sitting under the shade of the trees, resting after the labours of the day; while afar the gay crowds are dining or supping at Delmonico’s, or wandering in and out of the great hotels which rear their heads like palaces—as I looked at all that show and splendour (and in London we have nothing to compare with it), one seemed to forget how evanescent was that splendour, how unreal that show! I was reminded of it, however, as I retired to rest, by the announcement that in one part of my hotel was the way to the fire-escape, and by the notice in my bedroom that the proprietor would not be responsible for my boots if I put them outside the door to be blackened. In New York there seems to be no confidence in anybody or anything. As I told my story to a sweet young American lady she said, “Ah, you must have felt very mean.” “Not a bit of it,” said I; “the meanness seemed to be all on the other side.” Americans talk English, so they tell me, better than we do ourselves! Since then I have seen the same game played elsewhere. In Australia I have heard of many a poor emigrant robbed in this way. A plausible looking gentleman tried it on with me at Melbourne when I was tramping up and down Burke Street one frying afternoon. He had come with me, he said, by the steamer from Sydney to Melbourne. I really thought I had met him at Brisbane. At any rate, his wife was ill, and he was going back with her to London by the very steamer that I was travelling by to Adelaide. Would I come with him as far as the Club? Of course I said yes. The Melbourne Club is rather a first-class affair. But somehow or other we did not get as far as the Club. My friend wanted to call on a friend in a public-house on the way. Would I have a drink? No, I was much obliged, but I did not want a drink. I sat down smoking, and he came and sat beside me. Presently a decent-looking man came up to my new friend with a bill. “Can’t you wait till to-morrow?” asked my friend. “Well, I am rather pressed for money,” said the man, respectfully. “Oh, then, here it is,” said my friend, pulling a heap of gold, or what looked like it, out of his pocket. “By the bye,” said he, turning to me, “I am a sovereign short; can you lend me one?” No, I could not. Could I lend him half-a-sovereign? No; I could not. Could I lend him five shillings? I had not even that insignificant sum to spare. “Oh, it does not matter,” said my friend; “I can get the money over the way, I will just go and fetch it, and will be back in five minutes.” And he and his confederate went away together to be seen no more by me. Certainly he was not on board the _Austral_, as I took my passage in her to Adelaide. As I left I met a policeman. “Have you any rogues in these parts?” I innocently asked.