give way to; but Tasmania really has a most delightful climate, which Sir Edward Braddon very justly describes, after dinner, as balmy, and which is as much its characteristic boast as is his Harbour to the Sydney man. The island is about twelve hours by steamer from Victoria: and for many years it has been known to jaded Melbourne folk as a holiday resort; to Federal Conventions (in the days when politicians did not take Federation very seriously) as a place for a picnic; and to Her Majesty's Australian squadron, which commonly passes the summer at anchor in the Derwent, as possessing one of the pleasantest capitals in Australia. Babies never die in Tasmania, or nine out of ten of them survive the first year of life. Yet 21 per cent, of the total deaths are of infants under one year, and 34 per cent, of old men:—nearly 11 per cent, indeed, of the deaths are of persons between 80 and 100 years of age. The young men, perhaps, have rather a tendency to drift away to a more stirring environment, though even here, as universally throughout Australia, there are more men than women. There are, it is true, on the other hand, more widows than widowers, and more unmarried females than married; which perhaps only makes it the more extraordinary that there should be, according to the Registrar-General, 22,000 married men, to a beggarly 21,000 of married women. But statistics will prove anything. It is more important to observe that, though there are, no doubt, openings for domestic servants, Tasmania is scarcely the place for the immigrant. There is, to begin with, no nominated assisted immigration. There is very little Crown land at once available for profitable settlement. The population is only about 146,000, of whom a bare 73,000 are over 21; and includes only 40,000 males over 21. This handful owns a heritage of 26,000 square
