CATHERINE CARR:

It was just as twilight darkened into the night of an evening in early summer of the year 1828, that the good ship Borneo in which we had made our passage from London, dropped anchor in the very spot, a few fathoms off shore abreast of the King's Wharf.

 Of course my reason for emigrating to NSW was the hope of bettering my condition and joining my husband. I had been informed, and I found it correct, that very much higher wages than those given in England were earned by mechanics in this colony: consequently I had no occasion, upon arrival, to regret on this account the step I had taken.

 After laying out what money I had on clothing, a few standard books to read on the voyage, and such sea-necessaries of the eatable and drinkable sort as were not supplied by the ship, I thought myself very fortunate in obtaining a good passage in the Borneo.

 Initiated into that frightfully pernicious but common habit of the colony, drinking rum neat out of wine glasses, we went out, dark as it was, for a stroll down the town. My companion was another passenger off the vessel, and had visited Sydney twice before; and as the ships generally stopped 5 or 6 weeks there, he had had every opportunity of becoming well acquainted with the place.

At this period Sydney was but ill lighted; only a few lamps were scattered throughout the whole length of George Street, which, from the King’s Wharf to the end of the houses at the foot of the Brickfield Hill, can scarcely be less than a mile and three-quarters. As we walked down George Street we found Sydney, according to the custom during the first hour of a summer's night, all alive, enjoying the cool air. The street was clear of vehicles, and parties of inhabitants, escaped from desk and shop, were passing briskly to and fro, in full merriment and converse. At the main barrack-gate the drums and fifes of the garrison were sounding out the last notes of the tattoo. In Sydney the barracks occupy a noble sweep of ground in the very centre of town, the best spot, in fact, for general commercial purposes that it contains, a spot that really ought, without further delay, to be resigned to the corporation for those many important uses to which it could under their direction be applied.

Leaving the long line of the barrack wall behind us we at length reached the market place. The fine building that now occupies the spot under the same name, was then not even in projected existence; but the settlers drove their drays into the open air amidst the old shed-like stalls that here and there stood for the occupation of dealers; and the whole was surrounded by the remains of a 3 rail fence. As we wandered through the rows of drays and carts, I could not but remark of striking difference between them and the contents of the carts of any general market for the produce of the land at home.

There was no hay, but its place was abundantly supplied by bundles of green grass, much of it almost as coarse as reeds, and evidently produced by a very wet, rank soil. In other carts we found loads of such vegetables as the country and the season yielded; some of these, we were given to understand, were grown in the Kurrajong Mountains, no less distant from Sydney than 40 miles.

In several carts we found sacks of last year's maize; and in a very few, last year's wheat.

Two drays only were loaded with new wheat, and these, we were told, were the property of rich settlers. It was very much the custom of the poorer settlers at this time, and indeed is so still, to sell all or the greater part of the wheat they grow, and live upon their Indian corn. This I was much surprised at before necessity, at a future period, had compelled my palate to reconcile itself to the peculiar flavor of maize-flour, cooked in its various modes; but once used to it, I have always since eaten it with much relish, and have consequently ceased to wonder at its common use by others. It is a common assertion, that the poor Australian settler (or, according to colonial phraseology, the Dungaree-settler; so called from their frequently clothing themselves, their wives, and children in that blue Indian manufacture of cotton known as Dungaree) sells his wheat crop from pure love of rum; and having drunk the proceeds, then of necessity lives the rest of the year on maize. But this seems to be only partially true. The fact appears rather, that wheat being the most costly grain, many eat maize from economy, selling the wheat to procure meat, tea, sugar, tobacco and clothing; and few persons who have tasted the deliciousness of a corn-doughboy eaten with the salt pork which constitutes so large a portion of their animal diet, will consider their taste altogether perverted.

After our cursory look at the market - if look it could be called which was performed in the dark - we went into 'The Market-House". I really forget whether this was its name by license or whether it was merely so called on account of being the principle rendezvous of the market people. It, however, was a regular licensed public house; but I should suppose at this time there were nearly twice as many unlicensed grog shops, as licensed public houses in the town of Sydney, in despite of the constables and a heavy fine. In the large tap-room of the Market-House we found a strange assemblage; and stranger still were their dialect and their notions. Most had been convicts; there were a good many Englishmen and Irishmen, an odd Scotchman, and several foreigners, besides some youngish men, natives of the colony.

 Amongst them were present here and they’re a woman, apparently the wife of settlers. The few women were all sober and quiet, but many of the men were either quite intoxicated or much elevated by liquor. The chief conversation consisted of vaunts of the goodness of their bullocks, the productiveness of their farms, or the quantity of work they could perform. Almost everyone was drinking rum in drams, or very slightly qualified with water: nor were they niggard of it, for we had several invitations from those around us to drink. I could not however, even at this early period of my acquaintance with this class of people, help observing one remarkable peculiarity common to them all - there was no offensive intrusiveness about their civility; every man seemed to consider himself just on a level with all the rest, and so quite content either to be sociable or not, as the circumstance of the moment indicated as most proper. The whole company was divided into minor groups or twos, threes and fours, and the dedeen (a pipe with stem reduced to three, two one or half an inch) was in everybody's mouth. I think there was not an individual in the room, but one female, who did not smoke more or less; during the brief time we sat there. Their dresses were of all sorts, the blue jacket and trousers of the English lagger, the short blue cotton smock-frock and trousers, and so forth, beyond my utmost power of recollection. Some wore neck handkerchiefs, some none. Some wore straw hats, some beavers, some caps of untanned kangaroo-skin. And not a shin in the room displayed itself to my eyes had on either stocking or sock. Of course I speak here only of the very lowest class; such as were derived from the lowest rank at home. And who, whatever advantages they had had in the colony, still continued unexalted by improved opportunities, unstimulated by hope, and making no efforts beyond what were necessary to supply their mere animal wants. To the same mart came down others in various degrees superior, many, particularly among the young natives, of plain but solid worth; but this was not the place to meet with them.