its plebeian insertion of Wooloomooloo dropped in the middle of the town much as Clare Market and Drury Lane were, or are, left in between the Strand and Holborn. To a Londoner Sydney will always be a homelike place. Those who live there will seem to him like lifelong friends, and it will be his fault if they are any less.
The Glasgow Scot, it will be remembered, said that Glasgow was a gran' place to get out from; and New South Wales is very accessible from Sydney. During most of the year the inhabitants do not live very far from the city; for it is so much more easy to reach the spring woodlands, the summer and the sun than it is from London. Manly Beach and surf-bathing are just over the road; Broken Bay, where the simple life presents itself without affectation, is round the corner; Pitt Water and sounds and creeks and broads, where in September the wild swans come, are a cycle ride away. In the background hover the Blue Mountains; rather mysterious heights, because the light reflected from the glossy leaves of the trees which wrap these hills as closely as fur, gives always to them a bluish sheen. Even Melbourne admits the Blue Mountains, and says without grudging that nowhere is there anything quite like them. In the hot days of summer . . . it can be hot in Australia—once on
