a damp, windy, but not cold climate, with a
never-failing supply of water; Australia is a dry, arid land often
suffering from drought. The first is characterized by deep cool shades,
the latter by heat and glare, and by inland plains which in their
present condition might not inappropriately be compared to an African
desert for sterility and temperature.

Nearly every city has its "St. Giles." In Sydney the quarter which might
be thus appropriately designated is known as "the Rocks." Here the
backsliders most do congregate, and here are located rookeries devoted
to their temporary lodgment. The police rarely penetrate here unless in
the special pursuit of a criminal, as it forms a sort of neutral ground
between crime and justice. This city contains at least as many
whitewashed rogues as other cities of its size,--men and women who
cunningly keep within the pale of the law, or who may have served out
one or more sentences of imprisonment, and are legally clear from the
clutches of justice. Such characters, if they do not openly resort to
"the Rocks," are very apt to have some secret connection therewith. The
daily habitues are persons whose lives are filled with constant
mis-deeds, who gain their bread by criminal acts, and whose career is
characterized by recklessness and excess. Sailors are often enticed
hither, and after being plied with drugged liquor are robbed. We do not
remember to have seen anywhere more petrified rascality to the square
inch than was evinced in the features of the men and women of "the
Rocks." No enterprise, it seemed, could be too wicked for them to engage
in. Gold-digging is not as a rule conducive to morality; indeed it is
apt to lead directly in the opposite course. Thus it is that toilers
after the glittering metal having acquired a goodly sum are apt to toss
aside the pick and shovel for what is termed a "lark," and wending their
way to town bring up finally at "the Rocks," where a miner and his gold
are almost sure rapidly to part company. If he shows resistance, a knife
or a revolver may be the fatal resort.

Clubs are as much of an institution in the colonies as they are in
London; indeed, an Englishman at home or abroad without his club is
never quite himself. In Sydney and Melbourne the club takes the
character of a private hotel where members, and strangers introduced by
them, lodge and take their meals. We were officially informed in both of
these cities that our name had been reco