first rude outline of the metropolitan city of SYDNEY, was formed. The spot chosen was at the head of the cove, near a stream of fresh water, which stole silently along by a thick wood now the site of crowded streets, the stillness of which for the first time since the creation was then broken by the rude sound of the labourer's axe, and the hum of busy men. The anniversary of this great event has for some years been a festival in New South Wales. Governor Phillip landed with a thousand and thirty souls; his live stock consisted of six head of horned cattle and seven horses. The town and district of Sydney has now a population of three hundred thousand souls; every year the increase is enormous; and the ratio of each year's increase exceeds the last. These figures, however, make but a feeble impression upon us at a distance. The colonists feel a warmth of enthusiasm such as only the sight of the marvellous contrast can create. We copy the following extract from the Sydney Herald on one of these anniversaries--"the nativity of the city of Sydney and of the colony of New South Wales." "When we compare the town and the country as they are now with what they were then, we may well be proud of British enterprise, and of the local resources which it has so rapidly and triumphantly developed. How forcibly are we reminded of the miraculous transformation foretold by the inspired son of Amoz--'The wilderness and the solitary place shall be glad for them, and the desert shall rejoice and blossom as the rose.' Let the imagination attempt this day to realize the enchanting contrast. As we look upon the noble ships riding in our harbour, and the steamers, yachts, wherries, and boats innumerable, gliding to and fro amid the joyous excitements of the regatta, let us picture the three humble boats which, this day fifty-seven years,[A] were slowly creeping up the unknown waters of Port Jackson, in quest of a sure resting-place for our first predecessors. As we cast our eye over the elegant buildings which now skirt our shores on either side, and over the crowds of well-dressed men, women and children, who are keeping holiday on this our national festival, let us think of the dense woods which then frowned on Governor Phillip, of the profound silence that reigned around him, of the awful sense of solitude with which he and his little band must have been impressed, and of the exultation they would have felt could they have foreseen that, within so brief a term, the wilderness they were approaching would have become 'replenished' with a teeming population, and have been 'subdued' to the beauty and affluence of civilized life." [A] This was published in 1845.