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J 0 U R

A U S T R A L A S I A.





I N D E X .

Administrative Talent -Art in Victoria - -

- -


- - 147 - - - 223

Batman’s Journal -Brattles, Mrs. A Sketch -Buildings, Our -


-    - 1, 52 - - - ICO

-    - 4=9

Chess Problems - -Chinese Literature -Choral Singing - -Claims oe Mind -

- -

- - 143, 191, 240, 279 • - - 204 - - 155 - 117

Decoration of the Houses of Dream of Travel -


■ - 145

- 125

Education, Falacies of -


- - - 106

Fact Office, Our -Fiction Fields of Australia -Flower Garden, Companion to

the -

-    - 73 - - - 99, 199

-    39, 79, 132, 181, 229, 272

Journal of Current Events -


40, 89, 135, 183, 232, 275

Letters from Home - - . Library, Our - - . Literature and Art, Journal of - -Longfellow and his Works - -Lost. A Tale. - - -Love Story, Episode in a - .

- 208

-    - 242

-    47, 94, 141, 189, 238, 279

-    - 251

-    - 65, 114, 170 > - 151

Macaulay, Early Writings of Marriage a Lottery. A Tale Meteorological Reports -My Little Boy, Lines to


- - - 67 - 22 - 88, 134, 182, 231, 274 - - 226

Natural History, Pursuit of Notes for a New Science Notes and Queries . Notices to Corespondents

- -

- - - 32 105

48, 96, 143, 191, 240, 279 96, 144, 192, 240, 2/9

Orphan and Industrial Homes Old Scenes - .


- - - 88 - - 275


Pictures of the Past -Politics, Journal of Portrait, Lines on a -

Prejudice    -

Qualified Instructors

Retrenchment. A Tale -

-    7 7 40, 89, 135, 183, 2 2, 275

-    108

-    245


-    11

Science of Saying -    -

Science and Industry, Journal of Scrabbles’, Mr., Tale    -

Shadows of the Golden Land Snaggerack, What I saw at Social Progress, Journal of -Sociology, Experiments in -Soul of Beauty, The -Stereoscope, Stories from a Study, My -    -

-    248

-    45,    93,    139, 188,    235, 279

- -    200

-    -    128

111). 109,    211, 208

-    43,    92,    130, 185,    237, 277

- -    88

-    -    134

-    -    215

-    -    .00

Temple of the Winds    -

Theopliilus Digit    -

Victoria, Past and Present -

Wanderings in Australia Winds, To the -    -




10, 109 72

Year ago, A







May 10.—Sunday. Arrived aboard of the Rebecca” at half-past twelve, noon, in company with Mr. Sands, who remained on board for half an hour. The “Rebecca” had made about four miles down the river Tamar when that gentleman took his departure. We passed the “ Jeannette ” aground, and this tide reached Roserears, where I went on shore for the space of an hour.

The “ Rebecca” was again got under weigh at 11 p. m., and the tide took us down to Middle Island. My Sydney natives have behaved handsomely, and worked well; indeed, it was greatly owing to their cheerful and willingly-offered services that we have succeeded in reaching this distance : their behaviour on this occasion was gratifying, as a good augury of their future services during the continuance of the object which I have in view, viz.: that of secretly ascertaining the general character and capabilities of Port Phillip, as a grazing and agricultural district.

May 11.—The anchor was heaved by 9 a.m., and a light, agreeable breeze carried us into a small, well-sheltered bay, near George Town. The banks^ of the country in the vicinity abounded in wood, of which a quantity was collected and taken aboard, for the purpose of fuel for the ship’s use.

Captain Harwood and I walked over the narrow neck of land to George Town. At the time of our leaving the vessel (12 o’clock) the wind was fair, and it was our intention to have been again under weigh without loss of time, but, about 2 p. m., the wind veered to due west, and a violent hurricane, accompanied with large hailstones and rain, took place.

Fortunately, the vessel weathered the point, and, eventually, although with difficulty, found safe anchorage in the cove of George Town, where she was, shortly afterwards, joined by the government sloop, “Opossum.” That vessel had started for the heads, but was compelled to retreat to the cove, for shelter, in consequence of the fury of the storm of wind, rain, and hail. Our crew, both whites and blacks, got thoroughly wet through, I took up my quarters at Wilson’s Inn.

May 12.—The heavy storm of the preceding evening continued to rage throughout the night. By 9 a, m. the weather cleared up, and there


appeared a probability of a fair wind. Our newly-raised hopes had, however, barely been formed, when a most decidedly unfavorable change of wind again took place, accompanied, as on the previous night, with heavy rain. We had the pleasure of meeting the port officer, Dr. Smith, with whom we held a consultation on the probable duration of the present unfavorable weather, as we were anxious to resume our voyage to Fort Phillip. lie gave it as his opinion, that we should not be able, nor would it be either safe or prudent for us, to renew our voyage, until the moon was at its full, on the following day, when a change of wind usually took place.

Here I neglected not my poor, four-footed, and faithful canine companions, but made a small investment with the butcher for the wherewithal to feed them.

We continued anxiously watching the weather from the window of our inn. At 8 p. m. the rain ceased, the clouds dispersed, and the full-orbed nocturnal luminary showed his jolly countenance, with his attendant satellites and sidereal companions dotting the vault of heaven. Every thing, indeed, to our great joy, promised an agreeable change, and that we should, on the following day, make up our lee-way. A bullock was slaughtered in the town, which, with three large kangaroos that had been caught by my Sydney natives, furnished an ample supply of food, both for ourselves and the dogs, wherewith to resume our voyage.

May 13.—Shortly before daybreak the wind set in with renewed fury, accompanied, as before, with heavy rain. A dense fog followed, which lasted till 10 a.m. Altogether, the prospect of resuming our journey was far from cheering.

The bullock killed on the previous day furnished the inhabitants of the primitive town of George a sumptuous breakfast, and most of them were engaged in cutting up and cooking savoury steaks. For three or four days previons to the arrival of our little vessel (which we destined to act the part of a pioneer to the future development of the hitherto uncultivated wild of Port Phillip) nothing in the shape of fresh meat was to be obtained for love or money. They all feasted—were full, and, I hope and trust, were satisfied.

The rain continued and the stormy winds blew during the whole of the day. In the evening, as it still continued to look “ thick in the clear,” and no signs of its abatement, an interesting nautical cabinet council was held, consisting of ourselves, a Mr. Brown, an old master of a government vessel, Mr. Wood, a pilot, and Dr. Smith, the port officer, who unanimously agreed that there was little prospect of a change for at least a week, and that we should consequently have to remain at George Town for that period. Upon receiving this doleful intelligence, I determined upon sending a boat tq Launceston.

The blacks caught another kangaroo. The good conduct of my Sydney natives, as well as that of the three white men, affords me great pleasure.

May 14v—■

“ Blow on! ye winds, and crack your clieeks!”

The violent winds of the previous night, with heavy rains, characterized this morning; and we could not, in consequence, succeed in our object of sending a boat to Launceston. About 10 a.m. a small vessel hove in sight,

and Dr. Smith, with his usual kindness, took Captain Harwood and myself in his boat to the newly-arrived vessel, which proved to be the “ Hind,” brig, from Sydney, on its way to Launceston. This circumstance w7as fortunate, as it enabled me to despatch Captain Harwood to Launceston, for the purpose of obtaining a fresh supply of biscuits, meat, and various other stores, which our present and probable further delay rendered necessary. On Captain Harwood’s return to the vessel a barque hove in sight, which proved to be the “Belinda,” of Sydney, with a cargo of whale-butts. She left Sydney fourteen days previous to the sailing of the “ Hind.” Sent the natives out to hunt kangaroos. It is tedious and distressing to be thus delayed at so short a distance from Launceston, and, but for the circumstance of my having taken a formal leave of all my friends at that place, I should have been induced to return, pending a change of wind. We were not, however, singular in our misfortune, as the “Opossum,” the “Edward,” and a small schooner of 18 tons, close alongside, are also wind-bound. The little 18 ton vessel belongs to Captain Friend, and is laden with bark from Cape Portland, with only one man on board. I have taken up my quarters at the Waterloo Tavern, where the accommodations are equal to anything of the kind in Launceston.

May 15.—This morning broke fine, although the wind still continues to blow strong from the west. During the course of the forenoon, a small schooner came in, the “ William and Ann, ” from Port Sorell, with a cargo of lime for Captain Bcott. I borrowed a whale boat from Dr. Smith, and went over to Captain Hassall’s farm, and brought back three hundred weight and a-half of potatoes. The wind still continued from the west, and the “ Edward,” bound for Circular Head, was, like ourselves, unable to proceed.

May 16.—This morning was hazy, with the wind from the south-west; It was a fair wind for us, provided it freshened, in anticipation of which I immediately went on board of the cutter, where we had not been long, when the “ Shamrock ” made its appearance, towed by whale boats. Captain Friend, Mr. Scott, the surveyor, and Mr. Yeoland, were on board. Captain Harwood arrived, and informed me, that he had duly forwarded my letters to Mrs. Batman. He had scarcely finished his recital, when, to my astonishment, Mrs. Batman herself arrived in the gig, with the groom driving. In doing this she was guided by the contents of my letter, anticipating a stay of some days’ duration, and was desirous of shortening the tedium of the delay by spending it in the company of each other. God bless her for such kindness. Her presence and company was, indeed, a compensation for a sojourn which had already proved sufficiently prolonged and provoking. The night closed with the wind again in its former adverse quarter—the west.

May 17, Sunday.—This morning commenced with a more favorable wind, and the vessel made the heads in company with the schooner “ Edward.” Anxious to spend the last minute with my wife, I drove down in the gig in her company. I went on board, and, the wind again changing to the west, we visited the lighthouse, afterwards driving into George Town to the “ Waterloo,” where Mr. Collicott, postmaster-general, and Mr. Wright, shortly after arrived from Launceston, and joined us at the dinner table. The westerly winds continued to increase in violence, and the vessels were compelled to take shelter in Kelso Bay, where they anchored for the night.

May 18.—Captain Harwood sent in a note this morning from the vessel, intimating that the wind was fair. After taking a hasty and parting breakfast with Mrs. B., Hr. Smith kindly undertook to put us on board. My dear wife had the horse put in the gig, and was driven to the lighthouse, from whence she could see me fairly off, and where she remained until we were lost to view on our entering upon another horizon in the distance, in which all my hopes and expectations had long rested. So long as any part of the outline of our vessel rested above the horizon, so long did Mrs. B., from the flagstaff, continue an anxious and interested observer. The “Edward” schooner kept just a-head of us all the evening. The wind, up to midnight, was westerly, and we consequently made little headway. (I hope my dear wife will get home safe.)

May 19.—At daylight this morning I was awakened by the captain with the very unpleasant intelligence of a foul wind having set in, and he advised putting into Port Sorell as soon as possible, as the gale was increasing. I had observed all yesterday a changeableness and uncertainty about the winds; and about 9 a.m. we cast anchor close to the heads, in a position to take advantage of a change of wind in our favor. We saw the schooner “ Edward ” a long way out in the offing.

Some fish were caught for breakfast, and after that I took a walk on shore, from whence I shortly returned, and had the vessel moored closer in shore, and under the lee of the island. I then went on land a second time in the hope of getting a kangaroo. The country, however, proved too scrubby to enable the dogs to have a fair run. During the afternoon the westerly winds continued to increase in violence, and it became necessary to run the vessel higher up the port, to the proper anchorage ground, under the shelter of a small island, which we did. We then paid a visit on shore, and saw two limeburners, who inhabited a hut, and were the only parties residing there. They gave me some excellent fish. One of them mentioned to me that there was a fine tract of land opposite the hut, on the other side of the bay.

May 20.—The morning broke with every appearance of a change of wind in our favor. At 9 a.m. the old man (one of the two limeburners) from the island came aboard, and I gave him a looking glass which I had promised him on the previous day. We were not aware of the length of time which might have elapsed since he had taken a fair survey of his woolly or frosty pow, and bristly porcupine-like head. He was probably desirous of reserving that pleasure until reaching his own hut, as he pocketed the glass.

By 11 a.m., the breeze having freshened from the right quarter, we again got under weigh, and sailed slowly past the farm lately in the occupation of Captain Thomas. Passed the mouth of the river Mersey, whose line of coast was distinctly marked and well-defined by a dense growth of the native Myrtle, Eucalyptus, and other Tasmanian timber trees, of stupendous growth, and in the far-off distance the bulky and towering, well-covered outlines of the Great Western Range, from whence the river Mersey takes its source. Continuing our course in the direction of what is called Round Head, we succeeded in accomplishing a distance of twenty miles by midnight, when the wind again veered, and blew a strong gale from the adverse quarter.

May 21.—•

“ Cease! rude Boreas, blustering railer!5>

The heavy westerly gales of the preceding night continued this morning, and caused our poor little vessel to toss and skip upon the troubled swell of the mighty waves; we found ourselves drifting rapidly in the direction of George Town. The captain recommended returning to Port Sorell. This plan we forthwith adopted, and anchored off that place about 2 p. m. As I was extremely anxious to effect my object in reaching the Port Phillip country, every additional delay was the more acutely felt.

After casting anchor, I paid another visit to the hut of my bearded friends, the limeburners. A dead calm having succeeded the roaring of the elements about 11 p.m., I rejoined my party on board ship. The calm continued until midnight.

May 22.—Just before daylight a slight breeze set in from the southward, with clouds drifting from the westerly quarter. By 11 a. m. all was again calm, and the little “ Rebecca” lay like a gull asleep. We paid another visit to the shore, and took a short excursion inland; travelling over some good grazing land, of sufficient extent to form a large and valuable grant. Its position was, of course, a guarantee for a plentiful supply of that very necessary element, good water. In the afternoon I went out with my old friend the limeburner, and with his net succeeded in catching several nice fish, some of which we took on board for the use of the crew. Towards evening the wind blew from the westerly quarter, and we were unable to move an inch. An hour before midnight I turned in, and was soon in the “ arms of Morpheus,” dreaming softly and pleasantly of newly-acquired territories in Port Phillip. When we awoke, our fabulously-acquired wealth vanished like the “baseless fabric” which Shakespeare represents as its peculiar character.

May 23.—From midnight until daybreak the wind increased in violence, and the captain dropped another anchor for security. The gale continued the wrhole day; not the slightest chance of our removing from here. To relieve the tedium, I went on shore, and left some letters in charge of the limeburners, with instructions for them to be forwarded to Launceston by the first opportunity. I purchased from these men the following tools:—dmaulrings, 3 axes, 1 breaking-up hoe, 1 cross-cut saw, 4 files, 2 harrows, 1 shingle hammer, 1 pailing hammer, 1 saw sett, 1 gimblet, 1 auger, 5 wedges, 1 hand saw, 1 spade. These tools I furnished with the intention of leaving Gunn, and the other white man, at Port Phillip, should the result of my present expedition prove equal to my expectations. At 9 p. m. I returned on board, and went to bed.

The letters left with the limeburners were, one from myself for Mrs. Batman, and another from the Captain to his better-half, Mrs. Harwood, and were addressed to the care of Mr. Cotterill. Our absent Penelopes were, doubtless, dreaming of our having, by this time, reached the fertile land of promise.

May 24.—This morning, the wind having changed in our favor, we lost no time in getting under weigh, and succeeded in reaching the heads by noon, when it fell a dead calm, and so remained until 2 p. m. At that hour a breeze sprang up, directly adverse to our progress, and drove us back for shelter to our former anchoring place, opposite our friends, the limeburners, whose log hut appeared to act as a magnet, the circle of whose influence we were not allowed to pass. Our temper was severely ruffled at this continued series of delays (although we have as philosophic a temperament as most mortals), which perpetually interfered with the due carrying out the object of my voyage. But “persevere and prosper” we must allow to be our motto pro. tern. I was puzzled to pass away the time during the after part of the day, and at night turned into my hammock, which, under present circumstances, was far from being a bed of roses.

May 25.—The same unfavorable winds from the westerly quarter, and the sea running mountains high at the heads. As the gale continued to increase in violence, we were obliged to run higher up the river, and again took shelter close under the point. To kill time, and to relieve our ennui, the captain and myself went on shore and walked round the island. We obtained two augers from Hine, one of the limeburners. Two p. m.: westerly gales continue, and not the least apparent signs of a change. “ In troubles, to be troubled, is to have your troubles doubled,” says the poet. We considered ourselves as being especially unfortunate in our detention at this place.

A week has elapsed since our leaving George Town, and here we are still. Nine p.m.: the wind continues. I sent for one of the limeburners, and gave him three dollars to take our letters and put them in the post office at George Town. I have despatched three long letters to Mrs. Batman, and Captain Harwood two to his absent fair one. My Sydney natives have taken up their quarters on shore the last four nights in preference to remaining on shipboard; therein they have shewn good sense. '

May 26.—At three o’clock this morning it commenced raining in torrents, and at 8 a.m. the limeburner came on board for the letters for Launceston, which he had undertaken to post at George Town.

Eleven a.m.: a light breeze sprung up, fair if it continues, and we are now sailing gaily towards the heads. Ten p.m.: the wind continues favorable, and there is at length a prospect of our reaching Port Phillip. Our little vessel is sailing over cleverly in the direction of Circular Head.

May 27.—The favorable wind of yesterday continued up till 2 o’clock this morning, when it suddenly veered from the N.W. and by north ; we were unable to keep our course, and made the West Hunter ; having run eighty miles since leaving Port Sorell. This distance was more than I expected to accomplish from the time of leaving Port Sorell. At noon we cast anchor; I determined to visit the shore, and landed near the entrance of a large cave, which I explored, and found it to extend 180 feet from the mouth to the end ; the entrance was 40 feet wide, and the average depth of the cave was about the same; the roof was beautifully fretted and covered with stalactites.. This is the largest cavern I have yet met with in the Colony. A great many fish were caught in the course of the day. We again sighted the “Edward” schooner on her way to Circular Head. At 6 p.m. the wind veered in our favor, and the

captain got his little vessel under weigh. We made a good run during the night.    _

May 28.—During the darkness of the night, we passed King’s Island, and about 1 p. m. sighted a portion of New Holland, the land of promise and to reach which we had already endured many anxious days and sleepless nights. We continued nearing this hitherto unappreciated portion of New Holland, and, as evening now cast its shadows over the waters, the captain preferred lying off the land at a distance of about eighteen miles, until the following morning, when we anticipated the satisfaction of entering the port of Phillip. Several chain hooks, being baited and attached to the ends of ropes, were thrown over the vessel’s side, and two fine, long, bright, and well-tasted barracootas, fish peculiar to the coast of Australia, were caught, not however until we had lost several hooks, in consequence of the fish having bitten through the rope, above its junction with the chain or wire part.

May 29.—Daylight had no sooner broke this morning—and never had its cheerful return been so ardently longed for—than we were again greeted by the sight of Port Phillip heads, at a distance not apparently exceeding eight miles.

By 9 a.m. we were between the heads, with the tide running out, and nearly at low water; a heavy surf, and the wind light and baffling. We effected an entrance with difficulty, at a part of the bay where the width was about a mile and a quarter. We took soundings, and found the depth of water from five and a half to seven fathoms. We succeeded, however, in entering one of the finest bays, or basins of water, Well sheltered, that we remember to have seen. Within the bay, the water was, compared to our late tossing in the boiling and foaming waters outside, as smooth as a millpond: and our little bark floated gently along, like a sleeping gull.

I shall, however, take this opportunity to remark that it will be desirable to enter its mouth only at the times of the tide running in. As we were sailing down the bay, we were surprised to hear the repeated barkings of a dog, and were somewhat puzzled as to how he came there. We had

just called upon P-to account for this phenomenon, when a flock of at

least one hundred wild geese rose, within a shot’s distance of our vessel. They appeared of a large size, and flew before us in the direction of the port. After sailing about twelve miles up the port, we cast anchor in a small bay, and afterwards made preparations for going on shore. In getting ready the boat for that purpose, we caught sight of another dog on the sandy beach. We made for that spot, and found it to be a native dog or dingo, which had apparently been left by the natives a day or two before our arrival. It appeared to be quite tame, and was perfectly familiar with my Sydney natives, although, with the cunning peculiar to the Australian dingo, he would not allow them to lay hands on him. After a short time our dogs broke after and ran him down into the water, where we shot him. He proved to be a large and handsome animal, of the same character as the Australian dogs generally. On resuming our march from the scene of the last incident, we came upon, apparently quite fresh, tracks of the natives, leading to a village of huts or gunyahs, which had not been abandoned, as we judged from sundry indications, for more than a day or two; some appeared to have been used by the natives as tlieir marine villas, in which they had been plentifully regaling on the mussel, unio, and periwinkle, from the large number of empty shells which lay in heaps around. We passed into the country, and, at the distance of four miles, commenced travelling over land, a little sandy in places, but of the finest description for grazing purposes; nearly all parts of its surface covered with kangaroo and other grasses of the most nutritive character, intermixed with herbs of various kinds; the kangaroo grass (anthisteria Australis), and other species from ten to twelve inches high, of a dense growth, and green as a field of wheat. We were perfectly pleased with the country at this part, and here changing our course, found it to open around into softly undulating hills and plains, with, as before, the richest grass and verdure, so delightful to the eyes of the sheep farmer. As a relief to the landscape, the gently rising eminences were adorned with wattle, banksia, native honeysuckle, and the she-oak, whose short, straight, stumpy buts and round heads resembled a number of pins sticking in a lady’s pincushion. On our return to the vessel, we passed over another thinly-timbered and richly-grassed plain, of not less than from two hundred to three hundred acres, on whose rich surface a large number of kangaroos were feeding, and, but that our dogs were stiff, from being so long on shipboard, some interesting hunts would have followed. We saw several more native huts or gunyahs, and the marks on one tree are quite fresh, apparently cut yesterday. We continued our course down the bay, and found the country everywhere of the same richly-grassed character. We caught sight of some hills in the distance, bare of timber, although they had the appearance of being clothed with verdure to their summits. They appeared distant about six miles. I purpose paying them a visit next morning, as I anticipate being able to take from their summits a good survey of the surrounding country, more particularly that part lying in a north-west direction. My natives preferred sleeping on shore to-night, whilst Captain Harwood and myself took the shelter of the vessel. In the course of my day’s excursion, we have travelled at least twenty miles, and the skipper is knocked up! In the early part of the evening the wind set in again, and continued to blow hard until midnight.

May 30.—The winds of last night continued, and the vessel was tossed about considerably, owing to the absence of shelter. We hailed our Sydney natives, and directed them to go round to a point of land and meet the vessel, as a boat could not land to bring them off. At the distance of about fifteen miles we reached the point indicated, and had no sooner anchored than we perceived my Sydney natives coming along the shore. I again landed for the purpose of taking another inspection of the country, wdiich we discerned as exceedingly rich, and beautiful in the extreme; thinly-timbered, richly-grassed, and diversified by a few sweet vallies, and hills of small elevation and of volcanic formation. The soil was of a fine, rich, oily, decomposed whinstone. Nothing could be more satisfactory, and in every point the reality far exceeded my most sanguine expectations. In these and other situations the kangaroo and other native grasses have attained at least two feet, and thick as it could grow, capable of affording hay of the best quality. The trees were thinly-scattered in a park-like form, averaging five or six to the acre.

Jr f


Robinson Crusoe was never better pleased with the appearance of the first ship which arrived, and rescued him from his desolate island, than I was with the vessel which proved the means of my thus opening to view a country capable of supporting a future nation, and which, we trust, will be the means of relieving the Hobart Town country of its overstocked cattle, and the mother country of her surplus and half-starved peasantry. Futurity must develop this prophecy! Further travelling and examination only added to my pre-conceived estimate of this extremely interesting and extensive territory; consisting of plains or downs at least twenty miles long by a width of ten miles, and the distance may have been greater, but for the interruption of hills more than ordinarily high, which broke the horizon in different directions. One of these vistas, which I have at present in view, cannot form a less area than 100,000 acres. Its general character presents that of cultivated pasture for centuries past; the few trees appear as though they owed their plantation to the hand of man. All the high hills are covered with grass to their summits.

I ascended these eminences or hill-summits, from which the view was most satisfactory. The country on either hand presented the same continuation of rich pastoral plains, apparently of greater extent than those already mentioned. The bay up which we sailed to-day, and where we cast anchor, varied in depth from two and a-half to six fathoms, and, to my great joy, I discovered the fires of the natives or aboriginal inhabitants of this marvellously fertile country, and felt delighted beyond expression that the task of its discovery should have devolved upon myself. I intend going ashore to-morrow morning to the camp of natives, and, if possible, shall establish a friendly intercourse with them, in order to effect a treaty for the purchase of a large portion of their fertile and hitherto useless territory.

May 31, Sunday.—The vessel lay last night in three fathom water, in a fine little bay, to which I gave the name of Gellibrand’s harbour, in honor of —. Gellibrand, Esq., late attorney-general, of Hobart Town.

As soon as the day broke, we landed for the purpose of carrying out our object with the aborigines. We had not travelled more than a mile and a-half when we caught sight of the smoke arising from the fires of seven large gunyahs or huts. My Sydney natives immediately stripped off their clothes, and introduced themselves, parea naturabilis, to the inhabitants of the gunyahs; at least they intended to have so done, but on reaching the little village they discovered that the sable tenants had departed that morning. My natives forthwith beat for their trail, and, having found it, we commenced to follow, and continued on the track for about ten miles, when one of my natives caught sight of a black at the distance of a mile. Having made a sign to us, we again formed into Indian file, and marched after him until we came up to the black he had seen, who proved to be an old and crippled woman, having no toes on one foot. About a mile ahead we saw the main body of the tribe whom we had followed, and overtook them about 1 p. m.

My Sydney natives and their new companions, by a sort of freemasonry, or from a similarity of language, appeared to perfectly understand each other, and a friendly footing was at once established, which augured well for the accomplishment of my projects.


A corroborree with song was got up in quick time, in which both tribes joined, to my great delight. The company was composed entirely of women, twenty-four in number, each having a child at her back, excepting one who was young and very good looking. They informed us that the male members of their tribe had gone up the river. With this interesting group of females were four native dogs or dingos, and, independent of infant burdens, they each had a net or basket hung around their shoulders. The weight of some of their loads could not be less than sixty or seventy pounds ; these loads were so large as to form a hump behind, on which their children rested. Each had, besides, two or three baskets of their own manufacture, containing nets, stone tomahawks, bones, crystals, &c. In one of the bags, which I took the trouble to examine, I found a piece of the tire of a cart wheel, with the remains of two nail holes. This piece of iron was ground down to a sharp edge and fixed in a piece of wood for a handle; they used it for the purpose of cutting with as a tomahawk; with this were several pieces of iron hoop, which they had likewise ground to a sharp edge, and used as substitutes for knives. Several large wooden vessels, of rude construction, for the purpose of holding water, were also among their utensils, and in one of them was some water, of a bad quality. They very willingly came back with us to where I had a number of blankets, glass-beads, looking-glasses, sweet sugar apples, and handkerchiefs; and I distributed amongst them 8 pair of blankets, 30 handkerchiefs, 1 tomahawk, 18 necklaces of beads, 6 pounds of sugar, 12 looking-glasses, and a quantity of apples. They appeared to be very much pleased with the presents, and shortly after receiving them took their departure. I had arranged that we were to meet again to-morrow. The young woman, of whom I have written, gave me a very handsome basket, of her own making: some of the other women also presented ine with two baskets and several spears ; all of which I took with me on board. I have this day travelled over at least fifteen miles of country, all of the same good character of open plains, several of which, seen from a neighbouring hill, could not be less than twenty miles square. In the course of the journey I ascended a sugar loaf hill, which was richly grassed to the top. This hill I dedicated to the honor of J. T. Collicott, Esq., postmaster-general, and I hope and trust that, should this magnificent country eventually be settled upon, this hill may in future be allowed to retain the name of Mount Collicott. I never could have imagined it possible that so fine a country existed on the face of the globe—gentle hills, plains, and downs, on which 5,000 sheep might have been allowed to feed with little trouble to the shepherd. I cannot, however, shut my eyes to the fact, that, fine as the land undoubtedly is, from what I have yet seen of it, there is a great deficiency of water, although I have no doubt whatever that water might be easily obtained by digging.

[To be continued.)



Not many years ago, a farmer, who lived a hundred or two miles from the seaboard, became impressed with the idea that, unless he adopted close-cutting system of retrenchment, he would certainly go to the wall. Wheat, during the preceding season, had been at a high price; but, unluckily for him, he had only a small portion of his land in wheat. Of corn and potatoes he had raised more than the usual quantity; but the price of corn was down, and potatoes were low. This year he had sown double the \Vjieat he had ever sown before, and, instead of raising thousand bushels of potatoes, as he had generally done, only planted an acre in that vegetable, the product of which was about one hundred and fifty bushels.

Unluckily for Mr. Ashburn, his calculations did not turn out well. After his wheat was harvested, and his potatoes nearly ready to dig, the price of the former fell to ninety cents per bushel, and the price of the latter rose to one dollar. Everywhere, the wheat crop had been abundant, and almost everywhere the potato crop promised to be light.

Mr. Ashburn was sadly disappointed at this result.

“ I shall be ruined,” he said at home, and carried a long face while abroad. When his wife and daughters asked for money with which to get their fall and winter clothing, he grumbled sadly, gave them half what they wanted, and said they must retrench. A day or two afterwards, the collector of the “ Post ” came along and presented his bill.

Ashburn paid it in a slow, reluctant manner, and then said—

“I wish to have the paper stopped, Mr. Collector.”

“Oh! no, don’t say that, Mr. Ashburn. You are one of our old subscribers, and we can’t think of parting with you.”

“ Sorry to give up the paper. But must do it,” returned the farmer.

“ Isn’t it as good as ever ? You used to say you’d rather give up a dinner a week than the ‘ Post.’ ”

“ Oh! yes, it’s as good as ever, and sometimes, I think, much better than it was. It’s a great pleasure to read it. But I must retrench every point, and then I don’t see how I’m to get along. Wheat’s down to ninety cents, and falling daily.”

“ But the paper is only two dollars a year, Mr. Ashburn.”

I know. But two dollars are two dollars. However, it’s no use to talk, Mr. Collector; the £ Post ’ must be stopped. If I have better luck next year, I will subscribe*for’t again.”

This left the collector nothing to urge, and he withdrew. In his next letter to the publishers, he ordered the paper to be discontinued, which was accordingly done.

Of this little act of retrenchment, Jane, Margaret, and Phoebe knew nothing at the time, and the farmer was rather loathe to tell them. When the fact did become known, as it must soon, he expected a buzzing in the hive, and the anticipation of this made him half repent of what he had

done, and almost wish that the collector would forget to notify the office of his wish to have the paper stopped. But the collector was a prompt

man. On the second Saturday inorning, Ashburn went to the post-office as usual. The postmaster handed him a letter, saying, as he did so—

“ I can’t find any paper for you to-day. They have made a mistake in not mailing it this week.”

“ No,” replied Ashburn. I have stopped it.”

“Indeed! The ‘Post’ is an excellent paper. What other one do you intend to take ? ”    •

“ I shall not take any newspaper this year,” replied Ashburn.

“ Not take a newspaper, Mr. Ashburn!” said the postmaster, with a look and in a tone of surprise.

“ No. I must retrench. I must cut off all superfluous expenses. And I believe I can do without a newspaper as well as any thing else. It’s a mere luxury; though a very pleasant one, I own, but still dispensable.”

“ Not a luxury, but a necessary, I say, and indispensable,” returned the postmaster. “ I don’t know what I wouldn’t rather do without than a newspaper. What in the world are Phoebe, and Jane, and Margaret going to do? ”

“ They will have to do without. There is no help for it.”

“ If they don’t raise a storm about your ears that you will be glad to allay, even at the cost of half-a-dozen newspapers, I am mistaken,” said the postmaster, laughing.

Ashburn replied, as he turned to walk away, that he thought he could face all storms of that kind without flinching.

“ Give me the ‘ Post,’ papa,” said Margaret, running to the door to meet her father when she saw him coming.

“ I haven’t got it,” replied Mr. Ashburn, feeling rather uncomfortable.

“ Why ? Hasn’t it come ? ”

“ No ; it hasn’t come.”

Margaret looked very much disappointed.

“ It has never missed before,” she said, looking earnestly at her father.

No suspicion of the truth was in her mind; but, to the eyes of her father, her countenance was full of suspicion. Still, he had not the courage to confess what he had done.

“ The ‘ Post ’ hasn’t come! ” he heard Margaret say to her sisters, a few minutes afterwards, and their expressions of disappointment fell rebukingly upon his ears.

It seemed to Mr. Ashburn that he heard of little else, while in the house, during the whole day, but the failure of the newspaper. When night came, even he,, as he sat with nothing to do but think about the low price of wheat for an hour before bedtime, missed his old friend with the welcome face, that had so often amused, instructed, and interested him.

On Monday morning the girls were very urgent for their father to ride over to the post-office and see if the paper had n’t come; but, of course, the farmer was “ too busy” for that. On Tuesday and Wednesday, the same excuse was made. On Thursday, Margaret asked a neighbour, who was going by the office, to call and get the newspaper for them. Towards evening, Mr. Markland, the neighbour, was seen riding down the road, and Margaret and Jane ran down eagerly to the gate for the newspaper.

“ Did you get the paper for us ? ” asked Margaret, showing two smiling rows of milk-white teeth, while her eyes danced with anticipated pleasure. Mr. Markland shook his head.    ,

“ Why?” asked both the girls at once.

“ The postmaster says it has been stopped.”

“ Stopped!” How changed were their faces and tones of voice.

“ Yes. He says your father directed it to be stopped.”

“ That must be a mistake,” said Margaret. “ He would have told us.” Mr. Markland rode on, and the girls ran back into the house.

“ Father, the postmaster says you have stopped the newspaper!” exclaimed his daughters, breaking in upon Mr. Ashburn’s no very pleasant reflections on the low price of wheat, and the difference in the return he Would receive at ninety cents a bushel to what he would have realized at the last year’s price of a dollar twenty-five.

It’s true,” he replied, trenching himself behind a firm, decided manner.    <

“ But why did you stop it, father ? ” inquired the girls.

“ Because I can’t afford to take it. It’s as much as I shall be able to do to get you enough to eat and wear this year.”

Mr. Ashburn’s manner was decided, and his voice had a repelling tone. Margaret and Phoebe could say no more; but they did not leave their father’s presence without giving his eyes the benefit of seeing a free gush of tears. It would be doing injustice to Mr. Ashburn’s state of mind to say that he felt very comfortable, or had done so, since stopping the “ Post,” an act for which he had sundry times more than half repented. But, as it had been done, he could not think of recalling it.

Very sober were the faces that surrounded the supper-table that evening; and but few words were spoken. Mr. Ashburn ielt oppressed, and also fretted to think that his daughters should make both themselves and him unhappy about a trifle of a newspaper, when he had such serious troubles to bear.

On the next Saturday, as Mr. Ashburn was walking over his farm, he saw a man sitting on one of his fences, dressed in a jockey-cap, and wearing a short hunting-coat. He had a rifle over his shoulder, and carried a powder-flask, shot and bird bags. In fact, he was a fully equipped sportsman, a somewhat rara avis in those parts.

“ What’s this lazy fellow doing here ?” said Ashburn, to himself. " I wonder where he comes from.”

“Good morning, neighbour,” spoke out the stranger, in a familiar way, as soon as the farmer came within speaking distance. “ Is there any good game about here ? Any wild turkeys, or pheasants ?”

“ There are plenty of squirrels,” returned Ashburn, a little sarcastically, “ and the woods are full of robins.”

“ Squirrels make a first-rate pie. But I need n’t tell you that, my friend. Every farmer knows the taste of squirrels,” said the sportsman with great good-humor. “ Still, I want to try my hand at a wild turkey. I’ve come off here into the country to have a crack at game better worth

the shooting than we get in the neighbourhood of P-

“ You’re from P-, then?” said the farmer.    .

“ Yes, I live in P-

“ When did you leave there ? ”

“ Four or five weeks ago.”

Then you don’t know what wheat is selling for now ?”

“ Wheat ? No. I think it was ninety-five or a dollar, I don’t remember which, when I left.”

“ Ninety is all it is selling for here.”

“ Ninety! I should like to buy some at that.”

“I have no doubt you can be accommodated,” replied the farmer.

“ That is exceedingly low for wheat. If it wasn’t for having a week’s sport among your wild turkeys, and the hope of being able to kill a deer, I’d stop and buy up a lot of wheat on speculation.”

“ I’ll sell you five hundred bushels at ninety-twTo,” said the farmer, half-hoping that this green customer might be tempted to buy at this advance upon the regular rate.

“ Will you?” interrogated the stranger.

“ Yes.”

“ I’m half-tempted to take you up. I really believe I—no!—I must knock over some wild turkeys first. It won’t do to come this far without bagging rarer game than wheat. I believe I must decline, friend.”

“What would you say to ninety-one?” The farmer had heard a rumour, a day or twTo before, of a fall of two or three cents in wheat, and if he could get off five hundred bushels upon this sportsman, who had let the breast of his coat fly open far enough to give a glimpse of a large, thick pocket-book, at ninety-one, it would be quite a desirable operation.

“ Ninety-one—ninety-one,” said the stranger, to himself. “ That ris i a temptation! I can turn a penny on that. But the wild turkeys ; I must have a crack at a wild turkey or a deer. I think, friend,” he added, speaking louder, “ that I will have some sport in these parts for a few days first.    Then, may-be, I’ll buy up a few thousand bushels of wheat, if

the prices haven’t gone up.”

“ I shouldn’t wonder if prices advanced a little,” said the farmer. “Wouldn’t you ? ” And the stranger looked into the farmer’s face with a very innocent expression.

“ It cann’t go much lower; if there should be any change, it will doubtless be an improvement.”

“ How much wheat have you ? ” asked the sportsman.

“ I’ve about a thousand bushels left.”

“ A thousand bushels. Ninety cents ; nine hundred dollars ;—I’ll tell you what, friend, since talking to you has put me into the notion of trying my hand at a speculation on wheat, I’ll just make you an offer, which you may accept or not, just as you please. I’ll give you ninety cents cash for all you’ve got, one half payable now, and the other half on delivery of the wheat at the canal, provided you get extra force and deliver it immediately.”

Ashburn stood thoughtful for a moment or two, and then replied—

“ Very well, sir, it’s a bargain.”

“ Which, to save time, we will close immediately. I will go with you to your house, and pay you five hundred dollars on the whole bill for a thousand bushels.”

The farmer had no objection to this, of course, and invited the stranger

to go to his house with him, where the five hundred dollars were soon counted out. For this amount of money he wrote a receipt and handed it to the stranger, who, after reading it, said—

“ I would prefer your making out a bill for a thousand bushels, and writing on it, ‘ Received on account, five hundred dollars.’ ”

“ It may overrun that quantity,” said Ashburn.

“No matter, a new bill can be made out for that. I’ll take all you have.”

The farmer saw no objection to the form proposed by the stranger, and therefore tore up the receipt he had written, and made a bill out in the form desired.

“ Will you commence delivering to-day?” inquired the sportsman, who all at once began to manifest a marked degree of interest in the business.

“ Yes,” replied the farmer.

“ Flow many waggons have you?”

“ Two.”    _

“ As it is down hill all the way to the canal, they can easily take a hundred bushels each.”

“Oh! yes.”    _

“ Very well. They can make two loads apiece to-day, and by starting early, three loads apiece on Monday, which will transfer the whole thousand bushels to the canal. I will go down immediately and see that a boat is ready to commence loading. You can go to work at once.”

By extra effort, the wheat was all delivered by Monday afternoon, and the balance of the purchase-money paid. As Mr. Ashburn was riding home, a neighbour, who had noticed his waggons going past his house with wheat for the two days, overtook him.

“ So I see, friend Ashburn, that, like me, you are content to take the first advance of the market, instead of running the risk of a decline for a further rise in prices. What did you get for your wheat ?”

“ I sold for ninety cents.”

“ Ninety cents! ” exclaimed the neighbour. Surely you didn’t sell for that?”

“ I certainly did. I tried to get ninety-two, but ninety was the highest offer I could obtain.”

“ Ninety cents! Why, what has come over you, Ashburn. Wheat is selling for a dollar and twenty cents. I’ve just sold five hundred bushels for that.”

Impossible!” ejaculated the farmer.

“ Not at all impossible. Don’t you know that by the last arrival from England have come accounts of a bad harvest, and that wheat has taken a sudden rise ?”

“No, I don’t know any such a thing,” returned the astonished Ashburn.

“Well, it’s so. Where is your newspaper ? Haven’t you read it? I got mine on Friday evening, and saw the news. Early on Saturday morning I found two or three speculators ready to buy up all the wheat they could get at old prices; but they didn’t make many operations. One fellow, who pretended to be a fancy sportsman, thrust himself into my way, but, even if I had not known of a rise in the price of wheat, I should have suspected it as soon as I saw him, for I read, last week, of juat such a looking chap as him having got ahead of some ignorant country farmers by buying up tbeir produce, on a sudden rise of the market, at a price much below its real value.”

“ Good day,” said Ashburn, suddenly applying his whip to the flank of his horse; and away he dashed homeward at full gallop.

The farmer never sat down to make a regular calculation of what he had lost by stopping his newspaper ; but it required no formality of pencil and paper to arrive at this. A difference of thirty cents on each bushel made, for a thousand bushels, the important sum of three hundred dollars, and this fact his mind instantly saw.

By the next mail, he enclosed two dollars to the publishers of the “ Post,” and re-ordered the paper. He will, doubtless, think a good wkile; and retrench at a good many points, before he orders another discontinuance.




Although various works have, at different times, issued from the press concerning the early settlement of Australia, the subject is one of so much interest and importance, that it is believed the following reminiscences will not only be read with pleasure, but will be useful for reference. My knowledge of Victoria began at the time of the settlement of Mr. John Batman. During two of Leichardt’s expeditions, that distinguished man availed himself of the humble services of the writer, to whom was entrusted the duty of recording such circumstances as were worth noticing. These memoranda of the two latest expeditions of the much-lamented Leichardt are now, for the first time, made public.

As was usual with those who arrived for the first time in Hobson’s Bay, the captain of our vessel took the ship’s boat up the Yarra Yarra. The river was then densely covered on both banks with mellaliuca or tea-tree, and the mamomeeth parbine. This latter was called by the aborigines “ the good mother,” from the seed pods, of receptacle for the developing process of the seeds, being attached in whirts to the stems or branches on which they are produced years after the trees at those parts have shed their blossoms. The long, heavy branches of the mamomeeth parbine hung in massive, graceful arches over the river’s side. Plocks of wild ducks were disturbed by our boat, as we glided up the stream. The notes peculiar to the ornithorinchus paradoxus or platipus, wattle bird, and leather head or old soldier bird, added in no small degree to the novelties Tvhich on every side thrust themselves upon our awakened attention. The wattle bird has been not inaptly termed the “what’s-o’clock?” the leather hird, the “ stop-where-you-are.” Lofty eucalyptus or flooded-gum trees formed a back ground to the natural plantation of tea-tree. As we approached the site whereon Melbourne has been built, the reverberating echoes from a blacksmith’s shop, and the unmistakeable odour of a fellmonger’s yard, reminded us that the elements of civilization had preceded our arrival. In the latter part of the year one thousand eight hundred and thirty nine, we landed on the low, muddy bank on the north side of the river, the site known as the wharf. Proceeding eastwards we passed a neat and tasteful building, situated on a small hillock, called Batman’s Hill. Wandering over the undulating ground in the locality, the place where Melbourne now stands, we noticed two or three hotels, which had recently been erected, in different quarters of the township, a few stores, and an auction mart. We also noticed a small brick building in Little Collins Street, opposite the spot where Temple Court has since been erected, which was called the Treasury. There was a small wooden house used for a Police Court, and another for a Post Office. Mr. LaTrobe was the superintendent of this newly-formed settlement of Port Phillip, or “ the settlement ” as it was then termed. Wild fowl were very plentiful both in the swamp, near Batman’s Hill, and at the Salt Water Hiver. On the hill where the Supreme Court stands we gathered large quantities of mushrooms. The lagoon formed by the back waters of the Yarra Yarra abounded in snipe. Proceeding up the river by the bank, passing through what is now the Richmond Paddock, we found that a gentleman, named Arden, had erected a residence in that locality. The hill on the eastern side of Melbourne was then thickly wooded. In the streets of the township there were numerous stumps of the eucalypti, or gum trees; here and there a whole tree.


Having been introduced by one of their number to a tribe of aborigines, I formed the intention of proceeding to the Dandenong ranges, and thence to Western Port. Among the natives were Derrimut, Yam-mabook or Hawk’s-Eye, and Benbow. The latter is he who gave information of an evil design which some of his companions had conceived, and thus prevented what might have been a fatal encounter between them and the first white settlers. Benbow invariably rejected all solicitations to partake of spirituous liquors, and is the only teetotaller I ever met with among the aborigines. In a corner of Mr. Batman’s garden Benbow and his wife, Kitty, dwelt in a small hut of his own constructing. Within everything was cleanly, and in good order. Benbow was often consulted by the settlers concerning various matters; and he was always willing to impart what information he possessed. He was not only an intelligent native, but a really worthy fellow: an evidence that the aborigines of Australia are not, as has been so frequently stated by various writers, incapable of being civilized.

Proceeding on our projected excursion on foot, we crossed the Yarra Yarra by a punt, at the place where Prince’s Bridge has been built, and passed up the river to Gardiner’s Creek. The ground on our right has been surveyed and sold in allotments of various sizes, and the rising township of Prahran has grown up. Mr. Arden’s house was the only building we saw on the spot where Richmond now stands. On that side of the river there was a swamp or marsh, edged with a natural plantation of swamp broom. Gardiner’s Creek, at its confluence with the river, rushing through a dense mass of tea-tree, like water bubbling from the neck of a bottle. In this neighbourhood I saw many new plants, of a totally different character from those .which I had previously had an opportunity of observing in Tasmania. Dodonea, goodenia, and the brilliant spikes of reddish purple blossom of the lithrum spicata, enlivened the banks of the creek. With the exception of a small wattle and dab hut, the only house in the locality was a building of stone, which was in the course of erection for Mr. G. W. Robinson, the protector of the aborigines. After crossing Gardiner’s Creek, leaving the river on our left, we travelled over a piece of rising sandy ground, which formed a belt between the Yarra Yarra and the sandy heath which we found in the neighbourhood of Brighton. This place was richly covered with low shoots, and -plants of a heathy nature: Leucopogon, several species; Astroloma, or native cranberry; Epacris, white and reda dwarf species of Casuarina; Tetrathecu; Eriostemon; several species of dwarf integral-leaved Acacia, or wattles; Leptosperma; Ilippuris, or mare’s tail; Baviesia; Pultrea; and Pleurandria ; were among the most prominent. On our way to the base of the first mountain, in an easterly direction, we crossed some clear, running streams of water, all tributaries of the Yarra, their banks being well covered with trees, and interesting shrubby herbaceous plants, which my readers will find described in a separate work, on the plants of these colonies. We encamped the first night between Gardiner’s and Babee Jim creek, where the country was extremely rich, undulating, thinly-timbered, and thickly-grassed. Our camp was about the distance of four miles from the southern bank of the river, on which was then a station belonging to Messrs. Walpole and Goggs. The latter gentleman we had the pleasure to meet during our wanderings with Leichhardt, Mr. Goggs and his brother having followed upon our new track on the Condanime river.

This was the first time I had ever camped for the night in company with aborigines. Having at that time but a very imperfect acquaintance with their language and customs, my first impressions concerning these singular and inoffensive people were by no means favorable. It being clear and star-light we were sufficiently sheltered for the night by a few branches from the neighbouring gum trees.

As an additional protection for me, my new friends covered the spot where I was to lie with a sheet of bark, supported upon wattles.^ They cooked an opossum for our evening meal. Although delicate in appearance as an English rabbit, the flesh was not so agreeable as I had been led to anticipate, it being very strongly tinctured with the volatile peppermint smelling oil, common in the leaves of the eucalyptus piperita or peppermint tree, in which tree the opossum finds its chief food.

In searching for and catching the opossum, the natives display acute observation and much skill. Indications of the presence of their game, quite imperceptible to the white man, are by them instinctively recognised. They examine cursorily all the large trees likely to afford shelter to the animal. If, from observation of any particular tree, the hunter has conceived it probable that the opossum has taken refuge amongst its branches, he, by making a series of notches in the baVk for his feet, ascends ‘ to what altitude he pleases. Should the opossum have taken refuge in a hollow, a small stick is used to dislodge him. On emerging from his retreat, he is caught dexterously by the tail, and swung rapidly round twice or thrice, until his head is made to come in contact with the tree and stunned.

After retiring to my berth, I lay awake a great part of the night, watching the natives, who were seated around the camp fire, endeavouring to catch the meaning of the language in which they conversed cheerfully with each other.

We were afoot again by early dawn. At my request my companions tarried a Short time, while I collected specimens of the flora of the place, and, as soon as they perceived the reason of our delay, rendered willingly what assistance they could by bringing to me various leaves, herbs, Ac. They had names for many of them, which I carefully noted, for future reference. When the sun was fairly up, the short, rich notes of the native thrush, the sweet warble of the magpie, and the jocund cadence of the laughing jackass, reverberated through the woods. We made for Mount Koronth Marabool, a small mountain, divided from the main chain of ranges. Pursuing our journey over the gently undulating country, we stayed for refreshment beside a small streamlet, known as Babee Jim Creek. This creek has well-defined banks, with a great variety of subalpine shrubs and plants. I found the Prostanthera lasianthas pencil cedar; Pomaderris apetala ; and parvifolia, the large and small-leaved, which the natives call callerwood ; the colonial dogwood, and the native mountain ash ; Aster Daviesia, or native hop ; and Goodenia ovata. Occasionally, where the volcanic blocks of bluestone abutted along the edges of the creek, were two species of hakea, or native walnut, with others of the Pro-teaceæ, Grevillia, Lomatia, and a dwarf species of Banksia, or native honeysuckle. The large arborescent Banksia Australis was abundant, and sprinkled occasionally over all parts where the soil was sandy. Three species of the euphrasia, or native eyebright, and stilidiums of various species, were common to the pasture lands. Clematis gentianoides and Ranunculus, of various species, were, with many other plants, brilliantly in flower. Upon reaching the creek, some of my companions walked into a neighbouring lagoon, for the purpose of catching eels. With a small spear in his hand, the aboriginal eel-cateher (eeoke) walks slowly and cautiously about the shallow water, until he has trodden so gently upon the object of his search as not to awaken its attention. Although half-buried in the mud, its position is judged with such accuracy, that, with one blow, the eel is pierced by the native. Immediately he takes it out of the water, and disables it by giving it a crush between his teeth. We arrived at the foot of the mountain about sunset. In reaching it we had been delayed while some of our friends secured a fine kangaroo, which was' shot by one of them, named Jemmy, in a small patch of grass. It would appear that thé kangaroo cannot, or does not, notice objects directly ahead, and by Jemmy, with his gun under his arm, cautiously creeping, under cover of a large bough, which he carried in his hand (some others having placed themselves in the rear), he was allowed to approach, shoot, and secure, his prey without difficulty. It was a noble specimen, although not full-grown, and

was carried in triumph to the camp over the shoulders of Jemmy. In skinning the kangaroo one of the natives made his feet serve him very usefully. I have often had occasion to remark how dexterous these people are in making use of their feet. The kidney-fat they ate as soon as the entrails were taken out. The hinder part roasted made us an excellent evening meal. The tail, which is regarded as a great delicacy, was cooked separately, and I do not remember ever having eaten anything with greater gusto than the two joints of tail which fell to my portion. The forequarter was given to the dogs, and the bones and other portions of the tail, which the black fellows could not eat, were thrown over their shoulders, and caught by their wives, with less concern than they observed in feeding their canine companions. The ladies received these scraps with a quiet humility, which it was really quite charming to observe in them, although I could never see such indifference manifested on the part of the blacks towards their wives without aversion.    _    _

Our camping place was on the rise of the mountain, behind which flowed a small gurgling brook, with banks lined with the tree fern hillar-deria, and which the blacks called Quambee Jack. The heart of the tree was cut out and eaten by the natives, in the same manner as we have subsequently seen the aborigines in north-eastern tropical Australia appropriate the crown or heart of the corypha palm tree, as well as that of the larger fern tree, alsophilla elegans, which in those parts assume a height and size of stupendous magnitude. Here we stayed for the night. Rising earlier in the morning than the rest, I took a stroll, up the valley of the creek, among a forest of fern trees. Occasionally the climbing plants, which were thickly interspersed with ferns, with the Dodnea, Sassafraz, Leptosperma, and Ozothamnus, formed scrub so dense as merely to^ leave a small opening, enabling me to take a sidelong peep, at intervals, into the valley of the creek below. In most cases I observed that the ground had been torn or scratched up. On our visit in company with Jemmy, we afterwards learned that this was the work of the Bullen Bullen, or lyre bird, in its search for large worms, its favourite food.    _

When the rest of the party arose, one of them caught a native porcupine, which abound at the foot of Koronth Marrabool. When properly cooked it is a dish by no means to be despised. The country here being thickly wooded, the experience of Jemmy, who acted as the guide to our party, was invaluable to us. He was an excellent marksman, and often brought me birds of various kinds which he had killed. Amongst them were several lyre birds. He pointed out to us the disturbed patches of ground where these birds had been seeking^ their prey; he also led us to various spots where we could hear the ridiculous sounds of mimic cry raised by this Australian mocking bird. It possesses the power of mimicing, with wonderous fidelity, the notes of the various other birds, as well as the chuckle of the flying squirrel, and other animals. It is so extremely shy that we could never get near enough to examine one of them alive. The tails of those brought to me by Jemmy were of great beauty, and I therefore preserved them as specimens.

The native women sometimes wTent out by themselves, and retui nee,, with a quantity of the liquid amber gum, which exudes from the acackc decurrens, or black wattle tree. This gum they call korong. I hey prepare it as a relish for their food in the following manner: having formed, of a sheet of wattle bark, a trough to hold water, the women soak the gum until it assimilates with the water, and forms a thin glutinous liquid; a little sugar is then added to make it palatable.

Some of the women brought large white grubs, the larvae of the gigantic moth, which they considered as a dainty not easily to be rejected. These grubs were slightly grilled before being eaten. Some long tuberous roots, of a composite plant, were also brought, and of which we partook. These plants produced a bunch of tubers like the fingers on the hand, from whence they were called myrnong-myrnongatha, being the native word for “hand.”

As we were returning towards the camp one evening, Jemmy captured a native bear, or sloth, from among the branches of a huge gum tree. None but a native would have observed the creature, as the color of its wool so nearly resembled that of the bark of the tree.

During the excursion, our diet consisted chiefly of opossum and kangaroo, varied occasionally with the flesh of the porcupine and wombat. The heart or crown of the fern-tree, slightly roasted, furnished us an acceptable dish, the taste of which reminded me of the flavor of the cocoanut. Native potatoes, or roots of the orchidacese, were not wanting; those of the gastrodia sessamoides were especially plentiful, large, and well-flavored. One evening we took three wombats, and next day the natives held a banquet, preceded, as a matter of course, by a grand corroborree.

Proceeding upon our journey, we crossed several creeks and streams, and eventually ascended the highest part of the Western Port ranges. Each day I was enabled to add some fresh varieties to my herbarium. The western mountains abound in heathy timber. In this locality, too, there is plenty of alight, white wood, which the natives call “weenth kalk kalk” (fire stick,) as they obtain a light from it, by means of friction, very readily. This kind of wood is also called “ sounding stick,” because a solid, ringing sound can be produced by two round billets being beaten together. When the natives hold a corroborree, a festival in which dancing forms the chief element, those who do not join in the dance beat time with the sounding stick, while they sing continually, “ Yah-yabba, yah-yabba, yah.”    _    #    #

After remaining in this locality long enough to enable me to obtain all the species of plants which I found desirable, and with a wombat, a porcupine, a native bear, and a kangaroo, which my companions intended as presents for some of their friends, whom they had left behind at the settlement, we turned homewards.

(To be continued.)



“I .am afraid to marry,” said a young lady, lialf jesting and half in earnest, replying to something a friend had said.

“ Why so, Ella ? ” asked one of the company, who had thus far chosen rather to listen than join in the conversation of half a dozen gay young girls. She was a quiet, matronly-looking individual, some few years past the prime of life.    '

“ For fear of being unhappy, Mrs. Harding,” replied the first speaker.

“What an idea!” exclaimed a gay damsel, laughing aloud at the singular fear expressed by Ella. “ For my part I never expect to be happy until I am married.”

“ If marriage should make you happier than you are now, Caroline, the result will he very fortunate. Your case will form an exception to the rule.”

“Oh! no, Ella, don’t say that,” spoke up the one who had replied to her first remark. “ Happiness is the rule, and unhappiness the exception.”

