Chapter V: Part 5

Here, as elsewhere, the railroads are considered fair game for every swindler. This man says that a few months ago there was a railroad accident in Australia, and three hundred and forty-three claims for damages were filed. Investigation revealed the fact that there were but two hundred and fifty-one passengers on the wrecked train.... One prominent fault here is overcrowding. You notice it on every railroad train, in every ship, and in every hotel. Crowding is barbarism. The railroads, although owned by the government, do not run enough trains. The ship on which this is written is crowded beyond the legal or safe limit.... Possibly you do not know that the casings of American “wieners” come from Australian or South-American sheep. I met a traveling-man the other day who sells nothing but sausage casings; mainly sheep entrails, and his house has branches nearly everywhere. The most interesting thing in the world is business, but it is neglected by magazines and newspapers for scandal or foolish fiction.... There is a good deal of excitement here now over what is called “American blight,” which affects fruit. My American friend who lives in Sydney says he secured undoubted evidence that the blight existed in Tasmania in 1832, and does not come from America, but the newspapers will not print his evidence.... I can easily understand that everything American is unfairly treated by the papers of Australia. We in America are grossly unfair with everything English, not because we desire to be, but because we do not know any better. I grossly exaggerate that which I do not understand, and so does everyone.... The fine weather continues, and all day the sea has been as smooth as a pond. I am in good humor today, but I am still of the opinion that four men in a steamship room nine by ten is an outrage. You cannot realize its discomfort until you have had experience.... Late last night, while sitting in the music-room of the ship “Maunganui,” a steward came in to collect the steamer rugs scattered about. The steward told me that for several months he has averaged $35 a week in tips. The ship is always crowded; this trip there were ninety people at the second sitting in the dining-room. As a result, the stewards have a double number in the dining-room and a double number in the staterooms. I doubt if the captain makes more than the most popular and capable stewards on his ship. A passenger told me that he frequently sees the stewards of the “Maunganui” riding in motor cars in Sydney, and drinking champagne with lady friends in the expensive restaurants. The steward said that when he starts on a trip, he can look over the passengers in his care and tell almost exactly what he will get in tips when the ship lands. He showed me a $5 gold-piece which one man had given him, although the usual tip is $1.25. Why did that passenger give $5? Largely because he was a fool, I should say, for ship servants rarely do anything special for passengers. The steward told me, also, that the tourists are the best pay; that commercial men demand a good deal of service, and tip lightly, whereas all tourists tip liberally, whether they receive any special attention or not. As soon as a tourist goes on a ship, he begins inquiring concerning the tipping customs, and if he asks the barber, or an officer, he is advised to be liberal. There is a law in New Zealand which prohibits ship employees from working more than eight hours a day.... One of the passengers is a man named Willis, Speaker of the New South Wales House of Parliament. He is accompanied by his wife, two young lady daughters, and a son. All of them ate at the second sitting in the dining-room. I was told by several passengers that Willis is very unpopular; he certainly received no attention on board. In Australia there are only two political parties: the Labor and the Liberal. Willis, it is said, was a Liberal for years, and then switched to Labor, although he is not a workingman; on the contrary, he is well off. Many people regard him as a political adventurer, but they all credit him with unusual cleverness. I predict that some of these days he will get even with the Union Steamship Co. for putting him at the second sitting in the dining-room. I heard an American woman say lately that New Zealand women wear funny shoes and corsets. The Speaker’s women-folks do; for several days I thought Willis was a prosperous sheep farmer going to Sydney to spend his money. The women of Australia lack the good taste in dress that distinguishes the women of countries less prosperous.... Young children are better behaved here than in the United States; they “mind” better, and lack the impudence which distinguishes so many children with us.... The population of New Zealand does not increase; that country does not hustle for immigrants, as Australia does. Besides, a good many of the New Zealand sheep farmers are going to Argentina, in South America, one of the wonders of modern times, and more favorable for sheep-raising than this section. Wellington, a fine town, and the capital of New Zealand, does not grow; when I was there, the old wooden capitol was being repaired, and will probably be used another forty years. The population of New Zealand is only a million; but for that matter big Australia has only five times as many, almost one-half of them being in the big cities on the coast. The interior of Australia is hot, and its inhabitants hug the coast.

