is staring us warningly in the face in the shape of the gaunt ribs or
rusty cylinders of sundry cast-away vessels. To-day the weather is on
its good behavior; the south-easter rests on its

aery nest
As still as a brooding dove;

and sun and sea are doing their best to show off the queer little
straggling town creeping up the low sandy hills that lie before us. I
am assured that Port Elizabeth is a flourishing mercantile place. From
the deck of our ship I can't at all perceive that it is flourishing,
or doing anything except basking in the pleasant sunshine. But when I
go on shore an hour or two later I am shown a store which takes
away my breath, and before whose miscellaneous contents the
stoutest-hearted female shopper must needs _baisser son pavilion_.
Everything in this vast emporium looked as neat and orderly as
possible, and, though the building was twice as big as the largest
co-operative store in London, there was no hurry or confusion.
Thimbles and ploughs, eau-de-cologne and mangles, American stoves,
cotton dresses of astounding patterns to suit the taste of Dutch
ladies, harmoniums and flat-irons,--all stood peaceably side by side
together. But these were all "unconsidered trifles" next the more
serious business of the establishment, which was wool--wool in every
shape and stage and bale. In this department, however, although for
the sake of the dear old New Zealand days my heart warms at the sight
of the huge packages, I was not supposed to take any interest; so we
pass quickly out into the street again, get into a large open carriage
driven by a black coachman, and make the best of our way up to a
villa on the slope of the sandy hill. Once I am away from the majestic
influence of that store the original feeling of Port Elizabeth being
rather a dreary place comes back upon me; but we drive all about--to
the Park, which may be said to be in its swaddling-clothes _as_ a
park, and to the Botanic Gardens, where the culture of foreign
and colonial flowers and shrubs is carried on under the chronic
difficulties of too much sun and wind and too little water. Everywhere
there is building going on--very modest building, it is true, with
rough-and-ready masonry or timber, and roofs of zinc painted in
strips of light colors, but everywhere there are signs of progress and
growth. People look bored, but healthy, and it does not surprise me in
the least to hear that though there are a good many inhabitan