SYDNEY. 305

of Australia as a sewer; and as Capt. Cook had brought a good report
from Botany Bay, not far from here, it was determined to send a
batch of prisoners to that spot. And do you know why it was called
Botany Bay?” ane a

“JT do,” said Ralph; “for I read about it the other day. It was
so called on account of the many flowers found in that neighborhood
by a botanist, Mr. Banks.”

“Yes, that is it. Well, when the attempt was made to occupy
Botany Bay, the place did not seem the best for a settlenient, and
they weighed anchor and came up here with their convicts and started
atown. Over fifty years the convicts were sent here, but the custom
was stopped at last; and when they tried in England to send others —
that was in 1849 — Sydney stood right up and said no. It has become
a large and populous city, and must have at least one hundred and
ten thousand inhabitants; and in the suburbs, our pilot told me, there
are over ninety thousand more.”

The next morning Ralph Rogers was leaning over the ship’s rail,
looking down upon the waters of Sydney Harbor. There was a sail
stretched overhead, “jest to dry and take out Neptune’s tears,”
Jack Bobstay said. At Ralph’s right was a string of fish caught
that morning. At his left was a dog that had planted two paws
on the ship’s rail, his outstretched tongue giving him a look of desire
to say something social, if he only could. It was a strange dog
that had come aboard that morning, and Ralph had nicknamed him
“Paws.” Ralph, though, was not thinking of the water below, the
fishing-line in his hand, or the dog at his side. He was taking comfort
in the thought that he and Rick and Siah and Jack Bobstay were
going off on a “cruise” through Sydney.

“ Take care of the boys,” said Uncle Nat as they were about leaving
the ship.