TUESDAY, FEBRUARY 4.—The greatest pleasure of this day consisted of leaving the ship. At 8 o’clock this morning I had another sight of Sydney’s famous harbor, and at 9 we landed and went to the Australia Hotel, where we saw another fine sight: several Americans. We found Mr. and Mrs. Harry Clay Blaney, the New York theatrical people, there, and several others we knew on the “Sonoma.” The Blaneys leave next Saturday for the Philippine Islands and China, by a ship of twenty-seven hundred tons; it is so small that it cannot accommodate more than two dozen first-class passengers. Nothing could induce me to take that trip; the ship is too small. I leave on the 12th for Durban, in South Africa, on the “Anchises,” a ship of 12,000 tons, and have been grumbling because it is not larger.... Another American I met there is W. B. Knight, born in New York state, and reared in the Standard Oil Co. family at Cleveland, Ohio. He is now connected with the Texas company, but received all his training with the Standard. There is a great deal of romance connected with Mr. Knight’s business career. He has lived in Persia, India, China, Japan, Australia, the Straits Settlements, and half a dozen other strange places. His wife is the daughter of another wandering oil man, and they were married at Canton, China, at the American Legation, by a preacher from Pennsylvania. His wife is with him here, and they are both anxious to get home: both declare that this is their last trip—that they are tired of hotel, ship and railroad life. Mr. Knight said to me: “I am now an opponent of the Standard Oil Co., but have no hesitancy in saying that the manner in which that company is persecuted by the government is a disgrace. I have been intimate with Standard affairs a quarter of a century, and have never known the company to be guilty of a disreputable or dishonest act. The company with which I have been connected a year, the Texas company, is composed almost entirely of men trained by the Standard, and we are trying to do what the Standard has done. We are the opposition, but our business methods are no better than those of the Standard.”

WEDNESDAY, FEBRUARY 5.—I am almost persuaded that Sydney is one of the handsomest cities I have ever visited. One of its numerous bays extends so far in the interior that it is called a river. We traveled up it today by boat for an hour and a half, and all the way saw handsome homes, and attractive coves. Returning, we came by electric car most of the way, and saw another interesting part of the city. While waiting for a car, we went into a little place for a drink. We ordered what seemed to be ginger ale, and it was cold; it is warmer in Australia than in New Zealand, and the people have learned the value of ice. “In America, you would call it pop,” the woman said. There is no doubt here as to our identity.... The weather today has been as hot as we ever get it on the Fourth of July. And this the 5th of February.... In the United States there is a great rivalry as to the best five-cent cigar. Here the manufacturers of six-cent cigars make equally extravagant claims.... There is nothing serious the matter with this country except that managers of steamships put four in a room 9×10 feet. The officers of the ships do not sleep in any such higgledy-piggledy fashion; they insist upon large single rooms for themselves, but force four passengers into a room not big enough for one. During the Spanish-American war, you may remember that the American officers, including Theodore Roosevelt, rebelled against certain regulations of their superiors. This rebellion they called a round robin. This country needs a similar rebellion against four in the same steamship room.... There are so many ferries in Sydney harbor carrying people to different suburbs along the bays that occasionally incoming steamships are held up during rush hours, in order that the ferry traffic may not be interfered with. This usually happens between 7:30 and 8 in the morning.... Wherever English print is in use, you will see the name of Theodore Roosevelt. He knows more of the art of securing free advertising than any other living man. In a morning paper I find a Melbourne dispatch saying the Minister for Home Affairs has received a letter from Mr. Roosevelt. A part of the letter is quoted, as follows:

“There is nothing that would give me more pleasure than to visit Australia. I cannot imagine any American seriously interested in the affairs of his country and of the world who would not feel himself fortunate to visit your great commonwealth. You have been pioneers along many paths of social and industrial reform. I have personally a very great admiration for the Australian people. One of my prized hunting companions in Africa was an Australian,” etc., etc.

In the same newspaper I find the following from New Zealand:

“The High Commissioner for New Zealand said he was proud that the Dominion had led the way in presenting a battleship to the British Empire. Mr. James Allen, Minister for Defense, said New Zealand would not be satisfied until she gave both men and ships.”

