unfit for cultivation, where only opossums and wild cats exists. It is certainly true that the agricultural and pastoral wealth of the country is confined to a very small proportion of its actual surface.
'What kind of a Government have you in Tasmania?' he asked.
'That is exactly where our boots and shoes pinch us sir' I answered in a subdued voice; 'we have grown too big for them. It is dangerous to speak of our Government: it might be better, it might be worse. I remember when we had a moderately careful and economical Government—one that condescended to inquire, "How will it fare with generations yet unborn?" Now we have one—a Home Rule, which is incurably puffed up—and we are an aspiring and ambitious people. We have a Governor sent out from England, a grand Legislative Council, and a House of Assembly, which enact as many laws for a community of about one hundred and fifty thousand people as would suffice for one of ten millions. Our public debt now amounts to about eight millions sterling, and is constantly increasing. The taxes we have to pay for the interest of our debt, and the expenses of our Government, are very considerable, and we are constantly being threatened with additional exactions. We ought to be a happy people, but we are little more than slaves ground down by all kinds of evils and exactions.'
'"Evils and exactions!"' echoed the Doctor, puffing away at his enormous pipe—'"evils and exactions!" What do you mean?'
'I mean this: I have no desire to be witty at the expense of others, or to be offensive to anyone in particular but I am of opinion that our Government is driving us to ruin without pity or remorse.'
'Why do you let it?'
'We cannot help ourselves. There is scarcely any
