tory, must still be a considerable and growing place.

From Hobart's Town to Launceston, a land route leads directly across the interior of the country. The traveller, after leaving the former place, proceeds nine miles along the Derwent, and then finds a ferry across that river. He then ascends the valley, closely enclosed by hills, of the small river Jordan, after which he proceeds in a northerly course, through open plains, interspersed with hilly tracks, till he arrives at Launceston. Many of these plains possess singular beauty and fertility; and the whole track, taken generally, well calculated to support a numerous improved population.This road is about 130 miles in direct distance, but its windings increase it to 160. Another route extends from the eastern district, on the Coal and Pit Rivers. Originally these communications were merely formed by notching the trees in the direction by which the travellers should pass; and the waggons then worked out for themselves a passable track. Bridges were formed by merely felling two or three large trees, laying them across the stream, and covering them with branches and earth. Of late, however, under the inspection of Major Bell of the 48th regiment, roads on a more systematic plan have been undertaken, and, by the last accounts, were in rapid progress towards completion.

The remainder of Van Diemen's Land has as yet been but very imperfectly surveyed. To the west of the occupied tracks stretches a plain of very great extent, which appears to possess the same general character, and to be susceptible of the same improvement. This plain is closed by a range of mountains running along the western coast, on the summit of which is a lake about fifty miles in circumference, from which the Derwent is supposed to take its rise. The southern part of the island is elevated and barren; and it presents a range of tremendous cliffs to the seas of the Southern Pole. This range is as much distinguished by irregularity of form, as by ruggedness and elevation. It presents a succession of peaks and ridges, gaps and fissures, which disdain the small

est uniformity of shape, and are continually changing their aspect to the eye of the navigator. The western coast, on the other hand, is equally remarkable by the uniformity of its appearance. Lofty ridges of mountains, bounded by tremendous rocks, project from two to four miles into the sea, at nearly equal distances from each other, sandy beaches occurring between them. Even these rudest sides of Van Diemen's Land, however, afford, like the others, a number of secure harbours and anchoring-places.

Van Diemen's Land is consider- ' ably colder than the vicinity of Port Jackson; its temperature being, on an average, about ten degrees lower; which brings it nearly to that of Britain itself. Its climate is thus more congenial to the natives of this country, who may reside without any danger of their health suffering. Compared to this, it is of very small detriment that some of the finest tropical fruits will not ripen here. In return, they have abundance of apples, pears, gooseberries, and all British fruits; and they enjoy the more substantial benefit of grain, cattle, and culinary vegetables, in full perfection. Excellent opportunities are afforded for hunting, though the game be quite unknown in a northern hemisphere. The kangaroo, that singular animal, which, with its two hind legs only assisted by its tail, runs swifter than the hare, forms the chief object of sport, and its flesh is more delicate than venison. These animals are now rare within the limits of the cultivated territory, and sportsmen are obliged to make excursions into the uninhabited tracks, where they are found in great flocks; but the havoc at present making among them threatens to deprive the next generation of this source of amusement. The emu is another animal which affords sport to the colonist. It is a bird of the nature of the ostrich, with short wings and long legs, and rather formed for running than flying. This island enjoys a singular exemption from noxious animals; the only formidable quadruped being a species of panther, which often commits considerable havoc among the flocks, but flies at the sight of man. Unfortunately,

the small number of the human race who were natives here, have been rendered hostile, solely, we suspect, by the misconduct of Europeans. They are excessively rude, indeed, as to arts, but to Cook and Flinders they shewed themselves harmless, and even friendly. At the first settlement, however, the military officer in command, seeing a large body approach, with hostile intentions, as he supposed, though it is now believed erroneously, caused a discharge of grape-shot to be fired upon them. This unjustifiable act naturally gave rise to reprisals; and a train of hostilities ensued on both sides, which has been matured into irreconcilable rancour. This enmity, however, of the poor Diemeners, is supported by so small a portion of courage, as to be by no means formidable, and there is even no instance of their attacking two Europeans together.

