is the paradise of yachtsmen; the inner, of oarsmen. The gardens of
suburban villas run down to the water's edge along the headlands and
points, and there are thousands of unoccupied building sites from which
you can enjoy a view fit for the gods.

One feels quite angry with the town for being so unworthy of its site.
Certainly, one of the greatest charms of the harbour must have been
wanting when it was uninhabited, and the view of the city and suburbs as
you come up into port is as charming and picturesque, as that of
Melbourne from Port Philip is commonplace and repellent. But when you get
near the wharf the charm vanishes. Never was there a more complete case
of distance lending enchantment to the view. Not but that there are
plenty of fine buildings, public and private; but the town is still much
farther back in its chrysalis stage than Melbourne. Time alone can, and
is rapidly making away with the old tumble-down buildings which spoil the
appearance of their neighbours. But time cannot easily widen the streets
of Sydney, nor rectify their crookedness. They were originally dug out by
cart-ruts, whereas those of nearly every other town in Australia were
mapped out long before they were inhabited. But if they were not so
ill-kept, and the footpaths so wretchedly paved, I could forgive the
narrowness and crookedness of the Sydney streets, on account of their
homely appearance. They are undeniably old friends, such as you can meet
in hundreds of towns in Europe. Their very unsuitableness for the
practical wants of a large city becomes a pleasant contrast to the
practical handsomeness of Melbourne and Adelaide. The size and
handsomeness of individual buildings is lost in the Sydney streets. You
look at the street from one end, and put it down in your mind as no
better than a lane; you walk down it without noticing the merits of the
buildings it contains; whereas in Melbourne both the general effect and
each individual building are shown off to the greatest advantage; but