“ Then it happens strangely enough,” returned Ella, smiling, “ that we are more familiar with the exceptions than the rule.”

“ No, my dear, that cannot for a moment be admitted. Far more of happiness than misery results from marriage.”

“ Look at Ellen Mallory,” was answered promptly, “ and Mrs. Cummings, and half a dozen others I could name.”

“ The two you have mentioned are painful instances, I must admit, and form the exceptions of which I spoke ; but the result is by no means one that should excite our surprise, for it is a natural consequence flowing from an adequate cause. If you marry as unwisely as did the persons you mention, I have no doubt but you will be quite as wretched as they are—■ it may be more so.”    ‘

“ I am sure Mr. Mallory is an elegant-looking man,” said one of the company, “ and might have had his pick among a dozen more attractive girls than ever Ellen Martine was.”

“All as thoughtless and undiscriminating as she,” remarked Mrs. Harding, quietly.

“ Ellen is no fool,” returned the last speaker.

“ In the most important act of her whole life, she has certainly not shewn herself to be a wise woman,” said Mrs. Harding.

“ But how in the world was she to know that Mr. Mallory was going to turn out so badly ? ” spoke up Ella.

“ By opening her eyes, and using the ability that God has given her to see,” was answered by Mrs. Harding.

“ Those eyes are wondrous wise I ween,

That see what is not to he seen,”

the maiden replied.

“ Ho you really think, Ella,” said Mrs. Harding, “ that a young lady cannot make herself as thoroughly acquainted with a man’s real qualities, as to put any serious mistake in marriage entirely out of the question ?”

“ To me, I must confess that marriage looks very much like a lottery,” answered Ella. “ Wo may get a prize, but there are ten chances to one of our getting a blank.”

“ If you choose to make it a lottery, it will no doubt become so, but if entered into from right motives, there is no danger of this being the case.” “ I do not know what you call right motives,” said one, “ but I’ll tell you a necessary pre-requisite in the man who is to make me a husband.”

“ Well, child, wdiat is it?”

“ Plenty of money. I’m not going to be a poor man’s wife, and work myself to death, all for love—no, not I!”

“ I’ll have a handsome man for a husband, or none,” remarked another. “ Give me splendid talent,” said a third.

“ And what must you have Ella ?” asked Mrs. Harding, turning to the one she addressed.

“ All three, if I can get them,” replied Ella.

“ Beauty, wealth, and talents. These you think would satisfy you ?”

Oh, yes ; I should be rather hard to please if they did not.”

“ Let me relate to you the histories of two friends of mine who married young,” said Mrs. Harding, without remarking upon what had just been declared. “ Perhaps they may contain lessons that it will be of use for you all to get by heart.”

“ Oh! yes, do! ” said the young ladies, gathering around Mrs. Harding, who, after a short pause, related what follows :

“ In my younger days,” began Mrs. Harding, “ I had two intimate friends to whom I was warmly attached. I loved them for their many good qualities, and particularly for their unselfishness. To make others happy, always appeared to give them a double pleasure. They were nearly of the same age, and possessed equal external advantages; but their characters were very different. Sarah Corbin, who was a few months older than her friend and almost constant companion, Harriet Wieland, wras quiet, thoughtful, and observant; while Harriet, who had great personal attractions, never appeared to look beneath the surface. She believed everything to be true that bore the semblance of truth; to her all that glittered was gold. Like you, and most other young ladies, we sometimes talked of marriage, and the qualifications desirable in a good husband. Harriet, whether in a gay or sober mood, always declared, like Ella here, that he who won her heart must have riches, manly beauty, and brilliant talents. These she called man’s cardinal virtues. Sarah never had much to say on these matters, and, when we asked her opinion, she generally replied evasively.

“A young man named Eaverson, answering pretty nearly to the beau ideal of Harriet Wieland, came from a neighbouring city to reside in this. He was connected with a wealthy and highly respectable family, was really a handsome man, and possessed very fine abilities. He had studied law, and opened his office here for the purpose of pursuing it as a regular professionbut, not meeting with much practice at first, he occupied a large portion of his time in literary pursuits, waiting to the magazines and reviews. He also published a small volume of poetry, which contained many really brilliant specimens of verse,

“ Circumstances threw Eaverson into the circle of which we formed a part, and we were consequently introduced to him. In the course of time, he began to pay rather marked attentions to Sarah Corbin, at which I felt a little surprised, as he had met Harriet Wieland quite as often, and she was far more beautiful and showy, and more likely, it seemed to me, to attract one like him than the other. Either Sarah was unconscious that his attentions were more marked in her case, or she did not wish her observation of the fact to be known, for all our allusions to the subject were evaded with a seeming indifference that left our minds in doubt. Such were our impressions at first; but the sequel showed that she had marked his first advances with lively interest, and understood their meaning quite as well as we did.

“About Eaverson there was everything to attract the heart of a maiden not well guarded ; and Sarah found that it required the fullest exercise of her reason to prevent her from letting every affection of her mind go out and attach itself to an object that seemed, at first sight, so worthy of her love. But by nature and from education she was thoughtful and observant ; and a wise mother had taught her that in marriage external accomplishments and possessions were nothing, unless united with virtuous principles and well-regulated passions. The brilliant attractions of Eaverson strongly tempted her to take his moral fitness for granted; but wiser counsels prevailed in her mind; and, with a vigorous hand laid upon her heart to keep down the errant impulses, she exercised, with coolness and a well-balanced mind, the powers of discrimination which God had given for her guidance through life.    _    _

“ All the time that this process was going on in her mind, we remained in ignorance of the fact that she had ever thought of the young man, except when he was present, or his name introduced by others. To her, all that related to marriage was too serious to form the theme of ordinary conversation, light jests, or idle chit-chat. Rarely, indeed, would she have anything to say, when others spoke lightly or jested on the subject. This being the case, now that her own mind had become deeply interested in a matter of most vital importance to her future welfare, she had no one to disturb the even balance of her reflections by a thoughtless word, an untimely jest, ora false opinion flowing from inexperience, ora want of ability to read human nature aright. Silently, freely, and with no biassing influence, in the unapproachable chambers of her own thoughts, did she weigh the real character of Eaverson, as far as she could understand it, against what was merely external and personal. The more marked the attentions of the young man became, the more earnestly did she seek to comprehend his real character. Every word he uttered in her presence, every sentiment he expressed, every action and every look were closely scanned, and their meaning, as having reference to principles in the mind, sought to be understood. Such careful scrutiny did not go unrewarded. When Eaverson, soon after her mind was made up in regard to him, made an offer of his hand, the offer was unhesitatingly declined. Sarah had seen enough to satisfy her, that, with all his talents, beauty, and wealth, he was ■wanting in virtuous principles and a high sense of honor.

“ I confess, that, with others, I was greatly surprised when the fact^ of Sarah’s having declined the hand of Eaverson became known. The

selection of her by one like him seemed so high a preference, and such a marked tribute to her worth and virtue, that it was scarcely credible that she could have remained indifferent to his love. But she saw deeper than we did.

“ ‘ I cannot understand the reason of your refusal to accept Mr. Eaverson’s offer/ I said to Sarah, one day, when the conversation took a turn that that gave me an opportunity of alluding to the subject. ‘ Do you know any thing against him ? ’

“‘Nothing further than the conclusions of my own mind, arising from a careful observation of his sentiments, manners, and unguarded expressions,’ she replied.

“ ‘ Was it from such conclusions that you declined his offer ? ’

“‘ From these alone, for I know nothing of his history before he came to this city, and nothing of his life since he has been here.’

“ ‘ May you not possibly be mistaken ? ’

“‘No. From the moment he seemed' in the least pleased with me, I commenced observing him closely. It was not long before I heard him utter a sentiment, while speaking to another, that shelved him to possess very false views of life in at least one particular. This I noted, and laid it by in my memory for comparison with any thing else I might see or hear.’

“ ‘ But you would not condemn a man for having erroneous views of life ? ’ said I.

“ ‘ Oh! no; not if his principles be pure. But if false views arise from a perverted heart, then I would condemn the man. What I heard I noticed, in order to determine, if possible, from what source it came. A very long time did not pass, before I saw something that told me very plainly that the false view which I have mentioned depended more upon a perversion of the heart than an error in the understanding. I likewise discovered, very soon, that, when in conversation with me, he was evidently more upon his guard, as to what sentiments he declared, than he was when in conversation with others. . But I need not state particularly the whole process by which I arrived at conclusions sufficiently clear to warrant my full and prompt rejection of his suit.’

“ ‘In what estimation do you hold him? ’ I asked,

“ ‘ As a man without honor or virtue/ she said, decidedly.

“ ‘ That is a broad and severe judgment/ I replied.

“ ‘ So it is. I have made it for myself. Of course, I cannot expect others to view him in the same light; nor do I believe many others would form this conclusion from the evidences that were presented to my mind. But, as for me, I have no doubt on the subject. Rather than become his' wife, I would suffer death; for a union with him would be, to me, the depth of misery.’

“ The seriousness with which Sarah spoke satisfied me that she believed all she said, and had, at some cost of feeling, rejected an offer of marriage that would have been an exceedingly desirable one, had the character of the man who made it been fully approved.

“A short time after the rejection of his suit by Miss Corbin, I noticed that Eaverson appeared more inclined to keep company with Harriet Wieland than before. I could not help feeling regret at this, for, notwithstanding I thought Sarah had judged the young man rather severely, I


was yet satisfied that there must be some ground for her conclusions in regard to his character. Slight attentions, encouraged by Harriet, soon became the bold advances of a lover. A few months after his suit had been declined by Sarah, he offered himself to her friend, and was unhesitatingly accepted.

“ In the mean time, a young man, whom I will call Williamson, had met Sarah occasionally, and showed a disposition to win, if possible, her favorable regard. His exterior was by no means elegant; his literary attainments were not great; nor was he in the enjoyment of any thing beyond a moderate income. Place him and Eaverson in almost any company, and the latter would nearly hide him from view. But, with the most moderate pretensions, and unattractive exterior, Williamson’s character was formed upon a ground-work of good sense and virtuous principles. He had little facility of expression, but he thought clearly, and, in most things, acted from a sound judgment. He was much pleased with Sarah before Everson attempted to gain her affections; and noticed his advances. For the result he looked with some interest. When it became clearly apparent that she had thrown him off, Williamson was satisfied that she was a girl of discrimination and sound sense, and immediately resolved that he would know her better. The oftener he met her, and the nearer he observed her, the more excellent did her character seem in his eyes. The result was an offer of marriage, which was accepted by Sarah, as much to our surprise as was her rejection of Eaverson.

“My two young friends were married about the same time. The wredding of Harriet was a brilliant one, and she was the envy of dozens of young girls who had hoped and tried to make a conquest of the man who had chosen to unite his fortunes with hers. Sarah’s nuptials were celebrated in a less imposing manner, and created but little sensation. Most of her friends thought she had done but poorly. Whether this were so will be seen in the sequel.

“ Harriet, with all her want of reflection and insight into character, was a young woman of strong feelings, and loved, when she did love, with something like blind idolatry. Thus she loved her husband. He was every thing to her, and she believed him as near perfection as a mortal could well be. The first few months of her married life passed swiftly away in the enjoyment of as high a degree of felicity as her mind seemed capable of appreciáting. After that, a shadow fell upon her spirit—dim and almost imperceptible at first, but gradually becoming denser and more palpable. Harriet had noticed, from the first, that her husband but rarely spoke of his family, and always evaded any questions that a natural curiosity prompted her to make. If he received any letter from home, he carefully concealed the fact from her. The wealth, respectability, and high standing of his family made Harriet, as a matter of course, feel desirous of bearing a more intimate relation to its members than she now did. The more she thought about this, the less satisfied did she feel. It was the marked dislike manifested by her husband to any reference to his family, that first caused a coldness to pass over the heart of the young wife, and a shadow to dim the bright sunshine of her spirits ; for it induced the thought that something might be wrong. Once give such a thought birth, and let mystery and doubt continue to harass the mind, and peace is gone for ever. A thousand vague suspicions will enter, and words, looks, and actions will have a signification never apparent before.

“ Thus it was with my young friend, ere six months had passed since her wedding-day. To increase her anxious doubts, her husband seemed to grow cold towards her. This might all be imagination, but the idea, once in possession of her mind, found numberless sustaining evidences. He went out more frequently in the evening and stayed out later than at first. Sometimes he would sit silent and abstracted, and only reply in monosyllables to her questions or remarks.

“ One day he came home to dinner, looking graver than usual. But, during the meal, there was an evident desire on his part to appear cheerful and unconcerned; he talked more freely than usual, and even made many light and jesting remarks. But the veil assumed was too thin. Harriet’s eyes saw through it, and rested only upon the sombre reality beneath. As they were rising from the table, he said,

“ ‘ Harriet, dear ! I must run on to New York this afternoon, on business. The interest of a client in a large estate there requires my immediate presence in that city.’

“ Eaverson did not look his wife steadily in the face as he said this, although he plainly tried to do so. But this she did not remark at the time. Her mind only rested upon the fact of his going away.

“ ‘ How long will you be gone ? ’ she asked in a choking voice.

“ ‘ I will try and be back to-morrow. If not, you will at least see me homo on the day after.”

“ ‘ Why can’t I-’

“ She paused—her eyes fell to the floor, and the color deepened on her cheeks.

“ ‘ What, dear ? ’

£ Go with you ? ’

“ It was in New York that the family of Eaverson resided.

a ‘ Not now,’ he answered quickly. * I am compelled to go in too much hurry; but the next time business takes me there you shall accompany me.’

“ Nothing could he more unsatisfactory than this. Was she not to be introduced to his family, as his wife, formally ? Was she only to go to the city of their residence at some future time, when business called her husband there ? The thought caused a chill to pass through her frame. She made no reply. But the paleness that overspread her face, and the sadness that fell upon her countenance, revealed to her husband, too plainly, her state of mind. He said nothing, however, to dispel the gloom she felt. Words, he no doubt felt, would be fruitless.

“ The young wife parted with her husband in tears, and then retired to her chamber, where she gave away to a paroxysm of grief, that had its origin more in the accompanying mystery than in the fact of her husband’s absence. I say mystery, for she did not fully credit the reason he had given for his hurried visit to New York, and felt that there was a mystery connected with it, that, somehow or other, deeply affected her happiness.

“ After the mind of Harriet had grown calmer, she commenced restoring to order the few articles in her chamber that had been disarranged in the hurried preparation made by her husband for his departure. As she was about placing the coat he had worn in the morning, and which he had changed for another on going away, in the wardrobe, her hand pressed against a letter in one of the pockets, which a sudden curiosity tempted her to read. The direction was in a small, delicate hand, and the postmark New York. Hurriedly opening it, when she saw this, she read its brief contents, which were as follows:

“ Dear Henry—I heard, indirectly, within the last hour,' that you were married. I cannot believe it, yet the thought has maddened me! If you do not come to me by to-morrow night, I will go to you on the following day—for the truth or falsity of what I have heard must be verified to me at once. If it be true—God help the innocent heart you have betrayed, and most cruelly wronged. It can only break !


“ The trembling hands of the horror-stricken wife could hold the fatal epistle no longer than to permit her eyes to rest upon the signature. It then fell rustling to the floor, and she sat pale, quivering in every^nerve, and unconscious of any thing but a wild whirling of all her senses.

“ It was my fortune, or misfortune, to call upon my young friend just at this time. I was told that she was in her chamber; and, as our intimacy was very great, I took a liberty we were in the habit of taking with each other, and went up to her unannounced. My gentle tap at her door not being answered, I opened it and went in. As I have just described her, thus I found her. My entrance but partially restored her self-command. She stared wildly at me, stretched out her hands, and made an effort to speak. I sprang toward her, and she fell forward against my bosom, with a deep groan that made me shudder. Thus she lay for nearly five minutes, as still as a statue. Then a slight quiver ran through her frame, which was followed by a gush of tears. For a long time she continued weeping and sobbing, but at length grew calmer. All this time I could see an open letter lying upon the floor, which I doubted not was the cause of this distressing scene.

“ When the self-command of Harriet was at last restored, and she|began to reflect upon the consequences likely to flow from another’s w itnessing the wild agitation she had displayed, a shade of anxious confusi°n passed over her face. At this moment her eye rested upon the fatal letter, which she caught up eagerly and concealed. I asked no question, nor made any remarks. She looked at me steadily for a moment, and then let her eyes fall thoughtfully to the floor.

“ ‘ You are surprised and confounded, no doubt,’ she at length said, mournfully, ‘ at what you have seen. Pardon me if I refrain from mentioning the cause. It is one of which I cannot speak.’

“ I begged her not to reveal the cause of her affliction, if to do so were at all in violation of what she deemed right; but to accept my deepest sympathies, and to put it in my power, if that were possible, to mitigate, in some degree, the pain of mind she was suffering.

“ ‘ That you cannot do,’ said she. ‘ It is beyond the reach of human aid.’    _

“ ‘ May Heaven, then, give you strength to bear it,’ I returned, with emotion.

“ ‘ Heavan only can,’ she replied in a subdued voice.    _

“ I could say no more, for my ignorance of the cause of her distress put -it out of my power to offer consolation, more particularly as it was her expressed wish that I should remain in ignorance. I stayed an hour with her, during which time I learned that her husband had been suddenly called to New York on business. It was one of the unhappiest hours I ever spent in my life. On going away, I could not help recalling the conversation I had once held with Sarah Corbin about Mr. Eaverson, nor help feeling that there might be too much truth in her declarations that she believed him to be a man without honor or virtue. There was no doubt in my mind that Harriet’s distress was in some way connected with her husband’s absence, and it occurred to me that the letter I had seen upon the floor, and which she concealed so eagerly, might not have been intended for her eyes, and might contain things which for her to know would be fatal to her peace through life. In this my conjectures were, of course, true.

“ I called in to see Mrs. Eaverson on the next day, reluctantly, but from a sense of duty. I found her calm, but pale, and with a look of distress. She said but little. No allusion whatever was made to the condition in which I had found her on the previous afternoon. I sat only half an hour, and then went away. I could stay no longer, for my presence seemed oppressive to her, and hers was equally so to me.

“ On the third day succeeding that on which Mr. Eaverson went to New York, I saw a newspaper paragraph headed, ‘Melancholy Circumstances.’ It related, briefly, that the daughter of respectable and wealthy parents in New York had been deeply wronged about a year previous by an unprincipled cousin, whom she passionately loved. The consequence was, that the young man had to leave the city, under the promise of never returning to it, unless he consented to marry his cousin. This penalty was imposed by the father of the girl, who declared his intention to shoot him if he ever saw him in New York. The result of this baseness on the part of the young man was the utter estrangement of his family. They threw him off entirely. But, as he had a handsome fortune in his own right, and the cause of his removal from New York did not become generally known, he soon found his way into the best society in a neighbouring city. Some months afterwards he married a lovely girl, who was all unconscious of the base wretch into whose keeping she had given the inestimable jewel of her love. A few days since, the narration proceeded, the cousin, by some means or other, obtained a knowledge of this fact. She wrote to him demanding an interview, and threatening that if she did not obtain one in twenty-four hours, she would immediately come to him and ascertain for herself, if what she had heard were true. Alarmed for the peace of his bride, the young man hurried on to New York, and at the risk of his life, gained an interview with the lovely girl he had so deeply injured. He did not attempt to conceal the fact of his marriage, but only urged the almost broken-hearted victim of his base dishonor not to do anything that could bring to his wife a knowledge of his conduct, as it must for ever destroy her peace. This confession blasted at once and for ever all the poor girl’s hopes. She gave her betrayer one long, fixed, intense look of blended agony, reproach, and shame, and then, without uttering a word, retired slowly from his presence. She sought her mother, who, from the first, had rather drawn her into her very boson than thrown her off harshly, and related what she had just heard. She shed no tear, she uttered no reproach, but simply told what her mother had known for months too well. That night her spirit left its earthly habitation. Whether she died of a broken heart,, or by her own hands, is not known. The family sought not to investigate the cause,—to them it was enough to know that she was dead and at peace.

“ Whether this statement ever met the eye of Mrs. Eaverson is more than I can tell. I did not venture to call upon her after I had seen it. A few weeks subsequently I met her in the street on the arm of her husband. She was sadly changed, and had the appearance of one just recovering from a long and severe illness. Eaverson himself had a look of suffering.

The notoriety given by the publication of the acts of his base conduct in New York caused Eaverson to feel little at ease in this city. Some months afterwards he removed to the South with his wife, much against the wishes of her friends. Harriet did not want to go, but she could do no less than accompany her husband.

“ Some three years afterwards, it was whispered about that Harriet had left her husband and returned home to her father; but that the matter was kept very quiet, and that she had not been seen by any of her old friends. It was said, that, after living some time at the South, Mr. Eaverson grew indifferent towards his wife. A virtuous woman, she could not but be deeply shocked on discovering her husband’s wrant of virtue. This she could not conceal; and its appearance was a standing reproof and condemnation of his principles and conduct. No bad man could endure this. Its effect would be certain estrangement. From dislike towards his wife, his feelings gradually deepened into hatred. Open abuse soon followed neglect; when she fled from him, with two young children, and sought the protection of her father’s house.

“It was nearly a year after Harriet’s return before I §aw her. I could hardly believe, when I did meet her and grasp her hand, that the pale, dejected, care-worn being who stood before me was the same with the light-hearted, beautiful, gay young girl I had known but a few years back. Alas! how surely does pain of mind forestall the work of time!

“ A few days after this meeting, which made me sad for weeks, I spent an afternoon and evening with Mrs. Williamson, formerly Sarah Corbin. She had two children, a boy and a girl, and was living somewhat secluded, but with every comfort she could desire. Her husband was a merchant in a good business. When he came home at tea-time and met his wife, it was with one of those quiet but genuine smiles that you know come from the heart. He welcomed me, as he always did, with great cordiality; and then, calling for Sarah, his eldest child, who ran in from the next room the instant she heard his voice, he took her upon his lap, and, after kissing her with great tenderness, asked and answered a dozen little questions to her great delight. At tea-time Mr. Williamson conversed more freely than was usual with him when I was present. I noticed, as I had often done before, that, on whatever subject he spoke, his remarks, though few, were full of good sense, and indicative of close observation. The slightest deviation from honor or integrity met with his decided condemnation, while virtuous actions were as warmly approved. I could perceive, from the expression of his wife’s face, and the tones of her voice when she spoke, that she not only held her husband in high estimation, but loved him with a tenderness that had grown with years. Qualities of mind and heart, not external attractions, such as brilliant accomplishments, beauty, or wealth, had drawn her towards him at first : these had won her young affections, and they had become purer and brighter, and increased in attractive power as year after year went by.

On going home that evening, I could not help pausing and looking back. Vividly, as it were but yesterday, came up before my mind my two young friends when, as maidens, their hands were sought in wedlock. I remembered how one, with true wisdom, looked below the imposing exterior and sought for moral worth as the basis of character in him who sought her hand ; while the other, looking no deeper than the surface, was dazzled by beauty, wealth, and talents. The result you all have seen.”

Mrs. Harding paused in her narrative. Half a dozen eager voices instantly inquired the ultimate fate of Mrs. Eaverson. “A few years after her return home,” resumed the narrator, she died. Her husband during that period neither wrote to her nor visited her. What has become of him I don’t know. Mrs. Williamson is still living, surrounded by a lovely family of children. Her oldest daughter has just been married, and, to all present appearances, has united her fate with one every way worthy of her hand. Mr. Williamson, or rather Mr. Rierdon, as I should truly have called him, you all know.”

“ Mr. Rierdon!” exclaimed Ella. “It can’t be possible you mean him?”

“ Not old Mr. Riedron ! ” exclaimed another. “ Why he is respected and loved by every one ! ”

“ I know he is,” returned Mrs. Harding, “ and well deserves to be. Yet, when a young man, he had nothing very imposing about him, and was thought of but little account by a set of young and foolish girls, just such as you are, whose heads were liable to be turned by any dashing young fellow with more impudence than brains, or more talent than principle, who happened to thrust himself forward and push better men aside. I hope the lesson I have endeavoured to teach you may not be lost entirely; and that when any one of you has an offer of marriage, she will look rather at the heart than the head—at the qualities instead of the accomplishments—of him who makes it. If she does not, she will be in great danger of committing'the sad mistake made by my excellent but thoughtless young friend, Harriet Wieland, of whom I never can think without pain.”    .

Whether thè narrative of Mrs. Harding had any good effect upon her hearers, we do not know ; but we would fain believe that it had ; and we hope our fair young readers will not forget the important lesson it teaches. Let them be well assured that marriage is no lottery, except where it is made so. Every one who will look at the moral qualities of the object of her regard, instead of at what is merely external, will see deep enough to enable her to come to a right decision in regard to him. There is no necessity for mistakes in marriage.



There is no pursuit more delightful and invigorating to the body and mind than the study of natural history. It affords both bodily and mental exercise. At all periods of the year, the naturalist, in his ramble, will find fresh matter to engage his attention.

The spring is hailed by the unfolding of thousands of flowers to the genial rays of the sun ; by the reappearance of numbers of our summer birds that had withdrawn from us to avoid the inclemency of the winter months; and by the swarming forth of myriads of insects, emerging from the chrysalis state, or from their secret abodes. The pools of water, when examined closely, appear almost one moving mass, from the myriads of water fleas, larvae, <fcc. As spring advances, and summer approaches, we have the pleasure of watching the habits of the different classes of birds, in their particular methods of rudification—some selecting holes in trees ; some holes or indentations in the ground ; others tufts of grass and rushes ; and some the twigs of trees to support their nests from. At this season of the year specimens of the nest, the parent, and the egg, may be obtained. Insects are now passing from the caterpillar or grub state, in which they have been feeding up, to that of the pupse; and from the latter, in which many of them have lain dormant during the whole winter, to their final and perfect forms: while hosts of other animals show themselves more at this period of the year than any other, as they are always less shy when they are caring for their young. Flowers, trees, and shrubs, are now in the height of perfection, most of them being in blossom. *

Autumn brings the seeds of the flowers, trees, and shrubs, which in spring and summer were in bloom ; and it is scarcely necessary to observe, that the fructification is as important and interesting as any stage of the growth of plants. Now we have the general migration of birds: many of those which have been with us during summer disappearing, and others, of winter habits, joining us. Others, which are here during summer and winter, change the color of their plumage. Some retire to the streams ; others leave the streams for the higher ground; and again, others leave the open districts for the bush. This season of the year, here, as in England, is richer than any other period of the year in insects; especially in lepidop-tera; as, also, in the larvae of lepidoptera, which ijiay be collected and preserved in the chrysalis state until the following spring, when most of them emerge. Winter is not without its share of interest, as most of the birds which stay wfith us should now be collected, as they are in the finest plumage and most gaudy colors. Numbers of insects may be taken from the decayed trees and stumps, under stones, the bark of trees, &c.,>both in the perfect, pupae, and larvae state; and many of our insects, particularly the lepidoptera, appear in the perfect state only in winter. The long evenings of winter may be pleasantly passed in arranging specimens taken during the other periods of the year. Lichens, mosses, sea-weeds, shells, and fossils, may also be collected, as tlie roughness of the sea during winter washes up the shells and sea-weeds. Storms of rain bare the different strata, and lichen and fungi are to be found in abundance.

From the foregoing remarks it will be seen that there is no period of the year when the naturalist need be idle—every day—every hour, affording him new matter for investigation.

Let us take an example, and suppose, for instance, that a young observing person, who has been bred up within the walls of a busy city, makes a tour into the country, and is attracted by the majestic appearance of some of our ranges, and resolves to penetrate them : the journey perhaps appears monotonous and fatiguing, until he begins to enter the ranges ; for, supposing him to be yet uninitiated into close observance, little will turn up to attract his attention; but as he ascends the ranges the tree ferns begin to stretch their majestic fronds in all their grandeur, which cannot fail to fix his attention. The increase in the size of the trees and their different appearance are remarkable. He naturally begins to ask himself, if these enormous trees, with their white bark and straight stems, are of the same kind as those growing near Melbourne. He, perchance, makes inquiries of some splitters whom he finds at work, when he is told that they are not the same, but white gum; perhaps others are pointed out to him as stringy-bark, he then naturally inquires how many kinds of trees we have, as before he was always led to understand that there was only one kind of tree, and that the gum tree. Now perhaps a pair of eagles, soaring in the air almost out of sight, attract his eyes by their graceful and elegant flight, gliding round and round without a perceptible motion of their wings ; at the same instant a milk-white falcon darts before his eye in pursuit of a pigeon; he naturally inquires of himself, what! have we eagles and white hawks here? Then perhaps, on his return, he observes some brown hawks, and, seeing an unexpected variety of these rapacious birds, he begins to investigate the destruction between them. On his return he pays a visit to the Museum of natural history, and is perfectly astounded at the collection. He resolves to make another tour, with the intention of collecting specimens. Perhaps he is then attracted by some of the gaudy-colored small birds; having collected specimens of them, he finds an inclination stealing over him to make observation of their habits, and what they feed on, and where and how they form their nests. On another occasion he observes the same birds catching a particular kind of insect, or eating a particular kind of seed; then he is led to inquire what kind of insect or seed it is ; and so it is that the mind of a young naturalist is attracted first by that which is most prominent to that which is less so, until he gets into the immense labyrinth of minute observation, and from that to arranging those animals most alike together, and so on to careful classification. At this stage his enthusiasm begins to burn with a fire not to be quenched ; for, having his specimens arranged in their proper orders and families, every new animal, however minute, receives its place. Perhaps some are new species, unknown to the world. And how pleasant it is to meet a brotliet naturalist, and compare families of insects, perhaps types of the well known families in England, but all of them differing slightly in structure or markings. The same remarks apply to birds, animals, trees, and every division and order of animate and inanimate nature.

But wliat is most beautiful and striking in nature is, that you may begin with man, in his highest moral and mental state of development, and descend, in one unbroken chain, from civilized man, through the lower grades of human beings, to the apes, and gradually down to the lowest scale of animated creatures, from the zoophyte, coral, and sponge, to the growth of plants. This clearly shows the perfectly incomprehensible wisdom of the Almighty in his beautiful and economical arrangement of nature, and forcibly calls to the mind of every true and intelligent naturalist the utter insignificance of the mind of man as compared with the Supreme Being, more esepcially when it is considered that those myriads of beings intermingle in every way, but yet never propagate with other species than their own; and so nature, year after year, appears and fades, and anon reappears in the same forms.

We have stated that the pursuit of natural history is invigorating to the body and mind. This we think requires little or no proof, for the mind, when earnestly applied to any particular study or commercial transaction, wearies, especially if those commercial transactions are not attended with prosperity. In England, where the mind becomes depressed, one can betake himself to the sea side, or make a tour of the lakes or other places of resort. Casting aside for a brief space the cares of life, the spirits become buoyant, and, as the mind is relieved, so the body performs its functions more regularly, and health and strength are regained. Now, in this colony we have few of these places of recreation, and to retire into the bush for change of air and bodily exercise, without any .immediate pursuit, becomes tiresome and monotonous; for we cannot look forward here to a week in August upon the moors, walking to a brace of good dogs, with plenty of game; or a week in September upon the Kentish hills; ora few exciting days in October, beating the covers of Old England, with the ripe hazel-nuts falling from their husks, and the hoar frost sparkling on the leaves now sere, and presenting their autumnal, varied, and comely hues, and the freshness of the morn, when every breath drawn into the lungs seems to inspire one with fresh vigor ’and life ; nor a ride of fifteen or twenty miles into the country to breakfast with a friend, see the foxhounds’ throw-off—a cover drawn, and a fine old fox taken away—an hour and a half’s run, and then the death—after that, where is the man without an appetite ? But mental recreation, as well as bodily exercise, is absolutely necessary, and the naturalist finds in the pursuit of his researches food to nourish and enlarge his mental capacity, and exercise to strengthen his bodily powers. For in the spring and summer morning, when the air is fresh, wafting with it the perfumes from the numerous flowering trees and shrubs, the naturalist rambles, perhaps, by the side of a stream, where everything is luxuriant and green—where every flower is opening to the morning sun, to fade before night—where every insect is stretching its wings as it glides on its fairy flight—where every bird is soaring gracefully in the air, or playfully, with its mate, glancing from twig to twig—or where the brilliant-colored kingfisher swoops into the stream, and then,, returning with his prey, beats it to death upon a branch. Every one ' of these attract the attention of the naturalist! Then, howT can he be dull, though quite alone? Observe now, how the little blue titmouse, by the stream, in his gaudy mantle, appears in great consternation; his hen is equally alarmed: this arises from our fitting near his little Lottie shaped nest, which is built up in a tuft of rushes; on our examining it, his anxiety increases, as he flies backwards and forwards watching our every movement; having satisfied our curiosity, we withdraw and watch his movements ; he appears to go and consult his hen whether he shall venture near it again; he at last ventures, flitting first to the one side, then to the other, and, when he seems assured it is still there, he fetches his hen; she does not venture quite so near, but he goes close up, then puts his head into the nest, examines the inside, and finding that all is well, he invites his hen in also.

, Now, as the heat of the day approaches, mark the false wasp hunting for her prey, flying hither and. thilher, then running along the ground, searching all the nooks and corners. Either the sense of smell, sight, or instinct, takes her to a dead cicada, which is probably four times her bulk. Now, what is she going to do with that? One would imagine that she would quietly take a meal from it, and leave it; but not so ; with all the adroitness possible, after turning it over two or three times, she places it upon its back in the form of a sleclge, and, with her head over the head of the cicada, and her long legs straddled on each side of it, she takes a powerful grasp of it with her jaws, and carries it off with perfect ease, dragging it along in this manner until she reaches, a hole in the ground, which is the entrance to her nest. She then takes it down, for the support of her young in the larva state.

Again, the mason wasp may be observed as a constant visitor in one’s tent, when camped in the bush. Searching through all crevices for a suitable place to form its nest, it takes up its abode wherever it finds a dry isolated cranny, as the lock of a door or even the folds of an old coat hanging on the wall. Last summer, between Geelong and Ballarat, it became a complete nuisance. No sooner was a waterproof-coat hung up or laid down in a tent, than two or three nests were made in it. Even in a Mackintosh, under a pillow which was slept on every night, several nests were made; and in the spout of an India-rubber bellows, used for inflating an air bed, in drawings, under a level box, in fact, almost in every crevice. This little wasp forms a nest of mud of about a dozen oblong cells; each cell is about half an inch by an eighth of an inch, rather irregularly partitioned. The wasp appears to be solitary in its habits, and a single one will form a dozen inch-cells in a couple of days, for no sooner is the nest des troyed than it is again rebuilt. This one soon becomes cognizant of, for the parent, as soon as she has completed her nest, sits in the crevice when it is formed, making an almost unceasing singing noise. Last summer a gentleman in the bush was annoyed every morning by this humming under his pillow, and could not imagine from whence it arose. On removing his Mackintosh, which was under his pillow, he found several nests; after destroying them he replaced it, but was soon again aroused, and subsequently compelled to remove the Mackintosh altogether. The nest is, as before mentioned, formed of mud, which, when dry, becomes quite hard.

' The parent, as soon as each cell is completed, deposits an egg in it; then collects about thirty small spiders, all of the same species, which spin an open web in the low bushes. As the same species of spiders may be observed in their webs, she in all probability catches them in the web and flies away with

them without becoming herself entangled. As she collects each spider she places it in one of the cells in which she has deposited an egg, and as many as twenty or thirty may be observed crammed into one cell. The egg hatches into a maggot (the larva of the wasp), which commences devouring the spiders and lives upon them until it reaches the pupa state. It is probable that it remains in the pupa state until the following spring, when it turns to the perfect insect, and gnaws its way through the mud walls. Released from its winter prison, it prosecutes the most indefatigable search for a suitable place to commence the preparation of a nest for its own offspring.

The most probable reason for the little animal selecting the Mackintosh for its place of abode is, that instinct reveals to it the waterproof nature of the India-rubber, for, if it were to build its nest in a damp place the mud would become saturated, and decompose the spiders before the grub had reached the proper state, the consequence of which would be the death of the grub from starvation. Thus we see the extraordinary instinct which is given even to the smallest animal; and can any one suppose, for one moment, that these little creatures can have had a spontaneous origin ? Some naturalists have asserted that the whole of nature, animate and inanimate, has originated spontaneously in space, but instinct alone in these little creatures ought to be enough to convince us of the contrary, especially when the observer sees these tiny insects propagate, and produce the same species year after year; if he injures one it dies, and it is beyond his power to restore life; nor is it in the power of man to produce any animal, however insignificant; no! nor even a germ of vegetation.

It will be seen, by further inquiry, that nature is, as it were, one great chain, every link carefully fastened one into another, and were one to break the whole chain would be destroyed; for the minutest insect is dependent on its particular plant, or other matter, for its support and reproduction. Some other creature is dependent upon that insect for sustenance, each tribe, in turn, furnishing food to another. And so it is, that, if you destroy one particular plant, you will, in all probability, exterminate some particular insect which feeds upon it; that insect has its parasite, and that parasite its parasite, and so on. And so it would be, that if man could alter and reconstruct any portion of nature, nearly the whole of nature would be affected by it. Then, if all natural beings are dependent upon one another, how great a work must that creation have been, when every atom created seems to have been necessary to fit and support that to follow.

The day will come when man will know his insignificance!



Shrubberies, abutting on the edges of lawns, or forming a back ground to flower borders, should be dug in either the second or third week oí this month ; certainly not later. You may now plant and mix with English forest trees, and other exotic shrubs, the following indigenous plants acacia longifolia, long-leaved wattle; acacia myrtifolia, myrtle-leaved wattle; acacia mucronata, needle-leaved wattle; and acacia virticulata, whirl-leaved, or commonly known as the prickly wattle; zierria arbores-cens, stink plant! so called from the leaves of this plant emitting, when rubbed, a strong, rank, aromatic smell, like the hemlock of Britain, which, it is said, is sometimes efficacious in removing or alleviating a nervous headache; Goodia pubescens, Goodia lotifolia, the former the down-leaved, and the latter the lotus-leaved native laburnum ; Aster tomentosa, woolly daisy tree; Aster pyramidalis ; Aster latifolia, broad-leaved daisy tree ; Aster argophyllus, musk-scented daisy tree ; indeed, the whole genera oí the Aster, upwards of forty species of which we have common to our Alpine and sub-Alpine regions, from the Western Port and Dandenong ranges to the Australian Alps and the regions of perpetual snow, where they may be seen growing in companionship with others of the Aster family, and forming a prominent feature amid the vegetation. They are all free and continual flowering plants, possessing the great recommendation of being easily removed, and thus quickly accommodating themselves to their new position in the shrubberies. Pomaderris apétala, broad-leaved dogwood; pomaderris parmifolia, small-leaved dogwood, &c.; are plants having points of resemblance in their foliage to the English hazel. Xndigofera Australis, native indigo, is a highly ornamental plant, with a profusion of rich lilac-colored papilionaceous blossoms and pinnatifid leaves. Leptospermum stricta, upright tea tree ; leptospermum lanigerum, hoary-leaved tea tree. The last species derived its name from the ship’s crew of Captain Cook, the great circumnavigator, while visiting New Zealand, having been reduced to the necessity of using its leaves as a substitute for the tea of commerce. Ozothamnus rosmarinifolias, rosemary-leaved ozothamnus; 0. speciosa and 0. speciossima, the pretty and the prettiest ozothamnus. These are handsome, quick-growing aborescent shrubs, with clusters of white and French-white composite blossoms. Exocarpus cupressiformis, cypress-like native cherry; these do not bear removal kindly, and should be raised from seeds in preference. Casua-rina equisetifolia, horse-tailed she-oak; casuarina stricta, upright or he-oak. The first-named owes its cognomen to an evident similarity of this species to the American beef wood, called “ sheac.” The second species, c. stricta, or he-oak, was probably so named by the early colonists in contradistinction to the other. Leucopogon guidium, native currant; solarium laciniatium, kangaroo apple, a somewhat rambling but very quickgrowing shrub, producing in abundance a fruit a trifle larger than a pigeon’s egg, which, when ripe, has a rich lemon color. The aborigines were in the habit of eating the bacca, or berry part of this fruit; previous to so doing, however, they submitted the fruit to the action of hot embers, which enabled them the more easily to detach the skins, which, in their raw state, are highly pungent, and possess blistering properties. The blossoms of this shrub are produced on branches, one of a deep blue color, with fine, golden, gem-like stamens, laden with farina,, or male powder. Pimelia gracilis; P. lygustrina, privet-like pimelia„or asitis, called native privet, after English shrub of same name, which it resembles in fruit, foliage, and habits. Veronica formosa, handsome speedwell; Veronica labriata, or lipped speedwell; Dodonia truncata; Dodonia asplenifolia; Dodonia salsolifolia, fern-leaved and saltwort-leaved pencil cedar; Correa virens ; Correa speciosa ; green and red correas, or native fuschias; Goodenia serrnlata; Goodinia ovata; Boronia variabilis, variable bo-ronia. Tins' is, perhaps, one of the most handsome among our indigenous herbaceous flora; and its beauty appears to have been occasionally acknowledged by the natives, as they sometimes called their children or wives after it.

Indigenous climbing plants.—From the climbing or trailing order of our native plants, the following selection is adapted for covering verandahs, trellis work, &c.: Polygonum ad pressum; Macquarrie harbour grape vine; glycine monophylla; one-leaved glycine, the rich blue flowering trailer, erroneously known as the native sarsaparilla; Kennedia procumbens, with trifoliate woolly leaves, and deep crimson butterflylike flowers, common to the sandy soil around Boroondaril, and similar situations; Clematis fiamula, white virgin’s bower. In planting press the roots gently, and see that the mould is fine.

Flower borders.—Most of the bulbous-rooted plants will now have their leaves peeping above the surface of the ground, and the digging of the borders should be no longer delayed. As this work is proceeded with it will desirable to take up and divide the roots of the undermentioned herbaceous plants: ammobium abatum; sweet alyssum; exoltia Californica cowslip, and all others of the primrose and polyanthus kind; columbines, blue bottles, chrysanthemums, double chamomile, centaurea, cornflowers, carnations, cloves, Chinese and other pinks, sweet Williams, willow herbs, double daisy, argemony, lunaria, pyramidalis, lunaria, honesty, pyrethrum, pleno-flos, lavender, phlox, leonuris, motherwert, heartsease, violets, pansey or love in idleness, wallflowers, geum coccinium, potentilla penstemon scabius, pheasant’s eye or flos-adonis, bachelor’s buttons, double rocket, southernwood, Provence or cabbage rose, Valerian, wing pea, teucrium, hathyrus, &c., &c. After you have sufficiently thinned the parent plant of offsets, you may replace it wdience it wTas taken up, and the offsets will serve to renew vacancies.

Propagating choice shrubs by grafting.—A large number of the most showy of our flowering shrubs may be considerbly improved by grafting, vdiich changes their habits. This is more particularly the case with such plants as are naturally of a drooping tendency, such as the rose acacia being grafted on the stalk of the common acacia, or locust trees, and even on such other kinds as do not readily admit of budding. The climate of Victoria is peculiarly favorable for-this system oi propa-

Ming. Preparations for grafting: in the first place, be provided witli some well-wrought clay mud, with cow dung, a good, strong, sharp knife, and some matting to serve as bandages to tie and keep the grafts firmly in their places. The scion and stock must both be of the same genus or family. Roses must be budded on rose stocks, acacia on the acacia, &c.; selecting for stocks those of the straightest and strongest growth. Previous to inserting the graft, the stock should be headed down to the required length. There are several ways of grafting, but we shall recommend what is called tongue-grafting, because it is the best adapted for young small stocks, and consequently applicable to flowering shrubs. Slip off the stocks at the proper distance from the ground, and with the sharp grafting knife cut, at one pull, a thin strip of wood, from about two inches below your already shortened stock, as shown in the accompanying illustration (a b) ;

then cut, rather less than half-way down this cut, a thin tongue, not more than three-eighths of an inch long (c). Proceed much in the same way with the bottom part of the scion: first cut a narrow strip of wood, but avoid leaving a shoulder, as in the stock; make a sloping cut of about the same length as that in the stock; then make a tongue to correspond with that in the stock; place the scion upon the stock, fixing one tongue within the other (see fig./), and make the edges of the bark of the scion and the edges of the bark of the stock meet precisely, for on this exactness your success depends. The two parts thus joined should be bound closely together by bass matting (g), well and smoothly tied; but to prevent all evil effects from pinching and drying winds, a ball of the prepared clay should cover the whole matting (h), and to prevent this ball of clay being wasted off by heavy rains (in the case of dwarf plants) draw up the earth round the whole plant, so as nearly to reach the top of the clay (%). In about a month afterwards if will be seen whether the grafts may be expected to grow. If the scions die, strip the stocks of their incumbrances, and encourage them to grow; but, on the other hand, if the scions grow, be careful to rub off all shoots growing from the stocks, and, as the scions begin to put forth branches, place small sticks or stakes in the ground, to which tic the branches with a bit of matting, to prevent their being broken with the wind.


A prominent, and, we trust, not unacceptable, feature in the Journal of Australasia will be a succinct and readable resume of the current events of each month : in fact, a summary, rather more summary (save the pun), of the history of the Colony than is furnished by our brethren of the broad sheet. It is neither our province nor design to compete with those excellent pictures of progress which issue from the daily press on the departure of each English mail. To them we leave the wide fields of controversial politics’and commercial enterprise. Our Journal of Events is designed to furnish a brief account of the circumstances by which we are surrounded, and a review of the current topics of conversation, in a form capable of being conveniently read now, and as conveniently preserved for future reference. We do not hesitate to say that we have before us a type, the admirable Household Narrative of Britain, and we purpose following a very similar plan.


directed to the undermentioned constituencies :

The Colonial-Secretary..........Grant.

The Attorney-General..........Melbourne.

The Commissioner of Trade and Customs -    -    -    - Portland,

The Surveyor-General..........Emerald Hill.

The Colonial-Engineer..........Prahran.

The Colonial-Treasurer..........Geelong.

The leading feature in this department of our history is the gradual development of the plans for the construction of the new Legislature. As the Houses of Parliament are to be purely representative, those public men, who have hitherto held irresponsible offices directly from the Crown, are now among the most active seekers for popular suffrage. No pains have been spared to secure the continuance in power of the officials in whom the Government has been hitherto vested. As far as the omens yet afford means of augury, these candidates appear to have a fair prospect of success; particularly with those constituencies whose candidates have influence in the forwarding of local public improvements. Thus, the people of Portland look to Mr. Childers for enlarged wharfage accommodation; and the inhabitants of Emerald Hill have to thank Captain Clarke for a railway, and for the very questionable advantage of a prospective cemetery, against which latter boon, however, a strong movement is being made. The attention of the official candidates is

The Ex-Colonial-Secretary, Mr. Foster, has been long engaged in cultivating the affections of the good people of Williamstown, and the ability which he manifested in his former public career, added to his electioneering tact, seem likely to ensure his return; although the remembrance of his many real and assumed official sins cannot be said to have passed away.

The friends of Mr. Duffy, who form a strong interest, are exerting themselves manfully to find him a seat in the new Council, and their labors are not likely to go unrewarded. A question will, no doubt, arise, in the event of his election, as to the reading of that clause in the Constitution which requires two years’ residence as an essential part of the qualification; and the wording of the law is so ambiguous that it may afford a knotty point for discussion, as the advocates of each reading maintain that there can be no possible doubt on the matter as to the correctness of their respective views. It must be confessed, however, with regard to Mr. Duffy, who is about to try the question, that a rash speech, delivered at Belfast, has gone far to abate the estimation in which he was before held by many, who, though not of his party, had hopes of his ability and energy; and has given rise to a rather severe review of his previous history.

Of course, the great contests in the constituences will be for seats in the Legislative Assembly: both because that house will be the great arena of politics in which the battles of our active political leaders will be fought, and because the possession of such a property-qualification as is needful for the Upper House is possessed by a comparatively small proportion of those members of the community who are ambitious of Legislative honors. Indeed, there is reason to apprehend that cases will arise in which the property will be the chief part of the qualification. As, then, comparatively little interest now attaches to the electioneering movements in the provinces, we may devote our principal attention to the efforts of aspirants to seats in the Lower House.

The Electoral Lists are at last completed, and it must be confessed that, from a variety of causes, they appear to be marvellously inaccurate. Notwithstanding the abundance of directions on the subject which were issued by the daily press, there yet existed considerable doubt and confusion as to the mode of procuring registration. The collectors are said to have been remiss in their exertions, and in some instances to have overstepped the bounds of their duty by assuming a veto upon the claims of householders. So that, between official irregularities and public apathy on the one hand, and the confusion attending the initiation of a new system on the other, the result is that a work, which has cost the unprecedented sum of ¿£60,000, is yet imperfect: and, what is perhaps worse, there is no present remedy.

The happy absence of Party, as known in older countries, has necessitated the elevation into the position of political tests of many questions, that would otherwise occupy a subordinate place. Nor is this without its advantage. The diversity of subjects and of opinions, and the utter improbability, not to say impossibility, of any number of men, however associated, agreeing in all of them, is likely to secure the country from that racking division of political energy which produced such evil results elsewhere. The great Squatting question, the vortex which formerly disturbed the sea of politics, and which engulphed one public question after another as fast as they were set afloat, may now be considered at rest. The very squatters themselves have adopted diverse views as to the reading of the various watchwords of their former army. The State aid question is still rife and likely to be so; and, despite the strong opposition made, from time to time, against the working of the 53rd clause, that “ causa detvrrima belli,” so large a proportion of the community declares in favor of the present system, that there seems little probability of a change. The Ballot is now a fait accompli, and there is every reason to hope that the arrangements made for “ secret voting,” as it is contemptuously termed by the friends of the old system, will at least remove many of the evils formerly attendant on contested elections. The mode of Public Education is prominent among the points upon which opinion is divided as to detail, while the broad priniciple out of which it arises, viz.: the obligation of the State to promote education, is undisputed. The too common rivalry of religious sectarianism is imported into this question to an extent which goes far to paralyze the exertions of those who desire to further the enlightenment of the rising generation per se, confident that, when once the young mind is trained to thought, a living preception of religious truth must follow. Economy in the administration of public funds is as usual employed as a war cry in all directions, and by men of every diversity of opinion on other points. Economy, however, that much abused word, is interpreted by each agitator according to his own fancy; and is read to mean—parsimony—liberality to one’s own adherents—retrenchment in some departments that others may be supported—and, lastly, the reading most frequently heard on the hustings, and most unfrequently heard afterwards, the production of the greatest good with the smallest expenditure, without reference to the absolute amount of either. Federalism, the plan of associating the colonies of Australasia in one convention, is yet a new question among us, and has not assumed the position of a dividing range between the currents of opinion: but it is conspicious upon our horizon, and must shortly become a prominent feature in the prospect. The demand for land has been satisfied; and (a metaphor reversed) in unlocking the lands we have found one of the keys capable of opening to €s future prosperity. There is now, as there ought always to be, a large excess of land on sale over the demand, and the ready means of obtaining lots of moderate extent have given a healthy stimulus to agricultural pursuits, and have gone far to relieve the towns of the redundant and whilome suffering, because unemployed, population.

The Constitution itself will probably sustain, ere long, some modifications. The changes in the men to whom our commonwealth is entrusted must tend to the removal of some of the restrictions now imposed on representation. The high standard of property-qualification for membership of either house will probably be one of the first points of attack; as the advocates of exclusiveness must gradually lose power until their


great bulwark is abandoned because indefensible. The disposition of the Electoral Districts maybe remodelled, or at least some movement made to that end; and some minor points may be made the subject of motions. There is, however, quite enough work in the way of constructive legislation to occitpy the new bodies for some time to come; and the defects of the Constitution are, after all, so very secondary to its great advance upon old systems and sentiments, that, although alteration will, no doubt, be eventually needed, we can very well afford to wait until more urgent matters have been disposed of.

A society formed at Geelong, under the title of the Reform, Association, has drawn up the following code of principles for employment as political tests:

1.    Revision of the New Constitution.

2.    Abolition of property qualifications for members of Parliament.

3.    Triennial Paliaments.

4.    Revision of schedule D ; total abolition of state-aid to religion ; reduction of salaries to Government officers, and abolition of pensions to officers in the civil service.

5.    Establishment of a national mint and assay office, a bank of issue and deposit, and the issue of notes co-equal with the revenue of the country.

6.    That the present system of immigration be abolished, and to be replaced by a selfsupporting one.

7.    A total revision of the present land system, so as to render it more easily attainable by the man of limited means.

8.    Manhood suffrage, based upon the principle of education and taxation.

9.    That a compulsory system of education be adopted.

10.    Legal reform.

The following scheme of reform, differing from the former in but few particulars, has been put forth by a similar body in Collingwood:

1.    No property-qualification for members of either House.

2.    Vote by ballot, on an improved principle.

3.    Triennial Parliaments.

4.    The same constituency to elect the members for both Houses.

5.    Total abolition of state-aid for religious purposes.

C. A national system of education.

7.    The strictest economy in the departments of Government, and the reduction of the present salary of the Governor.

8.    That no compensation be granted to squatters.

9.    Manhood suffrage, viz.,: to all who have reached the age of 21 years, who are untainted with crime, and who have resided six months in the electoral district for which they claim to vote; also, all foreigners who have been naturalised by three years’ residence, according to the provisions of the Act.

10.    Law reform.

At a meeting, the politicians of Richmond have, without pronouncing so distinctly upon details, enunciated some general principles of Reform, viz.:—1. That, as wealth in this colony is no criterion of education, political judgment, or ability, the property-qualification for members and electors should be abolished. 2. That, as men of conscientiousness, talent, and learning, possessing great statesman-like views, are not always in a position to give their time and talents gratuitously to the service of their country, the people’s representatives should be paid by the State. 3. That, as religion flourishes best when left to popular voluntary support, the ¿650,000 grant from the State should be abolished.

A demand for increased powers of self-government is likely to be made by the municipal districts of Sandhurst and Castlemaine. The movers in the matter seek to obtain the control of a part or the whole of the unalienated Crown Lands within the limits of the respective municipalities, for the purpose of temporarily, or even permanently, alienating these lands, and applying the revenue derivable from this source to purposes of local improvements. They argue that, besides the immediate advantages which the possession of such powers confer, a further end would be gained by training members for the higher labors of general legislation.

The most knotty point, the right of electors to vote when they have changed the locality, without affecting the value, of their qualification, is exciting much attention, and conflicting decisions have been given by different Revision Courts. Although high

legal opinions have been given in support of the doctrine, that an elector loses his voto on leaving the identical property under which he originally qualified, the public is far from satisfied on the point; and the view is very commonly held, that, although the letter of the law may he so construed, the interpretation is, nevertheless, adverse to the spirit in which the clause was framed.

The office of Solicitor-General has been conferred upon Mr. Fellows, the barrister, in consequence of the elevation of Mr. Moleswortli to the bench. The latter gentleman has, by his talents and character, won the esteem of all. In the House he commanded the respectful attention even of those who were opposed to his views: and, on his first appearance in the judicial ermine, he received an address of congratulation from the legal profession.


The Queen’s birthday, which may almost be regarded as coming within the history of the past month, was celebrated by a review, a levee, and a ball. The review consisted of an inspection by the Acting-Governor of all the forces of the Colony, regular, irregular, and defective. The levee was very numerously attended; and in the evening His Excellency gave the long-talked-of bail in the Exhibition Building, an entertainment which afforded abundant gratification to about 1600 guests. The day was, as usual, a public holiday. The volunteer regiments persevere in their practice of warlike acts with tolerable success, considering: in the Artillery company practice has so far made perfect that the range for firing is shortly to be extended from 1000 yards to a mile. The arena of display is the newly-constructed battery at Sandridge, where the more pacific portion of the community is startled from its propriety by copious eruptions of shot, shell, smoke, and enthusiasm, on alternate Saturday afternoons. The defences of this Deptford in miniature consist of six 32-pounders, mounted on a platform, and directed against a harmless enemy in the shape of a floating target. Yeomanry and other volunteer corps surround us on all sides, so that on holidays and fine afternoons the stillness of suburban parks is broken by reports rivalling those of even corporation sub-committees in number and volume, and the inhabitants generally have, by this time, become pretty well used to the smell of powder.

