Australian Tales - Setis

stagnant drains, in warm weather especially; and I state on the authority
of a clever medical neighbour, that the public health is periodically
affected thereby. Pray, what is that new building?” added Mr. Moans, as
they suddenly sighted a stylish-looking edifice, near the foot of Prince's
Bridge.
“That is our new Fish Market,” said Mr. Titler. “It belongs to the City
Corporation.”
“Fish Market!” exclaimed Mr. Moans, with as much surprise as though
the whole tribe of peripatetic fish vendors of Sydney had suddenly
shouted ‘all alive O’ in his right ear. “That a fish market! why it is
handsome enough for a town hall. I must take a good look at it
tomorrow. We sadly want such an establishment in Sydney; for though
our coasts and harbours abound with fish, the supply to the citizens is
scanty and precarious; and, in general, it is too high in price for poor
persons to luxuriate in. Such a market in Sydney would do away with the
monopoly which has long been enjoyed by a score or two of barrowmen,
and certain middlemen or agents, who, I am told, make large profits
by giving the public small quantities of fish, while the poor fishermen,
who have all the perils and certainly the largest share of the labour, have
but a minimum portion of the gains. Fish market! Hail Victoria! I feel
quite enthusiastic, and inclined to shout out the matutinal song of our
Sydney piscators, ‘Here's your fine fresh fish!’ A slice of Murray River
cod, fresh from the slate tables of your model Billingsgate, would be a
treat.”
“I think you mentioned the Town Hall, just now, sir,” said Mr. Titler;
“I will show it you, presently; you had better take a look at the Town
Hall at Prahran, too, before you leave.”
“And you had better come and take a look at our new Town Hall at
Sydney, when it is finished,” drily remarked Mr. Moans.
“That is a fine church, sir,” said Mr. Titler, pointing to a tall handsome
spire in the distance; “I doubt if you have an ecclesiastical edifice in
Sydney to equal that.”
“Then it is plain to me that you have not seen our Anglican Cathedral
in George Street,” said Mr. Moans, in a pleasant mood.
“Oh! yes, beg pardon — that unfinished building near the old burial
ground. I forgot that — by-the-bye, have you seen the Melbourne
General Cemetery?”
“I have, sir, and a beautiful place it is too. There is much taste
displayed in laying out the grounds, and they are kept in admirable
condition. Among many good rules for the management of the cemetery,
I remarked one in particular, which is worthy of being adopted
elsewhere. It is that no inscription shall be made on a tomb or headstone,
that has not been submitted for the approval of two of the trustees. That
is an admirable way of preventing the exhibition of questionable taste or