My first salutation came from an exact namesake of mine, Mr. William
Westgarth, whom I had known at Melbourne thirty-five years ago, and who,
after varying fortunes, had for the last dozen years been conducting a
superior class of boarding house or family hotel. It was called
Westella, and was situated in Elizabeth-street, the chief thoroughfare
of Hobart. The house I recollected as that of Mr. Henry Hopkins, a very
early merchant of the city, whom I had met more than once between forty
and fifty years ago. It was the undisputed palace of the city of its
day; nor was it disposed, even now, to bend its head to any second
position. As my friend conducted our party over the pretty scene of
garden and cliff behind the house, we found it all wrapped in frost,
except where the bright morning sun had struck, and we broke the ice,
quite quarter of an inch thick, on a fishpond of the grounds. Thus
Tasmanian ascendancy in the civilized world is secured.