Already we began in Hobart, and we continued as we went further north,
to meet with indications of the progress of the age, quite abreast of,
and indeed rather ahead of, all that we have been used to at Home. For
instance, we were hardly settled comfortably within Westella, when the
waiter announced that. Mr. Fysh, the Tasmanian Premier, wished to see
me. I had met Mr. Fysh in London, and I quite expected that he wished to
have a talk with me about Tasmanian Finance and Loans. "Is he waiting?"
I asked, jumping up at once to go to him. "No, sir," was the reply, "but
he is speaking to you through the telephone." I passed to the telephone
room, and the signal being sent that I was in attendance, I was given
two ear-caps and told to listen. A clear, but also "a still, small
voice" came up as from the "vasty deep." Whether from the smallness of
it, or from my being unaccustomed to that mysterious sort of thing, I
did not catch the words, and had to relinquish the business to our
hostess, Miss Westgarth, and thus a meeting was conveniently arranged.