And speaking of the war-flurry, it seemed to me to bring to light the unexpected, in a detail or two.  It seemed to relegate the war-talk to the politicians on both sides of the water; whereas whenever a prospective war between two nations had been in the air theretofore, the public had done most of the talking and the bitterest.  The attitude of the newspapers was new also.  I speak of those of Australasia and India, for I had access to those only.  They treated the subject argumentatively and with dignity, not with spite and anger.  That was a new spirit, too, and not learned of the French and German press, either before Sedan or since.  I heard many public speeches, and they reflected the moderation of the journals.  The outlook is that the English-speaking race will dominate the earth a hundred years from now, if its sections do not get to fighting each other.  It would be a pity to spoil that prospect by baffling and retarding wars when arbitration would settle their differences so much better and also so much more definitely.

No, as I have suggested, novelties are rare in the great capitals of modern times.  Even the wool exchange in Melbourne could not be told from the familiar stock exchange of other countries.  Wool brokers are just like stockbrokers; they all bounce from their seats and put up their hands and yell in unison—­no stranger can tell what—­and the president calmly says “Sold to Smith & Co., threpence farthing—­next!”—­when probably nothing of the kind happened; for how should he know?

In the museums you will find acres of the most strange and fascinating things; but all museums are fascinating, and they do so tire your eyes, and break your back, and burn out your vitalities with their consuming interest.  You always say you will never go again, but you do go.  The palaces of the rich, in Melbourne, are much like the palaces of the rich in America, and the life in them is the same; but there the resemblance ends.  The grounds surrounding the American palace are not often large, and not often beautiful, but in the Melbourne case the grounds are often ducally spacious, and the climate and the gardeners together make them as beautiful as a dream.  It is said that some of the country seats have grounds—­domains—­about them which rival in charm and magnitude those which surround the country mansion of an English lord; but I was not out in the country; I had my hands full in town.

And what was the origin of this majestic city and its efflorescence of palatial town houses and country seats?  Its first brick was laid and its first house built by a passing convict.  Australian history is almost always picturesque; indeed, it is so curious and strange, that it is itself the chiefest novelty the country has to offer, and so it pushes the other novelties into second and third place.  It does not read like history, but like the most beautiful lies.  And all of a fresh new sort, no mouldy old stale ones.  It is full of surprises, and adventures, and incongruities, and contradictions, and incredibilities; but they are all true, they all happened.