some fatal accidents on that very account. Among the stations
are Jerusalem and Jericho, before which the line skirts the Lake of
Tiberias. Not far off is Bagdad--which also has its Caliph. There
is one express train a day each way, which keeps up an average
speed of 23 miles per hour. Launceston has about 15,000
inhabitants, and is a more business-like town than Hobart.
Otherwise it is not particularly interesting. Hobart, which up to
1881 was called Hobart Town, has a most enchanting situation. The
scenery is of that ideal nature which, especially when the
afternoon sun gleams on the water and the hills, reminds the
spectator (if it is not contradictory to say so) of the "Light that
never was on sea or land."

Hobart lies about seven miles from the sea, which here runs up into
the land like a Norwegian fiord, and at the mouth of the river
Derwent. It is built upon sloping ground, between the river and
Mount Wellington, a huge mass that dwarfs every other object. Each
side of this fiord are green hills, from any one of which are
charming views of sea and land. The town much resembles an English
country town. The streets are narrower than those of Australian
towns, and though mostly at right angles are not so painfully
regular. They are mostly named after past Governors, as Macquarie
Street, Davey Street, Collins Street, Franklin Square, etc. Over the
Town Hall a flag flies, with the proud motto "_Sic fortis Hobartia
crevit_," and the arms of the city, supported by a kangaroo and an
emu. Under this same roof is the Public Library, containing about
10,000 volumes. The chief English periodicals are taken here. I
remember reading here Froude's "Carlyle in London," which is a
biography worthy to stand beside Boswell. It is a real biography,
not a mere jumble of undigested letters and diary thrown before the
public, which is too much the modern notion of writing Somebody's
Life. Hobart has none of the cosmopolitanism of Melbourne. Its
habits are essentially provincial--what the Germans call
_Kleinstaedtisch_. There is a small theatre at Hobart, to which
companies sometimes come from Melbourne. I saw the "Ticket-of-Leave
Man" here. The audience, which almost entirely consisted of the pit,
were still in that primitive stage of criticism in which the villain
(who was a good actor) was hooted, and the honest man (an
indifferent actor) vehemently applauded. I remember asking the way
to the theatre of a bearded individual, who