This intermingling of war and peace leads us to consider the passively hostile demonstrations of some bodies of artizans in Melbourne. An unfortunate misapprehension of the relations subsisting between employer and employed has led some operatives to strike work, by way of advancing the movement in favor of the reduction of the hours of labor. The eight-hour question, which is now set at rest by the formal agreement of masters and men, is an offshoot, and, as some think, an exaggeration of the desire for early closing, as applied to shops. While none dispute that, with management, and the co-operation of the public, as much business may be done, and as well done, in the hours of day-light as under the old system, much doubt has been expressed whether the particular application of the doctrine to the constructive arts will prove as beneficial to all the parties concerned as its advocates anticipate. For, in those departments of industry where the amount of work performed is intimately connected with the time occupied, and the price, therefore, being regulated by time, bears a direct relation to the work, the labor market must be expected ultimately to adjust itself. So that the kernel of the question is ^ the advantage to be gained by such an arrangement as may afford leisure for healthful recreation, mental improvement, and domestic comfort; and here all difference of opinion caases. The shops of Melbourne are now, for the most part, closed soon after dusk, and there is every reason to anticipate that the activity of societies for mutual improvement, the use of libraries, and the attendance on lectures and other means of profitable recreation, will evidence the social advantages derivable from the innovation.

The Public Library, with which the mass of the community is gradually becoming acquainted, is a great boon, and deserves to be ranked among the most valuable of our new institutions. Even now, in its infancy, it is stored with books of sterling worth. History and general literature are as well represented as can be expected in the present stage; and the trustees, active in their work, are adopting every means to rendeq the library useful. It is now open in the evening, so that men who are engaged in business during the day may avail themselves of the. advantages here presented them, and may acquire an intimacy with every variety of lore. The room is well attended, and groups of readers, luxuriating in the rich stores of learning, at all times meet the gratified eye of the visitor. The loaded shelves, stored with books whose cost places them beyond tlie reach of the private student, present a field of research new to the old colonist, and delightfully provocative of reminiscences in those who are familiar with the older, and, therefore, more complete, collections in other countries. One department, to which we are inclined to attach almost primary importance, has, as yet, been the least regarded. We refer to the various branches of science, upon the application of which to industrial pursuits depends so much of the prosperity of a people. Chemistry, and the physical sciences generally ,are all but unrepresented; and there is a slight savour of dilettanteism in the general aspect of the place. The external features of form, size, and decoration, though far from unimportant, must be regarded as secondary to the consideration of internal value : and there are hosts of books, so useful as to be nearly essential, which are of small cost, and unpretending appearance, and might almost have been purchased with the price of the gilding which has been bestowed upon then- more voluminous rivals. We are bound to say, however, that the recommendations made by the readers in the suggestion book have received the most considerate attention, so that it will be, in a great measure, the fault of the public if their literary wants are not presently supplied. The absence of suitable catalogues (those now in use being mere imperfect lists) occasions much difficulty to students, who cannot ascertain, with sufficient readiness, whether the library possesses works of which they are in quest, or what authorities on particular departments of learning are at command. This is a want that may be soon supplied, as the gentleman to whom the charge of the library has been committed evinces an evident delight in his work, and is sufficiently conversant with the requirements to be able to supply them.

The Mechanics’ Institution has, thanks to Professor Hearn, made a grand step in the cause of adult education. A plan for the establishment of classes is before the members, who may choose their subjects of study, and pursue them under qualified teachers, with the hope of obtaining such certificates of their proficiency as may facilitate their graduation in the University, and must yield them abundant advantage in the development of intellectual powers and the refinements of social intercourse. Professor Hearn expounded the plan to a large auditory in a very eloquent address, in which he announced inter alia, that it was purposed to conduct the classes by means of lectures on two evenings of each week; the courses now projected being extended over a period of two years, as under:

First year -    -    - Experimental Physics.


English Literature.

Second year- -    - Chemistry.


Natural Philosophy.

There are, also, in Melbourne and its suburbs several associations organised for the purpose of mental improvement by means of debates, the reading of papers, &e. Some of them, being connected with religious bodies, adopt peculiar sectarian sentiments, which must limit their views, and, pro tanto, their usefulness.

Lectures on several topics of interest have lately been been delivered at the Mechanics’ Institution and elsewhere. Some interesting subjects in chemical science, including gaslight, water, gold, &c., have been treated by Dr. Macadam, while the undermentioned subjects have occupied hi turn the attention of the gentlemen whose names are affixed.

Modem English Poets (Tennyson).....Mr.    D. Blair.

National Character...........Dr.    Cairns.

Genius of Thackeray..........Mr.    Jas. Smith.

The English Devolution.........Mr.    E. Syme.

Ballad Poetry of Ireland..... Mr.    C. G. Duffy.

Representative Institutions........Mr.    G. W. Rusden.

Endeavors are being made to establish Mechanics’ Institutions in the suburbs, and lectures and public meetings are employed as the means of at once exciting attention and raisiug the necessary funds. In Collingwood there is a division of opinion as to the locality of the proposed institution, Fitz-Boy Ward and East Collingwood each claiming the privileges of fraternity; so that, between the two parties, there is some ground for apprehending that the result will not be so satisfactory as might be desired.

A new Club, called the Victorian, has been founded to supply the obvious want of a. place of social meeting where the comforts of an English club, so far as they can be found in the colony, may be provided. The plan is as liberal as could be wished, intelligence find gentlemanly bearing being tbe only test. The prospectus bad hardly been issued, before the list of 200 members, necessary for the commencement of operations, was iilled up, and there has been a large accession since. The club is now regularly formed, and the committee is engaged in seeking suitable premises.

A Gymnasium has been opened in Lonsdale Street by two teachers of athletic exercises who are reported to be well skilled in such pusuits. The institution can hardly fail to be of use, both as a means of healthful recreation, and in developing energies calculated to react upon the various other occupations of life.

The influx of Chinese into the colony is again attracting attention. The law passed some time since, for levying a capitation tax on their arrival, with a view to the exclusion of a people whose presence among us was not considered desirable, has signally failed. Not only do they continue to arrive in the usual way, but they pour in like an invading army, overland, from Adelaide. Doubts are now entertained whether their indomitable perseverance and quiet industry are not elements of character which may make them a useful section of the community. Two plans have been suggested: one, that the present capitation tax be commuted into a certain prescribed amount of labor on railroads or other public works, to be performed before they are permitted to enter upon the profitable occupation of gold digging: the objection to this course lies in the danger of forming a tribe of Helots, and separating the colonists into a dominant and an enslaved race. The other scheme is to place them under a kind of surveillance, making the “ headman,” as he is called, of each party responsible for the conduct of the people under him., and for their due periodical registration and payment of taxes: the fears entertained for the eligibility of this plan, arise from the very natural objection to the introduction of anything like espionage. These singular people have now their newspaper published at Ballarat in the Chinese character, and Josshouses on most of the diggings.


First in importance in a chronicle of our scientific and industrial progress is the effort now being made to open up the terra incognita on the north of the Australian continent. We do not hesitate to publish the following extracts from an interesting report by the leader of the Expedition, containing a precis of the operations up to the date of the latest intelligence:—•

“ On the 12th August the Expedition left Moreton Island, and on the 13th entered the inner passage to the Torres’ Straits. After a somewhat tedious passage we reached. Albany Island on the 20th, sighted Port Essington on the 1st September, and cleared Clarence Strait at noon the following day; but, owing to the great indraught of the deep indentions of the coast* the ‘ Monarch’ so greatly deviated from her direct course, that at 10 p. m. she grounded on the northern reef in the entrance of Port Patterson, and with some difficulty the ‘ Tom Tough’ was extricated Rom the reefs, as she was following the barque.

“On the same day that the ‘Monarch’ was got afloat we sailed for Victoria River; but owing to strong tides and calm weather the vessels separated on tbe night of the 12th, the schooner reaching Port Pearce on the 11th. Not finding the barque at Treachery Bay, I proceeded in her to Blunder Bay, where she arrived the following evening. Finding both water and grass scarce at this point, and the shore ill suited for landing the stock, I returned to Treachery Bay on the 18th, and found the barque had been delayed for three days off Cape Hay by a calm, which I had escaped in the schooner by keeping within the influence of the land winds.

“ The party landed on the 21st September, and proceeded to a swamp near ‘Providence Hill’ (of Captain Stokes’), where both water and grass are abundant.

“It is now my intention to proceed by land with the horses, as soon as they are capable of travelling, to the Victoria River, at Kangaroo Point, and to send the sheep by the schooner to that spot as a rendezvous for the party.

“ I do not expect to be able to commence any distant explorations till the end of October, as the stock will require a month’s rest to recruit their strength.

“ Up to the present time none of the aborigines have been seen, although many fires, and other traces, show them to be numerous on this part of the coast. I am, therefore, unable to ascertain whether their intentions are hostile or otherwise.”

Nearer home we find occasional announcements of the introduction of new building materials; stone from Snapper Point, Mount Eliza, and Portland; that from the latter

place is said to be a fine grained freestone. A manufactory of bricks, of an improved kind, has been established at Flemington, but a portion of the works was lately burnt down. The bricks are of a peculiar character, hard and smooth, of a red color, and glazed on the face. Draining tiles and pipes are yet little used, but the means exist for the production of several excellent kinds. The gradual improvement of trade has given an 'impetus to building, and several structures of elegance and importance are now growing up to grace our streets. At the head of the list stands the new Houses of Parliament on the Eastern Hill, which are progressing with marvellous rapidity. The portion now in course of erection is but a small j)art of the whole design, and includes the two chambers and the offices most essential for present use. A third wing of the University, containing the Lecture Theatres for the Experimental Sciences and Natural Philosophy, promises to be soon completed. Laboratories, with separate furnace and weighing rooms, are attached. Over the whole is a suit of apartments designed for future use as a Museum : some of them will be occupied, for a time, by the library, which is, at present, temporarily placed in the Registrar’s Office. The Library is thrown open to the public daily: the collection of books is, at present, small, but it comprehends many interesting works not to be found elsewhere. An effort is being made to get the Museum of Natural History removed thither, but much opposition is made to the movement on the very tenable ground that the distance from town will place it beyond the reach of the great bulk of the population. This Museum has not yet received sufficient public attention. Few persons are aware of the store of specimens already collected in the departments of zoology and geology. Crowded though they are in a few cases, in two small rooms over the Assay Office, much may even now be seen to interest the student. Some hundreds of birds, and a large cabinet of fossils, may be mentioned as among the striking features. From want of funds, the curator, Mr. Blandowski, has, of late, been prevented from taking his customary tour of exploration. The Museum is limited, from necessity, to the productions of this Colony, but it is intended to procure, for the University, specimens of the natural curiosities of all countries, so that types may be at<hand to illustrate every variety of organization and composition.

Mr. Adams, of the Leigh, describes a new zoophyte found by him in that locality. He says :—“ I observed, what I fancied at first sight, a pretty crimson flower, in a crushed state, and, stooping to pick it up, I immediately perceived it to belong to the animal instead of the vegetable kingdom, and pushing my fingers down into the sand, I brought up the body of the zoophyte, which is of a pyriform shape, covered exteriorly by a fleshlike capsular membrane : interiorly, the cavity is partially filled by a congeries of tubes of a purple color, and five of those tubes rose up above ground about an inch, and were all joined together at their summits by a ruby-colored reticulated substance, forming what appeared like a beautiful flower. The tubular structure had the appearance of small tracheae on the lesser branchiae, but, of course, the annular tissue was totally different. The tubes were of a diameter sufficient to admit a small pencil or quill, and proceeded from the base of the cone : the apex pointing downwards.”

The use of artificial manures has lately been introduced. The quondam nuisance at Parkside, where filth and refuse of every conceivable kind are stored, is now turned to account, being desicated and deodorised, preparatory to being sold as a concentrated manure. The following vegetable phenomena may be accepted as indicative of improved culture. At the Hopkins, wheat weighing ninety pounds to the bushel, and eighteen pounds of potatoes from five roots : at the Surrey River, near Portland, four hundred bushels of wheat off ten acres: at Sandhurst, a pumpkin weighing 140 pounds; and at Queenscliffe, a horse-radish, or, perhaps, more appropriately, a megatherium-radish, weighing over five pounds : at Portland, a growth of potatoes produced in seven weeks. A large expanse of land has been laid under cultivation this season, and agricultural associations have been started in most of the inland towns. In Melbourne, the corn trade has obtained a location in a temporary building on the Eastern hill, on the site of the old Eastern Market.

In machinery there is, as usual, the constant announcement of that great desideratum, a perfect crushing and amalgamating machine ; few, however, of the new patents appear to have turned out satisfactorily. Nor is crushing altogether confined to the gold-fields: a Mr. Dransfield, in Melbourne, announces the invention of a machine to break stone for the roads, and has made a proposition to the Corporation to take all its work by contract. Mr. Kentish has again awakened public attention to his yet secret discovery of a new motive power, said to possess peculiar advantages. It is to be regretted that no op-

portunity lias yet been afforded for the testing of this discovery : if it realise only one-half of the projector’s sanguine expectations, it must be, indeed, valuable ; and if not, the matter would be well set at rest.


In noticing the publications of the day, modesty would indicate the mention of the present work last on the list; but, as the plans, projects, and pretensions of the Journal of Australasia are elsewhere fully expounded, we shall be content with a passing mention here.

The Age newspaper, the affairs of which have lately been brought before the public by a series of untoward circumstances, has changed hands, Mr. Syme, one of the former editors, having purchased the entire property, at auction, for ¿£2,000.

Several pamphlets have issued from the press. Among them one, by Mr. P. Just, demands particular notice. The writer, who manifests a familiarity with his subject, recommends the decoration of the new Houses of Parliament with paintings and statuary illustrative of colonial history. He suggests that the competition of designs should be thrown open to European as well as to colonial artists, and, an important point, liberally rewarded. Another point advanced in the brochure is the desirability of forming a gallery of art, for the education of colonial youth and the general cultivation of taste. Several sermons and lectures on moral topics are now on our table, the most noticeable being the re-publication of a discourse delivered in England by the Rev. Mr. Caird on the Religion of Common Life, the tenor and style of which recommend it to all classes of readers, and place it above all question of particular religious tenets. Professor Hearn’s excellent; lecture on Adult Education, elsewhere alluded to, has been reprinted from the Argus foi gratuitous circulation; and we earnestly hope that it may have the effect of impressing our young men with the importance of mental culture, and of forwarding the enlightened projects of its author. The Builder, which, fell asleep some months since, has been revived, to, we hope, a more favorable state of existence, and gives great promise of usefulness. Bradshaw’s Guide to Victoria well emulates its antetype in the old country, and furnishes a mass of information, of daily value to the old colonist as well as to the new arrival: pity that it does not stand on its own merits, instead of assuming a title which, though familiar and indicative, is not local. Punch has now become a local institution, and, should he ever migrate (which the fates forbid) his loss would be a serious matter to all who now enjoy his humor and vivacity. In addition to the other obligations under which he has laid us, we are indebted to him for the introduction of artists and engravers of no mean ability. Our advertising pages announce the probable advent of an interesting little stranger, in the shape of a new illustrated paper. We shall cordially shake our little brother by the hand whenever he arrives.

The arts of Painting and Sculpture are asserting their position amongst a community hitherto all too material in its pursuits. In addition to the names of Guerard, and Todt, already favorably known, we have to chronicle the new names of Messrs. Short, Davies, Mondonville, and Calder, of whose pictorial productions the daily journals speak in high terms.

Madame Bishop has succeeded in establishing herself as a prima donna here, and has been performing with great success at the “ Royal,” where she is ably supported by Mesdames Carandini and Guerin, and M.M. Coulon and Laglaise. A new operatic company has just arrived by the James Baines ; but, as yet, no arrangements have been made for their appearance. We have now three theatres in Melbourne, the “ Olympic” and the “ Royal,” under Mr. Ooppin’s management, and the “ Queen’s,” which has been reopened by Mr. Coleman under the title of the “ Lyceum.” The same manager has adapted the new ball room of the Royal Hotel, St. Kilda, to the purposes of a theatre, on the plan, it is said, of the Rubens room at Windsor. The Garrick Club gave a performance for the benefit of the Benevolent Asylum, and raised, by their exertions, the sum of ,£90. A new ward in the Hospital is to be called the “ Hayes” ward, in memory of Miss Hayes’ instrumentality in raising £700 in aid of that institution by means of a very successful concert. The Philharmonic Society is about to perform at the Royal,” in a series of oratorios and concerts. It is contemplated to produce, at no very distant period, Mendelssohn’s magnificent oratorio, “ Elijah.”


A portion of the Journal will be devoted to the purpose of facilitating inquiry into all branches of knowledge, by means of Queries and Memoranda on all subjects likely to be useful or interesting to our readers. We shall, with pleasure, endeavour to answer, or procure answers to all questions of a rational nature, suitably ennunciated; and hope that our readers will themselves both test and contribute to this portion of the work.

Platinum.—As far as we are aware, the metal platinum has not yat been found in Victoria. We have seen many minerals mistaken by the finders for this interesting metal, but they were, for the most part, either varieties of iron pyrites, specular iron, or a native alloy of gold and silver. Platinum, although scarce and valuable, is by no means so costly as many persons imagine. Its value in London, when wrought, is about 25s. to 30s. per ounce. The crude metal is worth less than half that price. The cost of platinum vessels is due to the difficulty of working, as the metal resists all ordinary means of fusion, and is only wrought by being pressed into a mould when in the state of a moist powder and forged at a red heat.

Locust.—This insect, popularly so called, is not a locust, but a cicada. The true locust is of the grasshopper family, and may frequently be seen during the summer months.

Funambule.—The French theatre, Le Funambule, takes its name from the latin word funambulus (funis, ambulus), a rope dancer. Terence makes frequent reference to this kind of amusement.

Theatre.—Etymologically, the accentuation of this word is on the a, theatre, from its derivation (theatron, Greek). This word affords a singular example of a corruption, now a vulgarism, being a return to the correct pronunciation, or perhaps a perpetuation of it unaltered by the changes of fashion.

Comma.—This useful point is so far misused, that the liberal manner in which some writers and printers employ it is frequently fatal to sense. As a general rule, it always indicates parenthetical or elliptical construction ; and the correctness of punctuation may be frequently tested by removing the parenthesis, or filling up the ellipse. The common use of a comma after the subject to a verb is barbarous in the extreme.

“ Fine by degrees and beautifully less” is from Prior, and occurs in his poem, Henry and Emma.” The word small is often erroneously substituted for fine.

Iodide Colors.—The fugitive character of the pigments into which iodine enters as a component is owing to the feeble affinity of that metal for the bases with which it combines. The iodides of mercury and lead form a brilliant scarlet and yellow respectively, but they soon become decomposed.

Zoophytes.—The best monograph on this subject is Johnston’s History of the British Zoophytes, published by Highley, London, ¿61 10s. The same writer has published work s on the allied branches of natural history, as the sponge and lithophytes, &c.

Bush Grub.—The rush grub (sphoeria) is not, as many have supposed, a link between the animal and vegetable kingdoms. This natural curiosity arises from the insect, the larva of a kind of sphynx, taking the spores of the fungus with its food. The spores then germinate, and, by then growth kill the animal, whose body affords genial soil for the root, and, when dried, in which state it is generally found, the grub presents very much the appearanceof a part of the plant. Dissection and microscopic examination readily render apparent the distinction between the animal and vegetable organisms.

Printed by W. H. Williams, 94 Bourke Street East, Melbourne.




We aro a practical people; and we make it our boast that we are so» We have little affection for the ideal and the imaginative; and we are also rather proud of this defect in our national character. It results from these two facts that we are the most zealous believers in, and the most orthodox worshippers of ugliness, of any race in the civilized world. It is the only creed for which we are content to suffer martyrdom ; it is the only institution which appears to be incapable of change. Our affection for it accompanies us into new lands ; it experiences no diminution by the lapse of time; is not modified by change of climate ; and is not affected by the death of an individual or of a generation. Your true Briton—who has drawn his infant breath in the ugliest of cradles ; sat upon the ugliest of chairs, at the ugliest of tables, in a room decorated with the ugliest of papers and the ugliest of hangings; who has taken his daily meals off the ugliest of plates, and imbibed his post-prandial wine out of the ugliest of glasses ; who has clothed himself in the ugliest of garments, and crowned his head with the ugliest of hats ; who has offered up his Sunday prayers in the ugliest of pews ; and who has spent the greater part of his existence surrounded by the ugliest of inanimate objects—-is consistent to the last. He departs out of this world upon the ugliest of bedsteads; is screwed down in the ugliest of coffins; and his last resting place is surmounted by the ugliest of monuments.

Will it not, therefore, be reputed a heresy, if I own my disbelief in ugliness ? And may I hope for an audience for anything so audacious, as a protest against the universal application of this principle to the Architecture of Victoria, and more particularly to that of its chief city?

Under shelter of my anonym, I will take courage and promulgate my heretical opinions, even though I should stand in a non-conforming minority of one.

I will suppose that I have just landed in the Colony—that I am fresh from the continental cities of Europe; and that, with recollections of these still lingering in my mind, and connecting themselves with powerful impressions of the wealth of Victoria, I traverse the city of Melbourne from end to end. I am neither an architect nor an artist: I simply regard v’hat I see with an eye that has been educated by observation, and a mind that instinctively revolts against ugliness; and what do I fiiid ? “A city of magnificent intentions,” so far as its site is concerned; but upon which every man has erected a temple to ugliness, after the devices of his own




heart. The worst architectural follies of the most ignorant architectural pretenders of Great Britain have been reproduced in 'situations, and beneath a sky, which render their defects the more glaring and conspicuous. The designs which Pugin caricatured have been adopted by the builders of our more ambitious shop-fronts; and our public edifices blend in their aspects the repulsiveness of the Penitentiary with the dreadful uniformity of the ancient Workhouse, when as yet the Palatial Union was not, and paupers were not lodged in Elizabethan Bastilles.

In the old world, the ecclesiastical, municipal, and domestic architecture of a country bears a determinate relation to the climate. You may detect its influence in the form of an edifice, and in the design and color of its decorations. Those who reared the solemn temples, massive palaces, and stupendous tombs of Egypt appear to have so constructed them, that they should projec’t vast shadows, grateful to the eye, when it should turn thither for relief from the dazzling glare of the sun, and the quivering glitter of the sand; while the positive colors that were employed in Egyptian art were “ those of the three great elements of their scenery, the blue sky and river, the dark red earth, and the yellow sand.” Winckelmann assigns to climatic influences much that was special both in the architecture and the sculpture of Greece. If you cross over to Morocco, and follow the Saracens into Spain, you shall find in the glorious Alhambra a reflex of the influences of the glowing climate of the south upon the minds of its Moslem architects. “ The Moor’s tent pole is petrified into a column,” and the richly tesselated walls, so gorgeous in color, so faultless in design, so exquisite in harmony, are “ imitations of the luxurious shawls and weavings with which the sumptuous oriental lined his tent.”

And thus, too, with the municipal and domestic architecture of ancient Borne and Mediseval Italy; of Pompeii and Herculaneum; of Bologna and Verona; of the cities of Spain and of those of Sicily. Everywhere the architect bethought him of the climate which surrounded him, and of the habits of the people as acted upon by that climate ; and so, by cloistered or arcaded foot-paths, by deeply-recessed windows, by covered galleries, by court yards and cortili, and by surrounding public squares with shady piazzas, that “ over-vaulted grateful gloom,” lie provided the population with a shelter from the fierce sun-shine of the summer, and the vehement rains of the winter. Thus, too, the al fresco life of the cities of southern Europe became not only possible but enjoyable. To this day, during the greater part of the year, no window intervenes between the bottega of the shop-keeper of a Spanish or Italian city and the footpath ; and upon this, protected by the arcade, the intending customer can stand and inspect the wares which are offered for sale, without having his feet blistered by the burning pavement, his eyes blinded by the almost vertical sun, or his skin powdered with the whirling dust. When evening comes, the citizen can plant his chair and gossip with his neighbour in the colonnade, or accompany his wife and little ones while they make the tour of the grand square, and a military band supplies him with both musical education and enjoyment.

But what I chiefly miss, deplore, and condemn in colonial architecture, is the total want of picturesqueness in design, treatment, or otherwise. You shall walk from Batman’s Hill to Studley Park, and cry—All is barren ugli-


iicss ! The faculty of admiration lies dormant in our souls, and promises to die out utterly for want of aliment. It would seem as if we were the richest and the most tasteless people upon GOD S earth ; that our belief in ugliness amounted to bigotry ! and any modification of it to an unpardonable crime.    >    „    #

We appear to forget how much of the happiness of life is derived from the impressions received through the eye ; and to what a considerable extent a man’s character is influenced by the external aspect of the objects which are daily and hourly familiar to his vision. I do not scruple to affirm that the man, who is habituated to the contemplation of ugliness in a variety of material forms, runs a great risk of exhibiting a corresponding ugliness in his moral actions ; and of experiencing, perhaps unconsciously, a gradual and continuous debasement of thought and feeling. Take a sodden, schnapps-loving, smoky Dutchman, reared among the marshes, windmills, willows, and sluggish canals of Holland, and place him side by side with an ancient Greek, whose mother’s sleeping room was filled with the statues of the youthful gods ; and whose whole life was passed in the midst of the divinest works of art, the grandest efforts of the architect, and the sublimest productions of the sculptor ; and is there not as wide a difference between the Greek and the Hollander, as between William Shakspere and an aboriginal of Australia ?

How much of this difference is due to race, and how much to the influence upon the mind and character of surrounding objects, cannot be accurately defined, but I look upon the latter as preponderating immensely.

You cannot walk through a street in Cordova, in Verona, in Genoa, in Venice, or in Seville, without experiencing a sense of gratification, as your eye rests—though it be for a moment only—upon some picturesque façade, gateway, arch, window, tower, gable, niche, pinnacle, fragment of tracery or moulding, pillar or perspective ; some new grouping of old familiar' objects ; some accidental adjustment or contrast of light and shade ; some fresh tone of color from an atmospheric variation ; or some additional beauty discovered in a mural fresco, or in the mere disposition of the awning in a balcony. You shall diligently pick your way through any street in Melbourne, and experience no other emotions than those of pain and weariness resulting from the ghastly ugliness of the white-iaced buildings and the dull and deadly visages of the blue-stone structures.

Have we no architect among us possessing sufficient vigour of mind to emancipate himself from the trammels of usage, precedent, and tradition ; and with sufficient genius to originate a new style of architecaire, as picturesque, as full of variety, as capable of application to ecclesiastical, municipal, and domestic purposes, and as thoroughly in harmony wffh the climate and scenery of Australia, as the Gothic was with the climate and scenery of northern, and as the Grecian, the Homan, the Saracenic, the Byzantine and the Romanesque were, with those of southern, Europe ? Is there no escape from the despotism of Pecksniff? No hope of ever so slight an approach to originality, of ever so trifling a variation in the eternal change-ringing of pilaster, pediment, and cornice, cornice, pediment, and pilaster, now practised by colonial architects ? If men are incapable of displaying any enthusiasm for art, at least they might manifest a common respect for it. If they can neither love nor reverence it, I implore them

not to burlesque and degrade it. Daily to feel the privation of those architectural masterpieces with which the genius, the taste, the magnificence, the piety, and the artistic feeling of bygone gene rations »have combined to cover the face of central and southern Europe, is painful enough, without any aggravation of this sense of loss by the deliberate malice of those who coolly plan and systematically perpetuate the architectural monstrosities which disfigure the streets and suburbs of this city ; offend the eyes and irritate the feelings of those whose perceptions of beauty, harmony, and congruity, are not utterly perverted ; and perpetuate the worship, the supremacy, and the debasing, degrading and deteriorating influences of material ugliness.



(Concluded from our last number.)

I had forgotten to record, that, during our conference this morning with the aborigines, they expressed great alarm at the report of a gun, all falling spontaneously with their faces to the ground; they had evidently never heard the report of a gun before. All the children wore a goodlooking and healthy appearance. We travelled this day, in going and returning, at least thirty miles, and, in the course of our journey, observed a number of the bustard or native turkey; but they were too shy to allow us to approach within shooting distance.

June 1. We left the vessel this morning at daybreak, being most anxious to resume our rambles over a country possessing so many interesting features, and facilities so entirely congenial to the ripening of my intentions. We travelled round the bay to examine some plains and low hills at a distance. After crossing the neck of land we fell in with a small river or creek, which wTe were obliged to follow up, as we were unable to cross it; indeed I had rather a desire to follow it up, as I anticipated finding fresh water at its head: we followed the course of the creek for ten miles, when we saw a great many duck and teal. The creek here was from fifty to sixty yards wide. We passed many dams of stones across the creek, made by the natives for the purpose of catching fish during the summer months. These dams were from four to five feet high, and excellently contrived. Three or four of these stone wall's were built #in succession, with floodgates formed of sticks and bushes. We found at least a dozen of these dams or wears in different parts of the creek. It was also on the margin of this stream where we discovered the remains and bones of an animal unknown to us. I cannot describe it, but I counted twenty-four joints in the vertebrae or back-bone; and as each separate joint averaged at least three inches, the animal must consequently have been upwards of six feet in length; and we judged that a considerable time must have elapsed since its death, as many of the bones were partly burned. It is quite possible that there may have been originally more bones in the back than those enumerated. I have brought on board part of the head, thighbones, and some part of the back, for learned gentlemen to study over on my return to Van Dieman’s Land. This skeleton was discovered "by us in the vicinity of one of the native fishing places; We continued our journey up the stream, until it assumed the character of a chain of ponds, where the water was slightly brackish; the further we proceeded the better the water became; at length we reached a very large, deep pond, where the water was excellent, and we here shot two teal. The diameter of this pond was at least 150 yards; and finding it situated in the heart of a tract of good country, of unknown extent, was an additional source of satisfaction to us. We here camped and took dinner, after w7hich we ascended a chain of well-defined hills, but of no great elevation, and to reach which we travelled through the same fine, open country for five miles. Scarcely a tree was observed upon the surface of the plain; the stems of the largest did not offer a greater diameter than eight inches, and in some places there was not a solitary bush on an area of 500 acres, the whole of the soil being of a light nature, dark in color, with kangaroo grass. We ascended the hills I have already mentioned in the hope of catching a glimpse of the country in a S. S. West direction, and found it to be of the same open and extensive character, far as the eye could reach, viz., plains of good soil, covered with grass, well adapted for grazing and agricultural purposes, and all ready for the plough. In casting our eye in the opposite direction, namely, V. N. East, the same good country met our view, only bounded by the horizon. Perhaps the principal drawback that will be felt, should these plains be eventually occupied, will be the want of firewood, and timber for farming and other uses. We have not yet met with timber fit for the saw or splitting. Brush yards might be made for sheep or cattle. A gig or carriage might be safely drawn over these plains, without the possibility of being upset, as easily as on a turnpike road. I have given them the name of Arthur’s plains, in honor of Governor Arthur, of Van Pieman’s Land. Adjoining Mount Collicott are two others, which I have named Mount Cottrill and Mount Connolly, after Mr. Connolly and Mr. Cottrill, both of Van Dieman’s Land. At a distanee of 15 miles from Mount Cottrill, bearing N. W. from it, is another mount, to which V have given the name of Mount Solomon, after Mr. J. Solomon, of Launceston. To-morrow I intend proceeding up the country for several days, to meet the vessel at the river or head of the bay, if the weather will permit. It has rained all this day, and we have experienced a very heavy hail storm, with the wind blowing hard from the west, and very cold. We caught sight of the smoke of the natives’ camp under the lee of Mount Collicott.

June 2. My Sydney natives came on board this morning for the purpose of assisting in packing up, and otherwise making preparations for our contemplated expedition into the interior. As it continued to rain heavily, and a heavy bank of fog prevented our seeing any distance, I proposed, rather than lose time, to go with the vessel to the river, and from thence take my departure for the bush. We made the river by 3 p. m., and observed that the whole of the coast at the head of the bay was clear of timber, and a constant plain covered with grass.

Near the head of the river, on the point, was a plantation of she oak. We endeavoured to sail up the river, but found the water not more than a fathom deep. I went on shore this evening; the country is covered with kangaroo grass, and thinly-timbered with such trees as are before mentioned. I saw large numbers of pelicans, swans, ducks, teal, and other waterfowl; and the borders of the bay abounded in quail. There appeared to be two kinds of this bird, one of a dark and the other of a light color, the former being twice the size of the latter. To-morrow weather permitting, I intend taking my departure up the river.

June 3,—Everything being in readiness, we left the vessel about 9 a.m., and proceeded in a boat up the river for about five miles, taking soundings as wTe went, and found from seven to nine feet water in the channel. I now landed, and joined the party on shore, who had walked some seven miles on a well-grassed and thinly-oak-timbered country; four miles further I came upon the banks of the river, which appeared open on both sides, well-grassed, and deeper than at the place where I landed from the boat. In travelling further up we passed over several rich flats, about a mile wide, by two or three miles long, destitute of trees, and covered knee-deep with grass, from which hundreds of tons of good hay might be made. The land was of the best description, equal to anything in the world, nor does it appear subject to being flooded. For twenty-six miles we continued following the course of this river, and found on both sides of it, as far as the eye could stretch, fine open plains, with a few trees of the oak species; one striking object was the absence of fresh water all throughout this distance. Just before sundown, as we were preparing to camp on the bank of the river, I caught sight of a damp place, and, on sending one of my men, Gumm, to make a hole with a stick to the depth of two feet, we had in the course of an hour a plentiful supply of good water. By 10 p. m. the w’ater was running over the top of the hole; I am certain the same might be done in most places, with a like result. The river varied in width from 100 to 60 yards; at this place it is but 40 yards wide, and is becoming narrower as we go up. I have named this place Gumm’s well. In the course of the journey to day we saw several parrots, kangaroos, and a native dog or dingo.

June 4.—Re-commenced our journey up the river at 8 a. m.; after travelling four or five miles, I turned off to obtain a view of Mounts Collicott, Cottrill, and Solomon. After taking the distance and bearings of these mountains, some emus started across a fine slightly elevated plain, my dogs gave chase, and I followed for a mile or two. From Mount Cottrill I could see in the distance two other mountains, which I have respectively named Mount Wedge and Mount Sams; both are in a range with Mount Solomon.

We continued travelling over the plains, and in eight miles again made the river, which was now perfectly fresh. We all took a hearty drink. Having crossed the river, we travelled over the richest land I had ever seen in my life; marsh mallows, with leaves as large as those of the cabbage tribe, and as high as my head. We recrossed at a native ford, and we observed on a wattle tree, which they had been stripping of the bark, scratches or marks of figures, representing blacks in the act of fighting. These figures I copied as nearly as I was able.

We ascended a small eminence where the grass reached our knees, and followed the course of the river for a few miles; we camped for the night in a snug corner of land on its bank, which I called Gumm’s corne u

After taking a refreshing pot of tea and something to eat, I started with four of my natives, and took a circuit of thirteen miles up the river, which was here running in a northerly direction. The whole of the land was of excellent warm hill and valley, with grass three feet high in places where it had not been burnt by the natives. Where it had been burned by these people, the young blades are from ten to twelve inches high, affording fine feed for the kangaroos and other animals. In the course of the evening we heard a dog howl. The weather has been very fine and warm. We have travelled about thirty miles to-day.

June 5.—I left the river this morning, and journeyed in a W. N. W. course, as I wished to cross over some large plains in that direction. We saw a large flock of emus, but too distant for the dogs to overtake them. Some wild geese were also seen. In the course of this journey we crossed three running streams of fresh water, with steep banks, covered with grass to the margin of the water. In some parts of these creeks the water did not run, but we observed large and deep ponds in the heads of the three creeks I crossed, and am inclined to believe that they are the same waters, but running in different directions until reaching the river. This country is consequently well watered, the only thing apparently wanting being timber. Pursuing our course, we passed through an open forest two miles in length, composed of oak, with about ten of those trees to the acre, and the stems or butts about a foot in circumference, their heads forming good shelter for stock, with excellently-grassed surface. The last creek I have named Eliza creek, as a small token of regard for my absent, affectionate wife. About noon we ascended a hill, and from thence took a bird’s eye view of the country, for a distance of forty miles on every hand, the same open, grazing-like land is every where seen. The hill on which I am now sitting, under one of the few she-oaks which are scattered over its surface, is distant fifty miles from the bay, and all around are rich open plains, with trees, gentle rising hills, and valleys of the best description of soil. We have just discovered smoke arising from the fires of the natives in an easterlv direction, and have commenced to follow in that course. After accomplishing sixteen miles over rich plains, we crossed another fresh water creek, just at its point of junction with one running from the N. N. E. We again renewed our journey over plains, until reaching a small forest of box gum trees, which formed a belt of about two miles. Here, then, we have, at length, found timber suitable for splitting or sawing, and the great and only desideratum wanting supplied. In this forest, which was well grassed, we caught one of the largest kangaroos I have ever seen, measuring nine feet. This was a boomer. From the box and oak forest we came upon beautiful open plains, with the usual interruptions of gently rising eminences, on which grew oak, black wood, and wattle trees, with grass up to our waists, through which walking was both painful and tedious. We came eventually to a small lovely valley, where, to our great delight, was a dense tea-tree scrub, which we knew to be the surest indication of good water in its neighbourhood, and it soon led us to the upper end or head of a well of the purest water, the current of which took a south-east course. It being, by this time, sunset, we camped for the night. We were hungry, and enjoyed a pot of tea and other viands, to which our late discovery gave an additional zest.

June 6.—During the greater part of last night the wind was very high, accompanied with a few showers of rain. We made an early breakfast, and resumed our journey in order to reach the camp of the blacks, the smoke of whose fires we had seen yesterday. We travelled over land equal to any that we had seen, a deep black diluvium, with grass three or four feet high, and thinly-timbered. After travelling eight miles we struck the trail of the natives, which in a short time led us to a branch of the tribe, consisting of one chief, his wife, and three children—fine, plump, chubby, heal thy-looking urchins they were. To this distinguished royal chieftain of the prairies I gave one pair of blankets, handkerchiefs, beads, and three pocket knives; upon the receipt of these presents he undertook the part of guide. We crossed a fresh water creek, with good land on either bank. Our new guide informed us that he would take us to his tribe, at the same time naming many of their chiefs. After travelling about eight miles we were surprised to hear a number of voices calling after us, and on looking round encountered six men, armed with spears fixed in their wommeras. We stopped, and they at once threw aside their spears, and came up to us in the most friendly manner possible. We all shook hands, and I gave them knives, tomahawks, &c., whereupon they took the lead, and brought us back about a mile, to where we found huts or gunyahs, and a number of women and children. We sat down in the midst of these sooty and sable aboriginal children of Australia; amongst whom, we ascertained, were eight chiefs belonging to the country near Port Phillip, over which we had travelled, and with which we had so much reason to be pleased. The three principal chiefs were brothers. Two of them were fully six feet high, and tolerably good-looking; the third was not so tall, but much stouter than the others. The other five chiefs were equally fine men. And a question, to myself, here arises, and the answer as speedily follows, viz.: now is the time for entering into and effecting a purchase of their land. A full explanation, that my object in visiting their shore was to purchase their land, they appeared to understand ; and the following negotiation or agreement was immediately entered into. I purchased two large blocks or tracts of land, about 600,000'acres, more or less, and, in consideration there for, I gave them blankets, knives, looking-glasses, tomahawks, beads, scissors, flour, &c., and I also further agreed to pay them a tribute or rent yearly. The parchment or deed was signed this afternoon by the eight chiefs, each of them, at the same time, handing me a portion of the soil: thus giving me full possession of the tracts of land I had purchased.

This most extraordinary sale and purchase took place by the side of a lovely stream of water, from whence my land commenced. A tree was here marked in four different ways, to define the corner boundaries. Good land, to any extent, either for stock or tillage, with good water, was here in abundance, ready for sheep, cattle, or the plough. The timber was she-oak, dwarf-gum, and wattle.

Our negotiation was terminated by my Sydney natives giving our newly-acquired friends a grand corroborree at night, much to their delight. Upon a close observation of the domestic habits of these people we discerned that each chief had two wives and several children. The group consisted, altogether, of forty-five, men, women, and children.

June 7.—Sunday. I awoke this morning wTith the agreeable consciousness of my being able, like Alexander Selkirk, of school-boy memory, to say,

“ I am monarch of all I survey;

My right there is none to dispute.”

Sacred Mark.

With a view, however, of securing this right more permanently, I busied myself in drawing up triplicates of the deeds of the land I had purchased, and in delivering over to the natives more property. This was done on the banks of the lovely little creek, which I have named Batman’s Creek, as a memento of the novel and interesting transaction occurring on its banks. After the purchase and payment, at the conclusion of the preliminaries, I had made preparation for departing, when two of the principal chiefs approached, and laid their royal mantles at my feet, begging my acceptance of them. Upon my acquiescing, the gifts were placed around my neck and over my shoulders, by the noble clonor3, who seemed much pleased at their share in the transaction, and begged of me to walk a pace or two in their (now my) princely vestments. I asked them to accompany me to the vessel, to which request I received a rather feeling reply, by their pointing, first to their children, and next to their own naked feet, importing that they could not walk so fast as ourselves, but would come down in a few days. In the course of the late transaction I had no difficulty in discovering their sacred and private mark, so important in all their transactions, and universally respected. I obtained a knowledge of this mark by means of one of my Sydney natives, Bungit, who, going behind a tree, out of sight of the females, made the Sydney aboriginal mark. I afterwards took two others of my natives, and the principal chief of Port Phillip, to whom I showed the mark on the tree, which he instantly recognised, and pointed, also, to the knocking out of the front tooth. This mark is always made simultaneously with the loss or abstraction of the tooth. I requested the chief, through the interpretation of my Sydney natives, to give the imprint of his mark. After a few minutes’ hesitation, he took a tomahawk and did as he was desired on the bark of a tree. A copy of this mark is attached to the deed, as the signature and seal of their country.

About 10 a. m. I took my departure from these interesting people. The principal chief could not be less than six feet four inches high, and his proportions gigantic; his brother six feet two inches, also a fine man. I recrossed Batman’s creek, and travelled over thinly-timbered country of box, gum, wattle, and she-oak, with grass three or four feet high. Travelling twelve miles down one of my side lines, in a south-west direction, we came upon another creek of good, pure water, running through a most romantic valley. I named it Lucy’s creek, in token of affection to one of my daughters ; and the valley Maria’s valley, after my eldest daughter. This valley and creek ran for many miles through land of the richest description. We crossed more plains or grazing land, and came, subsequently, upon a thinly-timbered forest of gum, wattle, and oak. Here, for the first time, the land became sandy, with a little gravel.

The grass was ten inches high, and resembled a field of wheat. We have not seen the slightest appearance of frost. After leaving this forest, we came upon the river I had gone up a few days before. Intending to come down on the opposite side and hail the vessel, I crossed, on the banks of the river, a large marsh, one mile and a half broad by three or four long, of the richest diluvium ; not a tree was to be seen. Upon the borders of this extensive marsh or swamp we disturbed large flocks of quails. In one flock the birds were so numerous as to form a dense cloud. I shot two very large ones. At the upper part of this swamp is an extensive lagoon, at least a mile across ; it surface was covered with swans, ducks, geese, and other acquatic fowl. Having crossed this marsh, we passed through a dense tea-tree scrub, very high, expecting to make the vessel in the course of an hour or two, but, to our great surprise, when we got through we found ourselves on the banks of a much larger river than the one we had originally gone up. As it was now near sundown, and at least two days would be required to head the river, I decided upon allowing two of my Sydney natives to swim across it, and go to the vessel, distant about seven miles, to fetch the boat. Bullet and Bungit started on this enterprise, and returned in about three hours from the time of their departure. Their return with the boat was most opportune, as we had got on the point of junction of the two rivers, where the tide had set in, and was already up to my ancles. I first dispatched the party with the dogs in the boat to the opposite bank, and, on the return of the boat, myself and old Bull, who had cut his foot, went, in first-rate style, to the vessel. I hope my travelling on foot will terminate, at least, for some time. I had now accomplished a most arduous undertaking, and, in order to secure the fruits of my exertions, I intend leaving Gumm, Dodds, Thomson, and three of my Sydney natives—Bungit, Bullet, and old Bull—as overseers and bailiffs of my newly-acquired territory, and of the possession of which nothing, short of a premature disclosure of my discovery on the part of my companions, can possibly deprive me. These people I intend leaving at Indented Heads, as my head depot, with a supply of necessaries for at least three months. The chiefs of the Port Phillip tribes made me a present of three stone tomahawks, some spears, wommeiras, boomerangs, and other weapons of warfare.

June 8.—This morning the winds set in foul for Indented Heads, and, having made several attempts to get out of the river, we gave it up as hopeless. We went, in the boat, up the large river coming from the east, and, after examination six miles up, I was pleased to find the water quite fresh and very deep: this will be the place for the future village.

June 9.—We made a fair start this morning; and are now, with a light wind, under weigh for Intended Heads. We reached the bay early in the afternoon, and commenced landing goods as expeditiously as possible, the bay being rough and the wind increasing in violence. We have succeeded, however, in landing all the goods. I selected a spot where I wished Gumm to commence the garden, house, and other appurtenances. All my Sydney natives being desirous of permission to remain here, it was determined that Pigeon and Joe, the marine, should also remain in addition to the other natives, this making a total of eight individuals; three whites, namely, Gumm, Dodds, and Thompson; and of natives five, Pigeon, Joe the marine, Bunjit, Bullet, and Old Bull, for wliom we have left a plentiful supply of everything to last for three months or more. I left a large quantity of potatoes for planting, and a great variety of garden seeds, stones and pips of fruits, with apples and oranges. I also left the six dogs. To Gumm I gave written authority to warn off all persons found trespassing on the land I had purchased from the natives; and, everything being now perfectly arranged and understood, we shook hands with all and took a friendly farewell. We sailed for the heads with a fair wind, which we cleared by 8 p. m.

June 10.—We made a good run last night, about 80 miles, and by midnight were within sight of the coast of Van Dieman’s Land.

June 11.—Got into George Town heads .at six a. m., with a fair wind up the river, and arrived at Launceston this evening. I lost no time in reaching my own house, where I was kindly and affectionately greeted; and, in the bosom of my family, I soon lost all sight of my past wandering.

Mr. Batman again reached Port Phillip in the latter part of April, 1836, by the “ Caledonia,” accompanied by Mrs. Batman, their family, and servants. Among the passengers were James Simpson, Esq., late police magistrate of Campbelltown, Van Dieman’s Land, Major Welman and son, who were on their way to India, and the Rev. Mr. Orton. On the first Sabbath day after their arrival, the church service was read by Mr. Orton, on Batman’s Hill. Porms had been arranged, at the rear of Mr. Batman’s residence, for the convenience of the congregation, consisting of Mr. Batman himself, with his wife and family, the governess, Miss Caroline Newcome, Dr. Thompson, Mr. J. Simpson, and the shepherds and farm servants in the employ of Mr. Batman. Hot the least interesting group of individuals were the Sydney natives, who had performed no unimportant part in the discovery of the colony. Their appearance among the company was striking, dressed in their clean white jackets and trowsers, and headed by their king or chief, in a scarlet coat and military pantaloons, with breastplate and gorget, the gift of Colonel Sir George Arthur, then Governor of Van Dieman’s Land. The protrusion of two black legs from the lower part of the pantaloons, we must admit, in great measure impaired the otherwise military bearing of thn..cLdevant Governor of Tasmania. Another group consisted of the Port Phillip aborigines, of both sexes, who were stationed at a little distance from the main body of the congregation.

These simple people appeared to be watching with considerable interest the movements of the others, and when they joined simultaneously in sacred song their astonishment was very great.

Batman’s first sheep station was situated on the present site of St. James’ church, where a shepherd’s hut had been erected, and the sheep were under the management of a Mr. Fogarty.

Mount Martha and Mount Eliza were named by one of the lieutenants of the Rattlesnake, at that time employed in surveying the coast, in compliment to Mrs. Lonsdale and Mrs. Batman, respectively.



“ Tlie pleasant books, that silently among

Our household treasures take familiar places.”


It is a snug little room, my Study. Small, secluded, and quiet: the smallest of a suit of small rooms, in a house which for its eccentricity of plan might have the inscription “Anno 1700” quaintly carved on a moss-covered stone over the portal; with a pleasant look-out over green fields and the silvery ripple of the sun-lit bay in the distance; the window sheltered from the glare of the summer sun and the bleak winds of winter by a bower of jessamine and dolichos, making afloralframe for the charming prospect before me. Very snug is my study ; the walls clothed with my favorite books, save where “ Dorothea” sits in simple state on a bracket over the mantel-clock, and where two or three water-color sketches of old loved scenes of my youth hang to recall many a delightful reminiscence of those who seem never to have been so dear to me as now when they live only in my memory, and when, musing over my after-dinner meerschaum, my thoughts wander back to happy days long since passed away. But as I sit by—I had almost said round—the sparkling skeoak fire, the writing table at my elbow, and book-cases brought, by the smallness of the apartment, so closely within reach that the light of my old college reading lamp is sufficient for me to read the titles of the books without stirring from my easy chair by the ingle nook, I have other retrospects than those of my own life. There I discuss, mentally, the politics of ancient Athens, watch the rising of the popular spirit in Borne, discuss points of law with Cicero, and husbandry with Virgil. There untravelled, save in thought, I trace the wanderings of the intrepid Lander in the parching deserts of Africa, sympathize with the sufferings of Franklin and his companions, and speculate on the prospects of intercourse with antiquated «China and exclusive Japan. There I can ponder over the persecutions and indomitable enterprise of the Pilgrim Fathers, their foundation of an infant colony, now a mighty empire, claiming and enjoying the brotherly respect of the nation that once stigmatized its people as rebels. What a panorama of vivid historic pictures is conjured up by that old atlas of the war of independence ; those quaintly drawn maps, wherein the camps and marchings of the rebels are laid down with the studious accuracy of a historiographer who, patriotic as he was, deemed the struggle for liberty as a rising to be put down. Little dreamed he and his enthusiastic readers that the time was come for their old time-honored notions of supremacy to be swept away as things of the past. Little thought they that the event which, for importance and absorbing interest, stood alone in the page of their history was but the birth of the yongest of a brotherhood that should sway the world, no longer by fire and sword, by imperial edict or narrow denunciation, but by the arts of peace, by the spread of learning, by com-rnerce, and by the progress of the same gradual enlightenment whose beams dazzled them. But is there no shade to this bright future ? The very next volumne to the one that suggested these reflections tells how the dark denizen of the northern forests was faster degraded than civilized— how even those who had just escaped from thraldom themselves, yet introduced evils worse than those they had just shaken off, until the red man became a stranger and an outcast in his own land. Mournful the thought that the march of progress should have its victims, yet the melancholy fact will not be blinked that the step of the white man forebodes surely and fatally the degradation and decay of his darker brethren. Surely we do not understand the art of civilization.

Shaking off the gloomy thoughts awakened by the sight of a little collection of American annuals, my eyes wander to a ponderous tome that has furnished many an anecdote, many a fact, real or supposed, to ungrateful writers. What do we not owe to that persevering and credulous gossip, Pliny! Where is the subject upon which he has not something to say ? No matter what the theme, he will tell us something that is either new, from the fewness of his readers, or else so familiar to us that we have forgotten, if we ever knew, the author. Natural History, Chemistry, Manufactures, Fine Arts, all find a place in those thirty-seven charming books, which for diversity of anecdote eclipse all that have been done since. Pity that the book is so scarce and costly; mine is the old folio of 1723 ; the margin crowded with the annotations of former and more worthy possessors; arguments pro and con the identity of minium, as known to the Homans, with our cinnabar; elaborate guesses as to the true tint of the Tyrian purple, fancied by many to be among the lost secrets of ancient art; verbal criticisms and suggested emendations. A rich fund of learning and amusement lies within those blackened covers. I would not have the volumes rebound for worlds. Not Hayday himself should induce me to deck those worm-eaten folios in modern calf, super-extra, or even in serviceable Russia. I would as soon think of putting a superfine paletot on a mummy. There is his neighbour, too, the identical Virgil of my school days, with the yet unobliterated pencil interlineations for which I was caned in the year—never mind when—by that excellent old soul, Doctor-, the be

loved of all his pupils, whose very rebuke, kindly but firmly administered, no less than his perhaps less deserved, but certainly more ready, commendations, are even nmv fresh in my memory. Good old soul, if he had been less strict in his discipline, or less enthusiastic in his love for ancient lore, what sources of enjoyment might have remained closed to me ! Many a time, in later years, have I taken that well-thumbed volume in my pocket on a country walk, and read for the hundredth time, while lying at my ease under a shady tree, by the side of a rippling stream, those exquisite touches of poetical description with which it abounds. I must not risk a charge of pedantry by quoting; if I did, I know not where to begin or where leave off. ^ The opinion may be heretical, but I am not ashamed to confess a sort of indignation at the position in which Dryden has placed Virgil in his splendid epitaph: second to Homer, and the two below Milton the point is open to debate—but I believe I should have placed the Mantuan first.

And that Martial, in the corner—what a luxury it is to read those old epigrams which must have made their author the very life of Roman society, which contain so much inherent wit, humor, and elegance of composition, that they are enjoyable nearly a thousand years after the times, persons, and circumstances to which they refer have passed away, only now to be recalled by the satire of which they were the objects. Who cares who or what Cotta was, or Tongilianus, or Priscus ? Here we have their portraits in little, and in them and their companions as lively a picture of Roman society as if we knew them and had quizzed their oddities ourselves. Fancy any bookworm of the era 3000 digging up an odd volume of Jerrold, or Thackeray, or of Punch! Would he not learn from them more of our social ways and whimwhams than from all moral essays and dry histories that are written, supposing them to endure so long ? Of course he would: they are a kind of photographs, almost stereoscopic in their bold relief, of men and things of that day. There is La Bruyere, who sketched, too, in the liveliest colors, the peculiarities which seem to belong as much to the subjects of Louis Quatorze as to ourselves.

After all, there is no great inherent difference between the representative men of different ages ; at first glance, perhaps, they often appear to belong to totally distinct genera, but if we strip off the accessories, and take the pictures out of their frames, we see much the same sort of men and women as meet our every-day view. Hoes a fashionable dentist advertise his readiness to replace lost teeth ? Lecania was satirized in the first century for wearing purchased ivories. Does a man, better known for his wealth and ambition than for his literary ability, awaken suspicion by the delivery of a brilliant lecture on the publication of an erudite essay ? Martial raises the question, whether the verses a man buys from their needy author may not with propriety be afterwards recited as his own. Ho you imagine that snobs are a modern creation ? Read these epigrams and then Les Caracteres of La Bruyere, and compare with them the models of our modern quizziologists.

Now I have got round to the French section of my little collection: there I find Moliere, father of French comedy, ever fresh, ever welcome; Corneille and Racine, the great magnificent unreadables; Fenelon, of course— my old one, twenty years old, and another, in a gay livery of green and gold, with no end of engravings and notes ; but I am half inclined to prefer the original to its gayer successor, though the latter has my name in elegant caligraphy on the fly-leaf, for it was a prize, and opposite to that dedicatory inscription, whose terms flatter my vanity even now, is the emblem of the grim old saint who was supposed to preside over our studies. Is it not pleasant to look back to our earliest acquaintance with friends who are now almost a part of ourselves. I love thus to live over, again the whole days of a life that has not been without its troubles, and to dwell, so to speak, on the favorite pictures in a very miscellaneous collection, placing them in every possible light, and filling up blanks by the aid of imagination. So I do with my books; every one has a history of its own, in which I find myself occupying a conspicuous position. This very Telemaque, for example: what a crowd of recollections it awakens of the digest of the Voyages d’Anacharsis, to which I am mainly indebted for my success in the memorable contest in which I won it. Three of us competed for an extra premium offered by one of the examiners, in consequence of our equal proficiency in some other branch of study, and we all set to work in the holidays, some of us even foregoing Polytechnics and Pantomimes with a degree of self-denial perfectly marvellous in lads of sixteen. At last came the eventful day ; the judge, having, of course, previously drawn his own conclusion, submitted the themes to a solemn conclave of our fellow students, and the result was in my favor. I do not know whether the triumph itself, or themanner of it, gave me most pleasure; to be elected chief of my companions and competitors, and so cordially, too, was worth even a labor of love. Anacharsis was then and is still one of my prime favorites. Then, perhaps, the variety of the adventure gave a special interest, but the charm of Barthelemy’s elegant and graphic style, his erudition, and the Asmodeus-like skill with which he unvails to his reader the whole social history of Ancient Greece, must have had something to do with it.

Then I have, side by side, Voltaire and Pascal, Mesdames Cottin and Dc Stael, to say nothing of Montaigne, who has a corner to himself, and the original two-volume edition of La Fontaine, with abundant illustrations, odd enough, ’tis true, but very favorable specimens of the art of the seventeenth century.

So are the fine Portraits of Marlborough and his contemporaries in “ Mirror of Dignities,” bound up with Gwillim’s Display of Heraldry, the textbook of the “ noble science,” as it was called before it was so jostled in the march of intellect as to be all but exploded. After all, there is something amusing if not useful in that fanciful elaboration of pomp and circumstance; the historian is not a little indebted to the coats emblazoned in old hangings, and carved on time-worn monuments; while the genealogist is seldom quite independent of the hieroglyphic parchments of by-gone days.

