LETTER THIRTY-ONE.
Sydney,
My Dear Sister,
I received in November last your letter of the date June, 1842, conveying to me the particulars of my mother's death. I was in some degree prepared for this sad intelligence, but when I knew for a certainty that I should see that dearest face no more,—that she, whose love for us gathered strength from affliction and misfortune, was now resting in the grave and could no longer participate in her children's happiness or sorrow, when I knew that my mother indeed was dead, I felt as if a portion of this world's beauty was lost to me for ever. But it is a blessed thing to know there is another and a better world where sorrow never troubleth and the weary are at rest. Could we have been allowed to meet again, for me to have heard her bless my dear little child and listen to her mother's story of her birth, it would have been to me a happiness greater than I can ever more expect. This, however, could not be, and there is One above, who, in His wisdom, ordered it should not be so, against whose decrees we must not rebel. May the almighty and all-merciful Being comfort and support those she has left behind in my native country. Perhaps I am never to see any of you again, but while I live I shall cling to the hope of returning to dear England. In my last letter I believe I mentioned that I had not been very fortunate lately, and I have delayed writing since with the hope of being enabled to tell you things with me were better, which I can assure you is now the case.
The circumstances of the colony are still very bad. A large mercantile house failed yesterday to the amount of £130,000. Declaration of insolvency is a matter of almost every day occurrence among the tradespeople of Sydney. Wages are very low, and employment not very plentiful in Sydney. In the country the only demand for labour is as shepherds, and for this purpose the flock-masters are striving their utmost to obtain hill coolies from India on the ground, they state, of not being able to give the price of European labour, which is at present from £15 to £20 per annum and rations. But I think things will shortly improve.
In your last letter you remind me of my duty to assist my father, and I am sorry and ashamed to tell you it is not in my power at present to remit anything home. At the earliest possible period I will do so. I think I may say for certain in the course of this year. I often wish he was here with me, as I am sure I could make him comfortable. I could take a farm of thirty acres within a few miles of Sydney at as low a rent as I pay for our house in the town, or I could purchase an allotment of land and build ourselves a cottage outside the town, but to all these things at present the objection is Clarinda's being left alone at those times when my situation requires my absence for weeks together. I have not time to say more, as a ship sails this afternoon. Give the united love of myself, wife, and child to all. Clarinda and Clarinda Sarah are both well.
I am, my dear sister.
Yours most affectionately,