Chapter V
NEW SOUTH WALES
IT has been said with some point that the tourist should only approach the capital of New South Wales by sea; the entrance, through a narrow gateway, flanked on either side by towering cliffs, on one of which stands the lighthouse, visible at night thirty miles away, being very striking. The inner headlands are crowned with batteries planned in the days when artillery had a less effective range than now; and, as a consequence, the defect in the defences (a defect common to those of several of the New Zealand cities) is that a battleship with heavy guns, lying outside the entrance, could pitch shells into the city without any risk of a return fire. This is not the case with the rival city, Melbourne, whose main defences are many miles distant from the capital.
Sydney harbour opens out in all its beauty as the steamer comes through the "Heads"; and though in other parts of Australia the phrase "our harbour," as applied to Sydney, has become a joke, it is, indeed, a most wonderful sight, with its labyrinth of bays and channels. One might live in Sydney a lifetime, and then not quite know every arm and nook of Port Jackson. Everywhere the red cliffs rise straight from the water, and even in midwinter these headlands are decked with white and red heaths, dwarfed banksias, hakeas, and other shrubs with rich waxen flowers. In steaming up an arm of the harbour in one of the fast excursion launches—which
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