There is little of ornament in my study. I do not mean to say that I disregard appearances. On the contrary, I like to see everything about me present a cheerful and even handsome appearance. I admire graceful forms, and am a professed admirer of the beautiful. For this reason, I place my Dorothea in a conspicuous position, and hang, nearly opposite to my seat, an ideal portrait which I call my Egeria. It is the very image of my conception of intellectual beauty: just sufficient symmetry of features to make a perfect face, with a piquancy of expression that no regularity can give; fair, without being waxen ; brilliant yet modest eyes of the clearest brow n; hair grouped in picturesque but not fantastic masses; the whole tenue perfectly artistic in the pure sense of that much abused word, that is to say devoid of all art, yet perfect in arrangement, the effect of natural good taste, taste refined by observation; the whole countenance beaming with the radiance of natural and physical beauty. No epithets would suffice to describe the impression produced by that portrait: words are so hackneyed and misapplied, that no expression savoring of the intensive is safe to use; superlatives are worn out, and the only way to symbolize the beautiful, to present grand effects, or to describe powerful emotions, is by word painting, that subli-mest work of pen, that essence of all true poetry. By way of example of this faculty, possessed by few so i ailed poets, I take down a favorite volume, and try the sortes Virgiliance. or Longfelhanse, if you like, confident of laying my finger upon a smgle fine conta^mg more imagery, more gra-

phic description, in short, more true poetry, than has sufficed for the stock-in-trade of many a laureate. Here,—

Still grew my bosom then,

Still as a stagnant fen!

Hateful to me were men,

. Tlie sunlight hateful! ”

Is there not a volume of thought in those short lines ?—what a sermon might be preached from them! How full of philosophy, sound yet simple —the parallel how true, the moral as clear—the rhythm, the music, admirable. I am not a Poet, not a Maker, although I am an ardent lover of the poetry of nature, but I could fancy myself eloquent upon such a text, I should like, if I had not my work prepared for this evening, to light another pipe, and meditate upon the various phases of the mind of man. The rude loving heart, torn by grief, becoming gloomier every day until it assumes the air of discontent, and presently a cast of misanthropy—then sinks the iron into the soul, and a ghastly shadow o’erclouds the hopeless future; while all that could give relief, the sunlight of truth, of hope, of love, becomes hateful, and the sufferer madly rejects his only remedy. Again, what visions are not awakened by the words,

“ Tongues of the silent dead,”

Of the memories of writers and thinkers whose works are now with us a precious legacy, affording delight and counsel, companionship in joy and sorrow.

Thus I muse in my evening quiet, and trace out the suggestions made by my silent companions on the shelves. Even a mere catalogue of books is a sort of library in itself, and furnishes the materials for reflection in abundance ; how much more suggestive, then, is the presence of the books themselves! Who can see a volume of Macaulay without receiving a sensible impression of his eloquence and elegant diction, and regretting the strong party bias which must always detract from the value of his history ?— or of Kosmos, without reverencing the master-mind of the venerable Humboldt, the indefatigable traveller who has revolutionized physical science, and to whom we are mainly indebted for the establishment of observatories throughout the regions of the earth?—or of Dickens, without seeing before him the scenes described, and forming intimate acquaintance with all the characters, many of whom are admitted as old friends?—or of Thackeray, without acknowledging the master-hand of the satirist, who lays bare, as with a scalpel, the morbid parts of our social economy?—or of Carlyle, without being imbued with his earnestness and force, and finding some new shame to denounce?—or of Shakspere, and not be bewildered with the maze of humor and pathos, philosophy and imagery, contained in the works of him whose age is “ all time ?”

I am never alone—and never less so than wdien in my study.



I caistnot pass it, even now, without experiencing a sudden pang, which I can no more describe than suppress. I am drawn towards it, sometimes, by a strange fascination that is perfectly irresistible, and then a vague, wild, irrational hope possesses me, which I cannot justify, and of which I am ashamed upon reflection. I am momentarily conscious of the reception of a belief—foolish and visionary, I own it is—that she is not dead, and that some startling shock may awaken me from this prolonged and awful dream.

To you that cottage is a mere unsightly fabric of plank and shingle; to me it is the silent witness and inseparable associate of a tragic history. You smile, in doubt and in compassion. I confess that those two weather-boarded rooms constitute but a mean and narrow stage, and supply but sorry scenery, for a tragedy; but terrible dramas have been acted within the narrower limits of a tent of calico, ere now.

I wish that you had known her; for all who did know her—even casual acquaintances—seemed to be made aware of something higher and better, more kindly, cheerful, genial, and gentle, in our nature, after knowing her, than they had ever discerned or recognised before. We had only been married a twelvemonth when my resolution was taken to come out here. I have since perceived how sanguine, ardent, and vehemently precipitate I was in forming and carrying out the determination to resign a moderate competency for the equivocal promise of sudden wealth ; but have I not atoned for my rash impulsiveness ?

Ellen would have followed me to Spitzbergen or to Central Africa, as readily, as uncomplainingly, and with as little hesitation, as she accompanied me hither. In her eyes the tenderness of affection derived a character of sacredness from its alliance with the principle of duty.

I remember—as though it were but an hour ago—standing upon deck and watching the last glimmer of the English coast upon the horizon. To me the separation occasioned no pain ; but home, household ties, younger sisters who doted upon her, early friendships, and endearing associations innumerable, were divorced from her by that vanishing gleam of white cliff. All the woman rushed into her eyes, which, for a few seconds, brimmed with tears, and then vanished before the sunshine of her cheerful smile, as she laid her little hand in mine, and, turning her face southwards, said:—“ We shall find a new England where we are going, Frank; and we will find a new home—a happy one, if I can make it so to you ; and you shall never have occasion to scold me for repining at the change.”

I never had—God knows I never had! Throughout the long and weary voyage, with all its miseries and privations, she was always the same brave, cheerful, loving, and uncomplaining little creature; with an ear that was always ready to listen to the recital of the thousand and one troubles experienced or imagined by her fellow passengers, a hand to assist and a voice to cheer them.    *

There was a young widow woman on board, who appeared, from her speech and manner, to have been well and delicately reared. Her little boy, whose winning face, and ringing laugh, and quaint efforts at speech, and light open manner, had rendered him a general favorite, sickened in the tropics, and wasted visibly away. The poor boy’s mother was almost hopeless and helpless in her grief; and Ellen forthwith assumed the office of his nurse. We were becalmed for ten days, during which the ship drifted idly, hither and thither, upon a sea that looked like molten metal, and quivered in the unclouded blaze of the fierce and fervid sun, till the eye ached with that weary glare. All this time the life of the little invalid was slowly ebbing away; and all this time Ellen tended him with a vigilance that never wearied, and a tender solicitude that never flagged. And when the film of death gathered upon the eyes of that wasted child, and the last feeble and inarticulate moan had broken through the foam which gathered upon his livid lips, she turned all her care upon his bereaved mother, and was as earnest and affectionate in consoling sorrow as she had been earnest and unremitting in alleviating suffering. After the funeral—after the rude wooden box, which held the remains of her dead darling, had slid into the sea with a plash—had sunk until it diminished to a mere white speck, and then disappeared for ever in those mysterious depths, the widow seemed to be incapable of rest apart from Ellen. She would creep to her side, like a child; and her wan face has become so connected in my mind with the little ottoman upon which she used to seat herself beside her friend and comforter, that, when I saw that piece of furniture in a broker’s shop the other day, a sort of spectral image of the widow herself rose up before me.

It was mid-winter when we arrived in Hobson’s Bay ; and we landed, somewhere near the site of the present Queen’s Wharf, on a raw day in July, when the sky was dark with flying scud, and the roads and streets were knee-deep in mire. I had encumbered myself with chests and trunks, and I found that the mere cost of removing them to a store would make a serious inroad upon my slender stock of ready money. I piled my luggage into as compact a heap as was practicable, and, wrapping all my loose coats and cloaks about Ellen, I left her seated forlornly upon one of the trunks while I went in search of shelter. I cannot describe the awful sense of strangeness and isolation which I experienced, as I traversed the muddy streets of the city. A spirit of restlessness, that resembled frenzy, appeared to actuate every one I met. Those who were not intoxicated with brandy seemed to be drunk with excitement. I never saw so many wolfish eyes and hard cunning mouths in the space of a whole day in London, as I encountered in Melbourne during the first hour of my perambulations.

To the inquiries which I made for lodgings, I received either a surly or an abusive repulse, or the sums asked were so exorbitant that they frightened me. After two hours spent in the fruitless quest, and after procuring some bread and meat, for which I paid five shillings, I returned to Ellen, and declared my determination of imitating the course already adopted by several of our fellow passengers, and of becoming the huckster of the contents of my own trunks in “ Rag Fair.” The resolution was no sooner taken than it was carried into effect, and I was no less startled at my own success as a vendor than at the preposterous prices which were cheerfully paid by the motley crowd for almost every article I offered for sale. It seemed to me a fantastic commencement of my colonial career;— Ellen, seated upon the box which contained our reserve of clothing and so forth, eating an al fresco meal of no very choice description; and her husband selling his wardrobe, his books, and nearly all his worldly possessions in short, for an extravagant equivalent.

The last article of apparel offered for sale disposed of, as well as the trunks which had held this valuable merchandise, I shouldered the residuary box, just as night was falling, and, with a purse that was considerably heavier and a heart that was somewhat lighter than they had been upon my first landing, I directed my steps eastward; pausing every now and then to give Ellen the advantage of a rest, and to confer with her, as we took our seats upon the box, upon our future movements. We were both so weary, and halted so often upon the road, that the night had fallen upon us before we reached a scattered suburb, of which I did not even know the name.

( To be concluded in our next.)



It is at all times a delightful employment for the genuine lover of literature to search in unexplored, and sometimes unsuspected, corners of the wide domain of books for those overlooked or forgotten treasures, which are garnered there in. such rich abundance as only the earnest searcher knows. Like the precious ore in our own gold-fields, the treasures of genius are sometimes widely diffused over the broad surface of literature, and at other times hidden in its deepest recesses. Since the creation of modern periodical literature, for example, there have been piles of solid intellectual wealth accumulated in the serial volumes of reviews and magazines, which, from their almost bewildering extent, are generally left in undisturbed repose in dusky corners of large public libraries. To the majority of readers it is much more agreeable to skim the surface of the new number of the Edinburgh or Quarterly Review, or of Blackwood's Magazine, than to search through the century of massive volumes of each series for the brilliant articles of former days. Hence the general rule is, that when the magazine or review passes out of currency, and takes its place on the shelf of permanent literature, it becomes almost exclusively the property of the omnivorous bookworm—the true helluo librorum—whose appetite for printed paper “ grows by what it feeds on but to the mere casual reader it becomes as really lost literature, as the missing decades of Livy’s History, or the writings of those three hundred authors of whom stray specimens are given in that (fortunately still extant) richest piece of literary mosaic in existence—that treasury of classical table talk—the Deipnosophists of Athenaeus.

It was a lucky thought of “ Longman, Brown, Green, and Longmans,” —that princely firm of bibliopoles—to collect from the Edinburgh Review the scattered contributions of Macaulay, Jeffrey, Mackintosh, Sydney Smith, and Henry Rogers; for not only have they conferred an invaluable service on literature thereby, but they have added very materially to their own large trade and uncountable profits. Everybody who has read anything has read all or most of those famous essays. Sir Archibald Alison has collected his own (vastly inferior) essays from Blackwood ; and Lord Brougham has just gathered up some of his rather ponderous disquisitions from the Edinburgh. Whether his versatile Lordship’s three heavy volumes will take permanent rank beside those other Edinburgh contributors we have mentioned, remains still to be seen. Brougham, though a miracle of extensive knowledge, has not the exquisite literary grace of Jeffrey, the brilliant and glowing style of Macaulay, the inexhaustible wit of Sydney Smith, nor the solid learning of Mackintosh. Nevertheless, he is always worth reading, if only for the sweeping force of his criticisms on men and books.

Of all the collections of miscellaneous periodical contributions that have ever been made, Macaulay’s has been the most popular and the most widely read. No man of any intelligence is wholly ignorant of the fascinating essays of Thomas Babington Macaulay. But it has often been asked by readers who have just risen from the perusal of those incomparable essays, Did Macaulay write anything besides those essays here gathered, and the four volumes of his eloquent History ? And this question only your indefatigable hook-lover can answer. He knows where to lay his hands on papers with the signature of “ T. B. M.,” and on articles in the Edinburgh, which have never been reprinted; and it is to him an immense gratification to point out such precious articles to the ardent inquirer after Macaulay’s imcollected works.

That is precisely the friendly office which we propose to perform for the readers of our journal. We, being of thoroughly bookish habitudes, know how—as Tennyson beautifully says—-

“ From, the Gold Mines of Thought to lift the hidden ore.”

We know some of the secret corners in which the ungathered gold of genius lies, remote from careless eyes; and it will be our pleasant task to draw forth from these rich stores, from time to time, specimens such as cannot fail to please, to delight, perhaps now and then to dazzle, our readers. We select Macaulay as the most fitting name to head our list; but we shall be able to lay bare the unknown wealth of other writers of eminence, besides the splendid essayist and historian.

Know, then, gentle reader ! that in the year 1823-4 there appeared in London a certain periodical under the title of Knight's Quarterly Magazine. The publisher of it was our old friend, Charles Knight, the indefatigable caterer of useful knowledge, under the auspices of the famous society for the diffusion of the same, for the reading multitudes of Great Britain. The editor of the Magazine was no other than Winthrop Mackworth Praed, one of the most versatile and accomplished young writers of that day; but whose “ sun (alas!) went down while it was yet day.” Praed was never excelled as a writer of those vers de societe in which the French so immensely excel us colder and more matter of fact English; and of his genial, graceful, sparkling verses the Magazine contains many choice specimens. On a future occasion we may present a few of them to our readers. The life of the Magazine extended to only four or five numbers: why it perished so soon is a point on which we never could gain authentic intelligence. Amongst the contributors were Milman, Derwent Coleridge, Charles Knight himself, the Rev. Charles R. Tayler, and some others of the same stamp. But what gives, and will for ever give, Knight's Quarterly Magazine a unique value in the eyes of all true book-lovers is, the fact that it contains the earliest published writings of Thomas Babington Macaulay. Here are the first flutterings of those wings of genius which have since essayed so noble and magnificent a flight. Here are the first indications of that most highly-cultured intellect, which has since shed such a lustre and a charm over modern English literature. Here are the first samples of that rich ore which now so abundantly enriches our libraries. Our readers will not think we are drawing from sources readily accessible, when we tell them that the volume whence wTe take ohr specimens is now only to be found in private collections, and a copy of it being not attainable for love or money even in the most extensive old bookshops in London.

Each of the contributors to “Knight” took an affectedly romantic anonym; and Macaulay’s was “ Tristram Merton.” His identity is established beyond all doubt, for under that signature here are the superb “ Songs of the Huguenots ”—Montcontour and Ivry, of which nothing need here be said: for where is the man who has not both of them “ off by heart,” as the schoolboys say? But here are, also, gentle reader, especially if a lady reader, only guess!—well, you give it up ?—here are Love Verses by T. B. Macaulay!—Macaulay writing love verses! Who would have ever suspected such a thing ? Why, the man is positively an old bachelor—a hopeless old bachelor; and has been too much occupied all his life in poring over his dusty old books ever to have known, actually and really known, that there was such a thing as a pretty girl in existence! Very well, fair reader ; it may be so; but take these verses to “ Rosamond ” as evidence “ on the other side,” as the lawyers say :—


O Rosamond! how sweet it were on some fine summer dawn With thee to wander, hand in hand, upon the dewy lawn,

When flowers and heaps of new-mown grass perfume the morning breeze,

And round the straw-built hive resounds the murmur of the bees;

To see the distant mountain-tops empurpled by the ray,

And look along the spreading vale to the ocean far away,

O’er russet heaths, and glancing rills, and mazy forests green,

And curling smoke of cottages, and dark grey spires, between.

And, ah ! how passing sweet it were, through the long sunny day,

,    To gaze upon thy lovely face—to gaze myself away;

While thou beneath a mountain ash, upon a mossy seat,

Shouldst sing a low wild song to me, reclining at thy feet!

And, oh! to see thee, in some mood of playful toil, entwine Round the green trellice of our bower, the rose and eglantine,

Still laying on my soul and sense a new and mystic charm,

At every turn of thy fairy shape and of thy snowy arm !

And when the winds on winter nights in fitful cadence blow,

And whirl against our frozen panes the eddying flakes of snow, How gay would be the fireside light, how sweet the kettle’s moan, Joined to the lustre of thy smile, the music of thy tone !

How fondly could I play for hours with thy long curling tresses, And press thy hand and clasp thy neck with fanciful caresses, And mingle low impassioned speech with kisses and with sighs, And pore into the dark-blue depths of those voluptuous eyes!

Are those the thoughts and feelings of a cold, hard, unimpressible old bookworm ? We would wager a dozen pair of yellow kid gloves with any young lady of our acquaintance—and, trust us, we also know something about writing love-verses to ideal sweethearts; we also were “ in Arcadia born”—that “ Rosamond ” was no fiction of the fancy, no mere dream-creation; but a living, loving, and lovely young lady, whose dark-blue eyes had played the very mischief with the too susceptible heart of Thomas, and set Babington thinking of wedding rings. But who was she? Alas! we cannot tell; further than that she was not an English girl, but a Daughter of France, if the following companion-verses to the above are worth anything as evidence:—


By tby love, fair girl of France,

And the arch and basliful glance Which so well revealed it;

By the flush upon tby brow;

By the softly faltered vow,

And the kiss which sealed it;    -

By those foreign accents dear,

Whose wild cadence on my ear Still in slumber lingers ;

By thine eyes of sudden splendour ;

By the thrilling pressure tender Of thy trembling fingers;

By thy pouting; by thy smiles;

And by all the varied wiles Which so sweetly won me;

Laughter, blushes, sighs, caresses;

By thy lips, and by thy tresses,

Sometimes think upon me !

Think upon the parting day,

And the tears I kissed away From thy glowing cheek :

Think of many a dearer token;

Think of all that I have spoken,

All I may not speak!

There spoke real feeling, or we are no wizard! But it is not for us to pry into the secrets of any man’s heart-history. “ The heart,” says the wise man, “ knoweth its own bitterness ; and a stranger intermeddleth not with its joy.”

Let us pass to prose : and, as our first specimen, take the following apologue, in which the system of prize poems and prize essays is satirized.

It is apropos of tlie establishment of the Koyal Society of Literature, a society which went out of existence almost as speedily as it emerged into it:


About four hundred years after the deluge, king Gomer Chephoraod reigned in Babylon. He united all the characteristics of an excellent sovereign. He made good laws, won great battles, and whitewashed long streets. He was, in consequence, idolized by his people, and panegyrized by many poets and orators. A book was then a serious undertaking. Neither paper nor any similar material had been invented. Authors were, therefore, under the necessity of inscribing their compositions on massive bricks. Some of these Babylonian records are still preserved in European museums; but the language in which they are written has never been deciphered.

Gomer Chephoraod was so popular that the clay of all the plains round the Euphrates could scarcely furnish brick-kilns enough for his eulogists. It is recorded, in particular, that Pharonezzar, the Assyrian Pindar, published a bridge and four walls in his praise.

One day the king was going in state from his palace to the temple of Belus. During this procession it was lawful for any Babylonian to offer any petition or suggestion to his sovereign. As the chariot passed before a vintner’s shop, a large company, apparently half drunk, sallied forth into the street, and one of them thus addressed the king :—

Gomer Chephoraod, live for ever ! It appears to thy servants that, of all the productions of the earth, good wine is the best, and bad wine is the worst. Good wine makes the heart cheerful, the eyes* bright, the speech ready. Bad wine confuses the head, disorders the stomach, makes us quarrelsome at night, and sick the next morning. Now, therefore, let my lord the king take order that thy servants may drink good wine.”

“ And how is this to be done ?” said the good natured-prince.

“O King,” said his monitor, “this is most easy:    let the king make a    decree,    and

seal it with his royal signet, and let it be proclaimed that the king will give ten she-asses, and ten slaves, and ten changes of raiment, every year, unto the man who shall make ten measures of the best wine. And whosoever wishes for    the she-asses, and    the    slaves,    and

the raiment, let him send the ten measures of wine to    thy servants, and    we    will drink

thereof and judge. So shall there be much good wine in Assyria.”

The project pleased Gomer Chephoraod. “ Be it so,” said he. The people shouted ; the petitioners prostrated themselves in gratitude. The same night heralds were dispatched, to bear the intelligence to the remotest districts of Assyria.

After a due interval the wines began to come in, and the examiners assembled to adjudge the prize. The first vessel was unsealed : its odour was such that the judges, without tasting it, pronounced unanimous condemnation. The next was opened : it had a villainous taste of clay. The third was sour and vapid. They proceeded from one cask of execrable liquor to another, until, at length, in absolute nausea, they gave up the investigation.

The next morning they all assembled at the gate of the king, with pale faces and aching heads. They owned that they could not recommend any competitor as worthy of the reward. They swore that the wine was little better than poison, and entreated permission to resign the office of deciding between such detestable potions.

“ In the name of Belus, how can this have happened ? ” said the king.

Merolchazzar, the high-priest, muttered something about the anger of the gods at the toleration shown to a sect of impious heretics who ate pigeons broiled, “ whereas,” said he, “ our religion commands us to eat them roasted. Now, therefore, 0 king,” continued this respectable divine, “ give command to thy men of war, and let them smite the disobedient people with the sword, them, and their wives, and their children ; and let their houses, and their flocks, and their herds, be given to thy seiwants the priests : then shall the land yield its increase, and the fruits of the earth shall be no more blasted by the vengeance of heaven.”

“ Nay,” said the king, the ground lies under no general curse from heaven; the season has been singularly good. The wine which thou didst thyself drink at the banquet, a few nights ago, 0 venerable Merolchazzar, was of this year’s vintage. Dost thou not remember, thou did’st praise it ? It was the same night that thou wast inspired by Belus, and didst reel to and fro, and discoursed sacred mysteries. These things are too hard for me. I comprehend them not. The only wine which is bad is that which is sent to my judges. Who can expound this to us ? ”

The king scratched his head. Upon which all the courtiers scratched their heads.

He then ordered proclamation to be made that a purple robe and a gold chain should be given to the man who could solve this difficulty.^

An old philosopher, who had been observed to smile rather disdainfuly when the prize had first been instituted, came forward and spake thus :—■

“ Gomer Cheplioraod, live for ever! Marvel not at that which has happened. It was no miracle, but a natural event. How could it be otherwise ? It is true that much good wine has been made this year, but who would send it in for thy reward ? Thou knowest Aseobaruch, who hath the great vineyards in the north, and Coliahiroth, who sendeth wine every year from the south over the Persian Gulf. Their wines are so delicious that ten measures thereof are sold for an hundred talents of silver. Thinkest thou that they will exchange them for thy slaves and thine asses ? What would thy prize profit any who have vineyards in rich soils ? ”

“ Who, then,” said one of the judges, “ are the wretches who sent us this poison?” “Blame them not,” said the sage, “ seeing that you have been the authors of the evil. They are men whose lands are poor, and have never yielded them any returns equal to the prizes which the king proposed. Wherefore, knowing that the lords of the fruitful vineyards would not enter into competition with them, they planted vines, some on rocks, and some in light sandy soils, and some in deep clay. Hence their wines are bad. Know, therefore, assuredly, that your prizes have increased the quantity of bad but not of good wine.”

There was a long silence. At length the king spoke. “ Give him the purple robe and the chain of gold; throw the wines into the Euphrates; and proclaim that the Royal Society of Wines is dissolved.”

And here we conclude our first specimens of Ungathered Gold.


Talk to my heart, O winds !

Talk to my heart to-night;

My spirit always finds

With you a new delight—

Finds always new delight In your silver talk' at night.

Come up from your cold bed In the stilly twilight sea,

For the dearest hope lies dead That was ever dear to me.

Come up from your cold bed,

And we’ll talk about the dead.

Tell me—for oft you go,

Winds, lovely winds of night— About those chambers low,

With sheets so dainty white !

If they sleep thro’ all the night In those rooms so chill and white!

Talk to me, winds, and say If in the grave be rest;

For, O, life’s little day Is a weary one at best;

Talk to me, winds, and say If death will give me rest.


Everybody in Melbourne knows that, at the corner of William Street and Lonsdale Street, there stands a Flagstaff, and that thereupon a Union Jack may be seen flying almost daily in front of the Government House. Everybody also knows, or ought to know, that whenever such Union Jack is there hoisted, the Governor or Acting Governor is understood to be within the walls of that Government House ; and that whether the flag be flying or not, the Prime Minister for the time being is always supposed to be, and generally is, there closeted—now with his colleagues, anon with a deputation, and then with a sub-official, or sometimes, as a rarity, by himself. But it is not to Government House we purpose wending our way to-day. Our steps are bent to a small, clean, red-brick building, just behind, where you may see neatly written, beside one of the doors, in white paint, on a black ground, ;

“ Registrar-General’s Office.”

It is within this building that the Registrar-General, Major Campbell, and Mr. Assistant Registrar-General Archer, sit, spider-like, spinning their webs all over the land, and catching, without intermission, facts that occur every minute of the day and night connected with the social progress of the colony. Has Mrs. Love, in her nice little suburban cottage, any distance from town that you please, suddenly upset the whole household by presenting her lord with an unmistakeable pledge of affection, sure enough, the possessor of the Registrarship in that locality, quiet as he looks, and sound asleep as he may be, at the very moment when Doctor Smirk-and-smile arrives, just in time to take un petit verve and his five-guinea fee, for admiring the baby who has thought proper to arrive before him; sure enough, I say, that Registrar will know all about it in a morning or two, and will note the fact down ; and look very sharp indeed, that, within the time prescribed by law, all sorts of facts about the little stranger shall be duly entered in duplicate in a large red book, in which will be posted, with a marvellous minuteness, when and where that little stranger was born, the ages of his parents, the names and ages of his brothers and sisters; and many other things which experience in the old world teaches it is a good thing for society to take account of, and which the said Registrar is therefore employed to record.

And when this Registrar has secured all these particulars, he hands his informant a paper; not a receipt, mind, for he is not allowed to take any money on the occasion; but, sly fellow! a notice that he has not done with Master Love yet, but that, within a certain time therein prescribed, he expects, on behalf of the law, that the young gentleman will be duly presented, either to the Government Vaccinator, who will make no charge, or to some private medical practitioner, such as Dr. Smirk-and-smile, who will, for half a guinea, place in young Love’s veins an atom or two of lymph, which shall preserve his life and comeliness, from one fell disease at least, for an indefinite time to come.

But not only on shore is the ever-watchful Registrar at work. Directly


a ship enters the hay, and before she has dropped her anchor, the captain is politely presented with a series of schedules, among which he finds columns for such casualties as births and deaths, which may have occurred on the voyage; and, as soon as he has filled up these, the sheets are posted to the head office, where we now are, and there the particulars are carefully indexed for the advantage of all whom they may now or hereafter concern.

Then, the marriages, no matter where they occur, whether in the broad day, in cathedral, church, or chapel; or at night, in a cozy little fire-lit parlour in town, or in the log-hut of some distant settlement in the bush, or in a tent on a gold-field; there the ubiquitous Registrar is to be found, with that questionable-looking green book of his, and the officiating clergyman for his amanuensis, who finds out, in a quiet way, all the Registrar wants to know.

But not only on occasions of joy is our Registrar on the alert. The babe, who has breathed an hour and then closed its little eyes for ever on her who for it has suffered martyr-pangs; the brawny gold-digger, who, after a long struggle, has bottomed his last hole; the fair girl who, almost in the last stage of disease, sought these shores for the health she did not find, and whose spirit has now winged its way to a purer sky ; the criminal, who, unseen by the rabble world, but yesterday gave up his worthless life for the better one he took ; the ruler, who, a little while ago, passed through our streets in triumph, deafened with applause, and who now is borne along, unheeding the martial and melodious lament that follows his cold corse: may each and all sleep unseen for evermore in their dark earth-homes; but the Registrar still survives to chronicle the chief stages of their pilgrimage, and the record will be found here in the Fact Office, for reference, in all time to come.

But the work of the Registrar-General, however, is not confined to the chronicling of births, deaths, and marriages. Ilis spare time is, to some extent, encroached upon by such little matters as Patents and Blue-Book Statistics, comprising returns of Revenue and Expenditure, general, local, and military; accounts of all fees received under Acts of Council; of the nature, extent, and cost of all Public Works; the Civil Departments throughout the colony, with the names of all government officers, the date of their entering the service, and the salaries received by them ; then there is a description to be made of all ecclesiastical edifices, and the names of those officiating therein, and the income derived by each minister from the state; then all schools, denominational, national, and private ; the manufactories and mills, and their produce; all grants of land; the gaols and hulks, their inmates and condition, &c., &c.; making a volume of nine hundred or a thousand pages—five fair copies of which have to be made every year. And, concurrent with this plain routine work, there is the constant supplying of medical men with points of vaccine lymph on glass and ivory, and the reception and analysis of the wagon loads of returns under the head of the census.

But let us step inside, and see what matter of general interest we can find there:—

The first thing that meets our eyes as we enter the Registration Room is a stand full of large, strongly-bound books, shewing, by their colors, red, green, and black, as well as by their inscriptions, that they are the original-signed registers of births, marriages, and deaths, from the commencement of the new registration system, in the month of July, 1853, to the present time. The next thing that strikes one is, the insecurity of their position, in case of fire. The building in which they stand is a slight brick one, and the rooms are partitioned off by mere lath and plaster. The large wooden edifice of the Government Printer is immediately adjacent, and the whole group of buildings, with their contents, might disappear in a night. Ever since the establishment of the department, a strong room has been spoken about, and it really is to be hoped that, as soon as the long-talked of new government offices shall have been covered in, the invaluable registers, now in peril, will be among the first to obtain a secure and permanent resting-place. The number of registrations effected in the three years of the existence of the department is, without counting vaccinations, about sixty thousand; and the way in which the immense mass of information accumulated respecting this number is made accessible to the public is as follows :—

First, as the registers come pouring in at the end of a quarter, from ministers, and deputy-registrars, the sheets are narrowly and severely examined with as much despatch as possible, in order to discover errors and ensure their speedy rectification. All instances of non-compliance with the provisions of the registration act are first sought after, and next every discrepancy or clerical error in name, date, or place. As soon as the sharp-eyed examiner has finished noting the inaccuracies, great and small, they are duly reported to the head of the department in case it is a minister, and to the Assistant Registrar-General in case it is a Deputy Registrar, who has sent the return; and a communication is immediately made to the sender, citing all the discrepancies, and containing a courteous request that they may be rectified as far and as soon as possible.

These periodical intimations of error were at first received with some little amount of soreness by a few of the clergy; but when they came to see it was not official fussiness, or a laboriously-doing-nothing spirit, that prompted the return of the schedules, but the actual necessity of protecting the interests of the families mentioned in the various entries, they cheerfully complied with the requirements made of them, and there are now no more zealous co-operatives with the department than the clergy of all denominations.

On the receipt of the schedules again, thus rendered as complete as immediate efforts at rectification can make them, the important task of indexing commences. We say important, for upon due care in this portion of the work may depend the welfare of many a family, spread far and wide. For example, searches are constantly made for, and certificates very frequently given, of the deaths of persons of common names, the owners of which had been assured in some Life Assurance office in Great Britain or Ireland ; and the company would, unless testimony of an official record of death and identity were produced, refuse payment of the policy. In many cases, it has been found that, where the old system of registration would have left the searcher at fault as to identification, the minute details secured under the present comprehensive and scientific plan have sufficed to decide this necessary point. One instance occurred, a little while ago, of the search for the name of a young man, of whom it was doubtful whether he was dead or not, and there was a painstaking looking-through of all the death-register books. He had not been long in Victoria, and was supposed to have gone to one of the gold-fields, and inquiries from England were now made, because a relative had died, leaving him an estate, whose rental was worth from £,1200 to £,1500 a year. Among the long lists of persons of the same name it was difficult to recognize the one sought for in the index ; but two or three were selected which probably referred to him, and in one of the entries the statement of a simple fact caused instant recognition. The cause of death, however, was the very last that the young heir of an estate in England would have been supposed to have encountered in this land of gold, wherein he had so recently arrived. It was “exhaustion from debility, consequent upon starvation 1”

Many a similar sad record of human suffering is bound up in the thick volumes of this department, the details of which would serve for more than one paper of interest; but, perhaps, the most painful and thought-suggesting of all the entries are those of both sexes and all ages dying, some by accident, some by drink, and some by foul play, leaving no trace of who or what they were, beyond the vague suppositious of surrounding survivors, which, however, are faithfully recorded here in the long columns of “ Unknown.”

But it is not only for searches that the registers are important. They are made in the severely-checked indexes on behalf of families or individuals only; but the ever-accumulating instances of mortality occurring among both sexes, at various ages, from every kind of disease, in all localities, together with the enumeration of the little “ new-comes” by way of birth, at the present rate of twelve thousand a year or so, without counting those arriving by sea, will, in the course of a very few years, prove of vast importance in the determination of the laws affecting the development and duration of life among our population.

Two annual reports of considerable interest have already been published, and a third is in preparation. The results contained in these publications are of significance to every intelligent mind in Victoria; and as public attention shall become more alive to the sanitary condition of different districts, and 'also to the necessity of founding Provident Institutions against the monetary evils attendant on sickness, old age, and death, so will these yearly records be increasingly referred to as a fund of valuable practical data. The registration system adopted in Victoria has been recently followed by New South Wales, and we believe is likely to be so by New Zealand. It would be very desirable that all the Australian colonies should work on one uniform plan of registration and statistics, as the value of the results in each colony would thereby be infinitely enhanced. Scotland, which heretofore had no registration system, has within the last year or so come under the operation of an act of the Imperial Parliament, appended to which are schedules nearly identical with those introduced here, upwards of three years ago, by Mr. Archer. They are great improvements on the English ones, and combine nearly all the points of importance suggested by the first legal and statistical authorities in the mother country. No doubt the schedules in England will be eventually rendered uniform with those now adopted in Scotland, Victoria, and New South Wales, and we hope so see, at no distant date, their good example followed by all the British dependencies; o^, at the very least, by all those forming that not inconsiderable portion of the empire, Australasia.

Having thus hurriedly glanced at the Registration portion of the Registrar-General’s Department, we purpose, on an early day, to peep at the Figure Branch of our Fact Office.


There is a charm in the study of history that is’increased by the antiquity of the country of which it treats. Thus has it been frequently made a subject of complaint by American writers, that the stern matter of fact nature of the comparatively recent events they have been compelled to chronicle has somewhat circumscribed their descriptive, if not their imaginative, powers. The deep mystery, hitherto considered impenetrable, but now, in these days of science, being gradually cleared away by records dug from the bowels of the earth—that mystery which clothed the early history of the mighty empires of Babylon and Assyria was a greater incentive to interest than could have been minute records of their prosperity and reverses, had they been preserved to us by the most legible of hiero-glyphical monuments or the most voluminous library of papyri ever gathered together in those days. 0 f the infancy of the Greek and Roman communities we have a more lucid, knowledge, but even here there are wide fields in which the imagination may wander, and indulge freely in those speculative theories with which it delights to solve the questions that vex the learned world. Not, perhaps, such profound theories as enabled “ Knickerbocker ” to set at rest for ever the eagerly-discussed question of the peopling of America, and the right of the present occupants to the soil; but some pleasant fancies running riot amongst the frigid realities graven on the face of history. Perchance a quaint idea of the origin of some long-established custom ; or, the student may fancy he detects in a chain of unimportant events the primary cause of a devastating war, whose origin was stated by the historian to be wrapped in perfect obscurity.

But, even in England, with whose history our school days have made us familiar (if we have neglected the opportunities, or lacked the means of after research)—even in the country of our birth, whose history we are wont to consider, frgm association, as among the things of the present day, the characteristic of mystery, deep impenetrable-mystery, envelopes the remote past; and probably in no country in the world are the inexplicable mementos of a dark forgotten age so elbowed, as it were, by the wonders of science gathered around them in the present days of civilization and enlightenment. The giant steam hurries the clanking train over the wide plains of Salisbury, and the men of commerce, who avail themselves of such rapid means qf locomotion, cast perhaps a careless glance at that vast pile of druidical mystery we call Stonehenge;, and if the subject at all stirs their minds, it will probably be only to estimate the cost and uselessness of setting up such ponderous masses of stone. But these antiquities being so continually brought into contact with our every-day life docs not lessen the mystery of their origin, and of onr remotest traditional annals. The materials for history are in England abundant and varied, including the most stirring themes, and affording scope for the descriptive powers of the most fervid imagination. The latter clause refers more especially to those wild speculations about the origin and early traditions of druidic mysteries, superstition, and cruelty—to the startling invasion and overrunning of the country by the stern Roman that ruled the world, to be again in turn displaced by the wilder and more ferocious hordes of northern barbarians, the piratical Dane, and the Norse Viking—to the gradual, but somewhat protracted, approach towards civilization, and to the pleasant remembrance therewith associated of the early preaching of the Gospel by those devoted missionaries, who left their bright southern home to minister to a barbarous people in a cold and cheerless clime—to the dark ages of feudalism and serfdom, when slavery flourished a recognised institution in Britain; when the doleful curfew bell rang its stern mandate daily to a people whom ignorance had enchained in its most impregnable stronghold—to the preaching of Peter the hermit, the wild and unsurpassed enthusiasm, that seized the old and young of all classes, in the Crusaders of the Holy War. In short, the early days of England are rife with material not only for historic fancy, and historic love, but for romance and song, in a degree unsurpassed by any other country.

Without some of these old mysteries, or some subjects which hoary antiquity has clothed in a legendary romance, history becomes too plain a matter of facts, dates, and names, to excite that interest which it otherwise commands. Hence the record of the five and twenty years existence of the colony of Victoria, while furnishing material for masterly leaders in the daily broad-sheet; for occasional contributions to its periodical literature, in the shape of journals of discoverers or early settlers; and at intervals a pamphlet on the Aborigines, the Chinese immigration, or some kindred subject; yet necessarily lack the groundwork upon which an interesting and attractive history could at present be erected. But then the “ great future ” of Australia is a common cry, and when time shall have toned down what, to us, are the practical realities of every-day life, the chronicler of the next century may find abundant material for historic lore in the narrative of the present day. Since the colony has, from its commencement, been reared in the light of the greatest blessing which civilization has conferred upon mankind, the light of the Printing Press, it becomes almost impossible to associate, even with its earliest annals any of the mystery and gloom that enwraps the birth of older and more celebrated communities.

Let us try, for a short space, to realize the possibility of being a hundred years in advance of time. What a change! Railways cover the country as with a network; the Electric Telegraph maintains a correspondence between every city in the colony, and every capital in Europe, America, and the East. Science, yet unperfected, has achieved such glorious triumphs, and worked such bewildering improvements, that the philosophical magnates of 1856 would stand appalled, could they behold them; and above all, an Australian literature, broad, comprehensive, and stamped with the originality of its birth, has taken a firm hold of the enlightened populace. An Australian ‘‘Lays of Ancient Melbourne” shews us how the bridge was kept, in the manner of “ Iloratius Codes,” by a couple of footpads to the terror of our forefathers. An Australian Cooper lays the scene of exciting romance in the scarcely penetrated bush, and makes the wild savage his hero, and the possessor of high and noble qualities, which, alas! were never discovered until the race was extinct. An Australian Tennyson, the laureate of the country, tunes his mournful lyre to chaunt the memorial of departed genius, or weaves his rhymed pictures of beauty about our daily life. And an Australian historian, for whom we must generalize (for the Old World of literature has never produced one with whom he would not lose by comparison)—he combines the grandeur and truthfulness of Banvard with the elegant diction and fascinating style of Macaulay. And what a story he has to tell. The settlement of Fawkner, and the rival claims of Batman; names to which remoteness has given a coloring approaching those of Columbus and Vespucius; the rise of this unpretending community, and how it steadily progressed, until the wonderful discovery of gold; how, thenceforward, the steady progression was exchanged for an unprecedentedly rapid increase, and how chances and changes, civil, commercial, moral, political and scientific, had alternately convulsed the population, until, wrought in with the events that make up the History of the Country, places have acquired a celebrity which more than aught else tends to promote and keep alive historical and legendary lore.

The spot where the first landing was effected may become to us what the “Plymouth Stone” is to the New Englanders. St. Patrick’s Hall may go down to posterity with the more poetic name of the “ Cradle of Liberty.” We may have our descendants pointing out an Australian “ Runnymede,” where the repeal of some obnoxious law or impost had been effected. We may have (though heaven forbid) a celebrity attaching itself to Batman’s Hill, similar to that for which a monument is erected on Bunker’s Hill. In short, with all the changes of time, with all the changes of its wonderworking course, we may anticipate that material will not be wanting during the next century to make Australian history important as a study and fascinating as an amusement.



That prevention is better than cure is a maxim trite as it is true; but so rarely is it acted upon in regard to public ills, that we hold it to be a cheering sign of the times, especially on the eve of a general election, to witness the quiet, unostentatious attempt that is now being made on the part of a few benevolent men to establish an Industrial Home.

The objects contemplated are stated to be the Providing refuge, instruction, and employment for the following classes of persons:—1. Children of tender years, who are left without natural guardians, and for whom no other provision is made. 2. Children whose parents are considered by the proper authorities to be unfit to be entrusted with their care, and who may be rescued from evil associations by removal to an industrial institution. 8. Young persons who are unable or unwilling to procure any honest means of livelihood; a cl^ss already numerous, and which might hereafter increase to a dangerous extent, unless its progress be checked.” And the prospectus further goes on to say, that “ Directors of known zeal and efficiency, with the co-operation of a committee of ladies, would manage the affairs of the institution; and it is confidently hoped that with the patronage of an enlightened government, and the support of influential men of all classes, the establishment would be of great practical service in promoting the acquisition of useful knowledge and virtuous habits by those who, left to themselves, would grow up in ignorance and vice.”

There is not a doubt of it. Such an establishment, conducted by those having a vocation for it, would be one of the greatest blessings that a community like ours could enjoy. The weeds of juvenile crime have not yet spread over this land with the baneful profusion of older countries, and therefore the task we have to perform is easy compared with the work that Christian men and women have there had and still have to do. Theirs is forest-clearing; ours but garden-culture, and it is our own fault if we do not, with the blessing of God, train the thorned virtues of straying colonial youth to blossom in the face of heaven like the rose.

It is further stated in the prospectus, that the first Industrial Home is to be constructed on a “ Protestant basis,” and a hope is strongly expressed that our “ Roman Catholic fellow-citizens will seek the attainment of the same objects by the formation of a kindred institution,” such, for example, as the French Agricultural Colony for Catholic children at Mettray, near Tours, respecting which some working details are given.

As the subject is one that is sure to excite a good deal of attention, and as we are in possession of some facts that may prove new and pleasing not only to the projectors of the proposed Industrial Home in particular, but to our readers in general, we propose to narrate briefly some instances of the successful efforts made by large-hearted lovers of their kind, of various denominations, in different countries, for the moral salvation of youth.

Good old Sir Thomas More, three centuries ago, said, Let work be found for those companies of idle people whom want forces to be thieves, or w7ho, now being idle vagabonds or useless servants, will certainly grow thieves at last.” “If,” he goes on to say, “you do not find a remedy for these evils, it is a vain thing to boast of your severity of punishing theft; which, though it may have the appearance of justice, yet in itself is neither just nor convenient, for if you suffer your people to be ill-educated, and their manners to be corrupted from their infancy, and then punish them for those crimes to which their first education disposed them, what else is to be concluded from this, but that you first malee thieves and then punish them ?

Ten generations have passed away since the honest martyr-lawyer interred these memorable words, and they fell on deaf ears. In like manner he declaimed against the Draco-like code that punished the parricide and the petty filcher with the same stern punishment of death ; yet it wras not till the early part of the present century that London began to lose its sad prestige as the “ city of the gallows ;” and it is only as it were yesterday that, with regard to youth, the common-sense practical Englishman began to rub his eyes at the sight of the serging masses of juvenile depravity about him, and to hearken to and ponder on the warning voices that echoed the cry heard within London city so long ago, “You are only making thieves to punish them.”

The sentences we have transcribed are to be found in the first book of Utopia, written in Latin, and published first at Louvain, in 1516. In that famous philosophical romance, whose very name has become part and pareel of the English tongue, there is yet untouched a rich mine of sociological wealth ; for, notwithstanding student thought-diggers every now and then sink a hole there, still many a weighty nugget of wisdom is nevertheless to be found therein—many realizable utopianisms that old world mental-miners have not yet turned up to the light of working day.

Five years had scarcely elapsed after Sir Thomas had been hurried to a tyrant-made grave, when a scheme of orphan education was put into operation in the capital of Christendom, by a pious confraternity of lawyers, at the pressing request of Ignatius, of Loyola, the founder of that extraordinary Society in whose ranks the last male descendant of the English sage died only sixty years since.* This institution (St. Mary in Aquiro) yet exists; but the earliest foundation most resembling modern Industrial Homes is that connected with the Hospice.of St. Michael, established for poor children, utterly destitute and friendless, by a poor man named John Leonard Cerusio. The winter of 1581 was very rigorous, and crowds of poor little inheritors of want were left homeless in the streets of the Eternal City. Compassion moved the fatherly heart of “ Giovanni ” to collect as many of these as he could in a house in the street of the bankers, near the palace Chigi. The good man had formerly taught grammar, and, as he had the harmless custom of using Latin words, he was called, in jest, “ the learned ” (“ Le Lettre’), a name given to his children, and which their successors still bear (/Litterati). In order to obtain means for their support, he employed them in cleaning the streets, and the householders made them presents of small gifts. As the good man passed along the thoroughfares of Rome his modest yet noble gait and manner won the hearts of all beholders, and he was commonly called, in consequence, the “ Silent Preacher.” After his death his little establishment of thirty was incorporated with the Hospice of St. Michael. This new asylum owed its origin to Thomas Odescalchi, the nephew of Pope Innocent the Eleventh. Being one day at St. Galle, where his relative Marc Antonio lodged the poor during the night, he perceived that they admitted three fugitive youths. He thought these children ill-placed in common dormitories, and he, therefore, put them with the others in the Place Morgana, where he employed them in the manufacture of coarse wool. Monseigneur Odescalchi was so much attached to his adopted children, that he bought, on the banks of the Tiber, a large piece of ground, on which he built the hospital, ceded afterwards (in 1691) to the sovereign pontiffs, who have, since that time, gradually brought it to its present size and great prosperity. The length of the edifice is 334 yards; the width 80 yards; the circumference is more than half-a-mile.

* Tlie last leaf was shaken from the bough of the noble family tree of the Mores in the person of Thomas of t at name, principal of the College of Bruges, who died in the year 1795, in the City of Bath.


“ No establishment in Europe,” says the Abbe Gaume, from whom this account is taken, “can compare with St. Michael’s for convenience and magnificence.”

It contains four great families, entirely separated from each other, consisting of old people of both sexes, young boys, and young girls. It would take up too much of our space to describe minutely all the particulars of interest connected with this beautiful Christian home; but with respect to the youthful portion of it, we may observe that there are two hundred boys grouped into six chambers; each chamber having a prefect, and two under prefects, chosen from among the best of the scholars. In the superb halls, destined for work, these boys apply themselves to the study of mechanical or liberal arts. “ We passed,” says the Abbe Gaume, “ through workshops of printers, binders, tailors, stovemakers, hatters, dyers, saddlers, cabinetmakers, blacksmiths, and hard-ware manufacturies. For the fine arts, we saw the weaving of carpets in figures or ornaments, engraving on wood, decoration, painting and sculpture, engraving on copper, cameos, and medals. Excellent masters direct the works, and nothing is wanting to the perfection of each of these arts. Not only the ordinary teaching of the schools, but lessons of chemistry, mechanics, practical geometry, music, and the literary sciences, form part of this liberal education.”

As to the girls, of whom there are two hundred and forty, everything fitted to form truly charitable and useful women enters into the place of their education. Besides religion, which they are taught to love and practise, they have lessons in reading, writing, arithmetic, needlework, and even music. The care of the kitchen, and the washing of the community, prepare them for household work. They manufacture, besides, all the ornaments of the pontifical troops, and the half of the profits are given to them as an encouragement. Some work silk clothes and ribbons, either for the use of the hospital or for merchants. Free to remain always in the asylum which brought them up, they are never sent away but to be married or to enter situations.

The children of both sexes are admitted about the age of ten, and are maintained until the age of twenty. The young men are then considered capable of providing for themselves, and receive at their departure a sum of money sufficient to purchase the necessary implements of their trade or profession. The young women, being kept in the asylum, as before mentioned, become entitled, should they marry, to a present of one hundred crowns as a wedding portion.

Besides, however, the institutes of St. Mary in Aquiro and St. Michael, there is another similar asylum, conducted by the Brothers of Christian Doctrine, situated in those vast edifices once consecrated to the pleasures of ancient Borne, the baths of Diocletian. Here the younger boys only attend school; the elder receiving instruction after working hours. The same trades are taught as at St. Michael’s.

But there is a fourth institute we ought not to omit, which, unlike the preceding great establishments, does not permit the children to reside entirely under the same roof. It was founded by a poor mason, named Giovanni Borgi, in the last century. He was accustomed on all fete days to go to the hospital of Saint Esprit to attend the sick. Having nothing else to bestow, he gave them on these occasions his service. He often met, on his way, young children badly clothed and barefooted, exposed to the dangers of vice and idleness, and others he found ill in the hospital. The fate of these poor children deeply touched the heart of the charitable workman. He began by inviting those who were sick to come and see him in his house as soon as convalescent. Assisted by alms, he received, dressed, and apprenticed them to manufacturers in the town. He taught them the catechism, and prepared them for their religious duties. Generous benefactors did not fail to second him with their council and thew purses. The good mason called the little outcasts his children, and they reciprocally gave him the title of “ Daddy ; ” indeed, “ Tatta Giovanni,” or “ Daddy John,” is the familiar homely name by which the institute has always been called in Rome. Giovanni himself was illiterate, but from that very fact he saw the necessity of instruction, and had his children taught the first elements of education. Now they are also taught drawing and geometry. As we said before, the peculiarity of this institution is, that it does not retain its little ones entirely on the premises. From their earliest years they begin to learn a trade in the city. A layman procures places for them ; and every day he inspects their progress and conduct. This method enables the establishment to maintain itself with small resources. Morichini says, “ The maintenance of each costs, upon an average, forty-six crowns, or about ten pounds sterling, a year only. At twenty years of age they are sent away, being then able to manage for themselves ; and the honorable conduct by which they are distinguished in the world proves how much these and similar institutions influence public morals.

Crossing the Alps, let us next come to the Protestant cantons of Switzerland. Pestalozzi, in the latter portion of the last century, with a noble generosity, devoted limited means and arduous labors, year after year, through contempt and calumny, to carry on his charitable plan of rural schools for pauper children. Fellenberg followed him at Hofwyl ; and Wehrli, the coadjutor of the latter, has since developed the Pestalozzian system fully and successfully.

M. Duceptiaux, the Inspector-General of Institutions of Public Charity in Belgium, has collected a vast deal of information for his government from various kingdoms, and Joseph Fletcher, of London, in a succinct resume, has made his report known to the British public. “ Die armenschulen,” of Zellweger, furnished most of the particulars relating to the Swiss schools,' and we here give shortly its substance.

The number of schools erected on the plans of Wehrli have so rapidly increased, that there are now one or more in almost every canton. These have not exactly the same object, but admit of being divided into two classes :    1. Correctional and reformatory schools for delinquent and

vicious children. 2. Asylums and homes for pauper, orphan, deserted, and morally endangered children, who are destitute of the education supplied by the common relations of a family.

The habits of domestic life form the basis upon which these establishments are founded. The superintendence of each of them is ordinarily committed to a married teacher, who fills the office and bears the title of the father of the family (Jiavsvater) ; his wife assists him in all that appertains to the housekeeping and the supervision and the industrial instruction of the girls, and she hears the title of housemother (hausmutter). Organized upon the domestic plan, the greater number of these schools receive children of both sexes.

This union of boys and girls under the same roof is maintained on the principle that the rural school, destined to represent in a minor degree domestic life and village routine, can and ought to admit of the like toleration, provided that the necessary precautions are taken that the intercourse shall not degenerate into abuse. Amongst these precautions may be mentioned : 1. The vigilant supervision of the mother and father of the family. 2. The admission only of children under twelve years of age ; and their dismissal at seventeen. 3. The separation of the dormitories appropriated to children of each sex. Subject to these precautions, which even common sense dictates, the union of children of both sexes in the same establishment presents numerous advantages: 1. In respect to economy of management. 2. In respect of a judicious distribution of labor, as best suited to the capacities of either sex. 3. In respect of instruction and education, by softening the dispositions, creating emulation, and strengthening the fraternal ties which should unite the members of one family.

But that a genuine domestic spirit may prevail in the establishment, the number of inmates should be limited in order that the adopted parents may have daily, and to a certain extent continuous, intercourse with the children entrusted to their care, and that the work of individual education may progress equally with that of collective education. Wehrli considers the number thrown together in one community should never exceed thirty, and the number of pupils usually varies from twenty-four to forty. In some establishments, as at Bàchtelen, on a plan similar to that of the Bauhen Hans, at Hamburgh, the entire family is subdivided into lesser ones of twelve or more children, -who are placed under the superintendence of an assistant “father.” The children generally are usually admitted between six and twelve ; and quit, as already stated, at seventeen or eighteen years of age.

The plan of instruction is that adopted at common elementary schools. Agriculture forms the basis of their industry, and various other occupations are usually introduced to economize the expenditure of the establishment, and to employ the children when they are prevented from out-door work, or when such is not required.    #

The conditions of admission vary with the nature of the establishment ; poverty alone is not generally held as a sufficient qualification. rIhe want of education and parental care are usually deemed necessary. Formed by free societies, these schools are principally supported by voluntary contributions ; but to complete their resources a small annuity is paid by the communes or benefactors, in order that a child destitute of all support may be admitted gratuitously.    _

The suspervision of each establishment is entrusted to a committee, who also direct the placing out of the pupils on their departure, and take a benevolent interest in them afterwards.    #

Experience, however, shewed that these establishments alone did not suffice to meet the case of vicious and offending children. When intermingled with others, in the poor schools, they were the means of introducing tlie germs of a demoralization which the vigilance of their managers could not always counteract. Hence arose the necessity for drawing a line of demarcation between them, and of forming special establishments for the vicious and offending class. One of the first promoters of this reform in Switzerland was Jean Gaspard Zellweger. 1

It would take a goodly-sized volume to describe, even with the utmost brevity, all similar institutions scattered throughout the Protestant and Catholic states of Germany, such as the admirable Wirtemberg schools, and the Protestant Rauhen-Hans, near Hamburg. And, as for Belgium, no end of illustrations might be cited from the extensive practical attempts to carry out her magnificent idea to utterly extinguish vagabondism and scoundrelism by religiously educating and apprenticing every wandering mendicant and pauper child in the kingdom. But as we are treating at present of voluntary associations, and not those wherein government takes the initiative, we will, ere we enter England, rapidly pass through to Prance, wherein is situate the famous colony of Mettray, which, as we stated at the commencement, is quoted in the prospectus before us.

In France and Algeria there are about fifty of the noble asylums, of which Mettray has been the fruitful parent. Upwards of a dozen consist of Penitentiary colonies, founded by private individuals. A few attached to the “ Maison Centrale ” were founded by the state, and the remainder (by far the greatest number) are devoted to orphans, foundlings, and other deserted indigent children. About twenty are directed by laymen, nearly the same number by religious bodies, and about a dozen are under a mixed direction, partly lay and partly religious. The number of children under charge is about 8,000, and the relapses only eleven per cent ! The capital sunk in the various establishments is not far short of a quarter oí a million sterling !

All are Catholic, with the exception of two or three of the smaller asylums which are Protestant; and one of these latter, we conceive, would be a more appropriate model for the industrial home, now proposed to be founded on a “ distinct Protestant basis,” than would the gigantic establishment of Mettray, administered, as it is, on strict Catholic principles. The one at Neuhof, for example,near Strasburg, in the department of the “Bas Rhin,” is for Protestant children only, and contains youth of both sexes. There are between forty and fifty boys, and about thirty girls. The boys are subdivided into three, and the girls into two, families each, under a distinct superintendent ; the pere and mere (Haus-Vater and Haus-Mutter) being aided by a teacher for the boys, two superintendents for the girls, three laborers, a gardener, and a cook ; the whole establishment costing less than 3000 francs (£,120) a year, exclusive of the board and lodging which they receive on the establishment. The workshops have been abandoned, on account of the cost being greater than any profit derived from them ; and the labor of the children is now restricted to the cultivation of the soil and the household duties.

