Mrs.
Wood, farther up the harbor, put up bottles of raspberry wine for me.
At this point, more than ever before, I was in the land of good cheer.
Mrs. Powell sent on board chutney prepared "as we prepare it in
India." Fish, and game were plentiful here, and the voice of the
gobbler was heard, and from Pardo, farther up the country, came an
enormous cheese; and yet people inquire: "What did you live on? What
did you eat?"
[Illustration: The _Spray_ in her port duster at Devonport, Tasmania,
February 22, 1897.]
I was haunted by the beauty of the landscape all about, of the natural
ferneries then disappearing, and of the domed forest-trees on the
slopes, and was fortunate in meeting a gentleman intent on preserving
in art the beauties of his country. He presented me with many
reproductions from his collection of pictures, also many originals, to
show to my friends.
By another gentleman I was charged to tell the glories of Tasmania in
every land and on every occasion. This was Dr. McCall, M. L. C. The
doctor gave me useful hints on lecturing. It was not without
misgivings, however, that I filled away on this new course, and I am
free to say that it is only by the kindness of sympathetic audiences
that my oratorical bark was held on even keel. Soon after my first
talk the kind doctor came to me with words of approval. As in many
other of my enterprises, I had gone about it at once and without
second thought.
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