berg was undeniably picturesque, and had climatic advantages. It was cooler than the sand-dunes of Brighton and St. Kilda, than the low hills of Toorak, than the river meadow upon which Melbourne proper then chiefly stood. Waves of mountain air were wafted from the Alps, on which, though many miles distant, the snow was clearly visible. Those of us who, in after years, were members of the old Melbourne Club in Lower Collins Street, often preferred a longish night ride for the immunity from mosquitoes which Heidelberg then afforded.
The river meadows by the Yarra were composed of a deep, black, fertile loam, eminently suited for orchards, cereals, and root crops. Taking into consideration the quality of the soil, the proximity of the river, the variety of the landscape, no suburb would have equalled Heidelberg in attractiveness had it not been handicapped by distance from the metropolis. Rail, road traffic, and settlement—all appeared to have gone north, south, west; anywhere but towards Heidelberg.
Now that every foot of building land near Melbourne has been bought and built upon—has become "terraced slopes," in the evil sense of modern overcrowding, perhaps the beneficent Heidelberg and Alphington Railway will open up the untouched glades which still silently overlook the murmuring river, still lie hushed to sleep in the shadow of the great Australian mountain chain.