But even to carry on this little establishment, it is stated by its friends, “ demands great sacrifices and painful labor every day and every hour.” And again, “ It is not with a view to mere worldly advantages that men will devote themselves to this,” but it is found that “religion alone can do the work.”

We invite all projectors of similar institutes to a serious consideration of this testimony. On every side the same results are witnessed. Fine buildings and ample subscriptions will 'be of little avail if there are not found parental-like hearts, who, loving little children for their Maker’s sake, will shew a similar tender, unwearying watchfulness to that exemplified by the “ Freres Chretiens,” the “ Trappists,” and the “ Brothers of St. Vincent de Paul.”

Now let us come to England. Ever slow in measures of reform, it was not till 1840 that our venerable parent thought fit to follow the steps of her sister states. She then proceeded to stop, by legislative enactment, the tottering steps of infants to the gaols—those crime universities, where youth graduates by sure degrees to most accomplished villainhood. By this act the Court of Chancery was empowered to consign all infants convicted of felony to any person whom it might select, but there is no trace of this statute ever being put in force.*

Seven years after (1847) justices were empowered, in cases of simple larceny, summarily to convict offenders under fourteen (afterwards sixteen) years of age. The same act also empowered the justices, if they deemed fit, to dismiss the child unpunished, if competent individuals came forward and gave sureties for his good behaviour, f This enabled benevolent parties having reformatories of their own to take charge of such delinquents, if he were willing to go with them and remain under their care, but gave them no power of detention, and consequently made their surety a very perilous affair.

Besides these two acts, the crown has, for some time past, been in the habit of granting conditional pardons to such juvenile prisoners, from Mill-bank or Westminster Bridewell, as were recommended to them by the Inspectors, on condition of their consenting to go to and remain at the Philanthropic Society’s Farm School, at Red Hill. About one hundred are now sent thither annually; and for these the government pays £25 a year a head.

These slight and tentative steps were the only official ones taken in the right direction till 1854. At the close of the session of that year, however, two acts were passed, one for England and Wales, and the other for Scotland. The first of these acts empowers judges and magistrates, in case of any child found guilty of an offence which subjects it to fourteen days’ imprisonment at least, to commit such child, after the expiration of its sentence, to any reformatory (out of the dozen or so now existing) which shall have been duly certified by the Inspector of Prisons, for a term of not less than two nor more than five years. The act also gives power to compel the parents or step-parents of youthful offenders, whenever able, to pay for their maintenance in these reformatories, and charges the government with their maintenance whenever not recoverable from the parents. The Scotch act extends the provisions of the law to vagrants as well as to convicted children,and empowers the committee of the privy council to aid in the establishment of reformatory schools, and contains, besides, a clause

* Edinburgh Review, No. 200.

t Ibid.

burdening the parish with the maintenence of the vagrant and delinquent children so committed, in default of parental ability.

Serious as are the short-comings and errors in principle of portions of these acts, yet still it would be well worthy of the consideration of the public as to what extent it would be practicable and just to carry out certain of their provisions here. At an early date we may possibly treat somewhat fully on this point; but this month both our space and our time are limited, and we must now draw the present article to a close. We must defer consideration also of the Philanthropic Farm School at Red Hill, and other institutions in Great Britain, all of which are entrusted to those who consider it their duty not so much to give literary information to, as to manage the tempers of, the children, and reform their habits. This we may mention, however, that the testimony from these, as from those on the continent, is to the effect that, while it is almost hopeless to attempt to reform old offenders, yet it is no less true that, by adopting the means here indicated, we can if we will rescue the young to the extent of at least three out of every four of those who otherwise, in the course of time, would swell the ranks of criminal adults.

We have in Victoria, at this moment, somewhere about 80,000 children, of both sexes, under the age of fifteen. Now, how many of these ought to be at school, and how many really are there ? And of those absent what are they doing ? It is a thing well worth finding out—a lesson it would be well for us to get by heart. We fear it would startle us to know the true number of the wild, brutal, vicious Ishmaels growing up around us, ready at any moment to break through the laws of God and man, in defiance of judges, police, hulks, stockades, and other appliances of justice for which we are paying so dear.

We have schools, denominational, national, and private, for the well-conducted children of the colony; and we have asylums for orphans, properly so called, both Protestant and Catholic; but there are actual juvenile offenders for whom we have no reformatory schools after the manner of Mettray; and masses of heady youth, who need Preventive Schools, like those of the Belgium Ruysseleide and the English Red Hill asylums, wherever they may find, what now they so sadly lack, a tender moral parentage.

To supply this want among Protestants is, so far as we understand, what the projectors of the Industrial Home have at heart. We foresee many difficulties in their way, some legal, some social, some religious; but the step they have taken is a right one, and in our own sphere we are ready to go and do likewise.

Why should not Melbourne and every other town in Victoria be divided into Benevolence’s as well as policemen’s beats ? Why should we not have our guardians of morals as well as those of peace ? Of this, at all events, we are sure, that if the projectors of the Industrial Home will, by themselves or their agents, seek out and protect all morally endangered children in the Protestant section of the community; the brethren of St. Vincent de Paul, or other laymen, will not be laggards in doing their share of similar Christian deed.

May it ever be ours to witness among us such loving rivalry, such peaceful strife as this, where each shall aim in humble earnestness to outshine the other in using the powers with which God hath blessed us, for the performance of all good works!



Flower borders.—As the different sorts of shrubs and herbaceous plants are now beginning to grow vigorously, many of them being already in flower, the beds, borders, and shrubberies should be thoroughly cleaned from weeds and litter of all kinds, so as to impart an air of order and liveliness to the surface.

Hardy and half-liardy annuals.—Towards the end of the month begin to sow seed of the more hardy kind of annuals, such as Echium viola-ceum, purple and white Candy-tuft, Larkspur, Venus’ navel wort, Adonis, Convolvulus, Lupines, double and single Lychnis, Venus’ looking-glass, Lobel’s catch fly, Sunflowers, yellow and purple Hawkweed, Lavatera of sorts, oriental Musk and other Mallows, Alyssum, Aster, Blitum, Briza, minima and maxima, Cynoglossum, tenweek, and other Stocks; Cheiran-thus annuus, tricuspidatus and maritimus, Linaria, spartium, triornitho-phera, purple and white Honesty, Medicago intertesta, scutellata, radiata, and concinnata, terebellum, elegans, orbicularis, turbinnata, and aculeata.

Of the biennials may now be sown Agrostemma, Anchusa, Althea, Echium, violaceum and Italicum; Lavatera arboria, Linum, Salvia, the different species, evening primroses, (Enothera biennis. These should be sown in beds, to be planted out in the borders in October and November; but as the annuals do not so well bear transplanting, it would be advisable to sow them in patches where they are to remain. Make the ground fine and even with a garden trowel, and draw a little earth off the top to one side before sowing the seed; sow each sort in separate patches, the small seeds half an inch deep, and the larger kinds an inch deep at the least, covering with the earth that had been drawn off.


From the 23rd op June to the 22nd July (inclusive), prom observations


The mid-winter weather during the month ending the 22nd July has been cold, damp, and eminently disagreeable. March having been the hottest month during the summer, the exceeding cold of July has been more keenly felt than usual, the change from 95° to 32° having been comparatively sudden.

The mean temperature during the last month was 48-5° Fahr., or nearly the same as last year. The lowest temperature recorded was on the 9th, namely, 32° ,when ice formed on the surface of shallow pools: it fell to 32'5° on the morning of the 10th, and to 32*2° on the 20tli. The highest temperature was on the 23rd of June, namely, (i0-2°. The thermometer rose to 50-2° on 1st July, to 53T° on the 4th, to 54T° on the 19th, and to 52-9° on the 22nd. Not unfrequently, during the day, at the period of the maximum temperature, the thermometer was as low as 44-0°—4()-8°—47-9°—and 48‘2°, and at such times, if the wind blew briskly, the cold was most severely felt, reminding one of the black November days in England. The air here, however, even during winter, is

generally moderately dry, and under all circumstances may be inhaled by robust persons with satisfaction rather than discomfort.    _

The barometer has been very steady and moderately high during the month, sometimes rising to 30-300 in., and sinking as low as 29-576 in., but usually sinking very gradually; consequently the winds have seldom been brisk, but more generally very faint and unsteady.. They have blown usually very faintly from the N. and N.E. at early morning, and changed to S. or S.W. as the sun approached the meridian. On the 25th, 26tli, and 30th June it blew strongly from the N., and strong gales were common on the coast during that month. A fresh breeze blew from the N. on the 5th July, and subsequently fell calm on the evening of the 6th July. Lightning, usual at this season, was seen on the evening of the 24th of June.

A cold greyish blue sky is sometimes seen at this season in Australia, reminding the meteorologist of the November blue skies in England. The clouds generally are oi a cold grey tint when the weather is changeable and immediately preceding rain; but sometimes, as on the 21st and 22nd of July, the clouds were remarkably beautiful, of a fine warm tint, and of the cumulus form.    _

Generally, during winter a thick fog is seen to creep over the low lands during the evening. At morning a bank of brownish colored vapour is seen about 5° or 8° above the horizon of the Bay, surmounted by elegantly-shaped cumulus clouds. This phenomenon is most commonly observed during fine settled weather, when the barometer is high and steady.    _

Rain fell on thirteen days :—It fell to the depth of -125 in., on the 2nd July ; *170 in., on the 4th; -550 in. on the lltli; -510 in. on the 12th; -100 in. on the 14th; and to the depth of -110 in. on the 15th ; the showers being very light on other days.

Heavy showers of hail were observed during the month.    _

Thorughout the country the weather has been severe, the rain having rendered the roads almost impassable, and, in some places, seriously impeded the labors of the miners, while the cold has been such as to whiten the ground at night with hoar-frost. The nights usually have been moderately clear and fine.



The long list of examples of which the statue of iron and clay was an antetype has received another accession in the New Political Movement. When we last wrote, an agitation was in progress, having for its object the erection of a popular organ of power to stand in opposition to the government, and to influence the elections by promulgating a connected code of political tests, to be applied to the several candidates. Unlike most leagues, it neither had nor professed any objects beyond these. No distinct reform was sought, no redress of a grievance demanded, no social or moral advance moved for, no great political principle enunciated. A League was formed, or rather projected, for the sake of having a league ; the movement had “ this extent, no more.” An organised opposition was the only object on which all were agreed- Opinions the most diversified characterized the long list of names appended to the requisition. So much of tne plan as was determined on by the movers was the formation of a Committee to draw up a political creed, and the holding of a monster meeting to discuss and adopt it: and the creed, when decided on, was to be a sort of Procrustes’ bed, by which to try all candidates for popular suffrages. The fallacies of the scheme were obvious, and have been ably expounded by the daily press. The futility of expecting a cordial decision, with reference to points on which the whole of the members were at issue, is so manifest that it is surprising how men of intelligence could ever have entertained such a project. ^ The absurdity of an opposition when there was nothing to oppose is equally plain; it is, in fact, a kind of game at politics with “double dummy.” Under the old regime, when a government, composed of irresponsible officials and nominees, might be supposed to entertain Hews at variance with those of the public at large, there might be some foundation for the desire to unite the representative members into a defensive phalanx; but now, under a constitutional government, composed of such of the representatives themselves


as are declared, by common voice, to have the confidence of the majority, such an opposition could hut he a house divided against itself.

As might have been anticipated, the movement was a failure. After several stormy discussions, first on the appointment of a Committee, and then on the adoption of resolutions which were to sway the destinies of the colony, the great bubble burst. The Platform, as it was called, became a battery in which the guns were turned inwards and upon each other, and the movement perished ,by internecine battle. It may naturally be supposed that many of the members were themselves conscious of the difficulty, and only joined the movement in the hope of forwarding their own views and of introducing resolutions favorable to the principles for which they individually contended. The programme first issued was of so vague and indefinite a character that no one was satisfied with it, and, after several hot contests, a code was presented, which was objected to on all hands as being too minute and too decided upon many vexed questions. At last the endeavour was given up as hopeless. The importance of many of the subjects touched upon, and the indirect benefit which has ensued by the direction of public attention to them, will be gathered from the following precis of the elaborated code :

I. That no political programme can be satisfactory which does not ensure perfect civil and religious liberty, which result the new Constitution fails to accomplish, viz :

1.    By continuing State Aid to Religion.

2.    By unequal Electoral Distribution.

3.    By failing to secure Universal Suffrage.

4.    By the omission of a provision for the Ballot.

5.    By prolonging the duration of Parliaments beyond three years.

G. By giving to the Legislature an undue permanency, without giving the Executive a power of dissolution.

7.    By so limiting the Constituency of the Legislative Council as to occasion the lisk

of its being antagonistic to the Assembly.

8.    By requiring a Property Qualification for membership.

II.    That the Efficiency of Public Departments cannot be secured so long as paid officials sit in the Houses.

III.    That the question of Compensation to the Squatters cannot justly be entertained in a general sense: but that, in the unsettled districts, where the leases are unexpired, consideration should be given for loss sustained from the progress of the colony.

IV.    That the Sectarian aspect of Education should be discouraged, and the State Aid extensively applied to Secular Instruction.

V.    That the common interests of the Australian Colonies demand a Federal System, in which each shall retain its own powers of self-government.

The next topic of interest in our political world is the progress of the Elections. The number of candidates is yet insufficient for the constituencies, even supposing them to be distributed and elected without contest. Many districts are yet without candidates, and some of the more esteemed old candidates are so sought after that they have “all the world before them where to choose,” and it is almost to be wished that some of them could be multiplied, polyp-like, by division. The following list of the candidates at present before the public will shew one, at least, of the effects of a Property Qualification:

For the Legislative Council (Upper House).

Central Province.....T. T. a’Beckett.

J. P. Fawkner.

T. H. Fellows.

J. Brock.

Southern Province    -    -    -    -    T. H. Power.

G. Sherwin.

Dr. Barfy

R.    C. Walker.

T. McCombie.

Western Province    -    -    -    -    J. F. Palmer.

A. R. Cruikshank.

C. J. Griffith.

S.    G. Henty.

I.    Ritchie.

F. Henty.

J.    Wilson.

North-Western Province

- - P. Thompson. — Allan.

J. H. Patterson.

W. H. F. Mitchell.

Eastern Province - -

- - W. Higliett.

— Thompson. Col. Anderson.

South-Western Province

- - J. D. Pinnock.

R. W. Pohlman.

Each Province returns Five Members.

For the Legislative Assembly (Lower House).

Melbourne (5) - 4 .

- . W. F. Stawell.

South Melbourne (1) -

- . Capt. Clarke.

R. S. Anderson. D. Blair.

St. Kilda (2) - - - -

- - JF. J. Sargood H. S. Chapman. F. Stephen.

Williamstown (1) - -

- - J. L. Foster.

Geelong (4) ... -

- - C. Sladen.

J. H. Brooke. A. Fyfe.

J. Wood.

G. Board.

A. Thomson. — Bright.

Portland (2).....

- H. C. E. Childers. W. A. Hughes.

J. Henty.

Belfast (1).....

- — Pridham.

Kilmore ( 1 ).....

- P. O’Brien.

Kyneton Boroughs (1) - -

- B. Kenworthy. A. Chisholm.

G. W. Johnson. R. N. Clarke.

Alberton (1).....

- J. Orr.

— Davis.

Castlemaine Boroughs (2) -

- •— Pyke.

Talbot (2).....

- D. Longden.

G. M. Stephen. * B. C. Aspinall.

East Bourke (2) - - - -

- W. Kirby.

T. McDermott J. Macgregor. W. Pender.

E. Whitby.

South Bourke (2) - - -

- D. Young.

T. S. Cope.

J. B. Bennett. R. C. Walker. Capt. Pasley.

Evelyn and Mornington (1)

- P. Snodgrass.

W. A. D. Anderson. J. Quirk.

Anglesey and Dalhousie (1)

- W. T. Mollison.

Villiers and Heytesbury (1)

- C. G. Duffy. J. M. Allan.

Polwarth and Ripon (1) -

- C. Campbell.

Murray (2)

Gipps’ Land (1) -Brighton (1) -    -

Sandhurst (1)    -

Oollingwood (2) -

Richmond (2)-    -

Wimmera (2) - -West Bourke (2) -

J. Goodman.

W. Forlonge.

W. T. Adamson.

S.    G. Watson.

J. King.

J. B. Were.

J. M. Grant.

T.    Enabling.

J. Harker.

W. Hull.

D. S. Campbell. W. Hammill.

P. Phelan.


The growth of Mechanics’ Institutions in every township must be accepted as a favorable omen of a healthy tone of mind. Many writers have of late declared both here, and elsewhere, that Mechanics’ Institutions have failed to accomplish the end for which they were devised, and the dogma has been so often repeated that it has gained a certain amount of credence. It is easy to shew that the statement is devoid of foundation. Those who expect a Mechanics’ Institution to fulfil the functions of a college, or to supply specific and sufficient instruction on every branch of learning cultivated within its walls, must expect to be disappointed. As well might wre look for forest trees in a nursery, or expect to acquire a familiarity with classic lore by the occasional reading of a translation. The end of Mechanics’ Institutions is to cultivate a taste for literature and science, to implant the seeds of learning, and to prepare the mind, so to speak, for subsequent special training. In some cases, as in the splendid institution at Liverpool, the initiatory and training processes are connected in the same foundation ; and most of the older and larger institutions have classes and laboratories in which students may follow up the branches of learning to which their attention is directed by what they acquire in the lecture, the theatre, the reading room, and the museum. The Melbourne Institution, which, not long since, was a mere emulating library and newsroom, and that a bad one, has of late made rapid strides, and now books of standard merit may be found in the library, and the tables are covered with the best periodical literature of Europe, besides all the products of the colonial press. The rooms are thronged with readers daily. In the suburbs, and in many inland towns, similar movements are in progress. In Collingwood there has been much rivalry, not to say contention, between Fitzroy Ward and the inhabitants of the Flat as to the selection of a site ; and there was for some time a fear that the project would fail from a division of the forces ; but this difficulty has been settled by the choice of a central position, and all now promises well. In Prahran the defunct institution has been revived with so much success that a commodious building is in course of erection. A small portion of this has already been built for the temporary accommodation of the members, and a course of lectures is now in process of delivery. Similar steps have been taken at Emerald Hill.

But a gloomier topic demands our notice. The crime of wife-beating has reached such a pitch as to demand special legislation. Few days pass without some record of brutality to women. Several cases have occurred recently of men savagely assaulting their wives with blows, kicks, and deadly weapons. One man beat his wife upon the face with a chair : another kicked her in the mouth with a heavy boot : and a third killed her with similar treatment. Intemperance, on one or both sides, is a very frequent carrse of this, and it has not unfrequently happened that a weakly woman has supported her ruffianly husband and a young family by her labor, and has only received illusage tor her return. It is difficult to award suitable punishment for this atrocious offence, as the wife is in all cases the sufferer ; either the husband visits his fine or imprisonment on her as soon as he is liberated, or, if he be incarcerated for a long term, she is deprived of the support derived from his labor. Repulsive as it is, flogging would seem to be the most appropriate punishment, while the injustice of the present law of divorce remains on the statute book, and forbids the only real remedy.    _    _

A lamentable case of suffering has lately attracted public attention. A poor half-witted man was committed to gaol, under the Vagrant Act, for being found naked, houseless, and destitute; nothing else. Perhaps the sentence may have been dictated by motives of kindness; but let us mark the sequel. At the end of his short term of imprisonment he was discharged, penniless, cropped, and covered only with the comfortless felon-branded garments of the gaol. Steal he did not for his living: to obtain work in such a guise was impossible. Driven from among men, he repaired to the swamp near the gas works, there to end his miserable, hopeless life. After some days he was found, crippled by cold, wet, and privation, so as to be incapable of motion, his feet absolutely mortifying, and himself dying of sheer misery and starvation. And this in a country which boasts of its wealth and its charities.

A subscription toward the Nightingale fund has been set on foot, and the expressions at a recent public meeting on the subject were very enthusiastic.

The festival of Independence was celebrated as usual in every town of note. Brother Jonathan gathered all his friends and his kinsfolk together, to do honor to the glorious anniversary. On the eightieth anniversary of the ever memorable Declaration, our American brethren assembled, wherever a dozen of them could be found, to rejoice over the victories of their patriot forefathers, and to extend the right hand of fellowship to all the world. The arrival of the welcome news of Peace was celebrated here by a general holiday, with its reviews by day, and crowded theatres in the evening. The heavy rain seemed hardly to damp the ardour of the pleasure seekers, though themselves were wet through. Thousands set out with the full intention of bein amused, and therefore amused they were. The anniversary of Separation from New South Wales was kept in a more temperate, not to say decent, manner titan the orgies which in 1850 welcomed its advent.

The Denominational Schools Teachers have formed themselves into a society for the purpose of mutual improvement, &c.: a highly creditable proceeding. It would be still better if all the Educators of the Colony were to unite themselves into a body to educate the profession. The Eight Hours’ system of labor seems to be a bone of contention; many, who are immediately interested as employers or workman, see difficulties in the scheme. A prize of ¿620 has been given by the Labor League for the best essay on the subject. The Victorian Club has taken up its quartern temporarily in Bourke-street West, having rented two houses nearly opposite the St. Patrick’s Hall. This site would seem to be at the wrong end of the town, as in the latter part of the day, when a club is most frequented, the City population works eastward.


The Museum of Natural History is now the subject of a brisk agitation. Some time since, when the mistake was made of commencing retrenchment at the wrong end, fears were entertained lest the Museum would be abandoned altogether for want of funds, and the Council of the University undertook to provide for it, on receiving a suitable grant to defray the expenses of providing accommodation. The rooms are now ready, and the cases fitted up; and the collection has been removed within the last few days. Lathe mean time a movement, which originated with some members of the Philosophical Society, has been made to protest against tbe establishment of the Museum at a place so inconveniently distant from the centre of the town. The Library was talked of as a suitable repository, but unfortunately it cannot offer the required accommodation. Doubtless the main value of the Museum will be lost, if it be allowed to remain where it now is, as the place is all but inaccessible. The objection is also made that to vest the custody of it in the Council of the University would almost amount to making a close institution; and that, at any rate, the public interest should be ensured against even a possible usurpation. Granted; but how much, greater the evil if the Philosophical Institute be allowed to assume a connection with it: this body has all along claimed a sort of relation to the Musuem, which is simply impossible, as it is but a private society. We have nothing to say here concerning the influence of the Institute, but must say that we shall look with the greatest distrust on any plant which tends to vest in any other than a public body, specially organized for the purpose, the slightest power of interference with the National Museum.

The Government Geologist has made a long and very interesting report of his researches into the geology of Victoria; present space does not admit of any lengthened notice of it, but we propose to pay special attention to the subject in a future number. Coal has been discovered at two places within easy distance of Melbourne—viz., at Snapper Point and at Mount Eliza. The Water mains are already laid in several streets, so that it can be supplied to the houses of those who desire it. The Commission has been involved in several disputes with the owners of land near North cote, through which the acqueduct is intended to pass: exorbitant demands have been made for the damage, but in no case has a jury seen fit to award the amount claimed. Hawthorne bridge, which has for years been chained to a tree to keep it from being blown away, is at last voted insecure, and a movement is being made for the erection of a suitable iron bridge, such as ought to have been introduced here long since, to the saving of many lives and many thousand pounds. The Lamp-posts for the city have arrived ; their history presents a series of blunders by which the cost of each will be raised to about ¿£10, to say nothing of delays. ^ Six miles of the Geelong Railway, at the Geelong end, have been opened, and the report is satisfactory. Among the many patents applied for are two inventions for the extraction of gold by means of a screw, used to facilitate the process of amalgamation. Mr. Kentish is still busy in endeavoring to attract attention to his motive power, but has made the signal mistake of refusing to lay his plans before a committee to be nominated for that purpose. Of course, if he possessed the means to carry out his alleged invention, there would be no need for him to call public meetings; therefore the cry “ let him shew us the thing in practice” is absurd; at the same time he cannot expect the public to adopt his dicta without the corroborative evidence of some persons appointed to examine the scheme.


An interesting evidence of a growing literary taste is presented by the demand for books of a high order of merit. Our booksellers are busily engaged in supplying the demand, and, on the arrival of each ship from London, their shops present a scene of bustle closely resembling that of a magazine day in “ the Row.” Scarcely is time afforded for cases to be unpacked, before customers, among whom many may be recognised as constant visitors, swarm round the piles, and it not unfrequently happens that a book to which a special interest attaches is sold out within a few days after its arrival; while English and continental periodicals meet with a ready sale. Literature worthy the name is now an abundant import.

The attendance of visitors at the Public Library is another evidence of our progress in this particular. Every day, morning and evening, the fine hall of the Library may be seen frequented by numbers of persons, of both sexes and all ages, revelling in the elevating luxury there offered them without fee and without ceremony. The visitor has nothing to do, when he enters the building, but to enter his name in the book provided for that purpose, to select from the well-stored shelves his favorite author, and to pursue his study or research in comfort and quiet. It is no trifling advantage that the student has free access to the bookcases, without being annoyed by any needless or troublesome formality, or hindered by the necessity for the intervention of an attendant. We know that, at the British Museum, and in some other institutions, the reader can only obtain books through the medium of an attendant, whose leisure he must await, having first made his decided election. Here there is no such obstacle to research. It happened to us, only the other day, to have occasion for visiting the Library to investigate a single fact. The search, which occupied less than two hours, involved a reference to about forty volumes, and would have been impossible under any other system. This is, of course, an extreme case, but it serves well to illustrate the advantage of the liberal principles on which the institution is conducted. It is worthy of note that not a single instance of injury or loss has occurred since the place was opened.

The University has a small but well-selected library, which is open to., public use. The distance from the centre of the city is a bar to its being much visited, but it contains many books that are not to be found elsewhere, and the information that they are accessible may be interesting to many of our readers.

The Colonial Press has of late been very prolific, and has produced abundance of pamphlets on every variety of subjects. Lectures, sermons, and biographies have thus been published, while medicine, agriculture, and the fine arts, colonial history, and most points of social and political economy, have thus been introduced into public notice. Since we last wrote, the third number of the Medical Journal has appeared. It is replete with matter of interest to the profession, in the form of original articles, reports of cases, reviews of medical books, and extracts from similar publications in other countries. It appears to be well supported, and deservedly; for it is well conducted, and its contents shew that it was wanted, and is likely to prove eminently useful.

Mr. Just’s pamphlet on the Fine Arts, and the comments of the press, ha^f had the effect of stimulating the government to call for designs for frescoes and statuary to decorate the Houses of Parliament, and artists to canvass a project for a Fine Art Exhibition, for which there must now be abundant material. The Exhibition, held four years since, was unsuccessful as a speculation, from various causes, which need not now be discussed, because some of them have passed away, but it gave a sensible stimulus to Colonial Art, and did what scarcely anything else would have done towards the spread of taste for the production of the pencil. Occasional displays of Painting and Sculpture at the Victorian Exhibition and elsewhere have shewn that a very creditable amount of artistic talent may be found in this young community, and we devoutly hope that the decoration of the Houses of Parliament, an opportunity such as may never occur again, will be duly turned to account, and that the result will justify the most favorable anticipations.

The vexed question of State Education is discussed by an anonymous “ Schoolmaster” in a pamphlet printed for gratuitous distribution, and designed to advocate the Denominational by detracting from the National system. The value of the arguments may in some sort be gathered from the following allegations :—The writer states that no religious doctrines, peculiar to any sect, are taught in Denominational schools; that the clergy will not give assistance to schools not under their control; and he recommends that all the children of a district should be gathered into one school, patronized and superintended by all the clergy, who should draw up such regulations as would ensure to each child perfect religious freedom. It would hardly be imagined that the author of such remarks could be an anti-nationalist.

We have before us two published lectures: one on Young Men’s Associations, delivered before the Beechworth Association by the Eev. J. C. Symons; the other on Men of the Colony, delivered at Kyneton, by the Eev. G. F. Barton. Both are replete with excellent counsel towards mental, moral, and religious culture, Mr. Symons addressing himself especially to the social and religious relations, while Mr. Barton touches in addition on commercial subjects, progress, and even launches on the sea of politics. Dr. Lang has published three lectures on the Impolicy of Eeligious Establishments, written with his usual coarseness of language and bigotry of sentiment; many passages would be absolutely unreadable in decent society. The Eev. Mr. Thomas, in a sermon designed to “ improve” the death of John Sadleir, employs language that would be called profane if used anywhere out of the pulpit; he speaks of the devil giving shilling concerts, describes Sadleir as playing at hazard with Satan and losing, says his Bible was a treatise on poisons, and calls the Press pandering and venal.

Mr. Becker has published the first number of his promised work, “ Men of the Time.” It contains four very good portraits: viz., the Attorney-General, the Surveyor-General, and Messrs. Hodgson and Lalor, with a somewhat flattering memoir of each.

Among the prospective publications is a journal of agriculture, projected by the Agricultural Society of Geelong. Two new papers are also talked of: the “Border Post,” to look after the interests of the Murray District; and the “ Miner,” which adopts Federalism as its watchword. Mr. Shilling-law announces a work entitled, “ Aden to Victoria,” being an exposition of the contemplated mail route. Sir George Stephen has in preparation a digest of cases decided in Common Law practice: and Mr. a’Beckett a vindication of the 53rd clause.

The opera season is now drawing to a close, the speculation not having proved as profitable as was anticipated; and the Theatre Eoyal is announced to open for dramatic entertainments on the 18th August. The operas Norma, La Somnambula, Der Freischutz, Lucrezia Borgia, L’Elisir d’Amore, and Martha, or the Maids of Honor, have been successively produced in a very creditable manner, with the aid of Mesdames Bishop and Carandini, M.M. Coulon and Laglaise, and other artists. The concerts of the Philharmonic Society have been uniformly well attended, and the performances have been such as to justify their success. At one of them, a new Benedictus, composed for the occasion by Mr. S. Nelson, was produced. The Garrick Club produced the “ Hunchback” in aid of the funds of the Benevolent Asylum, for which a handsome amount was realised. Cremorne Gardens have passed into the hands of Mr. Coppin, who is busily engaged in preparing for the coming summer by the erection of a new concert room, bars, &c. The work has been committed to Messrs. Ohlfsen-Bagge and Co., the architects of the Olympic Theatre, &c. A Theatrical Fund Society has lately been established on the plan of that subsisting in London. The opera company, mentioned in our last as having arrived by the James Baines, is now performing in Sydney with great success.

9 G


Shadows of the Golden Land ” are now lying on our study table.

The First Love” will hardly bear a second consideration,

“The Passing Railway Train” it rather too fast.

We hardly admire “ The Laburnum ” as much as R. B., and therefore decline gathering its “ Flowers.”

Outward Bound ” cannot, with a due regard to the customs of our port, be entered inward for consumption.    •

If “ Bob Martin ” be not more careful of his moods and tenses, we shall be compelled to decline his favors. We must have farther conversation with him.

Not having the assurance of the hero we cannot insure to “ Insurance and Assurance ” a place in our Journal.

We shall be glad to hear again from Mr. Tite Barnacle, but do not agree with his opinions of “ Miss Dorritt and others.”

There are some harsh notes in “Music and Memory” which need to be modulated.

The Stanzas on “ Death ” are too gloomy.

The “ Reminiscences of a Naturalist’s Wanderings ” shall be borne in mind in our next number.

The Clerk of “ The Weather” is requested to furnish his reports earlier.

“ The Florist” is recommended to cultivate style.

“How should we Educate” is exactly the question we wish to see solved; it shall receive our earnest attention.

Letters home ” were duly received, and filed for future reference.

“Rome.” The diction is hardly worthy of the subject.

Flies in Amber,” being so well preserved, will keep till next month.

Australian Novels ” were not received in time for this number.

“ E. Crossman.” Poetry is evidently not your forte; try the other subjects you mention.

The “Journey to Gipps Land” is rather too dreary.

We have no objection to visit “ Snaggerack” when opportunity offers, but must have the whole plan of the trip before us.

“ Jerroldiana” deferred for the present.

We beg to thank the writers of the numerous contributions which we have received.

We have selected such as suited our present purpose, and have preserved others for future use. Those papers which are not adapted to our requirements will be re-addressed

to their authors, and left in the care of the Publisher, after the issue of each number.


Domdaniel.—The word “ Domdaniel ” occurs in the title of a poetical brochure, published in London in 1853, and again in Hawthorne’s Story of the “ House of Seven Gables.” Can any of your readers oblige with its derivation and meaning ?

Aluminium.—Required, the formulas for the reduction of Aluminium. Most of the notices which have appeared in the English periodicals are merely sketches, and do not enter into detail sufficiently to guide operators, while the text books cannot of course furnish the necessary information, as the discovery has only lately been made.

X Y requests assistance to solve the following equation, if indeed it be capable of solution, which appears doubtful:

b = a — y + x

W. H. Williams, Printer, 94 Bourke Street East, Melbourne«




Man can no more do without works of fiction than he can do without clothing, and, indeed, not so well; for, where climate is propitious, and manners simple, people often manage to loiter down the road of life without any of the “lendings” that Lear cast away from him ; yet, nevertheless, with nothing between the blue heaven and their polished skins, they will gather in a circle round some dusky orator or vocalist, as his imagination bodies forth the forms of things unknown, to the entertainment and elevation of his hearers. To amend our first proposition, then, works of fiction being more necessary, and universally disseminated, than clothing, they still resemble clothing in this, that they take different shapes and fashions in different ages. In the days of Chaucer—

“ First warbler, whose sweet breath ,    Preluded those melodious bursts that fill

The spacious times of great Elizabeth With sounds that echo still ”—■

didactic and descriptive poetry was almost the only recognized vehicle of fiction. Then came the bursts that Chaucer preluded; and in Shak-spere’s days the dramatic form prevailed over all others. For some time afterwards every kind of feeling and thought found its expression^ in miscellaneous verse; and (though he was, of course, not the first novelist) Fielding, probably, set the fashion of that literary garment of the imagination, which has since been almost exclusively worn—the novel.

In the shape of novels, then, civilised man, at the present day, receives the greater part of the fictitious clothing necessary to cover the nakedness of his mind; and our present inquiry is into the feasibil ity of obtaining the material for this sort of manufacture from Australian soil. We are not, of course, questioning the practicability of writing novels in Australia. Thackeray might have begun 11 The Newcomes” in Kensington, and finished the book in Melbourne, as well as on the Continent. Our inquiry is into the feasibility of writing Australian novels; or, to use other words, into the suitability of Australian life and scenery for the novel writers’ purpose ; and, secondly, into the right manner of their treatment.


A reference to the second topic almost forestalls the necessity of our stating the distinct conviction by which we are possessed,' that genuine Australian novels are possible ; and, as a corollary from their being possible, it follows, with apparent obviousness, that they are desirable, inasmuch as it is* desirable that the production of things necessary or comfortable to humanity should be multiplied and increased.

First, however, we must deal with the possibility; for, it has been our lot to fall in with men, by no means altogether given over to stupidity, who deem, what Signor Raffaello calls, “ this bullock-drivers’ country” to present a field, not by any process whatsoever to be tilled and cultivated so as to produce novels, for some ages to come. The real reason, we take it, why our incredulous acquaintances arrived at the opinion they expressed, is, that such cultivation has not yet prospered to any remarkable extent; and that it is always difficult to believe in the possibility of anything of which there is no existing example and type. But, as this particular reason for disbelief is one which, while it has much actual weight over men’s minds, is not often opexdy advanced, some more specific and respectable arguments were required, and, accordingly, were soon forthcoming.

In the first place, then, it is alleged against Australia that it is a new country, and, as Pitt said, when charged with juvenility, “ this is an accusation which I can neither palliate nor deny.” Unless we go into the Aboriginal market for associations,” there is not a single local one, of a century old, to be obtained in Australia; and, setting apart Mr. Fawkner’s pre-Adamite recollections of Colonel Collins, there is not an association in Victoria mellowed by so much as a poor score of years. It must be granted, then, that we are quite debarred from all the interest to be extracted from any kind of archeological accessories. No storied windows, richly dight, cast a dim, religious light over any Australian premises. There are no ruins for that rare old plant, the ivy green, to creep over and make his dainty meal of. No Australian author can hope to extricate his hero or heroine, however pressing the emergency may be, by means of a spring panel and a subterranean passage, or such like relics of feudal barons, and refuges of modern novelists, and the offspring of their imagination. There may be plenty of dilapidated buildings, but not one, the dilapidation of which is sufficiently venerable by age, to tempt the wandering footsteps of the most arrant parvenu of a ghost that ever walked by night. It must be admitted that Mrs. Radcliffe’s genius would be quite thrown away here; and we must reconcile ourselves to the conviction that the foundations of a second “Castle of Otranto” can hardly be laid in Australia during our time. Though the corporation may leave Collins-street quite dark enough for the purpose, it is much too dirty to permit any novelist (having a due regard to her sex) to ask the White Lady of Avenel, or a single one of her female connections, to pass that way.

Even if we survive these losses, the sins of youth continue to beset us. No one old enough for a hero can say,

“ I remember, I remember tbe house where I was born,” apropos of a Victorian dwelling. The antiquity of the United States quite

puts ns to shame ; and it is darkly hinted that there is not so much as a 64 house with seven gables” between Portland and Cape Howe.

Mr. Horne, in his papers on dramatic art, observed very truly, that one does not go to the theatre (or the novel) for a fac simile of nature. If you want that you can see nature itself in the street or next door. You go to get larger and more comprehensive views of nature than your own genius enables you to take for yourself, through the medium of art. In the volume of Shakspere’s plays, for example, is compacted more of nature than one man in a million perceives in a life’s intercourse with the world. Shakspere, like all the kings of fiction, was a great condenser. We are not detained by him, except occasionally, and for subsidiary artistic purposes, with mere gossip about the momentary affairs of the men and women brought upon the scene. A verbatim report of a common evening’s conversation would fill a book, and the greater part of what would be reported would be quite uninteresting, uninstructive, and unconducive to the purposes of art. The author of genius leaves no apparent gaps in the discourse; and brings about, in the reader’s mind a half-illusion that he is listening to a complete and unstrained dialogue; whereas, in fact, the speeches are so concise, and in such sequence, that we only have the essence of any possible conversation. Conversation is one of the essential processes of the writer of fiction, whatever form he may adopt—-otherwise the description of years of life would take years to read.

Now, in the old world, we are accustomed to this kind of conversation ; to conversations not reported verbatim, but artistically. From Shak-spere downwards hundreds of authors have performed this service with admirable general fidelity; and have, at the same time, with artistic skill, concealed the evidences of their own labor as effectually as the sculptor does, in whose smooth and finished marble no mark of the chisel is to be discerned. This much, which is entirely dué to the manner of the narrative, we have suffered ourselves to believe an attribute of the matter; and, because daily life, which is not much more prosaic on one part of the earth’s surface than on another, has been, in the old world, so often and so admirably converted to the purposes of art, we fancy it to be peculiarly adapted to those purposes. Here wTe have not been accustomed to see nature through the medium of art, but directly ; and though, to the eye of genius, “ the earth and every common sight” possesses a 44 glory and a freshness,” and needs needs no abridgement or coloring, yet to possess such powers of perception is the privilege only of one among thousands. The great mass of mankind can only hope to catch glimpses of the glovy of 44 every common sight,” when genius holds it up for them in the right light. This genius has not yet done for Australian nature. Most of us have had more than enough of positive Australian dialogue, but vr-e have never read an Australian dialogue artistically reported. We have heard squatter, and bullock-driver, and digger, talk, and we think it would be very uninteresting, no doubt; and a verbatim report of the conversation of Brown, Jones, and Robinson, in the old world, would be equally uninteresting, but we know by experience that genius can report it so as to be interesting—yet to leave it the conversation of Brown, Jones, and Robinson still. The first genius that performs similar service in Australia will dissipate our incredulity, as to this matter, for ever.

It is not to be assumed that, if the life going on about us seem somewhat slow and tedious, the picture of it must be equally so; for the picture is microcosmic, and does not reproduce the life itself, but a compact and comprehensive likeness of it, that enables us to see, in a few minutes, and in true perspective, the scenes which, in actual existence, we plod through only in^the course^ of years. It is, however, superfluous to deal theoretically wfith the objection, that fiction cannot properly deal with things close upon the foreground of our observation, because it is destroyed by experience.^ European novelists, during one period, thought that their works acquired an extra charm by dealing chiefly with distant times and places. Scott’s genius invested distant times and places with such interest that people began to fancy such distance an essential of such interest. Dickens, on the contrary, by his genius, suddenly awoke London to a per ception of the artistic uses that could be made of every-day London life; and men, in the constant habit of having their boots cleaned at Borough inns, wmre startled to find how the “ boots ” at a Borough inn might be a Sam Weller. Thackeray has, perhaps, gone still farther in selecting his characters from the precise time and circle of his readers. From his pages many old habitues of clubs first acquire a true understanding of club life, and the majority of his admirers are, perhaps, most delighted with seeing their own experiences reproduced to them by this master mind, with the exquisite and seemingly intuitive sense which belongs to him—• of the manner in which true art makes keenly pleasurable the contemplation of what, in its absolute shape, we tire of every day of our lives. The most successful and delightful novels of the present day are so invariably those which deal with immediately surrounding circumstances, both* of time and place, that we shall not discuss farther the second objection we have noticed. A somewhat cognate objection—that of the smallness of the community among which the scenes of Australian novels must at present be necessarily laid—we shall deal with hereafter.

The first is—that details of time and place are to the novel writer what costume is to the painter. Your hack artists, who, year after year, go “ fossicking” for artistic nuggets in such rich but exhausted claims as the Vicar of Wakefield and Don Quixote, and who present the Royal Academy every May with their views of how Moses looked when he brought back the gross of green spectacles, and how Sancho twirled in the air when he was tossed in the blanket, or, when aiming at the truth historical, condemn Edward’s wdfe to suck his wounds through all time, and Alfred to neglect everlasting cakes in a perpetual neatherd’s cottage, are unable to construct a picture out of nature’s own materials ; they can only copy the microcosmic pictures of others. Some there be, even, who are more undisguisedly the painters of costume, and whose pictures merely stand in the place of a Belle Assemblee to a bygone generation. These are great in the peculiarities of armours and doublets, and tell us, with the nicest accuracy, how the barons and John dressed—when he signed the great charter—and nothing more. But the true artist, wdiether he work with brush or pen, deals with nature, and with human feelings and human passions; and the question of clothing is considered for the sake of accuracy and unity, and as an accident, not as an essential.

With respect to feelings and passions, then, which of them is there exeluded from Australian soil ? Certainly not that master passion which is the fiction writers’ most constant theme.

“ All thoughts, all passions, all delights,

That ever move this mortal frame,

Are but the ministers of love,

And feed his sacred flame.”

“Love rules the court, the camp, the grove,” and Australians as effectually as dwellers in old countries; and all the joys and sorrows of that emotion—which wise people, aged sixty and upwards, and other noncombatants in Cupid’s warfare, laugh at and long for—are present for the novelist to deal with, as he tells, in some new form, the oft-told tale of which mankind never tires. Nay, the very fact that numberless lovers are here separated from their loves, should suggest a thousand various stories and situations, peculiar, in their details, to the soil, and yet dealing with a cosmopolitan and universal interest.

Is the opposite feeling of hate banished from Australia? We could contentedly give up the possibility of Australian novels for the assurance that we resided in such a utopia. Alas ! that such a perfect reality cannot be obtained by the sacrifice of so much novelists’ capital.

Is avarice extinct among us? Most emphatically, No ! And with the presence of avarice, we have that of all the schemes, and plots, and wiles with which the avaricious man ministers to his fault. The rapid turns and changes of this place give, indeed, peculiarly free scope for developing the romance of money-making ; and it is not to be overlooked that the desire to make money has good as well as bad phases. Novelists would not have been true to their vocation of giving “a picture in little” of the world as it really is, if they did not, at the present time, cause the plots of their stories very often to turn upon pecuniary failures and successes. Money means command over almostall external things and resources, and is left out of consideration only by those old romancists whose knightly heroes were comfortably provided with whatever their authors thought good for them without the vulgar and mundane necessity of what we call “ making money”—a slow and unromantic process, quite incompatible with their gallant and adventurous lives. Novel heroes now no longer have their occasions supplied out of treasure chambers bursting open to a potent “ open sesame.” We deal with money in a more business-like way. We fight for it in the chancery court as plaintiff in the great case of Jarndyce and Jarndyce—we lose it in the Bundelcund bank—uncle John muddles away the property of Mr. Caxton, senior ; and hero Pisistratus has even to find his way out to this very country of Australia to retrieve the family fortunes. Novel heroes must not expect, in these days, to lead lives of perfect freedom from pecuniary difficulties and embarrassments, any more than other people. They enjoy, as it is, an unfair advantage in the certainty they have of making fortunes in the long run. To judge, however, by the spirit that authors have recently been evincing, there is no security for the poor fellows being left in possession of even this advantage much longer.

A novelist, indeed, can invest more people with the desire to make money than he can even bring the passion of love to bear upon ;—for, with respect to money-makers, the means and ends are alike infinitely various, and susceptible of being adapted to every possible age and character. Ralph Nickleby, and his nephew Nicholas, had, in common, the wish to make money, but the wish in the one was associated with all that was base, and mean, and sordid, in the other with the best and noblest hopes and desires. There is no source of interest connected with money-making of which the Australian novelist cannot avail himself. The means and the motives are at his own command, and he can make us watch the process with every feeling, from that of perfect sympathy to perfect scorn, according to the genius and skill with which those means and motives are conceived and pourtrayed. At the same time, he can make his tale thoroughly Australian. The events may be true and natural to this place, while impossible for any other. We need not labor to shew that the same truth holds good of the feelings and passions. We have here “ the same organs, dimensions, senses,” as the good folks in Europe. “ If you tickle us, do we not laugh ? If you prick us, do we not bleed ?” Human nature being the same, the true requisites of the novelist are to be found in one place as well as in another. Australia offers fresh scenery, fresh costumes, and fresh machinery, new as to its details—great advantages, to those that know how to use them—and, for the rest, presents a field neither better nor worse than most others, in which people love, and hate, and hope, and fear, and strive, and are disappointed, and succeed, and plot, and scheme, and work out their destinies, and obey the good and evil impulses of their infinitely various natures.

One word as to scenery. Many worthy people thought railways would put an end to romance in England. The new police act, it was conceived by others, would be equally destructive to the raw material of novels. The romance of robbery, some imagined, ended when robbers ceased to wear gold-laced coats and jack boots, and to do their business on horseback. The genius of fiction, however, can accommodate herself to greater changes than these, and remains just as fresh and as blooming under circumstances that make people, unacquainted with the invulnerable hardiness of her constitution, predict her immediate decline and death. For our part we hold that there is comparatively little in the circumstance, and almost all in the genius that handles it; but those who believe in mounted robbers, and mourn over the introduction of railways, should feel that in Australia the novelists’ golden age is revived. When Waverley travelled up from London, to visit his northern cousins, the Osbaldistones, he went on horseback, and took a fortnight over the journey—that is the way we manage here to this very day. There was a great deal of “ sticking-up” then, and there; and there is here, and now. Sir William of Deloraine had to swim the stream that it would have spoiled a magnificent description for him to have crossed by a cast-iron bridge, as he would do in the reign of Victoria; but in the colony which bears her name, the Central Road-Board cannot be accused of having destroyed the romance of the water-courses. How, in the name of gas-pipes and rural police, is a traveller to be lost and benighted in England now-a-days. Here he can be placed in that unpleasant but interesting predicament, without violating, in the least, the laws of perfect probability. Look at a railway map of England, and see where

•    “ Now spurs the lated traveller apace

To gain the timely inn.”

He has no control over the iron-horse that whirls him along, and when he gets to the terminus he gains the timely inn in a Hansom cab. Here the description applies with precise accuracy. In short, the natural and external circumstances of Australia partake much more of what we used to call romance than those of England, but we refuse to claim any advantage on this score, and content ourselves with reasserting that those w’ho know how to deal with it can extract almost as much out of one set of circumstances as out of another, wherever the human heart throbs and human society exists.

VVe explain the absence of any really first-class Australian novels simply by a reference to the mathematical doctrine of probabilites. It is only once in many years that there steps forth from among the many millions of the British people a novelist able to break up new ground, and describe phases and conditions of life undescribed before. The great mass of those that load the circulating library shelves

“ Kemodel models rather than the life.”

They only sing the same old song over again, “with variations.” Like most painters, they fancy that they are imitating nature when they are only imitating pictures of nature previously painted. Just as hack orators can only quote from quotations, so hack novelists can only deal with such scenes and characters as have been put upon the stage before. Give them a set of circumstances, for the mode of handling which, for novelistic purposes, they have no precedent, and they know not what to make of it. Show them an actual living man, some type of whom is not to be found in already existing novels, and they can make no use of the material at all. They pass him as they pass thousands of good human materials every day ■without recognising their worth. When the real genius has once laid hold of the new material, however, and shown them how to mould him to the purposes of art, they can “ remodel the model ” ad infinitum, so much easier is it to steal out of books than to accept the gifts of nature.

Well, then, we argue, if only now and then out of the population of all England there arises a novelist capable of breaking up fresh ground, it is not to be wondered at that no such man has yet risen here. Geniuses are like tortoiseshell tom-cats—not impossible, only rare. Every ten years one is born unto great Britain, but probably none exists in Australia, and a reason precisely analagous to this makes it improbable that we have at present among us any one capable of doing justice to Australian materials of fiction. There are not cats enough in Australia to entitle us to a tortoiseshell tom yet, according to the doctrine of averages.    .

We have to confess that we labor under the same disadvantages as afflict the hacks and copyists, and we cannot, therefore, point out how the great untouched Australian quarry is to be rightly worked. Only as we roam about the motley streets, or ride through the silent bush, we have just sense enough to feel that, when the capable eye comes to look upon them, all these rude amorphous materials may be arranged in form of the highest and most artistic beauty. The recorders are tuneless only because there is no one who knows how to play upon them; in the right hands they will “ discourse most eloquent music.”

But if we have not the genius to say how the quarry is to be worked— if we had, we should work it instead of talking about it—we are able to see certain peculiar defects in the attempts that have hitherto been made at Australian novel writing, and one or two of these we will here point out.

In the first place we may remark that most Australian stories are too Australian, and, instead of human life, we have only local “ manners and customs ” pourtrayed in them. The dramatis personce are not people with characters and passions, but lay figures, so constructed, and placed in such attitudes, as to display the costumes of the place and period. The few Australian novels which have been written are too apt to be books of travels in disguise. The authors are but voyagers sailing under the false colors of novelists, and you might as well call the illustrations to Cook’s voyages (depicting “ natives of Nootka sound,” “ war dance among the Sandwich Islanders,” &c.) pictures, as such works novels. They have their uses, doubtless, and are not to be despised, but they are, at best, works of simple instruction as to matters of fact, rather than works of art. If we were asked what was the first requisite of a novel, we should say human character. The second—human character. The third—human character. Even plot and incident comes afterwards, and the mere question of costume and local coloring after plot and incident. In most Australian stories the order is reversed, and Australian customs are predominant. We must be careful not to be misunderstood here, or we might be supposed to say, what would be contrary to the whole tenor of our writing, and to imply that beau ideal Australian novels would only differ in trivial and minor things from any other novels. Let us, then, illustrate what we mean by an example, and let us. take the exquisite scene (from the Antiquary) in old Mucklebackit’s cottage.

That scene could have been laid no where else but in the dwelling of a fisherman upon the Scottish coast. No where else could the characters and incidents have developed themselves in that form. Grief for a son s loss is, indeed, not an emotion confined to one time and place ; and such grief Scott could have brought before us in palace or hovel, as he pleased; but the novelist has to shew us the same human feelings and passions working under various circumstances and modified by tliem.^ Now, in the scene we speak of, all local circumstances—all local coloring—sound and striking as they are, are subordinated to this purpose. Everything else is merely accessory to the display of human character and passion; but human characters and passions are affected and changed by such accessory circumstances; and, thus, while the relative importance^of the elements of fiction remains unaltered, the change in the lesser implies change in the greater, and the combined whole is new, and full of new interest. We have not space to extract the scene here, but, if the reader take sufficient interest in this kind of speculation, let him open the Antiquary and read the description again, and, perhaps, he will apprehend us better. If not, he will not regret reading it again for its own sake.

Now, in the kind of novel we want to see written, but do not expect to read for some time, we want to see a picture of universal human life and passion, but represented as modified by Australian externals. I he description of all these externals must then be truthful and complete, but subordinated to the larger purposes of fiction.

In further illustration of the defect we allude to let us consider what a London story would he, if written in the spirit, and after the fashion, of most Australian stories. The dramatis persona would walk the stage merely to illustrate, in their acts, the habits and peculiarities of London. The work would be a sort of amalgam of “The Great Metropolis,” ” The Book of Trades,” “ The Strangers’ Guide to London,” and“ The Police Reports.” We should learn how different classes of people spend the twenty-four hours—how they live, and what they live upon. We should learn the manner in which policemen arrange their beats, and the system according to which cab fares are regulated. We should learn that there are butchers in Whitechapel, and noblemen in Mayfair. We should learn how London dairymen water their milk, and London bakers get up in the small hours to knead their dough with their heels,—but we should have no true novel, or work of art or genius. We should have a picture, not of human life, as modified by London externals, but of some London externals alone.

We had intended, in this paper, to have reviewed some of the best Australian stories that have yet been published, but these general remarks have extended to such a length that we must postpone the fulfilment of this intention until next month. In the mean time we content ourselves with the concluding remark, that real genius is ever able to draw its inspiration froffi the rills that run at its own feet, and without travelling to Helicon—that everywhere nature has new beauties and truths for the eye and mind that know how to perceive and grasp them—and that, when we complain of her sterility, we should rather humbly confess our own.

The fault is ours, if, in this fresh and vast country, peopled with men of all characters, and degrees, and nations, in which all human feelings and emotions are astir, in which the pulse of existence beats with almost feverish speed, we regard the whole scene as tame and prosaic, and able to furnish the materials for no books but ledgers. What should we have made of such far more barren places as have given up hidden treasures, and been made bright and beautiful for all generations, at the touch of such genius as his, for example,

“ Who trod in glory and in joy,

Following his plough along the mountain side ?”



“ The proper study of mankind is manbut it is so in a higher sense than that sharply epigrammatic, but superficial, poet, Alexander Pope, ever dreamt of. His studies on man we have in his eternally-quoted “ Essay,” his Epistles, and his Satires; of which Archbishop Whateley says, that “Pope’s want of thought is often concealed beneath a sparkling epigram.” The study of Man would be the study of that which man is and does. Man is free, and, therefore, he acts: man is rational, and, therefore, he


acts from motives. Now it is evident, to the most common-place apprehension, that action and motive comprehend the entire range of human life, actual and possible.

But the question is—Why do men act? Do but consider that every action of every individual human being is the ultimate issue of some primial impulse, and then ask, Where has that its origin ? Here around us in the world are some thousand millions of living rational beings, all of them in constant action. From what causes, and to what ends? Or, more directly, what are their springs of action? Or, take a given individual—Cromwell, Peel, Napoleon, Cagliostro, Caesar, Cicero, Wellington, Benjamin D’Israeli: each of these men has acted thus or thus; and for all their actions they had final motives. What were they ?—Carlyle was one day walking down Fleet-street with a friend, conversing on the disappearance of the epic element from modern civilized life. “ Look at this rushing multitude of men and women,” said the sage of the “ Latter-Day Pamphlets;” “note that every single soul in the mingling mass had a special reason for choosing to go this, and not the other, way. Let the man come who will penetrate, elucidate, and sing those reasons, and he will be the epic poet of the age ! ”

Our problem, then, is this:—Given, the man and his actions : to determine his principles of action ? Given, the whole human race, and its actions : to determine its principles of action ?

To us it seems that this, one of the grandest and (to use the expressive Baconian phrase) fruitfullest studies to which any mind could apply itself, and the boundless and fertile field of imagination thus opened up, is not only not exhausted, but it is scarcely yet entered on. Various modern writers have just glanced round the borders of it. Hazlitt, for example, has written essays “ On the Principles of Human Action.” Tucker, in his u Light of Nature,” has pursued the same theme in a more systematic manner. (Hazlitt, by the way, was a disciple of Tucker, and published a condensed edition of his work.) And Jeremy Bentham has published a “ Table of the Springs of Action.” But all these have been but so many preliminary contributions to the great and comprehensive science we have now in view. We may say, without exposing ourselves to the charge of presumption, that our new science has yet to be founded.

Comte’s Science of Sociology, as elaborated in his Cours de Philosophic Positive, is not the science we are in search of; for Comte, though glancing aside at our subject, limits his theorisings strictly to man in society, and his design is to discover a positive basis for all the phenomena of society, or of men aggregated in masses. He holds that such a basis is discoverable, and that those social phenomena are governed by laws as absolute and rigorous as those governing cosmical phenomena. We demur to the “ positive” doctrine; but even let it be granted, and still our science will be, of necessity, antecedent and complementary to Comte’s Sociology.