What may be said of New Zealand may be said of Australia. Is it pioneering in social or industrial reform for a peaceful country to build battleships, and present them to a quarrelsome king thousands of miles away?... This afternoon I went to a theatre, and saw moving pictures of the Panama canal. The pictures have packed the house for weeks; they are doing much to increase respect here for American energy and ability. The comments I heard around me were extremely gratifying. Never in the history of the world has a great work been carried on as energetically, as economically or as intelligently as at Panama. These pictures prove the smartness of the Yankee, and the actual accomplishment at Panama is as great as the big talk about the smart Yankee has ever been.... In this city of Sydney there is a big department store operated by the Anthony Hordern Co. Anthony Hordern was a plodder who built up a great business, and died from overwork at sixty-four. The business is now managed by heads of departments trained by Anthony Hordern, but his two sons own it. A floor-walker told me today that the store employs four thousand people, and has fifteen acres of floor space. I do not know just how much an Australian’s statements should be discounted; the average at home is about one-third. The store has a special sale on now, which is attracting great crowds, as special sales seem to everywhere. Wherever I go here, floor-walkers step up and ask if I have been waited on, whereupon I reply that I am simply a visitor looking about, etc. In most cases the floor-walker will show me around; at Anthony Hordern’s today, he mentioned Marshall Field’s place in Chicago, and at once labeled me as an American. The Anthony Hordern store is very large, but not half as big as the Marshall Field store. And it isn’t half as fine. The Hordern store looks old-fashioned; the ceilings are low, and the place isn’t very neat—I don’t know exactly what the trouble is, but I was compelled to tell the floor-walker, a very polite man, that it wasn’t in the Marshall Field class.... At sea, I become angry, and half the time won’t take my bath, or shave, or dress for dinner, but when I am on land, I am good-natured, and thoroughly enjoy going about. It is a joy for me to poke around a strange town. On our return to Sydney we employed the same boy who showed us about on our first visit; we liked the little man, although we could not understand half he said. At the Anthony Hordern store today, we wanted to go up to the art department, but the elevator man could not understand my pronunciation of the word Art. The boy had heard the floor-walker recommend that we visit the Art department, so he pronounced the word Art, and the elevator man understood him.... The floor-walker wanted to introduce me to young Anthony Hordern, but I asked to be excused. No doubt the son was like a sailor on the “Sonoma:” Captain Trask said he wasn’t worth much except to play the part of “Neptune” when the ship crossed the line.... I am good-natured now, and intend to dress for dinner tonight, and drink coffee in the Winter Garden afterwards, but as soon as I go on board the “Anchises” at Adelaide, I expect to be mad again. The sea knocks me, and I can’t help it. And it will knock you, if you fool with it, and have lived in a prairie country a good deal.... Adelaide has been much interested in the fact that there is a smart city in Australia named Adelaide; it is at this town we take ship for South Africa. She has also been interested in Cape Howe, and Lord Howe Island; but I called her attention to a historical fact today which had previously escaped her. It seems that in the early days, one of the famous bush-rangers was Michael Howe, a convict who had been a sailor. He was sent here to serve seven years for robbery, but he escaped, and joined a band of bush-rangers. He soon became their chief, and ruled like a tyrant. He was also very haughty, calling himself “the governor of the range.” The governor of the colony he called “the governor of the town.” A price was placed on the head of Michael Howe, and one day a sailor named Worral, also a convict, brought it in. Worral received the promised reward, and was sent back to England a free man. No convicts have been sent to Australia from England since 1868.... You may think I grumble about ships a good deal. You mainly hear grumbling on shipboard. Whoever tells the truth will confess that he didn’t have a very good time at sea. When I went on the trip to the West Indies, I did so well that I fancied I was becoming a sad sea-dog. This experience induced me to undertake the present journey; but I know now that my sea-legs are wobbly. I can get along well enough on land anywhere, but I do not understand the ways of ocean-going crews, or of those strange persons who pretend to like ship voyages.

THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 6.—This morning we went with the Blaneys to inspect the “Prince Waldemar,” the little ship on which they will sail next Saturday for the Philippine Islands and China. Except that it is small, we were delighted with it. The servants are Japanese, and the sailors of a brown race with which we are not familiar. The Blaneys have a stateroom with two windows; it is so large that the chief steward of the “Maunganui” would have crowded at least six into it. Never travel on a popular ship, or fall in love with a beautiful woman who has many admirers. The servants of the “Prince Waldemar” were as grateful for a little attention as an old maid. The boat is said to have excellent management, but it is only half as big as the “Sonoma,” and the “Sonoma” is a pony. The “Prince Waldemar” is a 2,700-ton boat; the “Anchises,” on which we sail for South Africa, is 12,000 tons. Any ship under 17,000 tons is a crime. There are no real ships in Australian waters; if a real ship should visit Sydney, people would come from New Zealand, and travel four and six in a room, to look at it. A ship of 12,000 tons is referred to as a “Leviathan of the Deep” in the papers here. The “Baltic,” on which I crossed the Atlantic not very long ago, is a 38,000-ton ship; and, when the weather is rough, it is none too large. The Hamburg-American company is building a ship almost twice as large as the “Baltic.”... Near the “Prince Waldemar” lay the “Ventura,” sister ship of the “Sonoma,” and which sails for San Francisco next Saturday. We went on board, and it was like a visit home, as it is exactly like the “Sonoma” in every detail. We showed our “Sonoma” pictures, and soon had members of the crew interested. Among other pictures, we had one of the “Ventura,” taken at sea when we passed it on Christmas day. The American flag was displayed at the ship’s peak, and it looked as good to us as it probably looks to an old soldier on Decoration Day.... We meet traveling acquaintances every day. This morning we met Mr. Adams, the life insurance man, whose wife was so ill on the “Sonoma,” and who was so devoted to her that the men were proud of him. “I am staying at the Wentworth,” he said; “it is twice as good as the Australia.” The Australia Hotel is the best in Australasia (which includes New Zealand), and of course many hotels are said to be superior to it. Mr. Adams is meeting his wife’s kin for the first time, but I neglected to ask him if he suited.... We also met the Sandersons. We greatly admired Mrs. Sanderson, in spite of the fact that she is English. She was coming over to meet her husband’s people for the first time, and we predicted she would be satisfactory; but she was fearful—people are so particular in cases of that kind. Mr. Sanderson, however, told me that his folks dearly love his wife. Mr. Sanderson is the man who operates apple orchards in Oregon, and they leave for home on Saturday, on the “Ventura.”... At 7:40 in the evening we resumed The Traveler’s Trot, and departed by train for Melbourne, 585 miles. The railroad is standard gauge, and the sleeper very good. As usual, we found the train crowded. Melbourne is almost as large as Sydney, yet there is but one railroad between the two cities, and this runs but one train a day: a train in three sections, leaving at 7:40, 8 and 9:30 P. M. Between Kansas City and Chicago there are at least five direct lines, and each line runs numerous through trains daily: morning, noon, and night. The government lines do not pay as high wages as our privately owned lines. The train on which I traveled between Sydney and Melbourne is the best in Australia; it may be compared with the Pennsylvania Limited between Chicago and New York. The conductor, or guard, received $3 a day. The engineer received $3.75 a day, and the fireman $1.75. Engineers on freight trains here receive as low as $3 a day. The wages of similar employees in the United States are certainly double.... The train made good time, and I slept better than I usually sleep in a sleeping-car. The sleeper was not gaudy and heavy like a Pullman, but it did very well. The only attendant was a white man, who made up the beds as well as took the tickets. The sleeping-car fare from 8 P. M. to 7 A. M. (when we changed to cars of another gauge), was $2.50. The charge for a similar service in the United States is universally $2. The train fare was about two and a half cents a mile; in Kansas, the universal charge for first-class passengers is two cents a mile. The time was rather fast, but as the cars were light, the train was noisy and unsteady. The people in Australia are more accustomed to Americans than are New Zealanders, and we do not attract so much attention, but they immediately spot us as Americans. I have never in my life, anywhere, met as many polite people as I have met here and in New Zealand; I believe I have said this before, but I wish to repeat and emphasize the statement.... I think I detect a slight difference between New Zealand and Australia: the last named is more prosperous, and does everything a little better. Australians have a little of the swagger and strut you detect in Chicago people, whereas New Zealanders are as modest as people living in St. Louis, or any other less prosperous and enterprising city.

