no FISHES I HAVE KNOWN 



warning all and sundry with her steam-whistle that 

 she is about to start. 



At last the din ceases, and we are off. The 

 entrance to the river is not far away, but just round 

 the point, where are the pretty botanical gardens, 

 upon whose heights stand the most picturesque 

 Government House in the Antipodes. 



On each side the rocky banks close in, backed 

 by hills, and on one side by the snow-peaked 

 Mount Wellington and Collin's Bonnet, each 4,000 

 feet high, at every turn of the river presented to us 

 from a different point of view. 



Sometimes the Derwent widens out into broad, 

 lake-like pools, and at intervals it narrows. On the 

 left we pass Glenorchy, with its hop-gardens and 

 oast-houses, looking as if a bit of Kent or Sussex 

 had been pitched down there. 



Now we steam by lofty cliffs, as on the Rhine, 

 and at some of the bends there seems no exit 

 beyond. Always picturesque is the scenery, and 

 ever beautiful the contrast of bright mimosa with 

 their background of sombre green trees that we see 

 on every available piece of soil. 



But here we are at New Norfolk, where a 

 fine bridge spans the Derwent, and we sit 

 down to a comfortable luncheon at the " Star 

 and Garter," whose garden slopes down to the 