What, then, in a word, is the science we are seeking ? It is the Science of Motives. And how shall we name it ? for it is still anonymous. Let us select the word “ Hormetics,” from the Greek word Ilorme, which signifies “ motive.”

Now let us distinguish it. Metaphysics or Psychology (the name now generally adopted by metaphysical writers) is the science of knowing and being; Hormetics is the science of action, for man acts as well as knows and exists. Ethics, or Deontology (as Bentham chose to name it) is the science of what man ought to do : Hormetics is the science of what man does. In the moral sciences (as Sir James Mackintosh is careful to point out) the word ought” gives the predominant idea ; there is no such word known to our science.

Again, in Ethics and in Metaphysics the reasoning proceeds from first principles, and is developed outwards to ultimate results. In Hormetics the reasoning, proceeds from ultimate results (actions) inwards to final principles (motives).

Motives (and not manners) “ make the man.” To know a man is to know his motives. What a man’s motives are, that he is. Motives bear the same relation to actions that, in physics, principles bear to facts.

In studying human character actions count for very little, except in so far as they furnish an index to motives; an acute thinker remarks—“ it is in the minute circumstances of a man’s conduct that we are to inquire for his real character. In these he is under the influence of his natural disposition, and acts from himself; while in his more open and important actions he may be drawn by public opinion, and many other external motives, from that bias which his disposition would have taken.”

Whence proceeds the universal aversion to “ imparting motives ?” Is it from an innate conviction that to do so is unjust, invidious, malevolent ? But, if so, why is this assumption so invariably and confidently made, as if it were something quite axiomatic ? Or, does the feeling of aversion proceed from a conviction that none can judge motives but the Omniscient ? And, if so, why should there be so universal an assumption of the inscrutability of human motives ?

“ Keep thy heart with all diligence, for out of it are the issues of life,” counsels the wise man. He meant—Guard thy motives, keep thy springs of action pure, for there lies thy soul’s true life.

It is said of the Divine Founder of Christianity, that He knew what was in man.” By this is indicated his omniscient knowledge of human motives. But, if the complete and absolute knowledge be a divine attribute, it is certain that the more of this knowledge a man gains the more is his intellect elevated towards the divine; always, however, presupposing that his moral nature rises with it.

What is sanity in human actions but that in them which is referable to determinate motive ? If this be so, it follows that insanity is simply that for which no assignable motive can be discovered; or, in other words, that which proceeds from wild and wayward impulse. This distinction, if sustainable on grounds of purely philosophic reasoning, will determine at once the much-agitated question of the possibility of moral, as opposed to mental, insanity.

The passions in man are based on the sympathies which have their roots in the very lowest depths of man’s three-fold being. Hence, it is the sympathies that govern the man more despotically, even, than the passions. Sliakspere, that most profound analyst of human nature, says, “ Masterful passion sways us to the mood of what it likes or loathes.” Then passion has its “ likes” and “ loathingsor, in other \£ords, its final sympathies. And whence do they originate ? Shakspere’s maxim, however, conveys a profound truth; it means—that principles give way at once before the impulses of the sympathies.

As man, physical, is said to he a “ bundle of sensations,” so man, moral, may be defined as a “ bundle of sympathies/’

It is by their sympathies, rather than by their principles, that men are drawn together in political and religious parties. Mere matters of taste exercise a far greater influence over men in society than do great principles or great truths.

The maxims of Rochefoucault, when read one by one, startle and shock us at first, but afterwards they compel our assent to their truth. At first we think them new and strange, but subsequently comes the suspicion, and then the conviction, that they are both old and familiar. Whence does this arise ? If we take each of Rochefoucault’s maxims as a single illustration of some grand general truths or principles, we shall see that there must be a science which co-ordinates and includes them all. That science is Hormetics.

Similarly, all the ever-varying phenomena of human actions must be included under the same general laws; just as the ever-shifting cloud-scenery is all comprehended under the laws of the science of meteorology.

The study and practice of the law have an infallible tendency to warp and deaden the moral sense. This is true of both branches of the legal profession. It explains the proverbially hard and worldly character of both classes.

The motives of a man may be described as the skeleton of his moral being. Our science would thence be fitly named the “Anatomy of Motives.”    _

It is evident that the involuntary emotions or impulses, of whatever kind they may be, are perfectly innocent; that is to say, no moral responsibility can attach to them.    _

The science which would analyse human motives would give an almost superhuman insight into human character ; it would help, more than anything else, to free the mind from ignorant prejudices, and from superficial and false estimates of men; it would furnish a key to the true study of all biography, and all history ; it would establish a basis for the philosophical criticism of the works of all the great dramatists ; it would help to explain numerous apparent paradoxes in human character; it would clear up many contradictions in human life ; it would shew the close connection between many vices and their opposite virtues in the same characters; it^ would throw much light on the vexed questions of the criminal propensities, and how they ought to be dealt with; it would aid in determining the yet undecided question of the limits dividing sanity from insanity; it would throw light on the obscure relations between the man’s physical, mental, and moral natures; it would serve to explain the operation of the refigious sentiments in general, and of Christianity in particular, on the principles of action in mankind ; it would furnish a key to the study of ethical science; and it would help in the determination of many still unsettled questions in practical legislation and criminal jurisprudence. In fine, it would enlarge the entire circle of human knowledge, by super-adding the primary and essential elements of self-knowledge; and, thus, it would enable man to attain self-government, which is the highest attainment of practical wisdom.



( Continued from page 21,J

We determined upon our return the following morning by way of Dandenong Creek, near the station then belonging to the Rev. Mr. Clowe, but now the property of Mr. Beilbv. Unfortunately, shortly after sundown there were signs of rain, the sky became overcast, thunder was heard in the distance, and forked lightning played among the branches of the trees. All hands were busy with their tomahawks in stripping large flakes or sheets of bark from the stringy-bark trees, while others were busy in setting forks and saplings whereon to hang the bark for the erection of willams, or dwellings, as a shelter. The only parties disengaged were the black fellows, whose duties appeared to be to pray for fine weather by a continuedunelancholy chant. This office they continued for a short time after the rain commenced, and when all the rest of us had retired under shelter ; but finding that their good divinity, in the present instance, was deaf to their appeals, they exclaimed, “ Murnongatha Bullarto Porkwadding: Quan-thueeneera?” Murnongatha is very sulky, and why? and commenced throwing ashes in the direction in which they believed she resided, and, saying “ I’see waugh! ” an exclamation of contempt and defiance, they returned to the willams. In this instance they did not believe in her. The storm raged for a short time, but, like all other occurrences, whether of divine or human agency, ceased, and towards midnight all was again calm, and a clear moon and brilliant starlight night succeeded. Sleep had sealed the eyes of most of our party when a gruff “ noo-jee noo-jee” (Anglice, “that do, that will do”) was heard in response to the sharp whizzing bark of poor old “ Go-away,” upon which the camp was fully awake, and greeting the new comer. Our nocturnal visitor was “ Big Jack,” the husband of the plump, curly-haired, pleasing, and musical-voiced Mary Anne, of Yore, but now decrepid with pains at Moordy-Yallock, where, as before observed, we met her with her husband, at present our visitor. After helping himself, without “ by ’r leave,” to a plentiful supply of the various viands, he coiled in, and we were soon all asleep.

Shortly after breakfast all the older men disappeared, leaving me, and Jemmy, and two or three youths, to take charge of the camp and its interesting and astonishingly lovely female occupants. On this occasion my desire to acquire a knowledge of their language appeared to have been observed, and little Sally Sally, the affianced bride of Jemmy, undertook the part of instructing me, and I consequently commenced taking our first lessons in the language. Our clumsy attempts at pronouncing their

soft Italian, although somewhat guttural idiom, was the occasion of loud bursts of laughter from Sally Sally, in which she was joined by the other females, and occasionally by the young men.

The first lesson consisted, as usual, in making me acquainted with the names for the various parts of the body, and commencing, first, with the head, “ Myrnong-atha”—foot, “ Geenong-ah-tha”—leg, “ Thorrong-ah-tha”— the boots, " Geenong-alook,” or, covering for the foot—trowsers, “ Thorong-alook,” or, covering for the legs—gloves, “ Myrnong-alook”—head, “Co-roong-atha”—hat, “ Boblera Corong”—eyes, “ Myrring-ah-tha”—mouth, “ Worong-ah-tha”—ear, “ Kiddnong-ah-tha”—hair,“ Yarra gondockahtah.” Still we observed that every substance of a flowing character was accompanied by the word “ Yarra,” in its various forms and modifications. The name of salt-water, rolling in on the beach, was “ Yarrain”—the river Yarra Yarra, “flowing flowing”—the beard and whiskers, “ Yarragondook,” (fee. For further information touching their language, the readers should refer to my work on the aboriginal language, printed at the Argus office in 1851, the production of which work was the result of this morning’s lesson. This morning we observed that they practised some little amusements among themselves, and some were playing with a puzzle made of string—“ cudgi, cudgick”—made from the fibre of a tree common on the banks of the mountain streams, as well as occasionally on the banks of the Yarra. This puzzle was played between two individuals, and required two pairs of hands in the same manner as the juvenile game of “cats’ cradle,” common to our own country. Many opossums had been caught during our excursion, and the others were now pegged out on sheets of bark, and stretched to their fullest tension with wooden pegs of the Pomaderris apetala, or dogwood. The points of the pegs had been previously scraped with a piece of broken bottle, and hardened in the fire so as to enable them to act as a substitute for European tacks and nails, and a quantity of them was the never-failing accompaniment of a “ Baggerooks,” or black woman’s basket, or perhaps of the “ Silly,” or bag. After the opossum skins are sufficiently stretched and dried, they are very curiously marked, the work of the men; animals, kangaroos, emus, as well as the human figure, are frequently represented by a piece of broken glass bottle, or, when not to be obtained, the bowl of a metal spoon with one side filed sharp for the purpose of scratching the skin when in the soft state. Prior to the introduction among them of needles and thread, they used the finer tendons and sinews of the kangaroo and opossum for thread, and the sharp-pointed bone of a fish or kangaroo for a needle, in sewing their rugs. In those days they needed not the aid of foreign ornament, but were amply adorned with strings, and a necklace called “ Coornburt,” composed of a number of short pieces of reed, strung together, and hanging pendant from the neck. Through the septa of the noses of the young dandies of the male sex were large pieces of bone running transversely through, and forming a kind of spritsail-yard. The young ladies wore around them a kind of bustle, composed of a ropeyarn-like substance, which hung in pendant waves half-way down to the knees. With their hair they took great pains, and, to judge from the extreme anxiety observed in carefully using and putting by into their baskets every string or other decorative material, it would seem to have been connected with one of their rude superstitions, and, as I

subsequently discovered, such was the case. Pomade and grease of opossum fat was rubbed abundantly on the hair, a piece of gaily colored rag being afterwards tied around the head. Fortunately for us, we had taken our first day’s lesson in languages before their elaborate toilette of the day, otherwise we should have committed a breach of aboriginal etiquette, in leaving a neighbourhood whose perfume resembled not the • aroma exhaled by the mignionette or jasmine.

Towards sundown the old warriors returned, as warriors of any nation should, with shield, helimar, spear, jagged geraor, and the “wommera,” or throwing-stick, an instrument necessary in giving the proper impetus to the spear. The helimar, with many other of its ornamental companions, is now extinct. It was made of the thin piece of wood which may be occasionally seen forming protuberances from the large trees; and, in being removed, the outer portion of the bark was taken off, and the whole affair finished into an excellent shape, with a handle through the middle of the narrow portion, whilst on the outer surface was cut or carved a number of zig-zag characters or stripes, on which, when in any way the spear of the enemy alighted, its point was caught. Our friends had brought with them, in addition to the shields, a plentiful supply of some other particularly formidable looking implements of warfare. They appeared to be in a high state of excitement, as compared with the usually philosophic and well-bred bearing which in general characterized this sooty generation. A hive of native bees had been discovered by one of the children—a yan yean, or boy—who had caught one of the little insects, not much larger than a mosquito, while dipping its little proboscis into the blossom of our native honeysuckle, Banksia, extracting from the nectaries of the flower its sweet juices. The little fellow was caught and marked by the boy with the feather-like seed of a composite plant, and followed to its home in a neighbouring gum tree; thus betraying the little industrious community of which it formed a member. The boy returned to the camp and communicated the result of his discovery, when two large protuberances, which may occasionally be seen on the trees, were stripped of their bark and the outer surfaces trimmed, thus forming bowls which were carried to the tree and were speedily filled with pure honey.

The native bees are very small, half the size of the common house-fly, and are stingless.

The bellicose intentions of the warriors appeared to lead them in the direction of the Plenty ranges, and the Gouiburn River, as they took that direction in leaving the camp; and, as I had not yet visited that part of the country, I determined upon prevailing upon Jemmy and one or two of his companions to accompany me in that direction.

My desire met with a ready response, and the next morning was determined on as the time for setting out. The warriors made their exit simultaneously during the silence of the night, as is their wont. In taking the direction of the ranges we were in some measure actuated by a desire to see a little'sport, with the use of the little paltry playthings of spears, at the fight, if fight was intended; and we had now gained sufficient knowledge of the natives as induced us to place the strictest reliance upon their good faith of respecting our claim as a non-combatant, to prevent any fear of being compromised in the results of the campaign.



On starting next morning we travelled for some distance through a forest composed of several sorts of bushy species of the acacia, of which the most prominent and troublesome were the prickly wattle, acacia verticillata. After emerging from this we had for some distance an open country, until reaching a part of the creek on which now stands the station of Mr. Turner, where we camped at noon to take luncheon. A porcupine and a wollaba had been caught during this morning’s stage. From this creek we travelled in a direction bearing to the left, and found large clusters of the Daviesia latifolia, or native hop; and wherever this plant was common the neighbourhood abounded in crab-holes. We soon reached what was afterwards called Thomson’s Station, near the Anderson’s Creek diggings. We camped here for the night, and, after travelling a few miles the following day in the direction of the ranges, learned that peaceful overtures had been made by the Plenty blacks, and accepted by our advanced plenipotentiaries; we again returned to Thomson’s Station, and from thence commenced our final return to the settlement. Passing through the scrubby ground and thinly-timbered and undulating country about Heidelberg, we reached the settlement after an absence of a few days, and rejoined the party of our leader, Dr. Leichardt.


“ Time is—time was”—is half the all we know;

The other half runs thus : “ time was—time is.”

And does the meagre fact stand really so ?

And must the soul contract itself to this ?

If not, let’s try what we can add thereto,

Keeping the fact and consequence in view.

Time was when ocean roll’d where Melbourne stands, (Thus vouclieth each geologist profound,)

Else whence the shelly soil, and porous sands,

And submarine appearances, around ?

’Tis Neptune’s floor, although no longer wet:

Its strata scarce consolidated yet.

Time was when uncouth shapes, in surging gambols, Frolick’d upon the site of Collins-street.

Time is when sylpli-like forms pursue their rambles, Safe from the dread of monsters or damp feet.

Where huge Leviathan amused his lesiure,

The graceful chariot glides on schemes of pleasure.

Time was when black and scraggy tribes contested The “ scrub” with kangaroo and queer opossum,

In scenes which now with verdure are invested,

And gardens redolent of each sweet blossom.

Instead of miamies, mansions now appear,

Where poison touched and malice hurled the spear.

Was this “the noble savage, roaming wild Amid primeval forests,” scorning rage Of brutes or tempests ?—nature's artless child !

Alas! for poets’ dreams, and theories sage,

Of native freedom—“ man’s prescriptive right”—

For which stem patriots spout, mild heroes fight.

Time was when you and I were young, my reader,

And it may be that you are youthful yet—•

An embryo doctor, or a briefless pleader,

Striving each home-taught habit to forget:

“ Seeking the bubble reputation”

By pill or lancet, or fierce litigation.

But there was once a time when herds and flocks,

Like Jacobs, were the sole and solid wealth;

When gas and railway shares, and other stocks,

And divers ways of getting rich by stealth,

Were yet unknown as nuggets; and their diggers Were innocent alike of grog and figures.

Time was when birds enormous, matched with which The eagle were a robin, stalked along

Where the elite of Melbourne (now all rich)

Beguile the time with champagne or with song: Where luxuries—not comforts—now abound.

And pleasure—miscalled happiness—is found.

When each by honest means increased his own,

And “miners’ claims” had ne’er disturbed the peace,

When “ auri sacra fames” was unknown,

And early squatters found the “ Golden Fleece,”

Nor legislators, great at splitting straws,

Discussed the “ Fifty-third,” that doubtful clause.

Not here the vestiges of man’s antiquity,

Relics of ancient cities long entombed,

Hiding alike his talents and iniquity,

Until by modern science late exhumed,

Shewing that man is but incarnate vanity,

And fame and glory nought but sheer insanity.

***** ******

Such was ! Such is ! O ! my prophetic soul,

Veil, veil the future ! nor with sad temerity

Develope scenes which man may not control,

The jealous feuds that wait on our posterity.

Enough for us to urge our onward way,

Nor seek to penetrate beyond to-day.

How oft war’s blast hath desolated nations!

Then let us timely kiss th’ avenging rod,

A city gladly seek “ that hath foundations,”

Whose architect and builder is our God;

Time shall be, in another future’s mouth Will merge this future Empress of the South !




( Continued from our last.)

We found ourselves in the lower part of what we ascertained to be Richmond, and commenced a persevering inquiry for some place of shelter for the night. We passed one or two public houses, but they appeared to overflow^ with guests; and the atmosphere of the bar, in each case, was so heavy with smoke and oaths, with the reek of bad tobacco, and the poison of worse language, that Ellen and I both recoiled to the outer edge of the glare of light, projected from the open doors, and crept, like guilty things, along the opposite side of the road.

After many fruitless inquiries, answered in terms that took the widest possible range of expressions, from kindness to brutality, we met with a vacant room (it was only a closet, but then our cabin on board ship had been no better) in an iron cottage, occupied by an elderlv Scotchwoman, to whom we were to pay £2 15s. per week for the accommodation. Our hostess, as I divined from the washed-out color of her hands, and the corrugation of their skin, was a laundress, realizing a handsome income by bleaching linen at twelve shillings a dozen, while her husband was at the diggings. She was masculine in size, masculine in voice, and masculine in manner ; but I remember nothing about her half so distinctly as the large high cheek bones, which such assumed a disagreeable prominency in her face, in consequence of certain red freckles which there clustered together in a sort of archipelago upon the yellowish sea of her skin. Towards Ellen she assumed a manner that was partly patronizing and partly sympathising. It was patronizing, in virtue of the conscious superiority which she felt that her own strength of limb and habitudes or hard w7ork gave her over such a “ puir fechless body as thatand it was sympathetic, because Ellen’s gentle manner, drooping condition, and exhausted strength, were capable of extorting sympathy from a much harder nature than that of Mrs. M‘Killop. It struck me, as a singular contradiction, that, notwithstanding the old Scotchwoman w7as proud of her capacity to labor, and of her belonging to the laboring classes (to whom, she appeared to think, the colony and all the gold which it contained specially belonged), she was equally proud of having, as she alleged, noble—I am not quite certain that it was not regal—blood in her veins; establishing an incomprehensible affinity to a Highland chieftain, of whom I never heard, by an unintelligible chain of relationship, which I could not succeed in following out.

We remained under her roof for a fortnight, during which period the burden of her conversation with Ellen was the uselessness of fine ladies in a country like this; the strength of Donald’s (her husband’s) affection for whisky, hard work, and herself; and the power, past history, grandeur, greatness, and incredible antiquity, of the Mac something-or-others, who lived in a castle in Scotland, larger than the Queen’s, and who were related by blood or marriage to half the kings who had occupied the

Scottish throne. She felt the regal fluid circulating in her own system ; and when I looked at the ridgy veins upon her hands, I felt that they were quite dark enough to justify the belief.

There was another remarkable contradiction in her character—the depth of her religious convictions, and the strength of her animosity towards Christians of other denominations. She was as fervid in her devotions, every morning and evening (and rather ostentatiously so), as she was in her denunciations of Roman Catholics, Episcopalians, Unitarians, and others, whom she condemned to everlasting reprobation. The chief utility, if not the main intention, of the nether world appeared to be, according to her conception of the matter, to supply a place of perpetual and uncomfortable exile to those who had the misfortune to hold theological tenets which differed from her own. She grew warm, and her eyes gleamed as often as she spoke of the balefires of eternity. I don’t think she was naturally revengeful and implacable; but I imagine that her vindictiveness was the product of a portion of her belief, operating upon a narrow and prejudiced mind. She was particularly conscientious in the observance of formalities. She would have thought it an act of profanity to open any kind of secular book upon a Sunday, but used to beguile her leisure moments on that day in giving us a scandalous and minutely circumstantial chronicle of the vices and misdeeds of her neighbours in Scotland, her fellow-passengers on ship-board, and such of the people as she was acquainted with in the immediate neighbourhood of her then residence.

We remained for a fortnight with Mrs. MTvillop, and during that time we learned more of “ election” and “ reprobation”—of the early history of Scotland—of the incredible antiquity of the old lady’s family—and of the good and evil traits in the character of the absent M‘Killop—than I can remember or should care to relate.

I was not idle the while. I worked for two days in a stone quarry, preparing “ metal” for the roads, in company with a solicitor, a London cabman, an actuary, and three or four of the most foul-mouthed ruffians that ever escaped from a penal settlement. I earned fourteen shillings another day, by assisting to discharge a lighter. I dug a drain for a dairyman in Collingwood Flat, and was assisted by an Oxford graduate, who was as apt at punning in Greek as Father Prout or poor Maginn, and as merry at his arduous work as though he were presiding at a wine party in his own rooms at college. I have since been told that he was next heir to a baronetcy, and that he has returned to England to his family.

For every employment congenial to my feelings, and adapted to my habits and capacities, I found there were abundant applicants; and, after holding several cabinet councils with Ellen, I determined upon proceeding to the diggings, first of all securing for her a small house, or part of one, which she might occupy with some degree of comfort in my absence, and without subjecting her to the slow torture inflicted by the unwearying tongue of Mrs. M‘Killop.

For sixteen pounds—a month’s rent paid in advance—we obtained possession of a two-roomed weather-boarded cottage in North Melbourne ; and Ellen immediately applied herself to the work of furnishing it. Extravagantly high as everything was at that time, our “ plenishing” was necessarily of an humble character, and the inventory of our worldly possessions could have been compiled with ease and speed. Yet, by a thousand little contrivances, Ellen succeeded in giving an air of comfort to our new abode, and in making me feel, the moment I had crossedits threshold, a sense of home.^ Something of grace, of taste, of fitness, of order, and of harmony, made itself apparent in the selection and arrangement of that scanty furniture, and in all the homely adjuncts of our narrow dwelling ; so that when I sallied forth for Ballaarat, with a light purse, a heavy “ swag” upon my back, and a world of anxious and loving injunctions and cheery prophecies from Ellen, to hearten and speed me on my way, I comforted myself with the reflection that she, at least, was secure in the shelter of a roof—that no privations could overtake her for weeks to come—

and that, if fortune prospered me, we would-! I don’t know what

castles in the air I did not build upon the immemorial foundation stone of life.

How I sped at the diggings is not material to relate with anything like minuteness. The novelty, the freedom, and the excitement of the life, delighted me at first, as much as its monotony wearied me at last.

I associated myself with three “ mates,” and we experienced the usual vicissitudes of a digger’s life. One of my companions was a young surgeon, with a dash of Irish blood in his veins, and a tinge of the brogue in his accent. Warm-hearted, genial, impulsive, and unselfish, he was the spirit of the party; and when one of the four—a huge Cornishman, with

coarse features and a coarser tongue—fell ill, N--tended him with

such watchful solicitude, and with such an almost feminine anxiety and thoughtfulness, that the sinewy giant softened into childish submissiveness; and, after his recovery, looked up to, or rather down upon, the restorer of his health with something that approached as closely to a feeling of reverence as the rugged fellow’s nature was capable of.

When we gathered round the fire, outside our tent, in the evening, with

our “ pannikins” of tea or brandy, it was N--who enlivened us with

his never-failing flow of cheerful talk; and, having been a great and desultory reader, he would converse, as his Cornish devotee used to observe, “ like a book.” Two or three things which dropped from him in these nodes are still fresh in my memory. They were quotations from the English poets, adduced by way of plausible proof of the antiquity of certain words in common use upon the gold-fields. The colonial synonym for u standing treat” he contended was as old as the days of Dryden, who wrote—

“ The rest, in cells apart, the liquid nectar shout."

Jumping claims, again, he insisted, was a practice not unknown at the time when Shakspere gave his Antony and Cleopatra to the stage, as in that drama occurs the expression—

“ Our future lies Upon this jump."

While our philological co-partner triumphantly quoted a couplet from Swift to prove that the Dean of St. Patrick knew all about a very common article of colonial diet—

Damper it was; anti all th’ unleaven’d bread

Lay on their stomachs like a t m of lead.”

But this is digressing from my story. My letters to Ellen, during the first three weeks, conveyed no tidings of very decided success ; but in the end blind chance favored our party more than strenuous toil. We bought a hole, which those who had originally sunk it had determined upon abandoning as a “ shicer,” and a chance blow of the pick, against one of the sides, revealed to us one of the “ monster nuggets,” which were much more common at that time than they have been since. Two or three smaller ones were found in its immediate neighbourhood—and this lucky accident made each of us richer by the sum of £500.

(To be concluded in our next.)


“ It costs him nothing.” Ask so-and-so for an opinion on some question affecting the health of your family—the education of your children—the conduct of some undertaking—or your position with reference to a disputed property. Ask him to sing or perform for the benefit of a public institution—to give you a lecture—to write you an article—to solve a knotty scientific problem—to inspect a machine that will not work—to look over an invention which you propose to patent—to adjust some deranged philosophical apparatus—or to decide upon any difficult question involving rather mental exercise, and the employment of previously acquired knowledge, than the outlay of present money—and he cannot refuse you, for “ it costs him nothing! ”

He cannot refuse. True, he cannot:—for the man whose opinion is worth having upon any such matter has, for the most part, a devotion to the subject that places him above the thought of mere gain, far too much above it for his own interest. He thinks not of profit even when he ought to do so, for his own sake and for that of his family. His delight is to find opportunity for the application of his midnight studies, his thoughts, and his investigations, to some practical end; and he is glad to give to his friends and neighbours the benefit of his research. He will instantly apply himself to the solution of your difficulty, will devote his days and nights to the preparation of your lecture or treatise, will lay aside the business by which he gets his living, to examine the matter you propose to him. He has spent days, months, years, in acquiring the knowledge for which you seek him, and you shall have all you want of it, because he has not to put his hand into his pocket to give—it costs him nothing ! Were you with him when, in his youth, a fortune was spent upon the education that trained his mind to his peculiar sphere of usefulness ?—did you witness his academic studies ?—and did you furnish his library or laboratory with the means for his after researches ? No. Whence, then, your claim, or the foundation of your remark that the aid you seek costs him nothing ?

The skill which the artizan acquires by apprenticeship and practice is accounted to him as capital. You would as soon think of flying, as of sending for a clockmaker, or even a carpenter, with the idea of getting him to do your work for mere honor and glory, and, perhaps, not for that.

Nor would you dream of expecting the gratuitous exercise of a porter’s physical strength, or a rope dancer’s agility. Whence, then, the ground for ignoring the value of intellectual strength—of the powers resulting from long mental training—the knowledge laboriously sought and stored, during a whole life time—or the refined skill arising from scientific research—which are too often the sole capital of those who cultivate such pursuits ? It is, surely, sufficient sacrifice of self to the general good, that such persons deliberately select for themselves fields of labor notoriously the least profitable as far as worldly good is concerned.

Taken as a whole, the employment of money and toil in intellectual pursuits is the worst of all investments, and no labor is so ill requited as that of mind. Moreover, society does not include a class of men more ready, nay, not one so ready to give, unbought, their aid to any movement of public utility, of education, of charity. Asylums, Mechanics’ Institutions, Churches, and the like, hold no claim, on the ground of their character and objects, upon the artizan, the contractor, or the purveyor of material; but the important aid derivable from head-work is claimed almost as a right. Nobody thinks of even requiting the mere immediate labor bestowed, or the time lost, which might have been profitable if otherwise bestowed. Worse than this, obloquy has even been the reward of those who have declined, because they could not afford, thus to lend themselves when wanted.

To take other grounds, apart from the rights of mind.—We go in for the justness, though not for the literal truth, of the old proverb : “ What is got for nothing is seldom worth having.” Like most other old saws it was at first, before it became perverted from its true meaning by too literal interpretation, the simple recognition of a philosophic principle. The laborer, mental or physical, who works for nothing, must get the means of life somewhere; he cannot afford to bestow the same time and care upon an unproductive work, that he could if it yielded a return even for such mere time and labor, irrespective of the exercise of his own dearly purchased acquirements. The result produced, then, although the best that can be got for nothing, is not equal in point of excellence (and is, therefore, inferior in value for the end desired) to what it would be, if the work had not been made, by the shortsightedness of others, in some degree antagonistic to his own interest. Again, the person most qualified to perform the desired function, although generally ready to help, is not always so able or willing thus to forego the advantage which his talents give him, as the smatterer or the quack. Without even going to these extremes of the case, it cannot be denied that the volunteers to gratuitous public service are by no means necessarily those whose assistance would be most valuable. This has been seen over and over again, in private as well as public matters. A glance at the aspirants to legislative honors and other honorary posts affords abundant illustration of the truth of the observation.

One more argument. A gift must not be too closely criticised. If you accept a thing as a favor, you must take it for what it is worth, and be thankful. You may be disappointed—you may find the application of all that has been said above—you may even be so dissatisfied as to regret that you ever incurred the obligation—but you cannot help yourself: there it is, and you have, a priori, adopted it. You may lose your just claim

through being badly advised—your health may be injured by quackery— your property deteriorated in value, perhaps destroyed—a fatal blunder may be introduced into your enterprise—your lecture may be dull and unattractive—your article unreadable, and prejudicial to your publication— your instruments may be rendered useless, and your previous operations unavailing—and nothing is left but the privilege of grumbling, and that only at yourself.

What is worth doing is worth doing well. What is to be done well must be committed to competent persons, who must be placed in a position to exert their faculties in the manner most advantageous to the work; and this is only to be effected by making it productive to them—and thus causing their earnestness in their vocation and their worldly interests to coincide.

In these simple aphorisms, all bearing on public good, lies the essence of The Claims of Mind.




As a little confidence is always necessary between the writer and the reader, I have no objection to say I am an Englishman—beyond this I decline to go. Why I left England, and how I came to wander in Snag-gerack, is my affair and no one’s else. It may be My Receipts and Expenditures had an objection tQ. balance. The world may think it was through Lady Theodosia Zigzag preferring the old Earl of I YZ to my youthful self; or because I shot the Hon. George Slattery in the right thigh, upon a dispute as to which of our families had been longest enrolled in the ranks of the English gentry. It might have been all of these causes, or any of them, or neither of them. It matters not. I did leave England —I visited Snaggerack. Nor shall I tell you how I travelled to Snag-gerack. In the same spirit of confidence that I have before alluded to, I have no hesitation in saying I left the isle of Albion by water—beyond this, no more. Whether I reached Snaggerack on the back of a camel, in a sledge drawn by blue foxes, or carried on one of my friend Doll Loss Singh’s palanquins, it matters not.

“ An Englishman’s opinion of a place can be easily guessed at,” pout half a dozen people. Not always so easily. I know there are people who travel with a pair of British pebbles covering their eyes, through which they discern nothing but what presents a contrast favorable to their own country; but I am not of this class. I look for myself, and am opposed to that disease of vision which faints with astonishment at the number of beggars at Naples or Fondi, never heeding the hundreds in St. Giles, the Cowgate, or other rendezvous of the begging fraternity. I do not altogether believe in the excessive morality of my countrymen, when I see many of the peerage, whose descent is from the throne, and that not on the dexter side, and know members of both houses, who by no means embody the moral code in their own lives. I rather question much the vaunted integrity of the British merchant, when I witness cases like those under a late banking bankruptcy. As for the uproar raised in the London press at an assassination at Leghorn, or a suicide at Paris, the one is not so bad as the Palmer cases, nor the other equal to recent melancholy events. I know my countrymen are brave (have not I stood fire ?)—so are the French, and in the recent war have proved it. England cants about “ liberty and slavery,” while Manchester and Stockport are in tears— pesters the world with her love of toleration, and seizes a Quaker’s deal table to fatten a Church of England rector—deems Tier men of business the only men of business, yet her railways are failures as paying speculations, and her merchants always over-stocking a market. I am English, heart and soul, blood and bone; but am sick of the cant of country. A leading paper will waste a column upon the braggadocio of the Yankees. Why, with them it is individualism, but in my country—the bench and the bar—the senate and the forum—peers and peasants—soldiers and sailors—• priests and politicians—all hug themselves with their super-eminence and exalted positiop. Even lately are we not nauseated with what England has done, and suffered, against oppressive Russia. Bah !—Bah !—England did not cry out because the dead bird was to be dismembered, but only that the breast was not offered for her picking;—when rogues, &c.—; but what has this to do with Snaggerack ? Thus much, that I look at matters as I find them, without imagining and jotting down that what does not resemble my country must be bad, and what resembles her, the reverse, as many tourists—being conceited, bombastic asses—do.

I found the Most High and Mighty Hospodar of Snaggerack very unpopular on my arrival. The people were all disposed to do—the Most High, &lg., preferred remaining passive. Words ran high; blows, also, fell thick. Yet the storm passed over; and the people (having plenty to eat and drink) fell to loving as fast as they had commenced hating. Many of the illuminati of Snaggerack having, at various intervals, visited England, English customs were rather fashionable; especially in that roundabout rigmarole way in which public affairs are managed, and public funds lavished. Places, of course, were as thick as blackberries, and many of the Snaggerack officials had really nothing whatever to do.

Snaggerack is, I would not exactly say, swampy, but out of the city itself decidedly damp. As it is a beautiful agricultural country, and, as Bacon or somebody else says something or other in favor of good roads, and speedy communication between men and manners, roads were to be made. Good. The money is raised—better; no, worse. The money gets mto the hands of a “ board.” The board, emulous of the black boards in England, spends money fast, but never gets on with the roads. Nothing temporary in Snaggerack—oh! no. Instead of placing thirty or forty miles of road in tolerable repair, and keeping it so at a small annual expense, the Snaggerack magnates make half a mile of road in first-rate style, expend all their cash upon the model half-mile; and leave horsemen and carriage-men miles and miles of mud lakes to struggle through, for the pleasure of having the half mile nearest town “ first rate.” The wise men in Snaggerack boast that they look to the future.

There is an exception to every rule, and the Snaggerack exception is, never looking to the future when it is absolutely necessary. The citizens of Snaggerack don’t care about railways—rival cities, in neighbouring principalities, do. The citizens of Snaggerack prefer building large and costly mansions in the city, to providing for the wants of ten times the number of people far away. So they over-build the city; and half the principal streets show blank rows of empty stone stores, while the rival cities, in neighbouring principalities, put steamboats upon canals, and put grain, and other commodities, upon steamboats; so that what might have gone into the empty stone stores, had railroads or horse-roads been first made, don’t go near Snaggerack at all.

Snaggerack, however, is not to be despised. The people mean well; but they want a little misfortune to call forth their energies. The Hospo-dar is well paid—the ministry is paid too well. The Honorable the Chief Answerer of all Communications, who is the principal officer, is not preeminently fitted for his post, nor are any of his colleagues, nor were their predecessors. Statesmanship is at a very low rate. They burlesque English official haughtiness as well as they can, and take about the average time great men take to answer communications of the shortest kind ; but there is a nervousness and a tremor visible through the Anglo-mania that has seized them, as if they expected the Snaggerackians would rise some morning and demand their ejection from office, which, perhaps, they may, if they can find any one else to fill their places.

“ Signior,” says my little friend Von Mica to me one morning, “ let us stroll around the city and view what we can.”

Von Mica is a perfect Snaggerackian; originally bred to the slaughtering department, he exchanged, during a revolutionary period—for Snaggerack has experienced revolutions—the butchering trade for that of a lawyer. He now ranks among the élite of the city; but beneath the dignity which, as one of a learned profession, Von Mica endeavors to assume, the slashing style of the ex destroyer occasionally peeps forth ; however, his cigars are excellent, and I patronize my acquaintance accordingly.

When 1 say Von Mica is a perfect Snaggerackian, I mean that as applicable only to the city. He does not recognize one of the largest and most powerful of all interests. Flour is beneath Von Mica’s notice; so is hay— it can be brought in vessels from other ports. Von Mica recognizes cattle, horses, and oxen; but this fills up every vacant corner his city ideas have not occupied. My friend is not singular—he is one of a large class.

A ramble with Von Mica leads me to inquire the number of people in the city. “ So many thousands,” said Von Mica. “ Suppose we say fifty thousand: and how many in the whole of Snaggerack ? ”    “ So many

thousands,” says Von Mica,—the proportion, suppose we say three hundred and fifty thousand. I do not profess to be a political economist—in my time political economy was voted low—but it does appear strange, even to me, that people can expect to go on multiplying in wealth when— deducting a fifth of the town’s population for officials, and a fifth more for builders and artizans—forty thousand men are engaged in supplying the “ stomachic” requirements of nine times that number ; and we must recollect, as I tell Von Mica, that there are other ports in the country of Snaggerack, besides the city of Snaggerack, that must aid in the supply of the


interior. «The city is too large, my friend,” I say; «it will he found so next year, if not this. “ ihe city Snaggerack too large ; why, that corner allotment originally was forfeited for £21, and is now worth five times that amount per foot.” «And the next store empty; fictitious wealth !”

There is no doubt it is a wonderful country—mind, country;—but Rome was not made in a day; and no city can take such gigantic strides as the city of Snaggerack has taken, and maintain them. Snaggerack must do something for itself'. Of its resources I will speak bye and bye ; but this reliance upon foreign trade can never pay. The slightest hitch in the machinery—general collapse.    What would England, or America, or

Russia, or Franee, be, but for exports? Spain, although it has had gold mines in South America, has for years fallen into decay. Wines would not, alone, or even when joined with nuts, maintain a kingdom ; but England, with her knives and linen goods ; America, with her raw cotton and bread-stuffs ; Russia, with her hemp, corn, flax, and other matters ; and France, with her wines, brandies, silks, and a host of auxiliaries; can rub on in the face of danger, and push through a war, a famine, or a pestilence, without looking much the worse.

« I don’t see w7hat you can do,” says Yon Mica, « unless you shut out all imports but those of bread-stuffs, and shut them out the harvest after next. Effect such a blockade for three or four years, and you might encourage enterprise, and make it worth while to establish mills, manufactories, and exports. Yet, that will never do. Deprive the citizens of their straw-colored kid gloves, which cover their red hands !—shut out the velvets and the satins, which the ex-cooks and chambermaids revel in !! ” I thought my friend would have fainted, when, luckily, we are, met by a senator, of whom anon.—



I am mounted on a rough-looking but easy-going brute; Yon Mica rides by my side ; and with us his friend, the man of authority. Our journey is not a long one ; our object, to inspect the farms within twenty or thirty miles of the city, for a cry has arisen of « the starved-out farmer;” and many people, still revelling in an Anglo-mania, cry out for « protection to the agricultural interest.” A prohibitory duty on corn, and that in Snaggerack—del!

What an awful journey it is. What roads, or, rather, what a want of roads. What are the officials about ? Here is a bullock-dray literally buried above the wheels in mud. The team of cattle has dragged itself out, but not the dray. The drivers are cursing and swearing, and the goods are perishing. I ask one of the men how far he is going ; he names a place one hundred and five miles off, and he is « bogged” within twelve miles from the starting point. I turn to the man in authority, who shrugs his shoulders, mutters something about «memorials”—«proper department”—«inspection”—« central office, and local aid.” It is Greek to the bullock-drivers—it is no consolation to the owners of the goods, who are so many miles off—it is, even, balderdash to Von Mica himself. I offer a remedy—every road inspector to be compelled to take a team from Snaggerack one hundred miles any way ; his success, his testimonial for office. The man of authority raises his eyebrows deprecatorily; but it is a remedy, and would prevent tlie nonsensical reports, and the nonsensical work that is now going on, within seven miles of the city, in seventy places. We pass the broken dray, and journey on. It is a beautiful land. The soil is good. Nature appears to have done wonders for Snaggerack, but art and man have entered into partnership on the opposite side, and refuse to assist nature in one iota.

We stand upon the farm of a croaker. Von Mica says that old Smoggles once ran so many cattle upon this and the adjoining farms. There is water, there is wood, and the soil is rich and lasting ; but then —. Not very far from the isle of Albion there is a country, where, without exception, the worst of farmers worry the land. I say this not at all as saying it against the people, so I will not trouble the irascibles of that island to make a quarrel with me ; but, undoubtedly, of all the farmers from Oincinnatus to J. J. Meclii; and of all farming nations, from the old Romans to the young Americans ; no greater spoilers of ground, users up of land, and wasters of labor, have been found, than the farmers of the nation I allude to. Now, a very large proportion of the middle-sized Snaggerack farms are held by descendants of these people, or worshippers of their customs; and, therefore, the agricultural interest of the place i3 looking down.

Plenty of people, who talk on the subject, tell me of the high rate of labor—of the expense of fencing—of the proceeds per acre—of thb difficulty of getting to a market—of washes, waste, and weariness in the raising of corn. I shrug my shoulders. Von Mica saj^s, “Nevermind corn— graze; these farms ought not to have been cut up. See, the vejw owners are grumbling—they all want to be of the oxocracy.” The man of authority murmurs about the attacks on the government; about the people not crying out, but a Press only crying for them. I said before, I hate political economy. I do not profess to be a man of figures, but old Dr. Raddle would make his first-form boys know the rule of three, and I studied subtraction, when I was in the Levant, with two Greek servants, who were learning it also, and did their sums on my hosiery box, and out of it too ; so I deny the right of a man to say he is losing by farming, when he charges interest on the cost of half a section of land, and only sows fifty or sixty acres of it. I deny his right, also, to charge the fencing of the said half section against his wheat crop. Nor will I permit him to hire three or four lazy men to do his work, and then grumble at the cost of reaping. If his land is equal to a return of thirty, or five-and-tliirty, bushels of wheat, it must pay. I do not care for cost, or roads, or anything ; there is a way, and the farmers of Snaggerack could easily find it out. I tell our croaking friend of certain points I have heard of—draining, manuring, and so on. “ Manuring ! why, somebody, Donald this, or Dennis t’other, has had land working fourteen years or more, has never manured, and—• tut, the land in Snaggerack does not want it.” Tlien, again, always planting wheat, or letting the land lie idle “ for a rest.” Now any one, who lias attended the agricultural meetings in Great Britain (and it was the fashion once to do so), knows that land requires no rest; a change of crop is necessary—but then, somebody does it, or somewhere they don’t do it, and so on; and the farmers of Snaggerack groan and cry for protection. 1 try to shew this grumbler what his soil contains ; that is, the four organic

elementary substances, clay, fragments of rock, lime, &c.—speak to him of the various degrees of value of the different soils—touch slightly on the food the different seed& flourish upon—and hint that the offal and sewerage of towns, now wasted, is peculiarly fitted for the ground I have thus imperfectly analyzed. Croaker thinks town refuse a nasty manure, and says no one uses it in Snaggerack. I explain to him that Snaggerack is not yet renowned for its farming qualifications, and urge machinery. Croaker thinks it nonsense-; none of his neighbours, old farmers, have tried it. I put aside steam agency, and speak only of horse power: M‘Cormick’s reaping machine, with its curious windmill-looking reel appendages, and a nice little cutting machine, made by Garrett & Co., doing about an acre per hour. One might as well speak of drawing the Tuilleries to Nova Scotia. I leave the subject in disgust. Von Mica is in raptures. The man of authority preaches about vested interests, return of the old times, prejudices of the people. But friend Croaker has not finished : he descants upon the choice situation of “ his land,” its proximity to a school and a place of worship; only there’s a nasty creek “ up” four months in the year. “ If the Government would only put a bridge.” The Government!—C roaker, my good fellow, your paddock is full of trees, you have three or four men knocking about on your farm; cut down a tree, saw up three planks, bolt them together with a dozen bolts from the same tree, put on four uprights, now a handrail on the top of these uprights; here, on your side of the creek, is a stump handy, stick in a prop on the other side, and a better bridge for man, woman or child, was never needed. Just the thing Croaker was thinking of, if some of the neighbors would join. Join! why the whole expense is nothing. No outlay of money, save the cost of a few nails—get a subscription for that!    “ Ah,” responds Croaker, with

a leer that Shylock would have envied, “ but the neighbours would use it, and I’m not going to do it for them.” So the semi-savage is closed up in his lair one-third of the year—from a mean, grasping, covetous disposition. I don’t breathe freely until I’m off the man’s ground, and hear him of authority chuckling behind me, “ Government this—Government that. Good sir, if a shower of roasted ducks fell down at these men’s doors, there would be a cry to the Government to send people to carve the luxury for them.” And the man is not far wrong.

What do I get from my trip ? Croaker is such a perfect specimen of his class, that I feel annoyed good land is in such bad hands. I want Snaggerack to flourish—to flourish, it must produce—to produce, it must be cultivated. But who is to cultivate? “No one,” says Von Mica,—■ “ the good old times, the good old times—we revolve in a circle, and shall fall back again to where we. were. After all, this is a country fit for the oxocracy, and no one else.”

I cannot contradict my little friend, but suggest mildly, for I feel humbled, that if some of these farmers would subscribe together, purchase machinery, test it, and test it fairly, things might be better. I also, but still humbly, suggest a more perfect cultivation of fruits and vegetables.

1 think, still apologetically, that, by perseverance, all these things might be produced cheap, in place of dear; and explain, that while market gardeners and farmers are in tears, I am charged a fearfully extravagant price for a bunch of grapes, or a dish of asparagus. The man of authority makes a note of it for “his next report.” Von Mica only wished I had visited Snaggerack ten years ago (ten years ago l I was boating over

Windermere with sweet little-! never mind, she is now the princess

of-—, very fat, and immoderately fond of snuff); then pines and

peaches flourished among the oxocracy. But I am tired with my ride, my boots are saturated with wet, my pantaloons splashed with mud; the horse I am just getting off is of the color termed undiscoverable, and there’s a leader in the day’s paper urging the people to do, what I have just discovered they will not—exert themselves !


The first link in the chain of vivid and consecutive impressions was this, that I was hastening towards Padua, and that it was the season of the year at which

**--The early vines

Hang garlanding the way in amber lines.”

My next, that I had entered a strange old city with long winding streets, colonnaded on either side; that I saw fragments of Roman arches built in the walls, and the sarcophagus of a sage Trojan (Antenor, the reputed founder of Patavium), reared upon four pillars at the corner of one of the principal streets; and a green plot of meadow-ground at one end of the city, planted with trees, and surrounded by a double ring of white statues (some of them executed by Canova) of all the eminent men of Padua. And in another corner of the city, at the extremity of a garden, overrun with vines, and circular in form (it was a Roman arena once), I found the chapel of Giotto, the friend of Dante, and the father of Italian art. It was not much larger than an English village church, but its walls were covered internally with priceless frescoes, painted while Beatrice’s lover was staying beneath the artist’s roof. Late at night, when the lamps before the shrine of St. Anthony, shewing through crimson glasses, glimmered like blood-red stars in the deep gloom, and for many hours in the day (so swift is thought in dreams), I loitered in the glorious church of the patron saint of Padua, looking with growing wonder upon the chapel which contains the shrine—so rich in marble-sculpture, precious bronzes, pendent silver lamps, gold candlesticks, and gorgeous ornaments; all toned down in the day time by the light which falls through one window, shaded and softened by a green silk curtain. And I saw poor people kneeling down and pressing their hands against the sarcophagus which is believed to contain the ashe3 of the saint, and on one side of it were many crutches, left there as votive offerings, in attestation of, and gratitude for, fancied miracles: and I saw one peasant woman, with a withered child in her arms, go up and lay the dwindled hand of her sickly offspring upon the dark green marble, apparently in the full belief that its cold pores distilled some healing influence. By and by, a troop of friars came in from the adjacent cloister, and mass was sung, and the magnificent organ filled the pile with solemn music, singing outward with a softened cadence upon the quiet night air and the vacant square; and listening to that sound, and looking up at a divine picture of St. John upon the wall, meekly submitting himself to the sword of the executioner,

I felt the deep significance and the triumphant hope of those serene expressive eyes, and acknowledged that art has

“ Hues which have words, and speak to us of Heaven.”

Still driving onward, like a vessel befere a pursuing gale, I thought I came to a decaying, silent, and partly grass-grown city, with a castle rising in the midst, and an old Lombardic Cathedral hard by, and a marketplace teeming with fruit and vegetables, and a noble picture gallery in a silent huge Palazzo in a silent huge street, composed of palaces, and stretching away into the country. And there (for it was at Ferrara) I saw the cell where Tasso was confined for daring to love a Princess of the house of Este, whose name—but for him—would long ago have perished in oblivion; and there Byron had cut his name, and Lamartine had written some of Byron’s verses. There, too, I saw the house of Ariosto— with the inscription he had traced upon its front, “Parva sed apta;” and I went into his pleasant garden room, writh the chairs, the table, and the inkstand, just as he had left them 320 years ago. On to Bologna, with its heavy towers, and arcaded streets, and beautiful cathedral, and hundred churches, and the convent on the mountain, with a colonnade leading up to it more than two miles long! and at night to the opera house, where (being Sunday) there was an exhibition of poses plastiques and (being in the Roman states, and the residence of a Cardinal, and therefore a very pious university city) I saw upon the stage, with the accompaniment of operatic music, and amidst the applause of the rank and fashion of Bologna, tableaux vivans (and certain of them .were encored) of the marriage supper at Cana, the assumption of the Virgin, the crucifixion, and the deposition from the cross.

Thence I thought I flew to Florence; and this portion of my dream appeared to be even more vivid than the rest. My impressions are distinct and strong of a superb city, built upon either bank of a broad and flowing river;—of a cathedral which the architect of St. Peter’s hoped to rival but never to excel, and within sight of which he desired to be buried; and of a dead Christ, by Michael Angelo, solemnly lying in the twilight which falls from Brunelleschi’s dome. I thought that a strange fascination drew me again and again to that marble miracle—the dead Saviour—so wonderful in its anatomy, so full of the solemn mystery of death, so awful in the utter negation of life, so sublime in its expression, and yet so touching ;—the head thrown back upon that of the Mater Dolorosa—the left arm falling helplessly over that of his mother—the right leg yielding no support to the incumbent body, but bent almost double by its weight, and the right arm dropping heavily over the shoulder of the other man; while Joseph of Arimathea, his face thrown into shadow, bends over the group and assists to support the Saviour and his grief-stricken mother. The forehead of the great sacrifice appeared to be clammy with the dews of death, and his muscles still quivering with the awful agonies of the crucifixion; while on the countenance of her who tenderly supported that cold, impassive, drooping head, was eternally impressed the anguish of a stupendous bereavement, and the expressive evidences of a deep and inexhaustible affection.

In another church, called Santa Croce, I thought I stood upon the graves of the great sculptor himself, of Galileo, Machiavelli, Filicaja, and Alfieri. In a court,

“ Compact of lucid marbles, boss’d with lengths Of classic frieze,”

I saw other of the mute creations of old Angelo, as well as of Cellini and Donatello ; not far from thence a towering campanile by Giotti, and a domed baptistery, with bronze doors so exquisite in design, and faultless in execution, that Buonarotti asserted they were worthy to be gates of Paradise. And in this dream I entered two palaces, in which art had assembled such treasures—in which room after room enshrined such wonders of the pencil and the chisel—in which I stood in the presence of so much inspiration, embodied in a material form—that if two golden-valves had flown open in any one of those glorious chambers (peopled as they were with the creations of Raffaello, of Titian, Guido, DaVinci, Rubens, Murillo, and a multitude of the master spirits of the earth), and I had walked straight across the threshold into heaven, I should have felt no wonder, but should have thought the avenues were worthy of it.

Among the statuary, I remember having been powerfully impressed by the Niobe group; and especially by the younger daughter, clinging so imploringly to her mother’s robes. I thought I heard her say, “ Mother, dear mother, by the power of your great maternal love, by all the recollections of happy childhood, by all the memories of the living words and deeds which have passed between us twain, I adjure you save me from the arrows of this pitiless goddess. Oh! mother, dear mother, fold me in your sheltering arms, and do not let me die, thus looking up to the agony which is written in your beloved face.” And the mother answers no word, but folds her robe around that young, sweet, shrinking form, so graceful, so delicate, so full of the rounded softness of girlhood, and looks up to heaven in a throe of more than mortal terror, and feels that she, even she, that daughter youngest born,

“ The favorite and the flower M<5st cherished since her natal hour,”

must perish, like the others, and leave her mother lonely in her sorrow. Looking on which, L dreamt that my heart yearned towards that inanimate marble as though it were a living creature, and that I would fain have sheltered that young and delicate creature from the arrow of her remorseless enemy, and that I could have wept over her dumb sorrow, as the recollection of it fills my eyes with tears at this- moment. Oh ! power of art—mute miracle—passionless marble, moving the heart of impassioned humanity! If men in older times fell down and worshipped such and such, is there no pardon for them with One who pities and tenderly loves us all, and inspires the genius which hews and chisels a shapeless block into perfect loveliness? Surely, yes—pardon for all.

Then I dreamt that, one golden summer evening (they were all golden evenings there), I went out of the city to a ring of green sward, belted round with trees, called the Gascine; and there a military band played stirring music, and all Florence was there, either in carriages or on foot; and returning home, as night fell, I thought I walked silently into churches, and saw lamps dimly burning before shrines, and people kneeling here and there, like images, and white marble figures on monuments, glimmering through the gloom; and everywhere a faint smell of incense, and a muffled sound of moving feet, and sometimes a murmuring prayer,, and sometimes a stifled sigh. And, on another evening, when the sun was westering, I thought I went to a very ancient city—an old Etruscan city—perched on a lofty hill, some six or seven miles from Florence, called Fresole ; and, scaling the highest peak of the city, past a clump of fir trees, and a cross erected on a little knoll, with the reed, and spear, and dice, and sponge, and crown of thorns, upon it, I knocked at the wicket of an adjacent monastery, and a pleasant, cheerful monk led me through the low cloister (with a stone well in the centre) into the corridor of the monastery, and, at either end, flung open a window, which let in the sunshine, and the soft sweet air ; and there, as in a frame, I looked out upon the valley of the Arno, with beautiful Florence at my feet, and villas, and villages, by the hundred, with white campanile towers rising out of vineyards and orange groves; and rows of cypress trees; and the grounds where Boccaccio’s “ graziosissime donne” told their hundred merry tales ; and, beyond, ranges of hills, like

“ Heartsease, purple with a velvet light;”

and still beyond, and higher still, the towering Appenines; and, at the other end of the corridor, I looked out, I thought, upon another valley, fertile and populous, with more mountains, and with another purple range of Appenines beyond ; and I told the cheerful old monk that I no longer wondered at the divine expression and purity of all Beato Fra Angelico’s pictures; and that they (the brotherhood) must lead a calm and happy life, with the earth so fair and far below them, and heaven so near and bright above; but he only smiled, shifted his cord, and—took snuff. But for all time I think that I shall remember that tranquil monastery upon the hill, and that there will be a spell in that musical word, Fresole, and a charm in all its associations, and especially in that

“ Most delicious calm

That rested everywhere, ,

The holiness of soul-sung psalm,

Of felt, but voiceless prayer.”


There are great movements which, without the eclat and glitter that attend war, leave as many victims behind them—victims, it may be, of their own folly ; but how often visited for the crimes or errors of others.

What great commercial crisis has yet occurred that has not, beside those directly involved, ruined many who fondly flattered themselves that they were quite safe from any mischance ; and, in its ruthless progress, has not scattered families, um-tejl by the dearest of ties, sapping the affections that

have so long and so freshly bloomed; and reducing to poverty those whose affluence was an object of envy to many who may now, in comparison, be deemed wealthy.

But few events have occurred, in modern times, that have been, m proportion, the cause of greater extremes of prosperity and calamity, than were produced by the discovery of the gold-fields of California and Australia. When intelligence was borne homewards that, but a few feet below the surface, there lay concealed untold wealth, only demanding a few weeks or months of labor to reward, with a princely fortune, all who cared to seek it—when people talked coolly of gold being discovered by the hundred weight—the news spread with extraordinary rapidity through the over-crowded ranks of the old country; and, while the laborer heard with wondering delight that a land was within reach, where he might exchange, for unfailing plenty, the struggle which he had throughout life maintained, on the very verge of poverty, into which one week’s sickness or idleness would, probably, precipitate him ; that numerous class—produced by the very height to which civilization has attained—the class of men whose education and position in society precluded them from taking part in the occupations of the mere day laborer, and who, from their very number, and the amount of competition arising therefrom, could not find any market to which to bring their cultivated minds, and their hands, unused, if not unfitted, to toil—was strangely moved by the golden news, and they felt that here, at last, had arisen a means whereby they might, in a few years— nay, some imagined in a few days—reach that position, to which long years of drudgery at home would not enable them to attain.

