04, in honor of Lord Hobart, who was then Secretary of State
for the Colonies. It is surrounded by hills and mountains except where
the river Derwent opens into lake form, making a deep, well-sheltered
harbor, whence it leads the way into the Southern Ocean. Among the lofty
hills in this vicinity Mount Wellington towers forty-two hundred feet
above the others, so close to the city as to appear to be within rifle
range. The shape of the town is square, and it is built upon a
succession of hills, very much like Sydney. It has broad streets
intersecting each other at right angles, lined with handsome,
well-stocked stores and dwelling-houses, serving an active and
enterprising population of thirty thousand and more. Of these shops, two
or three spacious and elegant bookstores deserve special mention, being
such as would be creditable to any American city. It must undoubtedly be
a cultured community which affords support to such establishments.

Yet we cannot forget that Hobart has scarcely outlived the curse of the
penal association which encompassed its birth. Between thirty and forty
years ago, the British government expended here five thousand dollars a
day in support of jails and military barracks. The last convict ship
from England discharged her cargo at Hobart in 1851, since which year
the system has gradually disappeared. The city is supplied with all the
necessary charitable and educational institutions, including a public
library and art gallery. The street scenes have the usual local color,
embracing the typical miner, with his rude kit upon his shoulder,
consisting of a huge canvas bag, a shovel, and pick. The professional
chimney-sweep, with blackened face and hands begrimed,--he whom we lost
sight of in Boston years ago,--is here seen pursuing his antiquated
vocation. Market-men have the same peculiar mode of delivering purchases
to their customers that we have noticed elsewhere in this country, and
are seen galloping about upon wiry little horses, bearing upon their
arms large well-filled baskets. Women, with small handcarts full of
slaughtered rabbits, cry them for sale at twelve cents a pair, besides
which they receive a bounty for killing these pests.

The river Derwent, which rises far inland where the beautiful lakes St.
Clair and Sorell are embosomed, broadens into a lake six miles wide
where it forms the harbor of Hobart, and is famous for the regattas that
are rowed upon its surface. Here, the largest