautiful trees; and they don't grow in a wood, but just stand round in clumps and ones or twos here and there, like a picture; and then through the openings in the ground you can see miles off more of just the same, till it gets blue in the distance; and mountains beyond all. And when you put here and there a flock of thousands of sheep spotting the country with their white backs – I ain't poetical, sir, but I tell you! when I saw that country first, I thought maybe I was; but it's likely I was mistaken," said the captain laughing, "for the fit has never come back since. Miss Powle thinks there's as much poetry in the water as on the land."

Still Eleanor did not move to answer; and Mr. Amos, perhaps for her sake, went on.

"What is it that country is so good for? gold? or sheep?"

"Sheep, sir, sheep! the gold grows in another part. There's enough of that too; but I'd as lieve make my money some other way. Victoria is the country for wool-growing, sir. I've a brother there – Stephen Fox – he went with little more than nothing; and now he has a flock of sheep – well, I'm afraid to say how many; but I know he needs and uses a tract of twelve thousand acres of land for them."

"That is being a pretty large land-owner, as well as sheep-owner," Mr.

Amos said with a smile.

"O he don't own it. That wouldn't do, you know. The interest of the money would buy all the wool on his sheep's backs."

"How then?"

"He has the use of it, – that's all. Don't you know how they work it? He pays a license fee to Government for the privilege of using the land for a year – wherever he pitches upon a place; then he stocks it, and goes on occupying by an annual license fee, until he has got too many neighbours and the land is getting all taken up in his neighbourhood. Then some one comes along who has money and don't want the plague of a new settlement; and he sells off his stock and claim to him, packs up his traps, pokes off through the bush with his compass till he has found a new location somewhere; then he comes back, pays a new license fee, and stocks the new place with flocks and shepherds and begins again. And I never saw in my life anything so fine as one of those Victoria sheep or cattle farms."

"Why don't you go into it?"

"Well – it's best to divide the business just now. I can be of use to Stephen and he can be of use to me. And I'm a little of this lady's opinion."

"How is it in this colony we are coming to?"

"Well, they are very prosperous; it's a good place to get rich. They have contrived to get along with their gold mines without ruining every other interest, as the other colonies have done for a time. But I think Victoria is the queen of them all; Victoria sends home more wool than either of the others; and she has gold, and she has other mines; different. She has copper equal to Burla-Burra – and she has coal, within a few miles of Melbourne, and other things; but the coal is a great matter here, you see."

The ship all the while was rapidly approaching the Heads, which mark, and make, the entrance to the harbour of Port Jackson. They assumed more dignity of elevation and feature as they were nearer seen; the rocks rising some two or three hundred feet high, with the sea foaming at their foot. Passing swiftly onward, the vessel by and by doubled Bradley's Head, and the magnificent sheet of water that forms the harbour was suddenly revealed to the strangers' gaze. Full of islands, full of sailing craft, bordered with varying shores of "promontory, creek, and bay," pleasantly wooded, and spotted along its woody shores with spots of white that marked where people had pretty country homes, the quiet water glittering in the light; the view to the sea-tossed travellers was nothing short of enchanting. Mrs. Amos had come on deck, though scarce able to stand; a quiet, gentle, sweet-looking person; her eyes were full of tears now. Her husband's arm was round her, supporting her strength that she might keep up; his face was moved and grave. Eleanor was afraid to shew anybody her face; yet it was outwardly in good order enough; she felt as if her heart would never get back to its accustomed beat. She sat still, breathlessly drinking in the scene, rejoicing and trembling at once. She heard Mrs. Amos's softly whispered, "Praise the Lord! – " and her husband's firm "Amen!" It had like to have overset her. She pressed her hands tight together to keep her heart still.

"They know we are coming," said the captain.

"Who?" said Eleanor quickly.

Mr. Amos pressed his wife's arm; the captain's eyes twinkled.

"Is there anybody there on the look-out for you?" he asked.

"I suppose there may be," said Eleanor calmly.

"Well, he bas got notice then, some hours ago," said the captain. "The pilot telegraphed to the South Head, and from the South Head the news has gone all over Sydney and Paramatta. Pretty good-looking city, is Sydney."

It was far more than that. It had been the point of the travellers' attention for some time. From the water up, one height above another, the white buildings of the town rose and spread; a white city; with forts and windmills, and fair looking country seats in its neighbourhood.

"Where is Paramatta?" said Eleanor, "and what is it?"

"It's a nice little pleasure place, up the Paramatta river; fifteen miles above Sydney. Fine scenery; it's as good as going to Richmond," added the captain.

"What is that splendid large white building?" Mrs. Amos asked, "on the hill?"

"No great things of a hill," said the captain. "That's the

Government-house. Nice gardens and pleasure grounds there too."

"How beautiful it is!" said Mrs. Amos almost with a sigh.

"It is almost like a Scottish lake!" said her husband. "I remember one that this scene reminds me of at this moment."

"A little of this is worth all Scotland," said the captain. "There's pretty much everything here that a man wants – and not hard to come by, either. O you'll stay in Sydney! why shouldn't you? There's people enough here that want teaching, worse than the savages. I declare, I think they do."