FRIDAY, FEBRUARY 7.—In the wash-room of the sleeping-car, early this morning, I met an American, a Boston man, who has been a gentleman farmer in Australia for twelve years. He told me he owned 52,000 acres of land, and that whereas he came here with nothing twelve years ago, he would not take a million and a half dollars for what he owns now. He originally visited the country on business, thought he detected great possibilities, and came here to live. He didn’t know corn from barley when he began, but applied business rules to farming, and has succeeded. I expressed surprise as to his large land-holding, whereupon he told me that in the interior there are sheep farms five hundred miles square, or as big as the state of Kansas. This land is leased from the government at a penny an acre. Artesian wells three thousand feet deep are being bored, and these wells are greatly improving the arid districts. There are plenty of stock farms in Australia 150 to 200 miles square.... The Boston man pays a good deal of attention to dairying, although he is interested in all branches of farming: fruit, vegetables, grain, stock, etc., and employs 280 men. Farm wages are lower here, judging from what he told me, than in the United States. He has no renters on his land; he calls that “the lazy, shiftless way.” He says the people here do not know the meaning of hard work; that they work only five days a week, and have very short hours, whereas he has always worked long hours every day; and it agrees with him, for he is stout, and looks exactly like a prosperous business man. He owns thousands of sheep and cattle; and if I did not make an error in my notes, he told me he made $175,000 from his land last year. I remember the statement particularly because he had just been telling me about an income tax lately imposed, and which hit him hard. One tract of his land, 2,500 acres, cost him $150,000, counting an irrigation plant which he built; but lately he refused $225,000 for it. He predicts that as soon as Americans find out the opportunities for making money here, they will come in flocks. He told me of one piece of land that is worth $400 an acre, and which has been producing corn at the rate of 100 bushels per acre for sixty-five years, without manuring. This is choice land in a choice district, and perhaps the statement is exaggerated, as we exaggerate when we talk of forty bushels of wheat per acre, or seventy of corn. The country through which we were passing looked very dry, but the American said it was good land; the famous chocolate land of Australia, so named because the soil has a reddish cast. “We have been having a drouth for two months,” he said, “and the dry weather is good for the land.” He talked a good deal about “sour” and “sweet” soil. I said the expressions were new to me, and my companion laughingly replied that he was forgetting all he ever knew about America; he made me think of an Englishman who had traveled a good deal in America, and had the rough edges worn off. At several of the stations through which we passed we saw a great deal of wheat piled on the ground, in three-bushel sacks. We also saw numerous twelve-ox teams along the country roads, hauling sacked wheat to market. Wheat is harvested here in a fashion which seems better than our way. A machine slightly larger than our harvester is used. This machine pulls the heads off the wheat, and threshes them; the grain is then put into sacks, and dumped on the ground, as our harvesters dump the twine-bound sheaves. A number of Australian gentlemen farmers had joined the conversation by this time, and they all assured me that such a thing as a thresher is almost unknown here. Asked where the machine came from that harvested and threshed the wheat in one operation, they said they were supplied by the International Harvester Co., of America; also, by an English company. I was compelled to confess I had never seen such a machine, or heard of one. Along the road I saw numerous wheat-fields which had evidently been treated in the manner indicated; the grain heads had been frayed off, and the stalks left standing, for sheep pasturage. The gentlemen farmers told me of one man who had tried a new experiment in wheat-raising. He cleared his land, but did not break, or plow it, as we say; instead, he drilled in his wheat on the unbroken land, and followed the drill with some sort of farm implement which slightly covered the seed; possibly it was a harrow—I did not quite understand the term used. The season was exceptionally favorable, and the wheat made an average of thirteen bushels per acre. The land on which the experiment was tried was worth about $25 an acre. The rainfall here varies from six to sixty inches, but the heavy rainfall usually comes in torrents, when it is not needed. In the center of the country, at points farthest from the coast, there is almost no rain at all. We were passing through what is possibly the best section of Australia, and it looked very dry to me; I saw almost no rivers or creeks. It reminded me of India, or Colorado, or California, but my traveling acquaintances said: “Ah, yes; it looks dry now, after two months of drouth, but when the rain comes it will look as green as your country.” I said: “It is evident that you run fewer sheep per acre here than in New Zealand.” They admitted it, but said the volcanic soil of New Zealand was much inferior to the chocolate soil of Australia; New Zealand has more rain than Australia, but not as good a soil, a fact I had myself noticed.... Wheat piled on the ground in sacks, seemed very shiftless to me. I saw no grain elevators, such as we have, and when the wheat is shipped, it is loaded in open box cars; no protection from the weather. But in spite of many evidences of a dry country, you see many evidences of prosperity here, too. Australia is almost as big as the United States, but has only five million people; it doesn’t need to feed a dozen sheep per acre. I also heard much of irrigation projects, and the country seems to be booming.... At 8 A. M. we changed to another train; to a railroad with a gauge of five feet three inches. The standard gauge of the world is four feet eight and a half inches; the usual narrow-gauge is three feet six inches. The train on the broad-gauge—5 feet 3 inches—had a diner, but we could not get in, so we ate breakfast at a railway restaurant. The broad-gauge train also had a parlor car, in which we had reserved seats, and were very comfortable. We stopped every two or three hours, to permit the passengers to drink tea. The train was a fine one, but it could not be compared with our best trains, and was badly crowded, as is the usual custom over here in all public places. At ten minutes after one in the afternoon, we reached Melbourne.

SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 8.—At Sydney, we had heard of 107 in the shade at Melbourne, but found the weather very pleasant. In a very gentlemanly sort of way, Melbourne and Sydney are jealous of each other. They are of about the same size, with Sydney in the lead, and forging ahead rapidly; but Melbourne has the capital, and this is a bone of contention. To get rid of it, there is a plan to build a capital in the interior, as we built Washington to patch up the quarrel between cities anxious for the national capital. But Melbourne will indefinitely delay building a capital city in the sage-brush of the interior; I have heard this guess made many times.... I have been particularly pleased with the hotels in Australia and New Zealand, and am inclined to believe that Menzie’s, in Melbourne, is the best of the lot. I have a telephone in my room, and a big wide bed, and the meals are surprisingly good. The price is $3.60 per day, including everything. I was recently at the Sherman House, in Chicago, and paid $3.50 per day for a room. What we call “the European plan” is almost unknown at hotels here.... Melbourne is a better town than I expected to find it. Its citizens admit that Sydney is larger, and growing more rapidly; indeed, I have heard them say Sydney will continue to grow more rapidly, as it has a better country around it. But Melbourne is a beautiful city, and Sydney has nothing to match its St. Kilda Road. This is a great driveway leading from the city to a sort of Coney Island. This driveway is lined with flowers, green grass and beautiful homes. And I did not see a bathing-beach in Sydney as handsome as St. Kilda beach. Melbourne has wider streets than Sydney, and seems to be more modern. “Don’t you think,” one man asked me, “that Melbourne is more like one of your American cities than Sydney?” The people here are as familiar as the people of New Zealand with the fact that we are Americans, but they see more Americans, and are not so much interested in them. Every man I talk with reminds me that I am an American; always politely. I went yesterday to see about my baggage. “Don’t you find our system almost identical with yours in the United States?” the very agreeable and accommodating baggage agent asked. And the system of handling baggage here is the same as our system.... I think the people of Melbourne are sick and tired hearing of Sydney’s beautiful harbor; particularly as Melbourne’s harbor is not very large. There is a great bay here, but it is not a harbor; it is almost as much of an open roadstead as Manila bay.... Melbourne has cable cars, but the system was not adopted because of hills, for the city is almost flat. I enjoyed riding again in the front end of a grip-car, as I used to do in the old days in Kansas City. On one line, the fare is six cents per passenger for riding the shortest distance. I saw one short electric line; also, one horse-car line.... Years ago, the boomers declared that Melbourne needed a Convention hall, and one was finally built, after every citizen had been bored for a contribution, and soundly abused because he did not give more. Now the boomers are kept busy to find use for the hall. This month it is the scene of a Manufacturers’ exhibition, and I saw a good many interesting things there yesterday afternoon. There is an aquarium in connection; and at this place I saw the most interesting thing I have seen since leaving home—a monkey mother with a baby four or five weeks old. Monkeys always interest me, but this monkey with a baby was so much like a human mother that I watched her half an hour. The monkey baby was not well, and the mother watched over it precisely as a human mother would have done. Occasionally the baby played with its toes, as you have seen human babies do. The mother gave all her attention to the baby; she did not neglect it for a moment. There is a human quality about monkeys that always attracts me. One I saw this morning at the zoölogical garden was an old chap, and he was frowsy and irritable, as old men are, and the younger ones were afraid of him, and scampered out of his way.... We are still meeting “Sonoma” passengers; we encountered one at this hotel last night—a Mr. Smart, a London publisher. Another passenger on the “Sonoma” is a newspaper man here, but we have not yet seen him.... The eggs used at Menzie’s hotel are labeled. The two I had for breakfast were marked with a rubber stamp in this fashion: “A. J. Paine, The Sisters, Teremo; February 6, 1913.”... This morning, while at St. Kilda beach, we looked at the many ships in Port Melbourne, and distinguished a big blue funnel. It belonged to the “Anchises,” of the Blue Funnel line, and we will live on it for three weeks, beginning next Wednesday. It started from Sydney a week ago, but we will join it at Adelaide, for which city it sails tonight.... I was talking today with an intelligent Australian, and he says that in three or four years the cost of living here has increased one-fourth, owing to the advancing prices for labor.... In both Sydney and Melbourne, I found crowds around employment agencies. This surprised me; I thought every man who wanted work here, had it.... In coming from Sydney by rail, we saw hundreds of piano-boxes along the way. Each box contained an advertisement for the Steck piano. It was a new use for empty piano-boxes.... Here, when a doctor charges a big fee for an operation, the newspapers make a fuss about it. The Sydney papers were full of a sensation of this kind the day I left there. It is a fashion that might be copied by American papers; great outrages are perpetrated by some doctors in the United States, and nothing is said about it.... I have heard a great deal about rabbits in Australia; they are said to be so numerous as to be a