hermitage from the same district, as well as from the Hunter River district in New South Wales, at 15s. a dozen, is also as good as one can wish, short of a grand vin, although in none of these wines do you entirely lose the gout du terroir, a peculiar earthy taste resulting from the strength of the soil.  The cheapest wholesome wine I have ever drunk off the Continent is a thin vin ordinaire, smelling like piquette, which is sold at a certain rather low-looking shop in Melbourne.  It is quite palatable, and when heavily watered I can vouch for its wholesomeness.

The lightest of these wines contain about 18 degrees of spirit, whereas, as you know, an ‘ordinaire’ has only about 8, and a burgundy not more than 11 or 12.  But the native wines which are generally preferred by the colonists themselves are the South Australian.  In spite of a duty of 10s. a dozen, large quantities of Adelaide wine are drunk in Melbourne.  Its chief characteristics are sweetness and heaviness.  It may seem to you incredible, but I have drunk a wine made from the Verdeilho grape, and, grown near Adelaide by a Mr. C. Bonney, which contained no less than 36 degrees of natural spirit, without a drop added:  32 and 33 degrees are quite common, and the average percentage in South Australian wine is about 28.

In most cases the wines are named after the grape from which they are made, though sometimes the less sensible course of calling the wine ‘claret,’ ‘sherry,’ or ‘port,’ is adopted.  I say less sensible, because all colonial wines have a peculiar flavour, which makes it difficult to mistake them for the wines they profess to imitate.  The Carbinet-Sauvignon grape, which I believe is the principal one used in the Bordeaux district, produces here a wine something like what you get on the Rhone.  The Riesling, a Rhineland grape, resembles a brandied hock; it makes one of the best wines, and is often very palatable.  The red and white Hermitage grapes do best of all.  The Muscatel makes a delicious sweet wine in Adelaide, but it is very heady.  I have no doubt that in the course of time, and when more scientific methods are pursued, South Australia will produce excellent ports and sherries, as well as Constantias, Malagas, and madeira, but I fear it will not be within the present generation.  Claret, I understand from experts, will never be produced, but hermitages and wines of that type will be made in the course of ten or twenty years which will be able to compete in the European markets; long before this they should become useful for blending with French and Spanish wines.  As a rule the wine is already sound and wholesome; and if one comes to think of it, taste is a purely arbitrary matter.  One forms one’s taste according to a certain standard to which one is accustomed.  To a man accustomed to colonial wines, clarets and hocks seem thin and sour.  One great difficulty which militates against the reputation of Australian wine, is that of the untrustworthiness