The Bedroom of Louis Chatelain, ”The Caledonian Dreyfus” in Ducos ” 200 The “Market” in the Convent, Isle of Pines ” 212 The Convict Railway at Prony ” 240 The Mines of the International Copper Co., Pilou, New Caledonia ” 266 The Saloon of the Ballande Liner, _St. Louis_ ” 270 The Quarantine Station, North Head, Sydney ” 282 The Storage House at Seppeltsfield, forty years ago ” 309 The Present Storage House ” 308 Grape-crushing by machinery, at Seppeltsfield ” 312 A Vineyard at Seppeltsfield, South Australia ” 316 Part I _A STREAK THROUGH THE STATES_ I _DUTIES AND DOLLARS_ It was on the fifth night out from Southampton that the threatening shadow of the American Custom House began to fall over the company in the saloon. One could see ladies talking nervously together. The subject was the one most dear to the female heart; but the pleasure of talking about “things” was mingled—at least in the hearts of the uninitiated—with an uneasiness which, in not a few cases, amounted to actual fear; for that evening certain forms had been distributed by the purser, and these forms contained questions calculated to search out the inmost secret of every dress-basket and Saratoga trunk on board. By the time you had filled in the blanks, if you had done it honestly—as, of course, no one except myself did—you had not only given a detailed list of your wardrobe, but you had enumerated in a separate schedule every article that you had bought new in Europe. You were graciously permitted to possess one hundred dollars’, or, say, twenty pounds’ worth of personal effects. If you had more than that you were treated as a commercial traveller importing dry goods, and had to pay duty in case you sold them again, and thus came into competition with the infant industries of Uncle Sam. At the foot of the schedule was a solemn declaration that you had given your wardrobe away to the last pocket-handkerchief, and the next day you had to repeat this declaration verbally to an urbane official, who was polite enough to look as though he believed you. When it came to the actual examination in the wharf-shed, I found myself wondering where Uncle Sam’s practical commonsense came in. You had to take a paper, given to you on board in exchange for your declaration, to a desk at which sat a single clerk. As there were about four hundred first- and second-class passengers, this took some little time, and provoked considerable language. When you had at length struggled to the desk the clerk gave you a ticket, beckoned to a gentleman in uniform, handed him your paper, and remarked: “Here, George, see to this.”