Early in the month of June, 1839, we left England for New South Wales; and although at the time the voyage seemed to me very monotonous and devoid of incident, yet, in writing any account of the interesting objects these colonies present, I cannot pass altogether silently over the events, however few or trifling, that served in some measure to vary the tedium of a four months' passage hither, which I can assure my readers is far more irksome than any one would imagine who has not endured that unpleasant captivity.

It is now more than three years since that time, but I remember most vividly my feelings of disgust on stepping from the chair in which I was hoisted on board the Letitia, amidst the strange mêlée on deck. I was too ignorant of nautical matters to make proper allowance for the slovenly aspect of things in their then incomplete state of arrangement.

Dirt and confusion seemed to share the sovereignty between them, and the heterogeneous assemblage of trunks, chests, cases, bags, hampers, hen-coops, pigs, dogs, coils of rope, sailors and passengers on deck, made me gladly retreat to our own cabin, where the final disposal of our various goods and chattels occupied us the remainder of the evening.

I was greatly amused and puzzled by Mr. Meredith's extreme caution in lashing every article with ropes to the sides of the cabin, as well as by having deep cleats of wood nailed to the floor to keep our chest of drawers, &c. in place.