It is now time to take a general view of the destiny of the Briton, who leaves his native land to transport himself to this distant colony. The first step which he must take, is to make an application to the Secretary of State for the Colonies. To this a favourable answer is returned, provided the applicant can show himself to be possessed of a capital of £.500; a regulation condemned as impolitic by Mr Wentworth; but to us there appears an evident advantage, in preserving the land from being engrossed by persons who have not capital to cultivate it. The situation and precise quantity of the land is left to the governor; but, for the ordinary class of emigrants, it usually consists of from 600 to 800 acres. The next object is to effect a passage to the colony. This was formerly furnished by government, who even allowed rations; but the emigrant must now do all for himself. The passage, in an ordinary trader, is charged at a hundred guineas, including victuals; but where there is a family, or a knot of friends, a saving may be effected, by providing their own stores. The most expensive part consists in fresh meat, some supply of which is necessary both for health and comfort, on so long a voyage. Mr Wentworth condemns the practice of taking out live stock, which is with great difficulty

kept in good condition. It seems there are persons in London, who prepare dressed meat in tin cases, exhausted of air, and hermetically sealed, so as to keep perfectly fresh during the whole voyage. It is sold at 2s. 6d. per pound, which Mr W. considers as remarkably cheap; a sentiment in which we cannot altogether concur: possibly, however, the taking out of live stock might be still dearer. We entirely agree with him in the advice to take out hard dollars (which, it seems, bear a premium) instead of goods; the disposal of which would be attended with much delay and risk in a fluctuating market, and in a place where no one's person and character was known to the emigrant.

On arriving at the colony, the settler ought immediately to wait upon the Governor, exhibit a schedule of his property, and state the nature of the grant which he wishes to obtain. Besides this allowance of land, he receives, from among the convicts, as many servants as he may have occasion for; and he, his family, and servants, are victualled by government for six months. He is advised, on obviously good grounds, to linger as little as possible in the towns, where he both loses his time and wastes his capital. If his family have not yet courage to quit all the accommodations of civilized society, he had better leave them there, and go himself. Some courage, however, is required to plunge into the depth of the woods, far from society and all the comforts of life, and where immense accumulations of trees and brushwood must be cleared off, before he can sow a handful of grain. His only companions and assistants are two or three servants, entire stran gers to him, and exiled for their crimes. If, however, he applies himself, vigorously and with spirit, to his task, he will find the difficulties not so formidable as they at first appear ed. Mr Wentworth calculates the expence of clearing forest land at only £.2: 18s. per acre, and that of clearing brushwood, at £.3:19: 6d. Even the half of these sums may be saved, if the planter chuse to leave the stumps standing in the ground, which, though far from ornamental, does not materially obstruct the oper

ations of the plough. If capital abounds, there would be a saving in building at once a house and offices, such as would suffice for the permanent accommodation of the family; but as this abundance rarely exists among the class of persons who emigrate, it is generally more advisable to get up a log-house for present accommodation, (which can be done for £.100,) and employ the whole capital upon the farm, depending upon its profits for the future means of rearing a more comfortable house. The settler, in a country where every thing is yet to be done, has many hardships to encounter at first. For two years, he cannot depend upon drawing from his lands any thing whatever. He must support himself entirely by his original resources, and by the half year's rations allowed by Government, at the daily rate of a pound of beef and a pound of bread to each person. Severe exertion and severe privation must for that time be his lot; but he has the satisfaction to reflect, that thenceforward his situation will be in a continued state of improvement. This will arise, not only from his being able, by the exertion of judicious industry, to bring his lands always into a more productive state, but from the continual rise in the value of land. In the augmenting state of the colony, the grounds most conveniently and advantageously situated being successively distributed to colonists as they arrive, become scarce, and consequently increase in value. Land in the neighbourhood of Port Jackson sells for £.5, and, if cultivated, £.10 an acre. The emigrant, therefore, whose hard labour now can scarcely earn him a subsis-tence, has the prospect, before his death, of being a considerable landproprietor, and of leaving his family in flourishing circumstances.

