Lord Salisbury was known to have lived in a tent, with a friend or two, _more Australico_, and personally, as ‘Mr. Cecil,’ studied the humours of a ‘rush’ near Bendigo. As he did not stay long or, presumably, make a fortune, he probably consoled himself with the reflection that he had gained the rare experience of a personal examination of a vast colonial industry at first hand, which would be valuable in forming political opinion as to the treatment of British colonies, under new and original conditions. In the light of his Lordship’s ministerial responsibilities in later life, perhaps it was well for him that he should be in a position to observe the process of formation of a British state, with municipal, mercantile, civil, and military functions, of a character befitting the Empire, evolved from the heterogeneous components of a goldfields population. How doubtful, how improbable, that order, achievement, high attainment, should ever have been so produced, contemporary journalists and visitors have left on record. For the proof, _respice finem_, behold the tree-shaded street, broad, straight, tram-pervaded, at Ballarat; the lake where formerly the wild duck swam amid the reedy marsh; the steamers thereon which equalise the traffic; the gardens where the weary tourist may rest, or read, upon a bench prepared by the municipalities, while he gazes around on the wide transformed landscape. Naval officers, cadets of great houses, budding field-marshals, had all been temporarily adopted at Arnold Banneret’s paternal home. The middies were now, some of them, admirals; the Honourable Mr. Sedley and Mr. Villiers were now barons and earls, having ‘come into their kingdoms,’ so to speak.
They did not forget the friends who had dined and mounted them, provided shooting and hunting parties, thought nothing too good for them; and invitations flowed into the Hotel Cecil for garden parties, dances, dinners—in fact, all the gaieties of the season.
And what a season it was! ‘Oh to be in England, now that April’s here!’ For the nonce it was a fine, warm, even _dry_ summer, which enhanced the green glory of the century-old oaks, the ‘immemorial elms,’ and the various flowers of the great parks and also of the natural woodland. What joy it was to these young people to wander with their brothers along the ‘leafy lanes, where the trees met overhead, when the merry brooks ran clear and gay’! To note, lying underneath the aged oaks, the skylark rising from the field, and pealing his matin song of gladness.