On the Reef 



was Anniversary Day, and all the 

 world seemed to be going out to enjoy 

 itself. Boats and trams and trains 

 were laden with throngs of holiday- 

 makers, girls in shady hats and white 

 dresses, young men in light summer 

 suits, children and parents all in 

 holiday garb, and all wending their 

 way to the races, the cricket match, 

 the regatta, or to the sunny beaches 

 and the white-foamed breakers The 



bluest of blue skies looked down on the bluest of blue seas, 

 scarcely rippled as yet by the light north-easter. White sails 

 of every size drifted slowly over the harbour's face, on their 

 way to the starting line. Flags waved from pole and mast in a 

 hundred shades and shapes, and from the excursion boats the 

 music of band and violin floated across the sunny day. It was 

 such a holiday as only Sydney knows a day when young and 

 old join in their pleasure, and Nature herself seems bent on 

 celebrating the great occasion. 



But though I love a good-natured happy-go-lucky holiday 

 crowd, a whole day spent amongst the noise and excitement 

 tires; the languor of the late summer was in my blood, and I 



