ses, but everybody that drinks. Not a few of the wealthiest and
most leading citizens are well-known to be frequently drunk, though their
names do not, of course, appear in the papers or in the police reports.
The state of public feeling on the subject, though improving, is much as
it was in England twenty or thirty years ago. Society says, 'Capital
fellow, Jones; pity he drinks!' but no social reprobation attaches to
Jones. He may be known to be carried to bed every night, for all it
affects his reputation as a respectable and respected citizen. But with
the advance of civilization better times are coming in these matters. It
is no more so absolute a necessity to take a nobbler as it was ten years
ago. Drunkenness, if not reprobated, is no longer considered a
'gentlemanly vice.' A man who drinks is pitied. This is the first step.
Before long blame will tread in the steps of pity.

But enough of drinking. It is not a pleasant subject. Besides, I have not
yet described the food of any but the working-class. And if they live ten
times better than their fellows at home, it is equally true that the
middle, and especially the upper, class live ten times worse. It requires
the tongue and the pen of a Brillat-Savarin to give flavour to a
Barmecide's feast; but as victualling is as necessary a condition of
existence here as anywhere else, I must do my best to enlighten you as to
our situation in this respect. May you never have practical experience
thereof! If it be true that, while the French eat, the English only feed,
we may fairly add that the Australians 'grub'. Nor could it well be
otherwise under the circumstances. It is not merely because it is
difficult to entice a good cook to come out here. If he really wants a
thing, the wealthy colonist will not spare money to get it; but how can
you expect a man who--for the greater part of his life--has been eating
mutton and damper, and drinking parboiled tea three times a day, to
understand the art of good living? Even if he does, he finds it
unappreciated by those around him; and there are few men fond enough of
the luxuries of life to be singular in their enjoyment. It takes a lot of
trouble to get and keep a good cook, and there is nothing the Australian
abhors like trouble. Consequently--I am now speaking only of the
wealthy--he adopts one of two courses.

Either he gives occasional grand dinners, in which case he imagines he
has got a good cook because he is paying L60 or