And thus it came to pass that, from all classes, thousands bent their steps towards the promised land, to share in the golden harvest that only awaited their coming to be gathered. Some, to benefit by the change; most, indeed, of those whose previous occupations had been such as to inure them to labor and hardship, found plenty, and comparative wealth, in the new land; but not a few of those whose former life had been passed at the desk, with no severer labor than the office entails, found themselves called upon, for the first time, to work in a far different way. There is no such thing as child’s play upon the gold-fields, and the comforts, the habits, and tastes, of their former life, had wholly to be cast aside; but the prize was splendid, and, in the eagerness to obtain some of the boundless wealth, scattered with so lavish a hand over the country, they bravely confronted all that had to be endured, flattering themselves that, though the toil wTas hard, the time for rest was not far distant. Vain hope! Months pass away, the only alteration being from the scorching heat of summer to the sea of mud, the pelting rain, and the cold blast of winter; and still no release from the ceaseless toil! Too often is consolation sought in the brandy bottle; and he, wdiose hopes were once so high, who felt so confident that but a short time need elapse ere he could return home to the loved ones he has left there, with wealth sufficient for all their wants, sinks step by step, lured on by the hopes that may not be fulfilled, until, at last, he is laid, by stranger hands, in a premature grave.

What is so touching as the invasion, by death, of those realms which belong, as by prescriptive right, to the sunny reign of childhood ? When a blight comes over the bursting bud, and the cold hand of winter surprises


the painted butterfly, which fancied the doubtful gleam of sunshine was summer already come, that the few scattered flowers of early spring were the pledge and surety that the snow-clouds of winter had rolled for ever

away !

But death is apt to strike us most when Ms monuments are gathered from among the friends who have passed their daily life among us. When we are, as it were, called upon to leave the every-day path of life, and cast a glance down that dreary way by which our friend has departed, feeling, as we do so, that he has preceded us by a few years, at most; and that we, too, are doomed to cross the dreary plains of Asphodel on our way to the last resting place.

Reader, have you ever, turning aside from the crowded thoroughfares of the great metropolis, where everything bears evidence of activity and life, and each one you meet is only intent on business or pleasure, entered the silent vaults of Westminster Abbey, and, sitting down, tried to recall the the time when each one of the entombed sleepers lived and moved, when the world hung breathless on the lips of this one, or a foe trembled beneath another’s sword; and then have you, suddenly emerging, plunged once more into the throng of every-day life, to be jostled by every thoughtless passer by ? How great the contrast seemed!

With some such effect the mind is moved, on first stumbling upon the rude graveyard that forms the last resting place of those who have sunk under disease or accident on the gold-fields of Australia; so incongruous appear the monuments of death amidst the thoughtless throng that make up the population on the “ diggings.”

When residing at M-, it used to be a favorite resort of ours—

turning from the long irregular line of tents, and more pretentious buildings that, extending for a couple of miles, formed the township, and leaving behind the busy sounds of the cradle, and the crackling fire that smiled its welcome on the returning digger—to ascend a hill which, somewhat loftier than the rest, affords an extensive view of the surrounding country.

The summit bears evidence of the skill and eagerness of man in his search after gold—a deep chasm, telling that a quartz reef had been worked for some time into the very heart of the hill, until the precious metal failing, or the expenses growing too heavy, it had been abandoned.

The time will, doubtless, arrive when the boundless resources of the colony can be more fully developed than they have been hitherto; when, it is probable, that it, among many other undertakings, for the present in abeyance, will again be thought worthy of attention, and, once more, the click of the hammer, or the booming sound of the explosion, will waken the echoes that have slept so long within the recesses of the works. But, before we reach the summit, our footsteps have been arrested at a spot which, in its immediate interest, and the splendid view it affords, would not fail to attract the attention of any one, whose mind was open to receive delight from the beauties of nature, or instruction from the evidences of her decay. Here, on the side of the hill, where a straggling gum tree or two have, as yet, escaped the unsparing axe of the miner, a few rude graves mark the last halting place on earth of some whose fond hopes of future independence, and a happy return to the home they have left, have been blasted ere accomplished.

The deserted workings above, and the busy scene below, alike contrast with this quiet spot. Everything, on the one hand, reminds us of life and enterprise, and the mind is almost bewildered as the eye glances down the valley and across to the surrounding hills, and sees everywhere the evidences of man’s idomitable industry—the barking of the dogs, and the gleaming of a hundred fires—the loud laugh of those who gather round them—the activity that pervades the township—the monotonous sound of the cradles by the side of the creek—all, all are full of life. Here, on the other hand, separated by so short a distance, all that meets the eye whispers only of death! Here, the humble mound of turf; there, the rude cross, tell their eloquent tale. While, on one or two of the graves, a few of the wild-flowers of the bush, strewn but a day or so ago, are the silent evidences of grief that has not yet been forgotten, of the fountain of tears which time has not yet dried up. The last rays of the setting sun glance brightly on the headstone on which is rudely recorded the death of the once strong man, whom the wasting fever, or the fearful and, alas ! too general, abuse of intoxicating liquors, has cut off in the midst of his projects, disappointing his ardent ambition, and prematurely closing his reckless career.

Too often has such been the sad fate of those who have been led, by dreams of wealth, to the golden colony ! Yet, thank God, they are but the exceptions—that the vast majority of those who are congregated on the various gold-fields bring to the unwonted toil a high heart and an unswerving determination ; and, if they do not find all their dreams realized, have, at least, the consolation that they are acquiring an independence more slowly, it is true, than they had hoped, but not less surely. Beside that sun-lit stone is the simple mound of turf that, alone, marks the resting place of one who, scarcely beyond the years of boyhood, left home and friends to seek a fortune and independence in the land which liis ardent imagination had painted in the fairest of colors, and to which dreams of golden treasures had lured him, whispering fallacious hopes, and promising a happy future—never, alas ! to be realized. How many a prayer followed his departure—how many a fear breathed its chilling influence over the sinking hearts of his dearest friends, as they bade him “ God speed” in his endeavors to obtain that fortune, in the land of gold, which he could not reach amidst the more crowded competition of home. But his heart knew no fear, and his hopes were tinted with the rainbow hues of promise, and proudly he vowed to be all to those he left that they could wish or ask for. And so, for a time, he strove to be, but the exposure and dissipation, so often attendant on the life he has adopted, have proved too much for his young and immature frame to sustain, and he sleeps far away from his once loved home—no tender hand was there to close his eyes—no voice of sympathy to whisper peace to his fast fleeting spirit. Mayhap his friends have not, even yet, heard of his death ; and the weary months roll by, and mail succeed mail, and still no news—till the mother’s heart grows faint, and the father’s brow grows darker—and hope, that has so long survived striving against reason, because the dread reality is too terrible to look upon, at last dies,, out, leaving the heart a seared and lifeless thing, no more a prey to fear, because no longer warmed by the cheering spark of hope.

Tread lightly there ; ’tis the grave of the young and beautiful—of the wife who has followed her husband from all the refinements of civilization, giving up, cheerfully, home, friends, and companions, to share in the hardships of a bush life; hoping on against hope that he, for whom all is borne, will yet win the prize for which all are striving. She lives, without murmuring, her life of solitude and hardship, welcoming her husband from the fruitless labors of the day with a smile, which she forces her lips to wear; and, concealing as best she can the wearing effects of toil and privation, until the struggle becomes too much for her, she sinks at last, another victim to the thirst for gold !

And yet, though this is by no means a solitary case, we know.of nothing that tends so much to keep alive the best feelings of our nature, and to prevent a man from sinking into a mere machine, working, and eating, and sleeping, without one thought beyond the present, one aspiration beyond the acquisition of wealth, than when woman appears to tend and soothe in distress, and share, as a wife alone can do, in the joys of success. If it were more common, on the part of the miner, who is married, to make, for the time, a home on the “ diggings,” and to gather around him those comforts that are easily within his reach, the difficulties and privations that fall to the lot of a female, whose life is spent on the gold-fields, would be much alleviated. That such is much more commonly the case now than formerly is, in our opinion, one of the happiest omens for the peace and prosperity of the colony. Nay, we confidently expect that the time will yet come when gold digging, now the pursuit of every one who finds any difficulty in obtaining employment in what might be more legitimately thought to be his own peculiar calling, will be looked upon as one of the mere ordinary branches of trade; and men will settle down on the gold-fields with the determination of winning a competency by steady industry, and with as little of the spirit of speculation as the nature of their occupation will allow. We might go on to anticipate the time when the digger, uniting the cultivation of a little patch of land with his pursuit of gold, will be able to make for himself a happy and permanent home ; but the speculation would lead us too far for the limits now at our disposal.

Enough of th'e “ night side” of the diggings ! Perhaps, on another occasion, we may attempt to pourtray some of their sunnier aspects.



Walks, Lawns, Borders, &c.—After having removed and cut up all the weeds, loosen the surface of the soil with a Dutch hoe, which is the best instrument for that purpose, taking cafe not to injure the tops of the bulbous plants, of which many kinds are now just peeping above ground. Then clear away all dead leaves, and finish the surface evenly with a rake.

Lawns and Walks should, also, be thoroughly cleaned from all litter, and the former should be occasionally rolled and mowed, which greatly improves their appearance. Let all the edgings of Cape Broom be clipped neatly, and the edging of grass lawns and walks be cut close and uniformly trimmed. The borders will, also, require some attention with the hoe and rake, to promote the general neatness.

Planting Rose Trees.—All sorts of Roses should now be planted, to insure their being in blossom this summer. The same may be done with different kinds of Evergreens, such as the Laurel, Laurustinus, Portugal Laurel, Phyllarea, Arbor-vitee, Cypress, Pyrus Japónica, Yews, Cedars, Magnolias, Figs, Bay, Juniper. This month is, also, the proper time for planting all other kinds of Trees and Shrubs, Avhich ought to be done as soon after they are taken up as possible; otherwise, their roots will dry up, or be injured by the sun or wind. Plants and Shrubs that have arrived from a distance, which you are not immediately prepared to plant out, should have their roots laid in a trench, and be covered with earth until they are required.

Protecting Tulips, and other Tender Bulbs.—By this time the Tulips, Hyacinths, and other Bulbs, will have appeared above the ground, and will require some protective covering when there are indications of cold and frosty nights. Wattle-boughs are very suitable for this purpose; they should be laid carefully over all tender bulbs at night, and removed in the morning.    „

Carnations.—Those Carnations that were raised last year from layers and pipings, as recommended, should now be planted into beds by themselves, or in borders among other flowering plants, or wherever you intend them to flower. Some care is necessary in taking them up, as, if the roots are taken up bare, they receive a check which will impede their flowering ; but this may be prevented by taking up some of the mould ahering to the roots. An excellent compost for choice descriptions, or those denominated Florists’ First, or Show Flowers, may be prepared in the manner following :—F or the basis of the compost produce some loam of a light sandy nature, taking the top spit with the turf to rot the grass and mellow the whole. Let it lie in a heap for some time, and turn it over frequently. Then mix in with it in the proportion of a third part, the dung collected • from old hot-beds, adding a little sea sand; after which, the whole should be left in a heap undisturbed for three or six months longer.

Directions for Planting all kinds of Shrubs.—The first operation, after having procured the Shrub, is to dig a hole a spade deep, and two or three feet in circumference ; the next, is to pare off all broken and bruised roots, and all straggling branches from the head of the shrub. It should then be placed in the hole in an upright position, and the finest of the mould is to be thrown in around the roots until they are covered a proper depth, during which the plant is to be shaken, occasionally, to promote the lodgment of the fine earth between the roots. Lay a little short wet dung on the top, to preserve the . moisture in dry weather, and to assist the growth of fresh fibres. This precaution is more particularly required by all choice tender shrubs. The planting will, of course, be so performed as to leave sufficient spaces between the plants, to avoid crowding each other as they grow up. Stakes to be fixed to all plants requiring support.

Ranunculuses and Anemones, if not previously put out, should be planted at once, as they make a fine appearance in November and December.


Let those who love not criticise Her form and beauty in detail—

Describe the color of her eyes,

Or say her cheek is somewhat pale.

Enough for me, enough for love,

When, closely locked in my embrace,

She nestles like a gentle dove,

And turns on mine her truthful face.

While deeply gazing in her eyes,

I heed not, mark not what their hue,

For perfect peace within them lies,

And Heaven’s own light is shining through.

And as among her silken hair My unresisted fingers twine,

I see it not as dark or fur,

But thrill with joy to think it mine.

For grace and beauty not alone Contribute to the power of love;

But love, from his superior throne,

Invests with beauty from above.

And fairest forms are merely fair ’Till, under love’s divine control,

A living light is kindled there;

For love alone is beauty’s soul.


From the 23rd of July to the 24th August ('inclusive), from observations


Since our last report the spring has fairly set in. The cold rains and bleak winds of July have been replaced by mild open weather, at once salubrious and delightful. The temperature has sustained considerable elevation, but the change has been very gradual and fluctuating. From the 1st to the 8tli there was a gradual decrease of 12 degrees, viz., from to 47° 59° as the maxima; there was a rise to 63° on the 16th, again a very slight decline, and a rise to 66*5 ° on the 23rd, which was the highest temperature of the month : the lowest being on the 15th, when the thermometer stood as low as 37°. The range of the highest temperature of each day was from 47° to 0(r5° : of the lowest, from 37° to 50°.

Bain fell on ten days :—Most on the 5th, 0-330, and least on the 21st, -030. The showers were for the most part very light and uncertain. Although the aspect of the sky was very cloudy and threatening during the last week of July, there was no rain for several days. The weather was then wet and variable until the 12th, and then became tine until the l7tli, when three showery days preceded the present clear weather.

The winds have been light and variable.—They blew on 12 days from the N., N.E. and N.W., being brisk in proportion to the northing, hence the small amount of rain; and on five days from the southerly points.

The highest reading of the barometer was 30372, on the 23rd, and the lowest 29*112, on the 18th.

The atmosphere on the whole was very clear and dry; the nights have been [fine, and without fog; the temperature mild and tolerably agreeable. The evaporation has been very slight, nor have the clouds presented any peculiar character.



The quidnuncs are at last deprived of a very popular and long-standing topic. The new Governor is finally appointed—and to Sir Henry Barkly, late Governor of Jamaica, has been committed the task of presiding over (for a governor will no more govern here, nous avons change tout cela) the Victorian vagabonds, lucky and unlucky. Of his character and abilities we know nothing, further than that he owes his position to having been, at some time or other, in a position to oblige a minister; but we hope for the best. After all, the main requisite in a governor is sufficient good sense to do little or nothing himself, bnt to let others do as much as they will—for the title of governor will, in future, be an example of lucus a non lucendo. As the colonists have, by this time, found out the mistake of extravagantly kotowing’ to a new arrival, there is lass chance of a reaction occurring should he not come up to the imaginary standard set up for him. The anticipations of those who desired to bow down before a real live lord are frustrated, and rightly;—we have enough of the robbery of wealth here, without adding to it that of title. Money must, ere long, cease to be a test of excellence, and then there will be more chance for ability and integrity to assert their position. It is worthy of note, and is a healthy sign of the times, that many of the Upper House Candidates, although the representatives of money themselves, are compelled to pledge themselves adversely to the very property qualification which gives them their present advantage. The lists of Candidates shew too plainly the effects of such a test. In this country, even more than in most others, the richest men are (speaking largely) the least intelligent, if not the least upright; and the converse holds equally good.    ,

Public attention has lately been drawn to the evils of the nomination system, the sole use of which appears to be to give the tub-thumper a “ coign of ’vantage” over the quiet thinker, who is very often less able, and as often less willing, to humor a mob such as usually collects at the hustings. The whole affair is a farce. The “ free and independent” who are addressed on such occasions are rarely electors at all, and never people whose expressions of opinion can be valuable, either as representing popular feeling, or as pronouncing on the respective merits of the gentlemen who stand before them, hat in hand, the very models of urbanity and meekness.    •

The Candidates for the Upper House are very unequally allotted. Some provinces are not provided with their number, while others have a redundancy; and, as usual, the best men are clustered together, treading on each other’s toes, to the almost inevitable exclusion of some who, in the dearth of legislative ability, can ill be spared, and to the certain admission of many to whom empty benches would be preferable. Several attempts have been made in the city to organise coalitions, under the names of reform associations, political platforms, and the like, with the view of coercing candidates to adopt the pledges set up by petty cliques—sometimes unknown—sometimes insignificant. Liberal popular principles are found in all the tickets (for without them there would be no hope for the projectors), but there is abundant evidence of narrowness in most of them ; while in some the cloven hoof of religious party plainly apparent. The antidead-lock pledge, proposed by the Argus, has been generally adopted, at least in the cate-cliisms and conciliatory speeches; and most of the Upper House Candidates have promised to resign their seats when called upon by some ‘ indefinite ’ number of their constituents. Of course this pledge must be formally and indisputably taken before election, or the risk of the Upper House becoming uncontrollably obstructive will be irremediable; as any measure for dissolving it or altering its tenure must proceed from itself, the least likely of all sources.

At the nomination, held on the 19th inst., no fewer than ten candidates stood forward for the Central Province, which is, of course, the focus of ambition. The polling came off ha the city on the 27th inst. The result placed the Candidates in the following order:—

Hodgson    .




•    Gutlnidge





All the available rooms in Melbourne and its environs are nightly occupied by the performance of political monologues, followed by scenes facetiously called questioning the candidates; or, in other words, endeavouring to insult and hamper them, by every kind of offensive sally and childish question. It is, however, a great stride in the march of intellect, for these meetings to be substituted for the old system of canvassing from house to house by friends who were supposed to have influence over individual voters—as landlords, employers, brother masons, &c. Thanks to the ballot, this sort of influence is in a fair way to take its place among the things that were : it is, however, essential that the system be fairly carried out, and that perfect secrecy be secured. If, as in the City Council, the signed cards are afterwards at the mei'cy of a select clique, there is no real ballot at all, but an engine of corruption and mischief is substituted for it.

Between the first two Candidates, Messrs. Hodgson and Fawkner, who were expected, on all sides, to head the list, there were only a few votes. A scrutiny has reduced the distance between Messrs. Gutlnidge and Smith to a mere trifle, which the latter gentleman hopes to remove ; but it is said that the scrutiny will cut both ways. The election— the first under the new system—was characterized by remarkable quiet and decorum.


The prospects of the Corporation of Melbourne, viewed from within, are very gloomy. The Gabrielli loan is all but exhausted, and has “ left no signand the income afforded by ordinary taxation is barely sufficient to defray the cost of spending itself. The critical time (long since foreseen by those who considered the matter) has nearly arrived, when the Corporation will have to stand its trial, and the great question “ to be, or not to be,” will be canvassed. It cannot be expected, for a moment, that the citizens will submit to a double taxation at the hands of the existing Council ; and it is as little likely that they will honor the present levies when they become aware that they are hardly more than sufficient for the Corporation’s housekeeping bills—the school of orators and politicians would be rather too costly at such a rate. The greatest marvel about the matter is, that, with the example of Sydney, and the experience of our own local institution, before us, the Corporation has been suffered to exist so long. The Municipal Councils have lield, by means of delegates, a convention, for the purpose of discussing questions affecting their endowment and their regal power; concerning which it is intended to seek increased advantages. The following is an abstract of the principal points advanced:—

“ From the general well-working of such Municipal bodies nsliave already been established, it may be presumed that such institutions will multiply very quickly, and finally extend over the length and breadth of the Colony of Victoria.

“ That the numerous restrictions attached to the working of these bodies, and the frequent reference of matters connected therewith for the sanction of the Executive

Government, render it necessary that a department of the Government should he organised for the sole purpose of attending to and controling such matters.

“ That it is essential to the well-working of the Municipal bodies that they should receive pecuniary assistance other than from local taxation.

“ That the funds derived from the sale or leasing of the public lands should be devoted to create those works rendered necessary by the sale or leasing of such lands, and the consequent settlement of population thereon.

“ That all rents and profits arising from the sale or leasing (as may be determined on) of all public lands yet unsold within any Municipal district should be vested in the Municipal Council of such district,” &c., &c.

Passing, naturally, from the consideration of Corporations to that of had roads, we find that the heavy rains of the past month have rendered many of the up-country roads impassable; and have checked many of the ordinary occupations on the diggings. Sluices have been in many places flooded, holes filled, and traffic nearly stopped. The delightful foretaste of summer, which we are now enjoying, must give a stimulus to mining industry, and is likely to ameliorate the difficulties of travel. The St. Kilda Railway is in progress, and some sanguine people talk about its being opened with the new year; the thing seems, however, to be hardly possible. The Geelong line is already open for a few miles, and the works are going on, but a long period of time must, of course, elapse before it will be of any material utility, as the places intervening between the termini are very insignificant; and there can, therefore, be no actual traffic, worthy the name, until, at least, one line is laid throughout the entire length. Several new lines are already under discussion,    .

A comprehensive scheme of Telegraphic Communication is under consideration. The Adelaide Government has commissioned a Mr. Todd, from the Greenwich Observatory, to make arrangements for a line to connect these colonies. The direction to be taken by the Melbourne line is decided on. It will be taken via Geelong, Ballaarat, Belfast, Warmambool, and Portland; it will then pass Mount Gambier, and proceed by way of Guichen Bay, along the Corong to the Goolwa, thence along the shores of Lake Victoria to Strathalbyn, and by Mount Barker to Adelaide. The principle adopted is that of Morse’s recording telegraph, perhaps the best there is, and, certainly the most adapted to our wants. The plan for a line to Sydney has yet to be discussed. Lines connecting Melbourne with Sandhurst and the intermediate towns, and Geelong with Ballaarat, are now approaching completion, and another from Sandhurst to Albury, including Beech-worth, is under survey. The whole plan is calculated with a view to its forming part of a gigantic scheme, which, when carried out, will include in one vast network all the principal countries of the earth.

The following resolution relative to the improvement of agriculture, has been adopted by a meeting of farmers, lately held at Geelong, for the purpose of discussing the cost of wheat growing, as affected by the use of machinery:—

That the committee of the Geelong and Western District Agricultural and Horticultural Society be requested to memorialise the Government at an early period after the election of members under the New Constitution Act, praying that a sum of ¿85000 be placed on the estimates for 1857, as a goant to the said society, for the purpose of awarding prizes to the colonial manufacturers of such implement as may appear to be particularly needed, and for the importation of foreign, American, or British agricultural standard implements, as patterns for colonial makers.”

The continued wet season has been very prejudicial to the young crops, and it is stated that in several instances the seed has rotted in the ground, and the operation of ploughing and sowing will have to be repeated. The ensuing summer will witness the cropping of a large extent of country now cultivated for the first time.

Owing to the weather, much field work has been entirely suspended ; the trade to the diggings has received a severe check, and many public works have been retarded: so that the labor market has been rather flat of late. The spring, however, must give a fresh impetus to everything; operations already commenced will be carried on with increased vigor, and the railways, telegraph lines, and other extensive public undertakings will be put in hand. Several buildings are rapidly progressing towards completion. The new Exchange, and Market House, County Court, banks, shops, and offices, in all directions, are changing the aspect of our streets, while pavement, gas, and water-mains begin to render accessible places which were, not long since, terae incognitae to people in the next street. Public conveyances, some of them rude enough it is true, but others


well appointed, ply to all the suburbs as well as to the inland towns. You put up at one of the coaching inns in town for a night, and long before day—“ Mittet tibi signa Bootes.” ‘Boots will call you’ to a candlelight breakfast, you start in one of those rattletrap machines that look and sound as if they were on the point of coming to pieces, and yet stand work that would shatter any other; you are churned in this for a whole day, and arrive at Castlemaine with the evening before you. On the St. Kilda turnpike road, the three miles of which probably see more bustle than all the rest put together, there are about thirty omnibusses regularly plying, besides the host of one horse cars ; to say nothing of its being a favorite afternoon ride or drive, and of the number of vehicles belonging to the residents of the populous hamlets of St. Kilda and Brighton, and the produce-drays of market gardeners and farmers. Within our time, St. Kilda was a comparatively distant place, in which a few persons lived, and to which a few others went occasionally, when they happened to fall in with the solitary conveyance that then sufficed for the whole traffic.

An absurd excitement was created a few Sundays ago, by the discovery of what where supposed to be surface diggings, on the Flagstaff hill and at Richmond. Hundreds of people congregated to share the spoil, but happily it turned out to be brass dross, deposited there by some person unknown, possibly for the sake of the joke. We say happily, for it is hardly possible to conceive benefits, derivable from such a discovery in such a place, which would not be far outbalanced by the attendant evils.

The prizes offered by the Labor League and the Mayor have been awarded in the form of silver cups, each value ¿£10, to Messrs. Best and Aldwell. The decision was that of the Professors of the Uuiversity, to whom the essays were referred.

Complaints have been made that a system, resembling that which called forth the “ Song of the Shirt,” is gaining way here; and the prices paid to needlewomen for making certain articles of clothing in common demand have been quoted. Anonymous correspondents of some of the papers, employers of course, have uttered the brutal taunt, that, as domestic servants are well paid, it can only be from a reprehensible fastidiousness that women choose needlework as a means of livelihood, and that if they cannot get a living they deserve no pity. As if every woman where fit for a household servant, or, being fit, could take a situation !

Consider the widow with a young family—the daughters supporting a sick mother, or an aged father—the wife helping her husband to make both ends meet, or eking out the small remittance he is enabled to make her from his distant work by occasional labor at her needle—the invalid, too weak to undertake household work if she could get it— or any other of the women who supply the ranks of sempstresses—how could the heartless and unreasonable taunt apply to these ? The benevolence of some ladies, directed by Drs. Maund and Tracy, who projected the scheme, has founded a Lying-in Hospital, and Infirmary for the diseases of women and children. A Religious Tract Society has recently been established by the joint effort of a number of different religious bodies. Bazaars are in preparation for the Benovolent Asylums of Melbourne and Geelong.

A singular case, illustrative of some of the absurdities of legal form, occurred in the case of the Barber estate. A question was tried before the deputy-sheriff whether Mr. J. T. Smith had commited a devastavit on the property of the deceased insolvent, whose trustee he was. The jury sat, heard counsel but no witnesses, and when called on for a verdict, which it was compelled to return, even while protesting against the farce, declared that there was no evidence to shew whether or not the trustee had committed a devastavit, nor was it shewn that the deceased possessed any property at the time of his death, nor even that he was dead at all. The finance committee of the City Council lately brought to light another circumstance in re the dismissal of the late town clerk. It appeared that on one occasion Mr. Kerr had received, in payment for certain work, the sum of ¿£48, but had only paid over to the city fund ¿£'35. The circumstance, that a motion for a criminal prosecution was negatived, will serve as an index of the reliance to be placed on the administrators of the City revenues. Great complaint has been made of the behaviour of some of the advocates practising in both the Supreme and Lower Courts. A witness in the hands of one of these legalized gentlemen is exposed to the bitterest insults, his very words are perverted for the very purpose of charging him with falsehood, he is abused, belied, and treated in a manner that would not be tolerated toward the most degraded criminal. Of course these observations apply only to the few practitioners who so disgrace their profession; it is to be hoped that the esprit du corps and honorable feeling of the rest will be aroused to check the practice. We have seen a trader, against whom no imputation lay, his very misfortunes being brought upon him by the unscrupulous grasping of a creditor who, made him a cat’s paw, and who, having got all he could, now forced his victim into the insolvent court by way of giving him the last squeeze—we have seen the insolvent treated as a degraded felon by the legal gentleman who represented the interests of the petitioning creditor.

A Cod Bank is said to have been found near King’s Island. The South Park is being enclosed at last. The Government has refused to set the public wishes at defiance, by allowing Carlton Gardens to be spoilt by cutting a needless road through them. Many parties of diggers have migrated to the mines of New South Wales; the cause being, partly, dissatisfaction with their success, and the encouragement offered by reports from other fields, and partly disgust at the complicated obstacles said to be placed in the way of enterprise by some local authorities. One motion, lately made to limit the number of Directors of the Colonial Bank, was negatived by the shareholders, who saw the evil of entrusting so large powers to a small body, and thus creating the risk of what should be merely a trading Company being converted into an engine of political or other influence.

Several serious nuisances about the city cry out loudly for removal. The approaches to Prince’s Bridge; Spencer-street, where lives have been lost; the stall blockades of Smith-street and St. Kilda ; are among our civic monuments. Tradition tells of the appointment of city nuisance inspectors ; but an occasional row opposite the Bull and Mouth ” is the sole indication of the existence of such officers.

A Board of official Delegates from the neighboring colonies is now sitting in Melbourne, to make arrangements for co-operation in the erection of lighthouses.

Mr. Brunton, who has already manifested his skill as a teacher of singing, has opened a class for the practice of Psalmody. The meetings are held in Chalmers’ Church. The tunes selected for use are printed in the form of a neat book by Mr. W. H. Williams, and are deserving of mention, as the use of music type is almost new here. The Theatre Royal is now open for dramatic entertainments, vice, the Olympic closed. The operatic season, for which arrangements have been made by the issue of subscription season-tickets, will Commence in November; Madame Bishop, and other accomplished performers, are retained. The Lyceum has passed into the hands of Mr. John Black, who has engaged the operatic corps lately arrived by the ‘ James Baines,’ and intends to produce English opera. The Garrick Club has given a very successful performance of the “ Lady of Lyons ;” the Club has offered a prize of ¿£20 for the best original farce, and intends to invite competition for a play. The above-mentioned performance was designed to aid the funds whence this encouragement to dramatic literature is offered.


The Museum question is so far settled that the Government and Colonial Secretai-y have given an undertaking that the removal of the Museum of Natural History to the University shall be only temporary. Nevertheless, the point of possession once gained, and the collection once bestowed and arranged in the cases, it is highly probable that the work of obtaining the re-portation of it to town will be somewhat difficult. A motion hag even been made for the removal of the specimens possessed by the Mechanics’ Institute to the same depository. This project will not excite so much interest, or opposition, as the former; because the neglect of the curators of the Mechanics’ Institute and the consequent waste and destruction of their charge, is a matter of notoriety. Now, however, a stir is being made, the old broken cases have been removed, and are being replaced by new ones, in which so much of the apparatus and specimens as time, dust, and the curators, have left will be arranged. The adult classes, or People’s College, are prospering; from fifty to eighty members áre on the roll of each class, that for mathematics being most in favor.

The Philosophical Society, at its last meeting, entertained a paper by Mr. Acheson, on motive power; in which the author, after reviewing the various means of power in ordinary use, recommended the leasing of the waters of Yan Yean, where there is now a depth of fifteen feet of water (Dr. Wilkie notwithstanding), for the purpose of driving mills and other machinery, anticipating such a return as would pay a profit on the works. Mr. Kentish’s project is in statu quo ante. Although many persons have expressed a willingness to assist in protecting his interests by patent while the inven-tion is being promulgated and tested, he has leavened the scheme with so much irrelevant “ small talk,” that people are unwilling to incur the notoriety which they know from experience would attend their association with the plan. An Institute of Architects has lately been set on foot, and if it be well worked cannot fail to produce much benefit.

The Railway Board is now inviting tenders for the supply of all kinds of materials for the lines in progress: invitations are held out to colonial enterprise to compete with the importers of English manufactures. This may give us an impetus in departments of industry scarcely yet opened here; for, although it is little more than an open invitation to tender for the goods required, still it hints at the possibility of their being made here at rates which will admit of their being employed with a due regard to economy. In any case, the railways, and other works contemplated and in progress, must calx for a large amount of professional and mechanical skill now dormant, or applied from sheer exigency to other pursuits. We have iron in abundance, and in accessible places, to say nothing of the rich iron mine recently opened at Mittagong, N. S. W.; the ore of which is is said to yield fifty-seven per cent, of pure iron, and one per cent, of manganese, the presence of which is considered rather an advantage. In our late Exhibition were samples of iron from Flemington and from Western Port, and they afforded very interesting and encouraging indications of a new source of wealth, before which gold must one day sink into insignificance;—the sooner the better. Never was thriving nation yet without arts and manufactures, no matter what the production of the country. The most valuable branches of industry, to any people, are those which act and re-act upon one another, and upon those of the countries with which it exchanges products. The first grand law of nature, equilibrium, is thus maintained; and the constant circulation aod interchange yields profit to all. If we psssess facilities for obtaining machinery, by making it ourselves, agriculture derives thence an impulse that can come from no other source. Improved supply then creates increased demand, and other mechanical arts, subservient to the first spring into life; ingenuity and enterprise are brought into play; and the result is a triumph such as has been achieved by brother “Jonathan,” who sends his machinery and mechanical products all over the world, and even sees the Sheffield tool-makers imitating his patterns and brands. Prizes have even been awarded to some of our productions at the great Paris Exhibition ; and, although the articles so rewarded owed as little of their interest as need be to our skill or industry, yet the very circumstance should stimulate us to make the most of the possession of advantages which were recognised as valuable, even amid such a collection of the world’s wealth. The medals, by the way, of the Victorian Exhibition are not yet ready ; recent inquiry has elicited the admission that their execution and delivery are farther off than ever. The order was sent home through a “ friend,” and of course not attended to ; and it is now stated that they will probably be struck here. As if it were not sufficiently disgraceful ever to send the work elsewhere to be done. An Industrial Exhibition unable to provide its own rewards ! and that, too, with similar work actually in course of performance within its walls! We, of course, believe in the superiority of British and Continental art in point of absolute excellence; but it is a shame that we should seek to conceal, if, with such a display as was seen here two years since, we cannot find the taste and skill to execute a suitable medal. We do not admit, individually, this deficiency, but if such a condition should exist, as for the commissioners to be right and ourselves wrong intliis matter, the less that is said in future about our national advancement the better.

The Exhibition Building is now undergoing a thorough repair, and it will in future be let for public meetings, balls, lectures, &c. Such a public assembly room has long .been wanted, and but for some inconvenience attending the locality this would serve admirably for the purpose. The building should, however, never have been diverted from its original objects. If the National Museum had been left there as a nucleus, and a guarantee given for the custody of the collection, half the objects sent in to the Victorian Exhibition would have been cheerfully donated by the contributors towards so grand an object as a depository of the works of nature and art, in which might then have been collected illustrations of our progress, and works of other nations for comparison and invitation. Eor many years to come the galleries and wings would have sufficed for this purpose, and the central hall would still have been open for public gatherings. There need then have been no bickerings about the locality of the museum, and the character of the place, secured to nature and art, would have given a tone to the assemblies held within its walls. Nor is it now too late to adopt this plan. The Museum is not yet entirely disposed at the University; a splendid hall, with such of the necessary furniture, is vacant; and a pledge has been given that the National Collection is only temporarily bestowed at the Ultima Thule of North Melbourne, until suitable accomodation can be found for it in town. Here is all we want; no extra expense to be incurred, no apartments to be sought, no new staff to be constituted. What more do we need, but to take a step eminently calculated to advance the interests of the colony, a step essential to its true enlightenment and progress, and harmonious to the wants and feelings of the bulk of its thinking population.

The Chamber of Commerce has of late been directing its attention to the all-important questions of Internal Communication, Telegraphs, and the Assimilation of Colonial Tariff's: and has offered a prize for the best essay on the first-named subject.

The Government Geologist has prepared with his report a geological map of the Colony; which is now being printed for publication. The public will then have an opportunity of observing the extent of this gentleman’s labors, and of profiting by them. We would press upon the proper authorities the necessity of affording greater facilities for purchasing the scientific reports which are furnished from time to time. Hitherto it has been a matter of considerable difficulty to procure either reports or maps. Surely an arrangement might be made with the booksellers; and there would be no difficulty in publishing in the Government Gazette, regularly, a list of the reports as they are published, with the prices. Hitherto, it has been extremely difficult to get them.


Now is the Age of Pamplets. The hues of the rainbow are well nigh exhausted in the endeavour to obtain distinctive colors for the variety of subjects. Attacks and Defences, Reports, Lectures, and Projects, crowd upon us on every side.

First in importance, because it lies at the root of all others, yes, of religion itself, is the subject of Education, Professor Hearn has published bis excellent paper on Primary schools, read at a late meeting of the Philosophical Institute. Avoiding all the points on which sectaries differ, he judiciously discusses the question of Education on its own merits, treating in an enlightened spirit the conditions essential to efficient instruction; shewing plainly the absolute necessity for a combined system, by which* the powers of the teacher and the funds at disposal may be most advantageously employed. Under the present modes there are often, in the same localities, no fewer than seven denominations of schools, each inefficient because the means at command are ineconomically disposed. If in trade every one attempted to produce for himself the necessaries of life, the result would be a signal failure : the baker would find himself at a nonplus when his watch wanted cleaning, and the clever smith would prove a sorry architect. Yet in public schools the principle of the division of labor is ignored;, and in each of several adjacent buildings, a single master is employed in teaching at once languages and mathematics to more advanced pupils, A B C to the infants, and discipline to all. Now different faculties and habits are required for the teaching of different subjects to pupils of different capacities. It rarely happens that the man, whose habitudes qualify him for conducting studies in the highest walk of learning, possesses either capacity or inclination for performing the functims of a dame-school ; while the most valuable nurse teachers of young children are seldom able to instruct advanced youths in all that they need to learn before entering into life. Now, the one master of each public school has, we are informed, the charge of sonie sixty or seventy children of all ages : his attention is divided, and his thoughts are distracted by the multiplicity of conflicting duties, so that he cannot even direct his best energies to the department in which he is most at home. The Denominational system, which starts with cutting up the juvenile community into sections, precludes the possibility of such a classification of pupils, and such a concentration of the masters’ powers as will give the best training. The National system provides for this, and its defects are those of execution, not of principle, and only krise because it is discountenanced by many who, in their zeal for the spread of their own religious views, wish to imbue the whole course of education with their own cast of thought, forgetting that the subdivision they advocate is not calculated to advance fully even the ends they seek; while the National and combined systems afford every facility for religious instruction, and the labors of the clerical teachers are seconded in all but the points on which they differ by the ordinary lessons. Happily, there seems to have been, of late, an inclination toward assimilation on the part of the two existing bodies, and the contest is now rather how much of its own views each can introduce into the new system which must shortly be organised: and the public at large begins to have some idea of the diiference in value between seven inferior schools and one really good one. A pamphlet by Mr. Davitt, of the Model schools, very ably sets forth the general principles of the National system, and displays the utter fallacy of the cry, raised against it, thát it ignores the necessity for religious'teaching or neglects to make provision for it.

Matters Ecclesiastical are treated variously in several pamphlets. Dr. Cairns, after discussing other relations subsisting between Church and State, reluctantly declares against State Aid on the ground, to use his own words, that, “ under the general name of religion, it confounds right with wrong, and truth with falsehood ; that it accepts Christ and Antichrist as alike worthy, and sanctions, nay fosters, the most pernicious delusions as equally desirable with the doctrines of reveiation.” This is the standing objection set forth by the opponents of the 53rd clause; and it presupposes that every objection is right and every one else wrong. Mr. a’Beckett combats the opposition, and draws particular attention to the mistake of confounding the system of religious endowment, which in England compels all to join in the support of a dominant church, from whose doctrine many dissent, with Bourke’s Act, which here merely compels the recognition of Christianity in the abstract, and invites each individual to nominate the particular sect which he desires to be the recipient of his quota. An appeal by a Scottish lady to the Free Church of Scotland shews that, while this body has been unsuccessful in the attempt to support its ministers without the rejected share of public funds subscribed by its own members, it seeks the elemosynary aid of the brethren elsewhere.

Mr. Westgarth has issued in a convenient form his valuable collection of Statistical tables, illustrating the commercial progress of the colony, from its foundation to the present time. Most of the matter included in this work has been already communicated to the Chamber of Commerce, and published in the Journal of Commerce. The most valuable information diffused in the pages of a newspaper necessarily assumes somewhat of an ephemeral character; the production therefore of facts so pertinent to our welfare in a book form is always welcome. The work is, in fact, a precis of the commercial and monetary history of Victoria, and as such merits a prominent plan in the libraries, not only of true Victorians, but of even those who regard the colony merely as a place to make money in. A very eccentric book on Industrial Resources, by Mr. H. L. Lindsay, C.E., embodies, among a mixture of unintelligible verbeage and erroneous political economy, some really useful practical suggestions on matters connected with the promotion of agriculture and water supply. If the treatise could be divested of its “ fine writing,” and of the confusion of cause and effect, which invalidate many of the author’s arguments, it might be instrumental to the desired end. As it is, it reminds one of the “ Question of Questions,” and stands about an equal chance of being extensively read. A projector, writing under the much-abused name of Junius, and professing to teach the “ way to wealth,” desires to have the inland borders of the country cut up into fifty blocks of thirty-six square miles each, to be vested in .Trustees, and applied to the endowment of institutions of public utility. These lots are to be made productive by being let to companies, and by them worked as agricultural settlements, mines, &c. The writer declares his impression that such companies would be readily formed in England, but admits that his own scheme (a complicated and apparently impracticable one) has not received attention. An enthusiastic eccentric, hight Crossman, the Universal Mechanic,” has issued the first number of a new publication, called the “ Empire of the South,” half newspaper, half magazine, as a sort of safety valve for a caocethes scribendi with which he appears to be afflicted. The following queer doctrines are among the professed items of his political creed. “ A fifty acre grant to each man who will cultivate ;—Education to all who, by possession of land, can pay for it;—disbanding of all police and other force;—the “ Empire of the South” to be the organ of the Government.”

Mr. Hannaford, in a series of pleasant gossipping “Jottings in Australasia,” gives his observations on the natural history of the country, with a classified catalogue of the more common plants. The book is but a sketch, and an incomplete one, but it is full of interesting information pleasantly given, and is calculated to serve as a very useful manual to the observer and collector. Nature here presents a new and as yet but slightly-worked field for the naturalist; the pursuit has the recommendation of being at once fascinating, healthful, profitable, and elevating. We mention the moral elevation, which results from this study, last, as well for a climax as because it is, unfortunately, one of the last inducements which is here likely to have weight. Even those who formerly found their highest pleasures in humanising recreations and mental culture, too often become world-hardened in the battle of life ; and pursuits that do not seem immediately productive of this world’s good are disregarded. With the enjoyment of our Museum, Library, and Botanical Garden, with the influence of the University, and other educational institutions, and with the tone given to society by the introduction, within the last two or three years, of a class of colonists of higher intellectual caste, a new state of things is arising amongst us. The intellectual is gradually asserting its claim to precedence over the physical; and civilization and refinement are supplanting the rude habits that were once made a boast. We have now a Philosophical Institute, Architectural and Agricultural Societies, Mechanics’ Institutions, such as they are, in every town ; the entertainments and public recreations which attract our pleasure-seekers are no longer limited to the public-house revel or the maudlin melo-drama. Lectures are fairly attended, music is cultivated, managers find it necessary to produce pieces of a high order of merit, the library is the resort of earnest readers, and the adult classes lately opened at the Mechanics’ Institute have met with a success that must agreeably surprise even the projector himself, while the best works of European authors meet a ready sale. All these are encouraging indications of the spread of intelligence.

A new edition of tbe “Black and White List” contains all the useful information formerly published, with notes of the candidates who are now before the constituencies. Perhaps it would have been an advantage if a little more detail had been given concerning those men who are new aspirants to legislative honors ; as it is, the brief head, “ Politics liberal,” applies to a large number, including some whose possession of politics at all may be doubted. On the whole, the work is calculated to be very useful as an elector’s manual.

The “ News Letter of Australasia,” which on its first issue was a reprint of this “ Journal,” is now before us as an independent work ; and, as we have nothing at all to do with it, we may observe that it seems likely to be welcome to the very large class of gossip letter-writers.





K at Q’s R Square. Q at K’s R 2.

Kt. at K’s R 4.

B at K’s Kt. 7.

K, K’s R 4. P, K’s R 6.

White to move, and mate in three moves. (Solution in our next.)

Cuach.—What is the cuacli,” a Highland ornament, mentioned by several writers ? Cipher.—The following cipher appears in a late number of Chambers’ Journal, with a challenge to discover the solution. The exercise may amuse many of our readers, and, if the key be found, we are prepared with an original cipher by way of return challenge. MELJYKWLLCMNRCAUXLSOADLBXPFHOMQCKERUI EKYROTHRDAYLAGIXOKPFGO.

Naturalist.—The gold medal of the Society of Arts was given to Dr. Goadby for the invention of the following solution, for preserving specimens of Natural History, anatomical preparations, &c. Bay salt, 4 ounces; alum, 2 ounces ; corrosive sublimate, 4 grains ; boiling water, 2 quarts. When great astringency is necessary to give tenacity to delicate structures, the solution may be made stronger by diminishing the quantity of water: of course this liquid must not be used for the preservation of animals possessing carbonate oflime, (asmollusca, &c.) as the alum would be decomposed, sulphateof lime formed and precipitated, and the animal spoiled. For such specimens use—bay salt, 8 ounces; corrosive sublimate, 2 grains ; water, one quart. Marine animals require a stronger solution of this kind, viz., specific gravity 1*148, made by adding two ounces more salt. The corrosive sublimate is designed to prevent the growth of vegetation in the fluid, and no greater quantity should be used than two grains per quart. As it has the property of «ongulating albumen, it must be omitted when ova are to be be preserved, or when the transparency of certain tissues needs to be maintained. We will give some other formulae if desired.

Mathematical Problem, No. I.—The equation ay-\- x — b, propounded by X. Y. in p. 96 is indeterminate, there being two unknown quantities, and only one equation. If any arbitrary value be ascribed to either x or y, the other can thence be found. The elements of the original question, as since ascertained, admit of another equation, and the question stands thus

b — ay -+- x, and y : x : : c : d, or ay -j- x = b, and c x = d y.

To d times equation first, add equation second; whence, by transposition:—

adb d

x =--

c d


adb d

y = <*b-{---


Loss of Hair.—The following preparation will arrest the falling off of the hair, stimulate its growth, and increase its luxuriance :—Tr. Lyttse 6 drachms, castor oil 11 ounces, opodeldoc l.| oz., essential oil of lavender 12 drops, olive oil to 4 ounces. Shake well, and apply daily in place of other oils and creams.

Potichomanie has been aptly defined as “ the spoiling of good glass in a vain attempt to imitate bad crockery.” We will give instructions if our fair friends desire it; but certainly cannot recommend so dirty and tasteless a pursuit.    *

Musical Plagiarisms.—A singular example of the unblushing plagiarism of modern song writers is presented by the song “ Terence’s Farewell to Kathleen,” which was published and sung within the last few years as a new Irish ballad: it is an air of no less historic interest than “ Green Sleeves,” a dance, popular in the time of Queen Elizabeth, and memorable for the notice of it by Shakspere, who makes Falstaff and Mrs. Ford in the “ Merry Wives of Windsor ” speak of it as an old familiar tune. “ Yankee Hoodie,” too, turns out to be a jig of the tune of Charles II.


P. G. We do not understand your “Fragment:” it appears to be composed of several fragments.

“Australian Arabs ” shall receive our attention.

“ Shaksperian Notes.” Creditable to the writer’s judgment, but we fear that the readers who would enter into such minute criticism as forms this paper are but few.

“The Mountains of New South Wales” will require cutting to make them passable.

“ Zion” is a little out of our way.

“ Mrs. Brattles” is remanded to the 1st October.

“A Love Story,” if possible, in our next.

“Giorgio” and “Miroccolo” are referred to the note below.

The Carbonahist ” is scarcely suited to our columns.

We would prefer the observations of the living “Naturalist” to the Obituary forwarded.

“Reminiscences of a Student” next month, if possible.

We cannot at present undertake the journey to Gipp’s Land.

“A year ago ”—a month hence, perhaps.

Contributors will oblige by furnishing the names and addresses by which they may be communicated with, and by writing legibly on one side only of the paper. It should be borne in mind that bulk is a very negative recommendation: many papers now lying useless on our table might have been available if less spun out, or if we had possessed the means of conferring with the writers.

W. H. Williams, Printer, 94 Bourke Street East, Melbourne.




If it be true that- “ tbe chief value of history consists in its proper employment for the purposes of art,” and that “ it is through her that the past lives to the counselling and direction of the future,” we shall be perfectly justified in advancing a step further, and affirming, as a supplementary proposition, that those who are the makers of history should be daily familiarized with those great events of antecedent centuries, which are calculated to excite our enthusiasm, inspire our reverence, and inflame our emulation, in the present. And, the artist being the only true historian, it must be from habitual contact with his works—from the hourly teaching of his lessons—from the pregnant facts and instructive truths, which he is capable of conveying to the mind through the facile inlet of the vision, that our legislators and makers of history can be inspired with the emulation, reverence, and enthusiasm of which we have spoken. Hence, in discussing the question of what pictorial decorations may be most suitably and beneficially employed in the new Houses of Parliament, we strongly and earnestly advocate the choice of those embellishments which shall pointedly and effectively illustrate the most memorable events connected with the rise, growth, and mature development, of Parliamentary Institutions in the mother country.

We differ from those who believe that the more prominent incidents of Victorian history supply eligible materials for the pencil of the historical painter, or the chisel of the sculptor, to work upon. A period may arrive, when the men and occurrences of our own times, looming indistinctly through the mists of antiquity, may assume a picturesque aspect, and grand and heroic proportions : just as Remus and Romulus, Numa Pom-pilius and Horatius Codes, do in the romantic prose of Livy, in the vivid verse of Macaulay. But to us, the actors of contemporary history appear the diminutive and unheroic men which they really are; and no artist, whether he employs words or colors, marble or bronze, can idealize Mr. Fawkner into a Romulus, the late Mr. Batman into a Remus, or Mr. O’Shanassy into a Valerius Publicóla. Nor, remarkable as some of the incidents of Victorian history have been, do they yet assume that imposing character which they no doubt will do a century hence, when the events of several decades of years can be studied as a whole, and estimated in relation to their possibly stupendous results.

Therefore, let us fall back for subjects upon historical events to the


dignity, grandeur, and magnitude of which, no exception can be taken; and with the actors in which no mean, ridiculous, contemptible, or dishonoring associations can be connected.

The annals of the Imperial Parliament would supply an inexhaustible mine of excellent subjects, susceptible of pictorial treatment : and the decorative pictures derived from this source would constitute an ever present “ hand writing on the wall,” for the instruction, reproof, or inspiration of the imperfectly educated and undisciplined legislators of this infant nation. The past would thus become the witness and the monitor of the present: and, as Philip Doddridge derived his earliest knowledge of Scripture history from the Dutch tiles which ornamented the fire-place in his mother’s sitting room, so there may be some of our future senators —the “raw levies” of the first Parliament—who will learn the rudiments of the constitutional history of Great Britain from the easy and instructive picture lessons which we propose should be depicted upon the walls of our Legislative chambers. We would have those walls vital, as it were, with the great men, and glowing with the great deeds, by which and whom the principles of constitutional freedom have been established in the mother country. We would have our lawmakers sit daily in the presence of the most illustrious statesmen, jurists, and reformers of Great Britain : for we have great faith in the influence silently exercised by those mute effigies. “ They, being dead, yet speak : ” and, contemplating their lineaments, our own legislators would be reminded that there have been and are greater statesmen than themselves; and that there are worthier objects of admiration, and loftier and nobler models of imitation, than are to be found in the narrow circle of our own legislative bodies. For it is the misfortune of colonial, as it is of provincial, society, all the ' world over, that its members estimate themselves by a local standard of excellence: and not only so, we are rather apt to mistake defects for merits, and to imitate the pastor of a congregation of cretins, who called upon his flock to thank God that they were not like that English tourist, who had just entered the village church, and whose neck was not ornamented by any goitre.

Carlyle affirms that hero-worship is to this hour, and at all hours, the vivifying influence in man’s life;” and that “ no nobler feeling than this of admiration for one higher than himself dwells in the breast of man. We do not propose to preach this doctrine to our future law-givers, with the view of making proselytes; for we know the hopelessness of the effort; and how irrevocably wedded certain M.L.C.’s in esse, and M.L.A.’s in posse, are to the worship of various material gods, uglier than any that are manufactured in Staffordshire for export to Hindostan: but what we contend for is the desirability of keeping before the eyes of our future senators the images of the most illustrious statesmen, and a pictorial record of the most memorable events in the parliamentary history of Great Baitain : not for worship but monition, not for idolatry but emulation.

According to an oriental proverb, “ a fig-tree looking on a fig-tree becometh fruitful: ” and though we have not the hardihood to assert that the oratorical sterility of a Myles, a Murphy, or a Mollison, would ^ be diminished by a daily study, on the part of those gentlemen, of “ speaking likenessess ” of a Fox, a Pulteney, a Sheridan, or a Brougham, we can

conceive tliat the new Houses of Parliament will contain some men in whose minds the latent fires of eloquence may be kindled in a happy moment by a flash of inspiration derived from the source alluded to. Some influences, too, of a reproving and restraining character, we might anticipate would be exercised by the portraitures of men and events with which we propose to decorate our legislative chambers:—influences not dissimilar in character to those which the sight of the senators sitting in tbs Homan forum exerted upon the minds of the followers of Brennus,—■

“When the Gauls, -

Entering- at sun-rise through the open gates,

And, through the streets silent and desolate,

Max-ching to slay, thought they saw Gods, not men.

We hold that portraits or statues of the really great, and representations of incidents worthy to be had in perpetual remembrance, would be a standing protest against littleness of mind and littleness of conduct, low aims and narrow schemes of policy, in our Victorian senate. It seems to us that, as honorable members rose in their places to debate, a glance at those pictured walls would often suffice to rebuke the factious, to reproach the selfish * shame the corrupt, confirm the hesitating, and silence the ignorant; that they would inspire the eloquent and stimulate the patriotic: and that they would tend to create a sort of religio loci favorable to discussions carried on in a wise and thoughtful spirit, for the purpose of arriving at just and sound conclusions, preliminary to the work of well-considered legislation.

So far as art could contribute to fashion the minds and shape the policy of our legislators, decorations like these would assist to promote their advancement,    -

“Not alone in power And knowledge, not from liour to hour,

Iix reverence and in charity.”

And hereafter, when “decay’s effacing fingers” should have obliterated these pictorial records from the walls, after generations may have occasion to fill up the vacant spaces with the portraits of Victorian worthies, of men

“Who made by force their merit known,

And lived to clutch the golden keys,

To mould a mighty state’s decrees,

And shape the whisper of a throne.

“And, moving up from high to higher,

Became, on Fortune’s crowning slope,

The pillars of a people’s hope,

The centre of a world’s desire.”


At the present moment—when this most hopeful of communities is about to enter on a new and noble career of self-government, which a benign Destiny has set before it—there is no question which occupies more the thoughts of quietly reflective people than this one :—Have we amongst us the requisite amount of ability for carrying on the responsible and arduous work of administration under the new regime ?—and it must be granted, that very grave misgivings are entertained on this head, even by those who are best able to judge of the nature and the extent of the ability required on the one hand, and of the capacity of the community for supplying the demand on the other. Certainly, the inquiry is one of the very greatest interest: and, as it is one which we can pursue in this Journal without at all infringing the limits of that neutrality in party politics within which we are restricted, we shall here set before our readers some of those considerations that have impressed themselves on our minds in the course of our investigations into it.

We lay it down, then, as a fundamental axiom, that every civil community contains within itself the necessary amount of ability for its own government. This, it will be said, is “ taking the bull by the horns,” indeed; for it answers the whole question by begging it. Very well: but there are some questions which are best answered in that fashion, and this is one of them. Here the question implies a doubt; and before the asker has any right to demand an answer to it, he is bound to shew some grounds for that doubt. We assume the whole case in discussion, for the purpose of throwing the onus on him. Why should he doubt the capacity of a community to govern itself? Why should he take for granted that the administrative necessities of a people should ever rise higher than their capabilities for supplying them? Clearly, until he makes good his point there, he has no right to claim a reply.