The mode of culture must be suited to the circumstances of an infant colony. It is complained of as slovenly, and as not yielding nearly so much produce as such land would do in the hands of a skilful English farmer; but these strictures are founded on want of reflection. No other system could be pursued with any advantage, where the land is so wide, and the labourers so few. It is

VOL. X.

indeed remarked, that those who are no great farmers, or, at least, who came from rude, cold, and mountainous districts, succeed better here than the regular farmer from a rich agricultural district.

The settler may reckon confidently upon soon obtaining, from his farm, the necessaries of life, with a surplus; but the question is, how is he to exchange that surplus for those accommodations which are considered necessary to the enjoyment of civilized life? At present, the only resource is in the expenditure of Government, which takes off the corn and cattle, for the subsistence of its officers and of the convicts. Such is the attention paid to the welfare of the colonists, that even in times of extraordinary agricultural depression, Government takes from each a certain quantity of grain, proportioned to the land he has in cultivation, for which it pays 10s. per bushel. The extending cultivation of the colony, however, must soon produce a quantity far beyond what Government can consume, and must oblige the colonists to seek abroad a market for their surplus produce. The great length of the voyage to Britain_renders it impossible to convey thither with advantage any article except wool. Van Diemen's Land seems fa-` vourable to this production, and with a few more crossings from the Spanish breed, its wool may be brought to the very finest quality. As it can be transported to England for ninepence per pound, and the best will bring four or five shillings, it will pay the expence of transport, and find an extensive market. It is never, however, with Britain, that Australasia can carry on a trade, adequate to its probable future greatness.India, the Indian islands, and China, seem evidently the natural sphere of its trade. Among three hundred millions of men, food must always find some market or other. Meat preserved in some luxurious form, tongues, hams, &c. have been supposed likely to suit this market. It seems obviously from these countries that the Australasian settlements must draw teas, sugars, spices, and other tropical luxuries. With South America, also, they can carry on communication; for, notwithstanding the 5 F

distance, the regularity of the winds and currents in the Great Pacific enables vessels to sail thither in less than two months. Brazil might take off a considerable quantity of grain, which is consumed, but not produced there. After all, Australasia will probably find it necessary to begin sooner than America did, to manufacture her own rude produce, and to produce within herself the most bulky articles of her annual consumption.

The European settler will no doubt look with interest to the species of society which he is to meet with in this region, where the remainder of his life is to be passed. So far as he is a farmer, this must evidently be determined by circumstances. In a district so thinly inhabited, his intercourse must be chiefly confined to his nearest neighbours, who will still be abundantly distant. A close intimacy between neighbours, and a hearty hospitality to strangers, will probably mark the manners of persons whose society is so limited. In towns, the disunion to which such small communities are liable, is fomented by many peculiar causes. The civil officers, their connections and dependents, assume the pretension of being considered as the nobility of the settlement, and claim a superiority over the settlers which the latter are not at all willing to concede. The convicts, on the other hand, and their descendants, who have now obtained their liberty, and even acquired property, demand to be admitted into the society of the other colonists; while the latter obstinately treat them as a degraded caste, with whom it would be disgraceful to be seen holding any social intercourse. This is a most unfortunate circumstance; since it tends to perpetuate that degradation which this class might have risen above, if they had been admitted into respectable society, or even if there had been no society except their own; and yet, can we blame the conduct of the other party?

From these causes, it appears that a rooted ground of discontent must for many years remain in the colony. Another source is in the political constitution, which has not yet made any approach to the British model.

There is as yet no colonial legislature, not even a council, and every thing is administered by the arbitrary will of the Governor. The supreme court of law consists of military offcers, who sit and determine causes in full uniform; a spectacle strange and odious to British eyes. Hitherto, indeed, it could not well have been otherwise, considering the nature of a population so little fitted to govern themselves, and that, except military officers, there were scarcely any fit to be judges at all. But now, when the colonial materials are so much improved, a large body begin to call for the privileges of British subjects; a representative body, regular courts of justice, and trial by jury. These, no doubt, they must and ought to obtain, sooner or later.

According to the latest accounts, the population of Van Diemen's Land amounted to 7400. The number of acres in cultivation was 14,940, of which 12,956 were in wheat. The live stock of the colonists consisted of 35,000 horned cattle, 170,000 sheep, 550 horses, and 5000 swine.

