Froude reminds us, belongs to the
countries where the snow remains on the ground. We shortened our course
by a few miles in taking D'Entrecasteaux Channel, and were, as I
understood, the first of the large vessels from the other hemisphere to
do so. We cast anchor off Hobart after nightfall, the many bright lights
of the city gladdening our eyes, while the babble of English tongues
from the boats around us reminded us once more that, after so many
thousands of additional miles since at Cape Town, we were still within
the British Empire.
WESTELLA HOTEL.
My first salutation came from an exact namesake of mine, Mr. William
Westgarth, whom I had known at Melbourne thirty-five years ago, and who,
after varying fortunes, had for the last dozen years been conducting a
superior class of boarding house or family hotel. It was called
Westella, and was situated in Elizabeth-street, the chief thoroughfare
of Hobart. The house I recollected as that of Mr. Henry Hopkins, a very
early merchant of the city, whom I had met more than once between forty
and fifty years ago. It was the undisputed palace of the city of its
day; nor was it disposed, even now, to bend its head to any second
position.
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