curse. Still, while riding through the country yesterday on a railroad train, I saw two boys out hunting. One of them had three rabbits, and the other had four. Considering the rabbit stories I have heard, I thought the number quite modest. At another place, I saw a boy out hunting, and he had but one rabbit. Australia looks about as I expected it to look, except the rabbits.... At the zoölogical garden in Melbourne, there is an exhibit labeled: “American Cats.” And that’s exactly what they are: plain cats, such as you see around any American home.... At 4:15 we drove to the station, and a quarter of an hour later left for Adelaide, capital of South Australia; distance, 508 miles. The train is a better one than that running between Sydney and Melbourne, and we were told that the sleeper in which we had engaged berths would go through. The railroad is owned by the government, and the gauge is five feet three inches; eight and a half inches wider than our standard gauge. But the cars do not seem wider than ours, and certainly they were not so heavy. The rails were also light, although the train made good time. There was a dining-car attached, and at 6 o’clock we had an excellent dinner, at 96 cents each. There were only four others in the dining-car, and we had compartments to ourselves in the sleeping-car. The compartments are for two, but travel here is always light Saturday night, I am told. With a room to myself, I began almost having a good time, particularly as I have become accustomed to the pronunciations of the people, and they no longer distress me. On the dining-car bill of fare, this was printed: “Waiters are not permitted to accept tips, on pain of dismissal.” But when I offered our waiter a tip, he ran the risk of dismissal, and took it.... The trainmen told me that they are often compelled to work sixteen hours a day, and that they receive a shilling an hour: that is, for a day of sixteen hours, $3.84. Government ownership of railways is certainly a mistake, so far as the men are concerned. The government can bluff employees easier than a private employer.... I shall always remember the town of Ballarat, the largest interior town in Australia, with a population of 40,000. It was at this town that I lost my luck, and a man was assigned to my compartment. But Adelaide’s luck continued, and she had a compartment to herself all the way. In addition to having towns named for her, she is lucky in other ways. I never have towns named for me; you never heard of a town named Ed., did you?... We passed through one section of country which seemed to be noted for potato-growing. I remember we reached it after climbing a mountain of considerable height, and the potato-fields continued many miles. This must be the best section of Australia, since the railroad did not run more than thirty to sixty miles from the sea, which supplies the few rains Australia has. But the country looked very dry, and the soil thin.... We see no barns on the farms; in the United States, travelers remark that the barns are often huge, and the residences pitifully small. Possibly one explanation is that stock run out all winter here; it is not necessary to house them, or winter-feed. But the fact remains that Australia has no country like the best parts of Kansas, Iowa, Illinois, Missouri, Wisconsin, Ohio, or a dozen other states that might be mentioned. Australia somehow reminds me of California, where an exceptionally clever people have made a great deal out of a semi-arid country. The farmers I know pay little attention to agricultural reports. The Australian farmers do, and greedily devour everything printed that concerns their business.... The dining-car in which we ate dinner has two sections: first and second-class. We paid four shillings for dinner, and the second-class passengers paid two.

SUNDAY, FEBRUARY 9.—When I awoke this morning, the train was running rapidly through the bleakest country I have seen in Australia or New Zealand. This is the land settlers are encouraged to “take up,” and improve. It did not look to be worth ten dollars a quarter-section, but occasionally I saw a settler’s cabin. A trainman told me that the original settler rarely did well, but that the man who bought him out for almost nothing, often did quite well. Suddenly we came in sight of the Murray river, the only considerable stream in Australia, and navigable for small boats a thousand miles above where I saw it. Soon after, we crossed the river at a little town, and stopped for breakfast. From the railroad bridge I saw several steamboats, and rather extensive facilities for loading and unloading freight.... Remember that in passing through the bleak, dry country referred to above, we were not fifty miles from the sea, and that the rainfall decreases toward the interior of the country.... This morning we began seeing plenty of rabbits; many times, forty or fifty were in view at the same time, and we are now satisfied.... A gentleman on the train who lives in the Fiji Islands, says that not long ago there, more than thirty-six inches of rain fell in one day; the government rain-gauge records thirty-six inches, but this filled, and ran over. It is a pity that the industrious Australians cannot have some of the rain that goes to waste in the Fiji Islands, where the inhabitants are shiftless.... Our first view of Adelaide was from a mountain, where the railroad runs. It is a city of 180,000, the capital of South Australia, and located on an extensive plain, between the sea and the mountain. Adelaide is not located on the sea, as I had imagined; its shipping is done at Port Adelaide, twelve miles away. We reached the city at 10 A. M., and went to the Grand Central Hotel, a large, new place, but we were almost the only guests; at one time, we saw only two others in the