to his usual practice, he is apt to consider the surface rather than what is beneath it; and it is an accepted maxim in commercial circles that money spent on buildings—­which is of course borrowed in England at English rates of interest—­is amongst the cheapest forms of advertising a rising business and keeping an established business going.  Nobody in a young country has a long memory, and nothing is so firmly established but that it may be overthrown if it does not keep up with the times.

The general run of shops are little better than in English towns of the same size, if we except those of some dozen drapers and ironmongers in Melbourne, and two or three in Sydney, which are exceptionally good.  Of these it may be said that they would be creditable to London itself.  Both trades are much more comprehensive than in England.  A large Melbourne draper will sell you anything, from a suit of clothes to furniture, where he comes into competition with the ironmonger, whose business includes agricultural machinery, crockery and plate.  The larger firms in both these trades combine wholesale and retail business, and their shops are quite amongst the sights of Australia.  Nowhere out of an exhibition and Whiteley’s is it possible to meet so heterogeneous a collection.  A peculiarity of Melbourne is that the shop-windows there are much better set out than is customary in England.  It is not so in Sydney.  Indeed Melbourne has decidedly the best set of shops, not only in outward appearance, but as to the variety and quality of the articles sold in them.  Next to the drapers and ironmongers, the booksellers’ shops are the most creditable.  The style of the smaller shops in every colonial town is as English as English can be.  The only difference is in the prices, but of that more anon when we go into the shops.

The river Yarra runs through the city, and is navigable as far as its centre by coasting steamers and all but the larger sailing craft.  Above the harbour it is lined with trees and very pretty, and in spite of many windings it is wide enough for boat-races.  Below it is uninteresting, and chiefly remarkable for the number and variety of the perfumes which arise from the manufactories on its banks.  Next to the monotony of the Suez Canal, with which it presents many points of resemblance, I know few things more tiresome than the voyage up the Yarra in an intercolonial steamer of 600 or 700 tons, which goes aground every ten minutes, and generally, as if on purpose, just in front of a boiling-down establishment.

If the Australian cities can claim a sad eminence, if not an actual supremacy, in the number of their public houses, of which there are no less than 1,120 in Melbourne, I am sorry to say that they are as much behind London in their ideas of the comforts of an hotel as London is behind San Francisco.  Melbourne is certainly better off than Sydney or Adelaide, but bad are its best hotels.  Of these Menzies’