At the time he spoke, twenty-two years ago from this present year 1858, the Yarra rolled its clear waters to the sea through the unbroken solitude of a primeval forest, as yet unseen by the eye of a white man.

Now there stands there a noble city, with crowded wharves, containing with its suburbs not less than 120,000 inhabitants.

A thousand vessels have lain at one time side by side, off the mouth of that little river, and through the low sandy heads that close the great port towards the sea, thirteen millions sterling of exports is carried away each year by the finest ships in the world.

Here, too, are waterworks constructed at fabulous expense, a service of steam-ships, between this and the other great cities of Australia, vieing in speed and accommodation with the coasting steamers of Great Britain; noble churches, handsome theatres.

In short, a great city, which, in its amazing rapidity of growth, utterly surpasses all human experience.
I never stood in Venice contemplating the decay of the grand palaces of her old merchant princes, whose time has gone by for ever.