Australia has not yet produced any great composer; and yet it has gone far, and will go still farther, in the musical world, fresh young talent passing over to London or Paris almost every year to complete its training; while the number of beautiful voices that a further opening up of the country, and further facilities for recognition and teaching, will bring to light, can scarcely be over-estimated. The Australian’s ordinary uneducated speaking voice is curiously harsh and raucous. But, in spite of this, the percentage of singing voices is wonderfully high, owing, perhaps, to the light, dry atmosphere and the absence of fogs; while I believe that the best way of improving the natural intonation will be found to be by teaching singing more carefully and consistently in elementary schools, and thus bringing out all that is best in the children’s voices. Mr. Marshall Hall, who was formerly Professor of Music at Ormonde College and the head of the Conservatorium, is the ruling spirit of the musical world in Melbourne, in spite of having completely shocked the Nonconformist conscience of the town by his somewhat erotic writings and the liberty he took in managing his private affairs for himself—the difficulty always being that nobody is supposed to have any private affairs out here. Still, in the end, people’s love for the beautiful music that Mr. Hall made for them triumphed; and at his fortnightly concerts, held during the winter months, the Town Hall is usually crammed, for it is not only what he does himself that is so wonderful, but what he manœuvres his supernumeraries into doing. Here for a shilling—the highest-priced seats are only three shillings—one can slip off the cares of the world for three hours on a Saturday afternoon, and, freed from all the petty obligations of life, listen to some of the best music in the world. All honour to those who have found the best and held to it, and even imbued the rich people in Melbourne with the idea that there is something higher in life than racing and football-matches; or, at least, that it is “the correct thing” for them to “patronize” such concerts and help on the expenses by taking the dearest seats. The money is the same; while for the encouragement of the performers there are always the rows and rows of ardent, enthralled listeners in the shilling seats. CHAPTER IX RURAL LIFE, MOUNTAIN, AND FOREST