THE FINE ARTS IN LONDON.

Spring Exhibitions.

IN inviting the reader's attention to the above fertile subject, it is proper, on his account, as well as my own, that I tell him what he has to expect; or rather, what he has not to expect, in these papers. To present myself before him in the character of an Instructor, is what I would not do, even if I were qualified-which I hope I am not. Dull dissertations, on the nature and principles of art, and prosing parallels between that which has been and that which is not, may be good things enough in their way-but I profess not to meddle with them. They are above my reach, perhaps, but certainly I am not disposed to prove whether they are so or not. These "windy suspirations of forced breath" are well enough applied, in giving to emptiness the appearance of size and solidity; these "inky cloaks" of criticism are useful enough, in covering and concealing

the nakedness of pretence. But where there is no pretence, there is no call for concealment; where there is no desire to look great, there is no inducement to apply adventitious aids. I shrewdly suspect that I am not a bit wiser, or better informed, than the generality of my neighbours; but only that I happen to have more leisure to look about me, and, perhaps, by dint of habit and practice, have acquired a greater facility in describing and expressing what I feel in common with the rest of the world. In exposing what passes in my own mind, on any given subject, the utmost I shall claim credit for, will be the power of interpreting what has passed in the minds of a thousand others on the same subject; and the good I propose to extract from the exercise of this power, is the excitement of similar feelings in the minds of those who may not happen to have access to the primary sources.

In short, the sphere in which my ideas move, and in which I would have them to move, is that of common perception and common feeling: the light by which I would see all things that are within, and about us, is not the dim and misty twilight of rule and system; nor the Will-o'-the-wisp light of morbid sensibility; nor even the piercing sun-light of pure reason; nor the glittering star-light of poetical fancy;—but the sober, pleasant, wholesome, and enduring light of common day, as it comes to us, softened and subdued, by passing through the atmosphere of society and custom.

In a word, I propose, occasionally, to invite the reader of the Edinburgh Magazine to take an imaginary walk with me, arm in arm, through the various scenes connected with the Fine Arts, which, from time to time, may present themselves in this Metropolis. I invite him to listen to what I may have to say, not in the character of a pupil, but of a companion; and to believe that I can tell him nothing, which, if he were present, in propriâ persona, he could not just as well tell me. In fact, the sole superiority on which I am disposed to pique myself, in the present instance, is, that I happen to live in London instead of Edinburgh. And if the inhabitants of the latter

city should regard this as a very equivocal circumstance on which to pride myself, they will, at all events, admit, that, en revanche, it affords me the collateral advantage of having all the talk to myself-an advantage they will be the last persons in the world to dispute the validity of!

Without further preface or preamble, let us proceed to SomersetHouse; and, winding up the elegant stone staircase, let us first take a general glance at the kind of entertainment the R. A.'s have this year provided for us. But, first, let us observe, that it is difficult, and not at all desirable, to mount this staircase on a fine day, when the lady visitors are entering or retiring, dressed in their brightest looks, and gayest attire, without (" not to speak it profanely") being reminded of the ladder on which Jacob beheld angels ascending and descending on heavenly missions. At least thus it is with me; there is I know not what of magical illusion connected in my mind with this staircase. When I arrive at the Great Room at the top, the blaze of various attraction which meets my senses, first confuses, and then fatigues and overpowers them. They can preserve no self-possession, and consequently they can enjoy no great delight for the present, and lay up no distinct and effective recollections for the future. They shrink up, and close themselves, as the eye does, against the excess of light. But it is not so in ascending or descending this delightful staircase. Those "heavenly bodies," which have shone but as a "milky way," when collected together above here, take the form of "bright particular stars," or of beaming little constellations, presenting themselves by "two's and three's,' and thus permitting us to select such of them as please us, and to insert their images in the map of our memory, under whatever meridian of latitude may seem best to suit them. I suppose the "mind's eye" of every one is occasionally presented with glimpses and reminiscences of certain female forms and faces, which have crossed his path, he knows not when or where. I happen to be blessed with the acquaintance of a host of these "fair unknowns," who pay me "angel visits," which, if they are