t time,
through which you are obliged to splash without regard to the muddy
consequences; and even when they are dry, they entail sudden and
prodigious jolts. There are plenty of Hansoms and all sorts of other
conveyances, but I gave F---- no peace until he took me for a drive in a
vehicle which was quite new to me--a sort of light car with a canopy
and curtains, holding four, two on each seat, _dos-a-dos_, and called
a "jingle,"--of American parentage, I fancy. One drive in this
carriage was quite enough, however, and I contented myself with Hansoms
afterwards; but walking is really more enjoyable than anything else,
after having been so long cooped up on board ship.

We admired the fine statue, at the top of Collins Street, to the memory
of the two most famous of Australian explorers, Burke and Wills, and
made many visits to the Museum, and the glorious Free Library; we also
went all over the Houses of Legislature--very new and grand. But
you must not despise me if I confess to having enjoyed the shops
exceedingly: it was so unlike a jeweller's shop in England to see on the
counter gold in its raw state, in nuggets and dust and flakes; in this
stage of its existence it certainly deserves its name of "filthy lucre,"
for it is often only half washed. There were quantities of emus' eggs
in the silversmiths' shops, mounted in every conceivable way as cups and
vases, and even as work-boxes: some designs consisted of three or five
eggs grouped together as a centre-piece. I cannot honestly say I admired
any of them; they were generally too elaborate, comprising often
a native (spear in hand), a kangaroo, palms, ferns, cockatoos, and
sometimes an emu or two in addition, as a pedestal--all this in frosted
silver or gold. I was given a pair of these eggs before leaving
England: they were mounted in London as little flower-vases in a setting
consisting only of a few bulrushes and leaves, yet far better than any
of these florid designs; but he emu-eggs are very popular in Sydney or
Melbourne, and I am told sell rapidly to people going home, who take
them as a memento of their Australian life, and probably think that the
greater the number of reminiscences suggested by the ornament the more
satisfactory it is as a purchase.

I must finish my letter by a description of a dinner-party which about
a dozen of our fellow-passengers joined with us in giving our dear old
captain before we all separated. Whilst we were on board, it very