dining-room, and never more than fifteen. The dining-room is very large and very fine, and a good orchestra plays for dinner, but there are almost no guests. On our floor we see no one; we have it to ourselves. We like the quiet, but the proprietor of the hotel must be suffering. We asked a waiter for an explanation, and he said Saturday, Sunday and Monday are usually quiet days. The town is much like the hotel; it is not crowded. Here, as elsewhere in Australia and New Zealand, the people are exceptionally polite. We were standing on the street this afternoon, somewhat confused about the proper car to take, when a policeman stepped up and asked if he could do anything for us. I do not know where the people learned their exceptional politeness; they certainly did not learn it from the mother country, England.... In this dry country, people like to hover around the words “river” and “creek.” In a morning paper, I looked at a list of towns, and the first three were Tennant’s Creek, Brock’s Creek, and Powell’s Creek.... The newspapers here are very prosperous, as they are lately all over the world. Their great prosperity, I am told, has come within the past twenty years, and that is true everywhere. One Adelaide paper prints a department entitled: “Fifty Years Ago,” a brief résumé of events half a century old. One item reads: “A special harvest holiday train will leave Kapunda for Adelaide on Thursday, on account of the Agricultural Society’s exhibition,” etc.; so it seems that Adelaide is not at all youthful.... An advertisement in the morning paper read: “Wanted—Position by bird scorer.”... Over here, the word Trust, which we despise, is used without the slightest delicacy. The street-railway company is unblushingly called the Tramway Trust in its own announcements. And just now there is some excitement because the Tramway Trust, in a disagreement with its employees, refused to accept arbitration. All the papers are full of labor-trouble news. It seems to me that in the United States we do not hear half as much about labor disturbances as we hear here. Every workingman who is not on strike, is discussing one, with a view of forcing another increase in wages. But labor rioting is not as frequent or serious here as in the United States; there are practically no “scabs” to assault—it is a rare thing to find a working man or woman who does not belong to a union.

MONDAY, FEBRUARY 10.—No country in the world makes more of parks, gardens and hospitals than Australia. And probably no other country makes as much of the Salvation Army. About the first thing I saw on my arrival in Adelaide was a street meeting of the Salvation Army, a feature of which was a good brass band of forty men. Two other things travelers from the United States will notice here: drouth and prosperity. I have seen no poor people; no evidence of poverty—yet how dry the weather is! In the section of country where I live, we have had two very dry summers in the past thirty-five years; but during those summers the country did not look as parched as the country looks everywhere in Australia.... About the only vegetables we get at the hotels here are potatoes, cabbage, and canned beans. Tomatoes are served occasionally, but they are smaller than those we get at home, and not so good. On the streets, we see many carts selling fruit, including strawberries.... The city of Adelaide and the young lady in whose honor it was named, are very much alike in one particular; both are very quiet. We see no crowds here: we had plenty of room on the train coming here, we have plenty of room in the hotel, and we have plenty of room on the streets when we ride or walk about. This afternoon we went riding in an automobile, and everywhere we found it quiet and dusty. There are no crowds on the street-cars; and it may be mentioned incidentally that the street-railway system of Adelaide could not be more complete than it is. One may go to any nook or corner of the city in a clean electric car, and one line runs to a seaside resort, a distance of eight or nine miles. Fare, ten cents. All the cities in Australia have better street-railway accommodations than the country has steam-railway accommodations; it seems to me that the steam railways are not as numerous or efficient as the country demands, whereas I have everywhere remarked the excellence of street-railways.... In the United States, the privately owned railways cross the country from north to south, and from east to west, but the government-owned railways have not done as much for Australia. Comparing Australia with the United States, there is no railway across the continent, whereas we have five or six systems; nor is there a railway here crossing the continent from north to south. The Australian railways fringe the populous coast for a distance of fourteen or fifteen hundred miles; they take few risks, and do not attempt to make fruitful districts out of arid districts, as do the privately owned railways in the United States. Our railways have done more to develop the country than the government has done. Nor do the government-owned railways in Australia move perishable freight more promptly: at many stations along the road from Sydney to Adelaide, I heard complaints because the railway company did not provide cars in which to ship wheat piled on the ground. And when a car is provided, it is a small open flat-car, and does not hold much more than a big wagon. So far as I have been able to make out, railway rates are a little higher here than in the United States, and the service very much poorer.... We think we notice that women are rather better dressed in Australia than in New Zealand, and possibly a little better looking.... In every hotel dining-room here, we are always given ice-water; the waiters have heard that Americans like it.