Here, indeed, was a man for Victoria
to be proud of; put up a statue to him in the centre of the city;
let all the school children study a list of his noble actions as
lessons; let the public at large grovel before him, and lick the
dust of his benevolent shoes, for he is a professional
philanthropist.
Mrs Meddlechip, large, florid, and loud-voiced, was equally as well
known as her husband, but in a different way. He posed as
benevolence, she was the type of all that's fashionable--that is,
she knew everyone; gave large parties, went out to balls, theatres,
and lawn tennis, and dressed in the very latest style, whether it
suited her or not. She had been born and brought up in the colonies,
but when her husband went to London as a representative colonial she
went also, and stayed there a whole year, after which she came out
to her native land and ran everything down in the most merciless
manner. They did not do this in England--oh! dear no! nothing so
common--the people in Melbourne had such dreadfully vulgar manners;
but then, of course, they are not English; there was no aristocracy;
even the dogs and horses were different; they had not the stamp of
centuries of birth and breeding on them. In fact, to hear Mrs
Meddlechip talk one would think that England was a perfect
aristocratic paradise, and Victoria a vulgar--other place. She
totally ignored the marvellously rapid growth of the country, and
that the men and women in it were actually the men and women who had
built it up year by year, so that even now it was taking its place
among the nations of the earth.
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