be
_via_ Ceylon, whence a steamer would run down south-south-east to the
fortieth parallel of south latitude in thirteen days, under steam: then
she would get the prevailing strong westerly winds, which would take her
under canvas to Hobart Town in ten or twelve days: let her stop two days
there to take in coal and land passengers, and, in three days more, she
would be in Sydney. By this route, the passenger for Sydney would find
himself at his journey's end in sixty-three or sixty-five days from
Southampton, while the mail _via_ Marseilles would be of four days
shorter date. I have my doubts, indeed, whether New South Wales is in a
position to bear the expense of such a plan: it certainly could not be a
profitable venture for years to come; and whether the Colonists would
be willing to be so much per annum out of pocket, in the meantime,
remains to be seen.

In describing Port Jackson, I omitted to notice the neighbouring
harbour, called Botany Bay, originally discovered by Captain Cook, and
subsequently abandoned for its rival. It is a noble and beautiful bay,
entered through a gap in the cliff facing the Pacific. This being much
wider than that leading into Port Jackson, and the heads not overlapping
each other in the least, Botany Bay is exposed to the fury of the
easterly gales, which renders it, during their prevalence, an unsafe
harbour. From its great width, I was induced to suppose that this evil
might be obviated by ships seeking shelter behind the heads; but, on
inquiry, I learned, that the depth of water does not admit of this: the
water is shallow all round the bay, which compels vessels to anchor a
considerable distance from the shore, and leaves them exposed to the
eastward. In short, as a harbour, it will not bear comparison with Port
Jackson. The name of Botany Bay was given to it from the very great
variety and beauty of the native flowers found on its shores. I am not
botanist enough to describe these flowers, but I noticed them with
surprise and admiration. I saw nothing else, however, to attract any one
to the neighbourhood: the soil is wretchedly poor, principally covered
with scrub, and, with the exception of a few spots in the hollows,
utterly valueless to the farmer. A few half-starved cows only, belonging
to Sydney families, and called the town herd, may be seen picking up the
poor and scanty herbage. In this neighbourhood, the Sydney hounds meet,
and occasionally amuse their proprietors, by ch