LETTER TWENTY-TWO.
Sydney,
My Dear Friends,
This is a duty I ought to have performed months ago, and you will think harshly of me for this neglect. I have no excuse to plead, save that I was unwilling to sadden your hearts with a tale of misery. I waited from day to day, and from month to month, hoping to be able to give a cheering account of this country, but it is a sad one I write at last. I have been disappointed in all my expectations of Australia, except as to its wickedness; for it is far more wicked than I had conceived it possible for any place to be, or than it is possible for me to describe to you in England. We came to anchor in Sydney harbour on the morning of the 25th July, 1839, my dear
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