ILLAWARRA.

But though Botany Bay is interesting from the associations connected with it—­I am quite serious, though the expression may raise a smile on some of my readers’ lips—­the tract of country best worth seeing in the neighbourhood of Sydney, is Illawarra, commonly called the Garden of New South Wales.  By a change in the formation from sandstone to trap, a soil this here produced capable of supporting a vegetation equal in luxuriance to any within the tropics.  In the deep valleys that intersect the country, the tree-fern attains a great stature, and throwing out its rich spreading fronds on all sides forms a canopy that perfectly excludes the piercing rays of even an Australian sun.  It is impossible to describe the feelings of surprise and pleasure that are excited in the mind of the traveller as he descends into any one of these delightful dells:  the contrast in the vegetable kingdom strikes him at once; he gazes around on the rich masses of verdure with astonishment, and strongly impressed with the idea that enchantment has been at work, involuntarily rubs his eyes and exclaims, “Am I in Australia or in the Brazils?”

ABORIGINES.

Few only of the aborigines of the neighbourhood of Sydney are now to be seen, and these are generally in an intoxicated state.  Like most savage tribes they are passionately addicted to spiritous liquors, and seek to obtain it by any means in their power.  Out of a sugar bag, with a little water, they manage to extract a liquor sufficient to make half a dozen of them tipsy; and in this condition, as I have observed, they most frequently presented themselves to my view.  They are in every respect a weak, degraded, miserable race, and are anything but a favourable specimen of the benefits produced by intercourse with polished nations on an uncivilised people.  However, the natives of Australia vary as strangely as its soil; the members of the tribes that dwell about Shoalhaven and the small southern ports, and come up in coasting vessels, are good-looking, useful fellows, and may hereafter be made much of.  I noticed also, in my circumnavigation of the continent, a remarkable diversity in the character of the natives, some being most kindly disposed, while others manifested the greatest hostility and aversion.  My whole experience teaches me that these were not accidental differences, but that there is a marked contrast in the dispositions of the various tribes, for which I will not attempt to account.  I leave in the hands of ethnologists to determine whether we are to seek the cause in minute variations of climate or in other circumstances, physical or historical.  This I can say, that great pains were formerly taken to civilize the natives of Sydney, gardens were given them, and numerous attempts made to inculcate habits of order, and communicate a knowledge of European arts; but no advantageous results ensued, and it was at length deemed impossible not only to improve them, but even to prevent their deterioration.  I cannot determine whether this evinces a natural inaptitude in the savage to learn, or too great impatience in the teachers to witness the fruits of their labours, and a proneness to be discouraged by difficulties.