But, in point of fact, our principle is, if not self-evident, at all events indubitable. All experience confirms it: all history proclaims it: all political thinkers admit it. Take, for example, the evidence of a most competent witness in this case:—Thomas Carlyle, who, in his Latter Day Pamphlets (the germ, by the way, of the now defunct Administrative Reform movement in England), insists upon the truth as being obvious to every mind. “Intellect,” he says, “exists in all countries; and the function appointed it by Heaven is to govern. Who are available to your offices in Downing "Street ? all the gifted souls, of every rank, who are born to you in this generation. These are appointed, by the true eternal divine right, which will never become obsolete, to be your governors and administrators; and precisely as you employ them will your State be favored of Heaven or disfavored.”—Granted, that the Latter Day Seer takes rather higher ground here than that on which we are just now treading; he, nevertheless, puts our proposition conclusively; all the more so, indeed, that he does assume the highest ground for it. ^ It may be confidently assumed that, just as the great law of compensation pervades all physical nature, so also does it rule in the world of humanity—in the social and the political relations of mankind. Requirements and capabilities are ever co-extensive;—as water always finds its own level. The ordinary exigencies of human society are always such as human society can itself supply.    _ _

Let us advance a step. Is the actual amount of ability needful to conduct an administration very much above the level of that required to manage the ordinary affairs of life ? That is the next question. And to answer it satisfactorily we must have recourse to the evidence of compe-

tent witnesses. Now, all philosophic history goes to prove that, as an acute thinker remarks, “ in general, quite as much talent is requisite for the management of private and ordinary affairs, as of those which relate to a whole community, and which are frequently, though in some respects without justice, considered the most important. The Chinese maxim, which identifies the Government of a State with that of a family, is not without force as to the amount of intellect required.” According to Tacitus, one branch of domestic rule merely, that of control, is commonly more difficult than the regulation of a province. “ Domam suam," he remarks of Agricola ; “ coercuit: Quod plerisque hand minus arduum est, quam provinciam r eg ere'.'    Thucydides delivers it as his opinion, that

men of moderate capacity are best united for administrative functions; and perhaps Cervantes was of the same mind, for he makes Sancho, with nothing but a decent share of mother-wit, an excellent governor of the island of Barataria. The reader may remember the reply of the Swedish Chancellor Oxenstiern to his son, who had expressed some fears respecting his qualification for a certain diplomatic appointment: “You know not, my son, with how little wisdom the world is governed : ”—a remark, however, which indicates rather what is than what should be. To the same effect is a very penetrating remark of Voltaire’s, apropos of the character of that wily statesman, Cardinal Mazarin, and which occurs in the sixth chapter of his “ Siecle de Louis XIV." He says : “ The vulgar sometimes suppose a prodigious extent of capacity, and a genius almost divine, in those who have governed empires with success. It is not a superior penetration which makes great statesmen; it is their character. Men, deficient in sagacity as they may be, see clearly enough their own interests. A citizen of Amsterdam, or of Berne, knows as much on that point as a Sejanus, a Ximenes, a Buckingham, a Richelieu, or a Mazarin. But our conduct, and our enterprises, depend entirely on the temper of our souls, and our successes depend on fortune.”—In the business of administration, indeed, it is not those men who possess the most comprehensive and accurate knowledge of history, and of the science of government, who are the most successful; but those who have possessed themselves of that special kind or portion of both, which is most nearly connected with the actual character and circumstances of the community over which they are placed. It was with reference to this truth that Pericles, the wisest legislator of antiquity, remarked that, in framing law’s, he had prepared, not those which were abstractedly the best, but those which were best suited to the Athenians. And in further support of the view we are maintaining, w^e may quote the epigrammatic remark of Colton, the author of “ Lacon:"—“ Many have been thought capable of governing, until they were called to govern ; and others have been deemed incapable, who, when called into powrer, have most agreeably disappointed public opinion, by far surpassing all previous anticipation. The fact is that the great and little vulgar too often judge of the blade by the scabbard; and shining outward qualities, although they may excite firstrate expectations, are not unusually found to be the companions of second-rate abilities: whereas, to possess a head equal to the greatest events, and a heart superior to the strongest temptations, are qualities which may be possessed so secretly, that a man’s next-door neighbour shall not discover

them until some unforeseen and fortunate occasion has called them forth.” There is a well-known anecdote of Swift which bears on this point, and which embodies a very acute observation of that sarcastic analyst of human life. Standing one day in the office of Harley, Earl of Oxford, the Secretary of State, he called the attention of that nobleman to one of his clerks, who was cutting some paper with a sharp penknife, and of course cut it aslant. A blunt paper-knife would have served the purpose far better. “ So,” observed Swift to Harley, “ a man whose faculties are too keen does not succeed in managing affairs so well as a man whose mental qualities are of a rougher cast.”

But not to mulitiply authorities needlessly on a point which may be now fairly assumed to be established, we shall dismiss it with the conclusive testimony of Edmund Burke, uttered in the course of his memorable speech on Box’s East India Bill, one of the greatest speeches ever made within the walls of the British Parliament, or without them. “ I have known merchants with the sentiments and the abilities of great statesmen; and I have seen persons in the rank of statesmen with the conceptions and character of pedlars. Indeed, my observation has furnished me with nothing that is to be found in any habits of life or education which tends to disqualify men for the functions of government, but that, by which the power of exercising those functions is very frequently obtained, I mean a spirit and habits of low cabal and intrigue ; which I have' never, in one instance, seen united with a capacity for sound and manly policy.”

There is certainly nothing more evident in the experience of mankind, than that those who have actually gained the predominance over their fellow-men, and have held the reins of power, in all ages, have in general been very far from being the best and wisest of the race. So far from it, indeed, that in reading history one cannot suppress the conviction which rises constantly to the mind, that courts and cabinets have been the usual resort of those who were the very reverse of wise and good. Take, for example, the history of the reigns of Charles II. and James II. as narrated in the vivid, though somewhat prolix, volumes of Macaulay. What immorality, both personal and political, can be conceived of more shocking than that of the leading statesmen of that epoch ? Look at the individual characters of Buckingham, Sunderland, Lauderdade, and Shaftesbury; and say where it would be possible to have found worse men, that is, men more unprincipled, more selfish, more unscrupulous, more destitute, in a word, of all really great qualities, of all the qualities which constitute a true statesman. And even in respect to the minor qualities required in efficient administration—such, for example, as punctuality, decision, energy, qualities exhibited in the fullest exercise in every well-regulated mercantile establishment every day—how deficient must even our modern statesmen be of these, to render possible such a frightful state of things in the machinery of government, as Dickens satirises under the figure of the “ Circumlocution Office,” and which, it is universally conceded, is but a too true description of the way things are carried on in Downing Street! Ah! how amazing an illustration of the perfection of our modern statesmen in the art of “ How not to do it,” was shewn to the world throughout the entire course of the recent Crimean campaign! Samuel Taylor Coleridge, whom nothing on earth seems to have escaped, makes an extremely pertinent observation

on this point, which (as we are just in the humor of quoting authorities) we must here adduce. “As to mere details of administration, I honestly-thought that ministers and men in office must, of course, know much better than any private person could possibly do; and it was not till I went to Malta, and had to correspond with official characters myself, that I fully understood the extreme shallowness and ignorance with which men, of some note too, were able, after a certain fashion, to carry on the government of important departments of the empire.”

The point, then, for which we contend is one that may be considered as decided. This country may enter fearlessly on its new and untried course, confident in the belief that whatever administrative talent may be needful to meet its future exigencies will be forthcoming at the appointed time. Happy, indeed, will it be for her if the government of her affairs shall fall only into the hands of those who shall be actuated solely by an earnest desire to advance her well-being, and to raise her to a high political and moral position amongst the nations of the earth!


The January summer sun

Not lialf its northern course hacl run,

And the noontide ray was pouring down From the sky so blue to the earth so brown; Australia’s forest filled the view,

Far slumbering in its changeless hue,

And drowsy noon had softly quelled All sound of life, save when, perchance, Their screeching flight the parrots held With fitful rush and gaudy glance;

Or when my weary footfall pressed The scorching grass, and stirred the rest Of basking lizard, nothing broke The deep repose or echo woke.

On through the trackless bush I trod O’er scattered leaves and sunburnt sod,

In that far-wandering thoughtful mood That steals on man in solitude,

Till, tired, my way-worn limbs I laid Beneath a gum tree’s scanty shade,

• Watching the warm air’s restless waving, Drowsily dreaming of days gone by, Thoughtless and careless of anything, saving When busy mosquitoes got into my eye. One torturer (good fate deliver us From every insect sanguiniverous),

In idle 'sport or insect spite,

Would thus so titillate my sight,

Till faithful vision did assure me A human stranger stood before me,

Reclining against a neighbour tree ;

All silent was my vis a vis.

Care-worn he looked, and, like myself,

Clad scantly, as if short of pelf;

With large blue eye, which same I took To have a sort of flighty look;    .

He seemed the seediest of men.

But whence the fellow came and when Baffled my senses altogether ;

I stared at him, he stared again.

At last I spoke, and started off My conversation with a cough ;

Said pleasant things about the weather,

To which remarks his sole replies Were monosyllables and sighs.

I said, “ My friend, I’m grieved to find You have some trouble on your mind;

You’ve lost some property, it may be;

Or else, a parent or a baby;

Or crossed in love—such things are known: ” But here he gave a horrid groan;

And, stirring up in his moody dreaming,

He started up, drew near, and seeming At once all further fuss to scout,

My melancholy friend spoke out:

Appearing thus to find relief In pouring out his pent up grief,

A wordy torrent seemed to roll Forth from the fulness of his soul.

“ My home, my English home was where,

’Midst flowering fields and hedgerows green— One favored spot, one vision fair—

Is aye in faithful memory seen ;

It shines before me like a star,

For ever bright, yet ever far.

And tendril thoughts will twine and band My soul to that green garden land.

Till mad ambition’s sons forget The prize on which their life is set—

Till Love lives but in idle tales,

Hope dies and recollection fails—

Shall fondest memories entwine My soul, dear land, with thee and thine.

There dwelt the lady of my love,

In fancy’s view I see her yet;

In grace and goodness far above Worlds of the beautiful I’ve met.

There was a gentle brooklet flowing,

And drooping willows wooed the stream,

And gay wild-flowers, in gladness growing, Sprung aye to greet the morning beam.

Then, as the countless dew-drops glistened,

So sparkled our light spirits’ flow,

And the wild-bird’s song, to which we listened, Was not more free from care or woe.

And each bright day its joys would bring,

And time went by with lightsome wing,

And dearest hopes within me thrilled As Love’s young dream my fancy filled.

My own sweet love, full well I knew Were none more trustful, fond, and true;

Truth on thy queenly brow was writ;

Thy soft clear eyes with gladness lit,

Sweet pity slumbered in thy breast;

All pure affection there had rest;

Each kindly wish and gentle thought Had there a sanctuary sought—

But now ’tis past—I stand alone—

Dark, desolate, and all forsaken.

I pour the unavailing moan

For hopes that seem no more to waken; How sweetly shone the rainbow ray Of promise, ere it passed away,

As summer clouds, so fair and fleet,

That fling their shadows at your feet;

Ere passed in day, expiring light Gleam yet more beautifully bright;

As sunlight on an ivied tomb,

That lives a moment to illume,

Then dies to leave a darker gloom;

So that fair vision, fondly cherished,

Shone o’er my pathway, shone and perished. E’en now, in glowing fancy’s dreams,

My guardian angel still she seems;

’Twas hers to rule my wayward soul,

And every wandering thought control.

One look, one smile, one gentle word,

And all my hearts best nature stirred,

For ever striving to divine Pier every wish and make it mine.

For her alone I lived and cared,

For her what would I not have dared!

What effort wrought, or danger shared!

To win for her one hope or joy,

One gladdened thought without alloy,

To cheer her toils, to guard her rest,

Or turn one sorrow from her breast.”

Much more the stranger said, no doubt, Could I have only heard him out,

But listening to the prosy stuff I slept, ’twas natural enough—■

When millwheel stops (the tale avers)

The miller in his slumber stirs,—

So, when for breath at last he paused,

5T was quite a start the silence caused;

But, wishing to appear polite,

And say what was precisely right—

To show an interest in all

That did the wretched man befall—

I said, “ My melancholy friend,

However did this matter end,

You really must have sorely tried yourself:

I wonder that you’re not beside yourself; Sometimes a much less trouble does it—■ About the lady, now how was it—•

Did you get your dismissal, pray ?

Or did your darling run away With some one else ?—but fate preserve us ! Dont look so fierce; you make me nervous ; Such strong emotions should be curbed;

You look most terribly disturbed.

Your brain seems in a sort of whirl,

And all about a tiresome girl.

Moreover,”—here he stopped my tongue V

With flashing eye and tiger hound;

Upon me that wild fellow sprang;

We rolled together on the ground,

And in my throat I felt his fist;

My neckcloth gave a savage twist;

With, “ Die, you villain, on the spot.” “Thank you,” said I, “ I’d rather not;

You dont exhibit much good breeding In this most insolent proceeding ;

A man of my mens conscia recti,

To be so handled by the necktie;

Pray sir, am I to be enlightened

As to your meaning ? ’’—here he tightened

The tie, ’twas fortunately cotton—■

Made for the country—cheap and rotten;

As burst the ligature I rose,

And caught him fairly on the nose ;

Some knocks he planted well, and then I had him on the nose again.

Convinced that I the truth had clutched The fellow was a little touched ;

And the most suitable proceeding To give relief was copious bleeding.

And then I grappled at his throat,

While passion rose in fitful gust;

I tore his blood-bedizened coat,

And then we tumbled in the dust.

Our eyes, too, suffered in the fray,

Mine chiefly (I am grieved to say)

Seemed sadly in the stranger’s way.

But, ’t were indelicate to write Details of pugilistic fight For souls refined and ears polite.

Nor need I tell the work I had—

When, finding that the man was mad (A monomaniac at large)—

To get the vagabond in charge;

Poor fellow, he was self-convicted Of being mentally afflicted,

And so they found him ip the end Apartments at the “ Yarra Bend; ”

And, if a single word he said About his love, they shaved his head;

For love is lunacy, no doubt,

Though many never find it out:

5T is sad to think it should obtain Such empire in the human brain.

Still, on this point, the writer fain Believes himself extremely sane,

And called upon to caution youth To shew the fate of that poor wretch Who figures in this flighty sketch ;

And bear in mind this wholesome truth— ’T is handed down from distant age,

As writ by some cold-blooded sage ;

5T is taught by time, and told in sadness— That love is but a form of madness.


Who has not—or, to speak more correctly, who does not profess to have—-a taste for Music? Almost every social meeting might be divided into two groups, the performers (including those who “play a little” and “sing sometimes ”), and those who “ do not play or sing,” but are “ very fond of music.” Yet how few are content to take the pains by which they might obtain the highest amount of gratification from this elevating pursuit: and how few are at all aware of the enjoyment they lose by resting satisfied with so much shallow accomplishment as enables them to make a small display in company or to kill an idle hour! Are we justified in supposing that more than a small proportion of those who frequent concerts and oratorios derive the full amount of gratification which such entertainments are calculated to afford? The eloquent Dr. Charming says, with truth, that “ Public amusements, bringing multitudes together to kindle with one emotion, to share the same innocent joy, have a humanising influence ; and among these bonds of society, perhaps, no one produces so much unmixed good as Music. What a fulness of enjoyment has our Creator placed within our reach by surrounding us with an atmosphere which may be shaped into sweet sounds! and yet this goodness is almost lost upon 11s through want of culture of the organ by which this provision is to be enjoyed.”

JSTo one will probably be rash enough to impugn the correctness of the thousand and one declarations of the power of music over the human mind. It is one of the very few things with regard to which the old dictum that “ what every body says must be true” holds good. Hence the employment of music in all festive gatherings; hence the brass bands behind the counters of land-sharking auctioneers; hence the ill-omened clangor of martial trumpet and drum, and the soft preludes and stirring choruses of the theatre. Hence, too, the use of sacred music as an incentive to devotion, a custom dating back as far as our knowledge of the art itself. Every human passion, every emotion of the soul, is amenable to the influence of music: tears of sorrow and of laughter can alike be called forth by the same potent agency. Wdio has not been aroused from physical lassitude and fatigue by the animated strains of a spirited dance or march ?—been cured of head-ache or the megrims by the soft melody of a favorite ballad?—been lulled to sleep that no opiate could have procured by the simple “dying fall ” of such an air as “Home! sweet home;” or, which is more to our present purpose, who has not been awTakenecl to a new sense of religious feeiing by the solemn pealing of a fine organ, or the harmonious cadence of a well-timed throng of voices. Whatever differences of opinion and discipline may divide society into sects, scarcely a single body of religionists, if one, attempts to dispense with music as a devotional agent. The mode only varies, and the.appliances range from the twang of village precentor to the choir of the Chapel Iloyal and the organ of St. George’s Hall. On a smaller scale we have the same variety here. It is not our purpose now to discuss the particular functions of music in churches, nor to inquire whether

chanting and psalmody are to be regarded as especial acts of worship in themselves, or whether they are not rather employed as stimulants to devotion and as an appropriate relief, mental and physical, from the tedium and danger of inattention and wandering thought that might ensue from the unbroken prolongation of other services. All that we want for present argument is the value of church music as a devotional exercise. This admitted, we claim that it be of the best obtainable kind. The greatest enthusiast can hardly fancy he is honoring the Supreme by such an abuse of the gifts of voice and ear as is often committed under the name of psalmody. Is it not insult rather than adoration to offer, as a professed act of worship, a performance that would be hooted out of any secular community ? There are, and have been, in all ages, great and good men who have consecrated to the Giver of all good the first-fruits, and the best-fruits, of liis bounty. Surely this is the only right course; it is rational, and is supported by all the authorities, sacred and profane, to which men are accustomed to look for the solution of their doubts. Yet, even people who profess abundant piety, and even those who reasonably obtain credit for more than the profession, are content to forego the valued exercise or else to join in producing the most discordant sounds that ever distracted ear. In one church we find a precentor, with ceremonious use of tuning fork, &c., leading, as it is called, the singing, with the most lamentable noises of which human throat is capable: his sole effort being to outsing the congregation, and to eclipse, by the introduction of mysterious «/¿graces, any who may be rash enough to rebel against his supremacy by making some distant approach to the real tune. Those of the congregation who have no notion of singing add to the discord, each after his own fashion. Not so those whose voices and correct taste would really be useful: they are driven out of the field altogether, and, if at any time one is found rash enough to attempt a correct rendering of the tune notified, he is speedily put down by the leader, who introduces at random, and without the slightest regard either to the convenience of the assembly or to the character of the composition, some terrible shakes, turns, and runs, that never yet were, and we hope never will be, heard of in music.

Driven away from that church (which shall be nameless, as it is rather a type than an individual case), where his devotional feelings are sadly disturbed, and his sense of propriety outraged, by the discordant mockery we have described, the observer visits another church, hard by the former, and there he hears some attempt at a tune it is true, and some participation in it by the mass of the congregation. But how lamentable the attempt. Not even a trained voice to conduct the singing: perhaps a serapliine, perhaps none. At the very best, every man sings according to his own devices, without the faintest idea of melody or harmony; and the general effect would almost seem to be as if they thought that the Almighty delighted in discord, and that nothing could be acceptable to Him which passed for excellent in the wTorld.

Another place of worship plumes itself upon its music, and even regards the choir as an attraction by which people may be induced to attend its ministrations in preference to others which boast not the same allurements. Here, indeed,

“ The pealing anthem swells the note of praise.”

But is this in worship of Him to whom the temple is consecrated? No,

It is a mere display, addressed solely to those

Who to Church, repair Not for the doctrine, but the music there.”

The singers may, perhaps, be members of the church, perhaps not; we will even give them, as individuals, all the credit they claim for their performance. But we determined at starting that one part of the value of church music consisted in the opportunity which it afforded for all the people to lift up their hearts in thanksgiving, and to pour forth their souls with one accord in songs of praise ; and that the other use of it was the relief afforded to the wearying and wandering thoughts by the introduction of an element capable of at once giving this restand stimulating devotional feelings. In the case before us the congregation has no part in the matter. The people stand in silent admiration of a performance in which they cannot join. The anthems are selected by the singers for the opportunities for display which they afford. No one who is not duly ticketed as one of the elect is admitted to witness the week-day practice; and, lest any persevering and ambitious spirits in the body of the church should by attention and study acquire such knowledge of the music as to be able to join, the chants and anthems are changed as soon as they become familiar, and a constant succession of novelties is presented. We recollect a case in which a new incumbent, sensible of the evils of such a system, actuated by a certain amount of musical taste, and desirous for the whole of the people to take part in the psalmody, suddenly desired that the florid compositions might be laid aside, and suitable simple tunes employed. The change was of course made, but the members of the choir, having then no field for display, and being no longer of more importance than so many people in the side aisle, dropped off one by one till the organ loft was all but deserted.

So much for some of the abuses almost everywhere attendant upon psalmody. Let us assume now for a moment that in some church, no matter where or what, a set of suitable tunes is adopted, so that we can readily become acquainted with them, and that all the members participate in the hymn. We have yet almost as far to go in the march of reform as we have travelled already. The singers, though they be the best of all similar bodies, and sing with tolerable attention, are yet wofully incorrect; all the keys of the scale are at once in play; every variety of time, rhythm, and chord can be detected. All who are anything like right are in the wrong. Men, women, and children are all singing the same part. Now, a musical composition, such as a hymn tune, is a perfect whole, and, however good the several parts of a good whole may be in themselves, they are not good as wholes. To complete a harmony of voices we need several varieties, generally four, viz.: the Treble, the Alto, the Tenor, and the Bass. To take any one of these by itself (except, for some purposes, the air) is to commit a manifest absurdity. Fancy a tapestry from which all the portions ot one color had been removed; or a bouquet of flowers painted in one tint, say emerald green or vermilion, and you will have some parallel to the case of a tune in which the parts have been transposed, or from which some of them have been omitted. No one would dream of giving the flute part in an orchestra to the long drum, or of performing as a solo the piano-forte accompaniment to a song. Yet, either oftheso proceedings would he but little worse than to sing in an incomplete form a harmonised composition. Sometimes we have men jyith gruff voices singing (lower of course by an octave) the treble part; now and then women will take up a second, or even a contralto; while those who really know what ought to be done, and how, will sing parts which, although correct and appropriate in themselves, do not harmonize with the arrangement adopted. Or, two or three musical men will be acquainted with different basses, each right if it were uniformly adopted, but neither agreeing with the other. The rhythm, too, is totally sacrificed by the neglect of time and emphasis; and, the tune having different and incompatible effects given to it, has its melody turned to an incongruous buzz, and its natural harmonies to discord.

Yet, all this may be easily remedied by a reasonable amount of practice and attention. In order to produce choral music of a respectable and pleasing character, and worthy the object to which it is applied, the proficiency of a Purkis, a Birch, a Reeves, or a Formes, is not needed. In the public schools of Germany singing is one of the ordinary subjects of education. It is never omitted. It is regarded by the pupils, young and old, as a luxury with which their severer studies are relieved. In society it is a rare occurrence to meet with a German or Prussian who cannot sing creditably, and, at least, with accuracy, whatever may be his vocal powers. In workshops, barracks, colleges, and other places where men congregate, part singing is with them a universal recreation. Who has not heard of the Italian Gondoliers, singing, while they row, fragments of song, and taking up in turn, as they meet, the harmonious strains ? How charming is the effect of a well-rendered chorus, or of an unaccompanied glee ! Happily, choral singing is now introduced in many of our public schools: and those who are unaware of the progress which is being made in the training of our youth would be surprised and delighted to see, as we have often seen, a hundred children hail, with manifest delight and eagerness, the summons to their singing lesson. Children from seven years old, the eldest not being above twelve, render, with remarkable spirit and correctness, simple tunes, arranged of course within the compass of their voices. In such schools choristers may be found capable of leading the singing of any congregation. Their earnestness, and the perfect “ togetherness ” ot their voices, make them conspicuous wherever they are. From them let us take an example. It will be hard, indeed, it we cannot, especially with the aid of the accomplished amongst us, achieve similar success to that which has crowned the almost voluntary efforts ot these infants. Plullah has told us, and has almost proved his paradoxical assertion, that the possession of what is called a natural voice and ear is but a secondary matter. We know that persons, who are almost incapable ot distinct vocal utterance, are yet capable of singing. We know that singing is the best cure for stammering, and other defects of speech; that even those who recover from dumbness first find their utterance in vowel tones. It is as plain that ‘ ear’ is not indispensable; for, the more perfect accord there is in singing, the less possibility there is oi an individual recognising the air of even his own part ; and in three cases out of four, what he docs hear, namely, the tune produced by general concert, is not what lie has to sing himself. Besides, deaf people can often sing; and the dumb, who are uniformly deaf, are susceptible of musical time and rhythm. We have known persons totally deaf and dumb who understood music, could follow mentally the chants in a church, and could dance with such accurate observance of the music that their defect escaped notice. Teachers and inspectors of schools report that they find in their pupils the same diversity of talent for music as for other pursuits, but no absolute incapacity in those who possess sufficient intelligence to learn reading and writing.

We refuse, then, to admit the plea, “ I cannot sing.” “ Cannot” is a word whose use is happily fast dying out; it has already lost much of its meaning, and we hope soon to see it marked “ obsolete ” in the dictionaries. The question now is, how may the pleasing and elevating art be acquired ? We have enunciated in this paper nothing particularly novel: the observations and reflections it contains are such as must have been made by all who have thought upon the subject. But we desire to awaken those who have not yet had their attention drawn to the necessity for reform in this particular aid to public worship and social recreation, and to stimulate them to such individual exertion as may conduce to the common advantage.

We have been led to the present consideration of the subject by a movement now in progress, which we are glad to encourage and assist in every possible way. During the last few weeks, a class numbering nearly three hundred persons has met in Chalmers’ Church for the practice of psalmody. It may be worth while to remark here that the class has no connexion with the church, which is merely lent for the purpose. The conductor of these classes is a Mr. Brunton, whose skill as a teacher has been before commended in this Journal, and in other publications. The present course consists of six lectures, and is preliminary to more extensive classes which the lecturer proposes to open in Melbourne and Collingwood. In order to make the knowledge acquired in these classes immediately available, it is desired to introduce a uniform system into all the churches of every denomination. To this end negotiations have been opened with the clergy and heads of churches, and the proposition has been cordially received wherever it has yet been made. If the public respond to the invitation, as we have no doubt it will, a committee of ministers and choir leaders will be formed to select suitable tunes, and arrange other details; and the tunes adopted will be printed especially in a convenient and cheap form. We have been surprised to learn that the printer of the collection now in use by the class has declared his ability to publish parts monthly or otherwise, each containing, from twenty to thirty tunes suitably arranged, at a shilling, if the circulation exceed a thousand. This should be easily attained, and then, with the instruction and practice of the classes, we need no longer be offended by nasalism and discord on the one hand, or by the isolation of an accomplished choir on the other, in our churches. No congregation need be afraid of losing any portion of its individuality by adopting the proposed plan. Every one will benefit and none yield a single point of either doctrine or discipline (we assume, of course, that “ to have bad singing ” is no part of any of the various creeds). The congregations are invited to sing from the same collection of tunes, that is all; they are not even asked to sing the same tunes—taste is tree. Uniformity of arrangement is alone desired; that the advantage derived from class practice may immediately become available, and that those who can and will sing may have the opportunity of doing so; and that the hymn of praise may be, as now it rarely is,

“ One disturbed song of pure consent.”

Of the other advantages of choral singing we need not now speak at length. “ The powers of music are felt or known by all men ... to compose, disturbed thoughts, to assist and heighten devotion itself,” says Sir W. Temple ; and it is to these ends that the movement here commended is directed. But it has other recommendations. Singing is an unfailing source of refined amusement, it is a healthful exercise, and is an instrument of social improvement. Let not, then, self-sufficiency and the pride of supposed skill, or the diffidence of fancied incapacity, deter us from participating in all the advantages of choral singing whenever and wherever the opportunity offers.



A nous old lady was Mrs. Brattles ! Tipped with red were the prominences of her countenance, and somewhat wrinkled and sharp withal. Chastened, and sober, and sad was the light of her eyes,—mild Mrs. Brattles ! She appeared to me the most excellent of her kind. She was very humble, and made unnecessary courtesies, and said, “ Thank you, sir! ” when I asked her what o’clock it was,—as if the question were a favor, and the cockles of her heart were comforted by my notice. Oh! Mrs. Brattles, how could you do it?

It came about in this wise,—I wanted a housekeeper. Now, a lonely, bashful, dull man, who sits at home and loves his dinner, necessarily requires a dull and quiet woman to provide that dinner,—to watch over it and to tend it,—to guard it against accidents, and to make it, every day, a triumph of human skill and industry. Lucy was that woman in the first instance. Lucy’s dinners w7ere plain, but most excellent, and there was no waiting and wondering what would come next between the course. There was a mathematical precision and a noiseless speed about Lucy’s dinners that satisfied the tired and hungry man, and sent him to his arm-chair rejoicing. Lucy kept the keys, if there were any (I never had the charge of household locks); overlooked the bills, and detected the usual errors therein ; sewed on, or caused to be sewn on, the buttons; advised me as to the wear and tear of neck-cloths ; hinted as to the condition of boots; Lucy, in short, was indispensable as is the atmosphere, Bass’s pale ale, or Worcestershire sauce. But the human heart, like a piano, has some keys which are seldom touched. Past forty, and not in my eyes exactly a beauty, Lucy was clean and an active woman, and her cleanliness, activity, and cheerfulness, made havoc in the heart of our baker. He fell away in condition, neglected his ovens, and came too often to talk to Lucy; and it came to pass that Lucy must be Mrs. Allom.

The blow came at breakfast! I had eaten my second egg, and was looking at the clock, when the door opened with a jerk, and there entered — Nudge. How she got that name I never knew. A little frizzled old looking thing—like sixty to look at her back portrait, and scarcely like ten years old as she answered a question. Nudge had been purchased or hired for an inconsiderable sum to clean boots, and mostly to wash dishes, I think, that being the occupation she affected in general. Nudge, I say, opened the door with a jerk, as I was working a sum to find the time occupied by breakfasts in a year, and stood on the mat.

I. “ Well, Nudge.”

She. “ If you please, sir, Mrs. Lucy would be goin’, sir.”

I. “Very well, Nudge, tell her not to be long absent.”

She. “ Thank ’e, sir.”

Nudge stood much perplexed, the conversation evidently not having answered her purpose : jerking her fingers spasmodically, and grinning in an irreverent manner at the cat, her old friend.

I. “ Well, Nudge.”

She. “ She arnt agoin’ to come back, sir.”

I. “Nudge!” and I rang the bell sharply. Exit Nudge, clutching violently at, and bearing off, the cat, and enter Mrs. Lucy. Mrs. Lucy was abashed, and blushed, I remember, but most indelicately alluded to Mr. Allom’s proposal. I was hurt and indignant: I felt myself an injured man. I told her to close the accounts, set the house in order, and leave forthwith. I looked upon Allom as a man utterly untrustworthy and ungrateful in the extreme.

Being prompt in my measures I immediately prepared an advertisement, and sent it to the “Argus ” (with the money). Here it is—

Wanted, a Housekeeper.—A middle-aged person may obtain a comfortable situation as housekeeper, where another servant is kept. Address M X, office of this paper.

M X got his answer—many answers ;—they came by post—by private hands—by Cobb’s conveyance, and the Geelong steamers. Answers came in such multitude that the respectable gentleman in the “ Argus” office, who does this business, looked anything but pleasant when I asked for more.

I opened and read them all, heaping imprecations on Allom, and I can scarcely tell why the modest, unpretending, and simply-worded epistle of Mrs. Brattles seemed to fascinate me. Many of the writers were young ladies, they said, who were seeking for quiet homes. Some said they were accomplished, and evidently misunderstood my advertisement; many enclosed copies of testimonials, but these I heeded not, well knowing the worthlessness of compliments paid often to get rid of recipients. Of all these Mrs. Brattles only had the courage to state her age, forty-nine, and I think that decided it. I sent for Mrs. Brattles, and she came.

With my geranium embowered cottage graced with a Brattles I was again at ease, and I fell into deep thought over my matutinal beer. It comforted me—the beer did— and reminded me that man lives to dine. My first dinner under the rule of Brattles was to be at six o’clock, p.m., according to stipulation, and I fell to wondering whether the mutton cutlets would be to


my liking. I had doubt3 and misgivings, but I fortified myself against a failure by anticipating it, and I vowed that I would say never a word of reprimand, whether the cutlets were ill done or raw. With these thoughts in my mind I went forth the second time that day to wrestle with mankind for my daily bread. You will say I am in business. Yes, in business.

When I returned to my house, after some smart walking, and no end of chaffering with hook-nosed men and snub-nosed men in the pitiless city, I missed at once the attentive hand of Mrs. Lucy. My worsted slippers were not beside the arm-chair. I rang for Mrs. Brattles. She had never' seen the slippers—not she—but she would look for them; and the facial prominences glowed a brighter red. She liked to oblige gentlemen, but some gentlemen were always in sich ’urries—but she never would, oh, no! think any trouble too much—not she. She rummaged about most industriously, as if sliedid not know she had them on,and had been wearing them all day—oh! had I only known that. Ultimately I put on a horrible Yankee substitute for slippers—patent leather abominations, that ever make me ashamed of my feet. Geraldine’s worsted slippers, that she had given me long ago, which had been sewn in a far-off land, were lost. And now it is six o’clock ; ten minutes past six; a quarter past, and still there glowed on my walnut table the fresh colors of the pale blue cover, with its light brown leaves and lines, not yet replaced by diaper, huck-a-buck, dimity, or whatever other name a table-cloth is known by. Half-past six, and in came Nudge. She looked bewildered; stared at the pictures, and slowly and most reluctantly commenced to lay the cloth. She had never done it before, and did not now do it well: quarrelling with the corners which would not hang down; fighting with the fold-marks which would rise up—yet Nudge displayed amazing generalship—then grinned in the accustomed manner and departed. Then came knives and forks and Mrs. Brattles. Mrs. B., unsolicited, commenced to talk, and talked about Lucy. Lucy, she told me, had not been clean. “ In the parlors, where gentlemen see things, that was different, but in the kitchen—oh! frightful; never see nothink so bad. All the clothes, if you believe me, sir, in steep : notliink clean. No towels but as was at the wash. And then the stove, sir; it was broke, and not a bit of coal wTould stay in—and the smoke, sir—and the rats . . . .” I had never been in the kitchen but twice; once when it was on fire, and once out of sheer curiosity, and therefore Mrs. Brattles’ observations, though ill-timed, were interesting. The dinner at last was served, at two minutes to seven exactly by my watch, which I adjust regularly by the ball at the telegragh office, and I had to be at a committee meeting of the Australian Benefit Banking and Mutual Quartz Crushing Company, under the able management of Herr Spongeonheim, at a quarter to eight. The thing was impossible.

The dinner was served, and it was bad—very bad. I shall not enter into particulars. When Mrs. Brattles came to remove the last remnants of the feast, I said slowly, calmly, and deliberately, gently twirling my moustache, for I am a slightly irritable man: “ Mrs. Brattles, may I beg that you will serve dinner at six o'clock in future—punctually, it you please.” Ruddier, and yet more red, grew the prominences. She raised the left corner of her apron to her eyes and sobbed forth, “ Oh! deary me, sir, it wer’nt so very late, sir ; and the ’ouse, it smokes so ; the kitchen, sir;

and them rats which I never could abear—oh ! deary me. My ’usband, sir, which I wouldn’t ’ave mentioned, only you ’arras a body, and my nerves can’t abear it, was a gentleman which nobody”—(can deny, I felt inclined to observe, but she went on)—“ nobody ’ere knows on, but he was; and ’ad a farm of his own; forty pounds a year in a brewery, which he cum to be ruined by a friend. I ’ave seen better days,” .... and poor Mrs. Brattles sank down on a chair, clinging to the table cloth, and apparently overcome with a woe. I felt myself a wretch—a hardened monster, for a moment, but I suddenly recovered myself. “ Be quiet, Mrs. Brattles,” I said, “ and when I speak to you, I have to request that you will reply as shortly as possible. I am sorry for you. I cannot help your misfortunes. You are now my servant, and as such I shall treat you with every consideration. But you must not torment me. Remove those things and bring coffee.” Mrs. B., having subdued her grief and sobs, suddenly departed, apparently on coffee intent. Not so, however. Nudge brought in coffee, slowly as usual, not exactly frightened, but rather in a state of intense wonderment at everything. Now the clock would attract her gaze ; anon the grim little warrior in bronze, who carries on his spear the rings I shall never again need; and then, again, her eyes would furtively glance at the backs of books, to change into a glassy stare at the half-emptied decanter, never losing their expression of wonder even when she had fairly placed the little tray at my elbow. Nudge informed me, in a timid voice, that Mistress Brattles was “ porely.” How I cursed Allom!


Mrs. Brattles, it has been said, was a pious lady. She imparted in confidence that she was of the presbyterian faith, and “ abumminated them catholics” (of which faith was Lucy), and bound me over to tolerate certain intromissions of duty thereanent—visiting her pastor, and cold dinners on Sundays, being specially named and provided for—to which I gave my unqualified assent. Mrs. Brattles, of course, being an old humbug, as you shall see, and as much a presbyterian as is Dwarkanath Tanjore or the Pope, bless them both.

I began in truth to have my suspicions of Mrs. Brattles’ veracity and honesty, not lessened by the mysterious disappearance of three bottles of my best pale sherry, and the exceedingly facetious twinkle of her eye on more than one occasion. Pocket-handkerchiefs, too, left my drawers. Shirts were not. Orders on my grocer were a daily necessity. Rats and mice, according to Mrs. B., must have had a convivial time of it with the cheese. Cobwebs increased in magnitude in every corner,—the glass in my windows grew dim day by day, and yet the house was always being cleaned,—everything was always being put in order, and most uncomfortable I was made when I hinted at reform. I determined to tolerate this no longer. I determined to move warily and wisely, and bring Mrs. Brattles into complete subjection. I was mistaken. I could not do it. I could never have done it.

I had been in the city as usual. It was Saturday, and I had been very busy. The snub-nosed men had overreached me, and I was not in a very amiable frame of mind as I passed under the geranium covered porch. I hastily opened my door with my pass-key, and a sight presented itself that might have appalled Kossuth, Barnum, Thomas Thumb, or any other public man who is unaccustomed to be taken by surprise. I shall never forget it. On my sofa—his dirty hoofs, they were not feet, on the immaculate cover—lay a boy, munching bread and butter, and turning over with greasy fingers the pages of Sowerby. The plates were ruined, I could see at a glance. They were be-treacled and be-buttered. The cost of the book

—I never considered that—but those plates of fossils.....Without

speaking a word, I seized the young imp by the nape of the neck and another part, dropped him into a cistern of water, and shut the door. I then examined the plates. They wTere not only greased and soiled, they were torn; the trilobites were in four pieces. I rang the bell. Enter Mrs. B.

I. “ How came that--boy here.”

She. “ My son Churles, I suppose you mean, sir.”

I. “ Churles be hanged. Do you see that book?”

She. u Very improper of him to take the book : I told him not to . . .”

At this moment the hopeful youth entered the parlor, draggled and dripping with moisture, and he burst into a howl and fell on the maternal bosom. “ He did it,” cried the little wretch. Then burst on my head a storm. Mrs. Brattles seemed possessed of a hundred devils. “ You call yourself a gentleman!” I never had to my knowledge. “ You call yourself a gentleman, to put my child in the water butt; but I’ll setve you out . . . .” I sternly ordered her to leave the room, and she flew rather than ran out of the parlour, screaming to the full of her voice : “ You call yourself a gentleman.” She passed through the kitchen to our street, and there she very rapidly collected a crowd, unto which she detailed her misfortunes, holding up young hopeful as an evidence of my cruelty; and, in the most piercing accents I ever heard, abused me without ceasing for two hours. Yes, for two hours did this pious old lady pour forth the most venomous abuse ; detailing, with frantic malignity, the number and quality of my pocket-handkerchiefs; the unwashed and buttonless condition of my shirts; attributing to me parsimony and sordid greed in matters of tea and sugar; exposing the whole internal economy of my household in the most untruthful spirit, and heaping unrepeatable names on Lucy, not sparing even poor Nudge. I grew anxious about Nudge, and would have gone to the kitchen, but I did not like to come before the public at that moment. I had no dinner. The voice rose now shrill; now deep and growling it rumbled, but it ceased not, and other voices answered. I could hear them through the closed doors. How horrible! and my neighbours had known me by the name of “ the quiet gentleman.” During a lull I rushed out and locked the doors—all of them, and then I lighted my pipe. I smoked on gently till it grew dark, when I went to the kitchen. It was dirty, and dark, and dismal in the extreme, and things had been broken; the crockery evidently had suffered damage—bits of dishes and plates lay about in queer disorder. Nudge was not to be seen, but there stood Mrs. B. in a flaming passion; the red spots now seeming to be on the point of combustion. “ Ah! ” said I, “ you must leave my house, Mrs. Brattles.”

“ Leave your ’ouse—oh! glad will I be—the wurstest person I ever see, you are.....”

“ Woman, you must leave my house,” I answered solemnly. “ What is

the amount of your wages?”    #

What is the amount of my wages? for all I have toiled, and washed,

and mended for the ungratefuliest.........”

“ Stop, what are your wages ?”

“Wages?—I’ll make you pay. Wages? Oh! but I’ll make you pay. You’re not the furst by many as I ’ave ’ad before the matchystraits. Don t you be afeard. I make you pay for your nasty, mean, abominable . . . . “ Confound you, woman, how much do you want?”

“ Want ? I want my ’alf year’s wages, and pay for my bonnet your nasty dog destroyed. Oh! don’t you be afeared—I’ll have you afore the matchy-straits on Monday morning.”    >    #

Half a year’s wages! I was slightly staggered at that. I inquired for Nudge.    _    .

Like your imperance—I’ve s^nt ’ur off—don’t you think as I was agoin to keep a thing like ’ur. Such gentlemen—to try to cheat a poor body of her hearnin’s. But I’ll ixpose you.— You a gentleman? You re a lag, that’s what you are !”

Was this possible ? Was it a dream ? What had I done to deserve all this horror? I began to doubt the evidence of my senses. ^

I returned to my parlor, seized my hat, and went forth to bring a policeman. Strange to say, I found one on his beat.

“Put that woman out of my house,” I said to Z No. 10.

“ Can’t do it, sir.”

“ Why can’t you do it? ”

“ She ain’t a been and done nothink, as I’ve seed.”    ^

“ The woman has abused me for two hours, refused to cook my dinner, and you can’t put her out.”    #

“ No, sir, I can’t. But you might—mind, sir, I ain’t agoin’ to advise you to anythink—the lawyers must do that—but you might get a sum* mons.”

“ When can I get a summons ? ”

“ On Monday morning, at nine o’clock.”

And, after lending a patient ear to the statements of Mrs. B., Z No. 10 withdrew, remarking that Mrs. B. ought to be “ a teasin’ oaakum.”

This was a dreadful position. In all my experiences of life—in England, France, Germany—I had never had a case like this. I began to see that Australia was not alone remarkable for the marsupialia, or hot winds.

I was in a terrible dilemma. To rid myself of this woman I must pay half a year’s wages, seventeen pounds ten, or appear at the Police Court, and appear also in the police reports ; and perhaps find myself adorning the pages of the antipodal Punch on the ensuing Thursday. And then the newspapers:—to find my name under such headings as “Wanton Barbarity,”—“ Shocking Cruelty to a Widow.” Or worse still—have my name blazoned forth in the classic verse of Policeman X. And I about to count the suffrages of the free and independent electors of Blagaddera-nook! They would pelt me off the hustings!    _

I considered all this. Then I reflected that justice would prevail; that Punch’s artist might be otherwise engaged; that Mrs. B. might be sent to gaol. No—that would not happen. Mrs. B. in the Police Court, with her

“ Churles,” would be meek, and humble, and lowly, given to tears and sobs, and the hearts of the J. P.’s would melt thereat, and I would be treated as a tyrant and a coward! All this I thought of, and, ultimately—very reluctantly, I must confess—dinnerless and supperless, I went to bed.

My story now draws to a conclusion.    Sunday—which was anything

but a blessed day of rest to Mrs. Brattles—passed over, as all days must, and on Monday morning, at six o’clock, a.m., I rose from my bed humbled and utterly vanquished. I immediately paid Mrs. Brattles all her demands—save and except compensation for the bonnet. “You’re not the furst,” said Mrs. B., “as I ’ave made them pay their debts, which you ’re nothink but mean, durty, despickable rubbitch, calling yourselfs gentlemen. The matchystraits knows my krackter, which is more than they does yours.” Very likely, Mrs. B.

As she departed Mrs. Allom arrived, having heard of my distress from the faithful Nudge. That young lady now accompanied her, and ' her revelations were extraordinary. Nudge had been witness to a system of waste, robbery, pillage, and devastavit, which would soon have brought me to the verge of the Insolvent Court. Nudge detailed in a cheerful voice how she had been expelled. Mrs. B., in my absence, having presented some friends with a testimonial, in the shape of a round of beef, Nudge remonstrated, using the words in reference to the gift that naturally occurred to her inexperience, and thus brought upon herself the wrath of her pious superior, and hence she was immediately driven off the premises.

On consulting private-, that most excellent of detective officers,

I learnt that Mrs. B. was well known. She had come to a neighbouring colony many years ago, in consequence of some youthful indiscretions in the mother country. She was able to read and write with some propriety, and occasionally furnished herself with documentary evidence, as to character, of a kind the most useful in obtaining the confidence of employers. Her usual custom was to “ kick up a row ” a few days after being installed in a new situation, and she seldom failed in obtaining her wages. My friend the detective expressed a hope that he “ might catch her at it agin.”

Mrs. Allom succeeded in finding a respectable housekeeper to undertake the government of my kitchen, and I am now moderately well off.

The present incumbent is of high church principles, but did not stipulate for Sabbatical cold dinners.


Juvat ipse labor.”—Mabt.

Amidst the collision of adverse arguments, and the strife of tongues, which those portentous words “National” and “Denominational” have evoked— serving, at one time, as rallying-cries to large sections of the community, and at another as tests of legislatorial fitness—there seems to be no small danger that, in our zeal to provide instruction for the masses, the education of their future leaders in “the Battle of Life” should be ignored or slighted; as if, in the organization of an army, the discipline of the “rank and file” should be carefully secured, but the professional education of the officers

left to chance. That this is no chimerical danger will appear probable when we reflect that at the very time when the rival claims of Bell and Lancaster, in England, or rather of the “Madras” and “British and Foreign” systems, divided the minds of thinking men, and the diffusion of popular education was the absorbing topic of the day, the Universities of Oxford and Cambridge, and many of the Collegiate schools, had become either effete or demoralized, requiring a stringent and sweeping reform, which subsequently took place, when the legislators of Britain could spare a little time from the education of the nation, to look to that of their own children.

Leaving, however, for the present, the advocates of popular education to urge the merits of their respective and apparently antagonistic schemes, we would rather invite attention to certain errors or fallacies of education which prevail very generally in the mother country, and are rapidly extending their influence to this; more especially in schools of a superior order, and in institutions designed to impart a liberal education to the more opulent and influential classes of society. The opinion of those persons, who think that everything is an improvement which renders study more easy, seems to be founded on an erroneous notion of the principal design of early education ; which is not so much the acquisition of certain branches of knowledge, as the forming in the young mind of habits of close application, the strengthening of the memory, and disciplining the other faculties, so as to be able hereafter to pursue with advantage any studies which may then be deemed necessary. They who learn gymnastics are aware that the ultimate object is not to enable them to jump to a given distance, or to move the limbs in certain prescribed ways, but the acquisition of activity, flexibility, and vigour. So studies have a general tendency to strengthen the mental powers, besides the specific advantages which it is their ostensible object to secure. In short, as was remarked by a great authority, in ancient times, the very difficulty of the exercise is highly beneficial.* Now whatever tends to render literary or scientific attainments comparatively easy, defeats to the same extent this salutary intention. In this way, many branches of learning may be acquired, without the mind undergoing that wholesome discipline, which it is one great design of study to afford. Habits of close application, so essential to future eminence, will seldom be acquired where mental pursuits are so far facilitated as to supersede the necessity of diligent and persevering exertion.

At a very tender age, perhaps, and in acquiring the earliest rudiments, some such contrivances may be safely allowed; but at a more advanced stage of education, the pupil should be accustomed to depend chiefly on his own resources; and hence the various helps so often had recourse to, such as translations of works in the classical or foreign languages, keys to exercises, and to books on arithmetic, the mathematics, <fcc., should be very sparingly allowed; even the assistance of a private tutor, if too lavishly bestowed, will have an unfavorable tendency, by dwarfing those habits of self-reliance upon which eventual success so much depends. The practice of “ grinding,” as it is called, or preparing without actual study the mere externals of knowledge, for the purpose of passing an examination, or otherwise acquiring a false position, is, of course, to be especially deprecated.

* “ Ipsa clenique utilissima est exercitationis difficultas.”—Quint.

The preceding remarks, it is perhaps scarcely needful to state, are not intended to disparage the various methods referred to, when discreetly used to accelerate literary pursuits, or to enable the student to keep pace with the rapid advance of knowledge in the present day, and thus to embrace a wider circle of scientific and literary subjects. When a demand is made upon the pupil proportionate in point of acquisition to the facilities enjoyed, the evil consequences will not only be avoided, but a much greater amount of information will be the necessary result. It is only when these facilities are permitted to supply the place of close thought and personal effort—when they are rendered, by their abuse, little better than a prcemium for idleness, that these strictures can be considered applicable. So long as a disposition to advance is manifested, a degree of impatience exhibited to surmount obstacles in his literary and scientific career, and a feeling of exultation at difficulties overcome, it is evident that whatever assistance the youthful student may have received has had a beneficial effect, by exciting rather than satisfying the appetite for improvement. Here, then, the preceptor has a wide and important field for the exercise of his discretion, in giving or withholding such assistance; nor should he ever forget, for his own as well as his pupil’s sake, that “Melius est discere quam doceri.”


“ I piu begli ocebi, e il piu chiaro viso Che mai splendesse, e gli piu bei capelli Che facean l’oro e’l sol parer men belli II piu dolce parlar e dolce riso.”—Petraech.

Did Eve look up with such a radiant face,

Beaming new glories on her dwelling place,

And filling all the bowers of Paradise With the sweet light of her soft starry eyes ?

If such the face that shone on Adam there—

If such the lips that first breath’d on the air The murmur’d accents of a woman’s pray’r—

A wife’s fond utt’rance of a wife’s fond care—

If such the eyes, with tend’rest feelings fraught, And eloquent with pure and earnest thought—

Well might he welcome exile, sorrow, loss,

And let no thought of banish’d Eden cross

The heart which Eve had fill’d, and Eve had loved,

For Eden still would smile where’er she moved.

Dear face, dear friend, through all the coming years, Well-spring of joy—sunshine, dispelling tears— Dumb shadow of the dearest life on earth—

Dim image of the sun of human worth—•

Solace of silence—messenger of love—

Bringing Hope’s bay-leaf, like the prophet’s dove— Mute whisperer of gentle words and dear,

Of constant comfort, counsel, courage, cheer;— Look thus, look ever thus, in heart the same,

Most worthy hearer of a sacred name;—

My heart bows down in worship unto thine,

And loves the limner’s faintest simplest line,

That bodies forth a face—to me—divine.



( Continued from page 125. J A WORD OR TWO ON LAW AND’LAWYERS.

I am sitting with my little friend Von Mica, in the chief court of the country of Snaggerack, situated at Snaggerack. There is a full array of counsel; some busy, some affecting business, and some trifling with time, as may be found in most courts in every country. To most of these counsellors Von Mica addresses a word or two, and with one who comes in hastily, with a smiling, bustling appearance, Yon Mica holds a lengthened conversation, and ends by presenting my humble self. This new comer is a great character, a star in the Blackstonian firmament—the Chief Mystificator of the country. Lawyers say something to him as he sits down by that burly barrister, against whom he shows well; and even that pragmatical looking counsellor, who has just ceased addressing the jury, and whose self-satisfied smirk sits unpleasantly on unpleasant features, even he, has a nod of recognition for his greatness. Now, why am I in court? Simply as a spectator. Von Mica, my friend, is a witness, and upon his sufferings I want to say a word or two—humbly, for even Yon Mica is against me, but firmly, for in spite of all the judges, mystificators, and door-keepers, that altogether constitute a law court, I feel I am right. Yon Mica is a witness in a case—a mere witness. He is summoned away from his muffin on Monday morning at nine o’clock, and told he must be in court without fail at eleven. He goes ; as I have nothing else to do, I go. We are there. A case is on. May we go away ? Oh! no; on no account. The court rises at four, and so do we. It sits on Tuesday at ten, and we take our places also. The same question is put to the attorney, and to the attorney’s clerks, and to barristers, or any one we think likely to know, but the same answer is given, and Tuesday drags on; our case is not called. All Vv ed-nesday are we facing the Judge, with a similar result. Thursday, my friend is about to become a sponsor to the heir apparent of an eminent city councillor—alas! law is inexorable. The neophyte has to obtain another vice-parent,—we attend the court. On Friday we must be down exactly at ten, not a minute later: alas! we keep “ tryste,” and at four o’clock on Friday the judge announces, with that urbanity of manner that marks the Snaggerack judges, that the rest of the cases—the unheard cases, I think he says—will be taken after some law term.—six weeks hence, and so the week is wasted and the cause not settled.

Now, I say this state of things can be altered. I am asked how, and, not being a lawyer—not up in the intrigues of legal ins and outs—I cannot exactly say how; but it does appear to me that, if this matter cannot be altered entirely, at least the grievance I complain of could be greatly ameliorated. Say there are more judges required—get them. It is far better, cheaper in every way, for the people to have half a dozen more


costly gentlemen waiting to hear, than heaps of witnesses waiting to he heard. But there is another matter connected with this delay of justice. It is this : if, acting upon your own impressions, the court is left and the case called on, and the witnesses not ready, away goes the inexorable finger of the judge, “ struck out! ” and the plaintiff gets nonsuited, or the defendant has a verdict entered against him without the merits of the case being gone into, and simply from the principals or witnesses exercising a little judgment (bad enough for them) based upon the delay of the preceding two or three days. There must be something wrong in this, and so I told Von Mica.

But Yon Mica first of all said it was never intended everybody should go to law, and, therefore, if law's were made of an uncertain character, and rules were carried out in an ever-changing manner, people would be deterred from indulging in the costly luxury, and would spend that money in their families which otherwise would be wasted in the courts. Could I object to that? I submitted that in some cases a trial was ab^utely necessary, even when the contending parties agreed together; and that the delay in hearing cases, and the expense and inconvenience of keeping witnesses waiting, often frustrate justice. Von Mica replied by urging upon my notice the fact that the custom of Snaggerack was the one adopted in England, or nearly so : that I was an Englishman, and consequently in favor of the English method of administering justice : therefore, I could not grumble at this fault in Snaggerack. How could I answer that £ Yet, as I before said, I feel I am right, and, as Yon and I were gossiping upon law, I took occasion to mention one or two other irregularities, and which I considered the inhabitants of Snaggerack would be as well without, and would do honor to themselves by getting rid of. In the first place, I alluded to the enormous cost of transferring real property, and the multitude of small buyers in Snaggerack. I mentioned two or three cases where the cost of conveyance trebled the value of the land conveyed, and argued that the Government ought to devise a clearer and cheaper method of conveyancing. Von Mica admitted the charge was high, but said property w7as worth nothing without a clear title ; to have a title a lawyer must be employed. If employed, a lawyer must be paid. There were a great number of lawyers in Snaggerack; therefore their charges must be high, or how could they live ? That was the ground he took hold of. Í suggested the expediency of doing away with lawyers, and begged my little friend to consider the following plan :—I would appoint a registration of Deeds Department, compelling all present owners to exhibit their titles, say within six months ; I would then cause mighty ledgers to be raised, in which each owner's name, description, and occupation, should be registered, together with the number of acres he possessed, where situated, and how bounded, issuing a certificate to that effect; that upon a sale of the whole or any portion of the same, that certificate must be shewn, and the quantity sold endorsed on it and posted in the ledger account, a certificate of his purchase being given to the purchaser ; that these certificates should only contain the name of the person and number of acres, with a referable number, so that, if lost, there was little chance of a case of impersonation taking place, as the seller would have to state how he was described in the books of the office; that, of course, no buyer would pay the money until he had ascertained the correctness of his purchase ; and that the charge of this transfer should be, say one guinea per certificate, or threepence or fourpence per acre, and that I felt certain this office would yield a fair revenue to the country. To facilitate matters, rough maps should be prepared, and the issuer of the certificate should also mark off on the map each portion sold. The cost of maps and other matters would be a mere bagatelle off the receipts. Yon Mica objected. His first objection was, How would parties at a distance manage ? I said, Send their certificates and directions in a registered letter. There would be no more fear of that than in transmitting the bulky deeds now in use by post. Then Von Mica asked me if I was prepared to subvert the whole constitution, not only of Snaggerack, but of all places whence Snaggerack drew its code of laws. In the first place, would the people compensate the conveyancers ? He thought not. Very well. Then, who would ? Men who had studied hard at the profession were suddenly cast adrift without means of livelihood. Was it honesty? As an Englishman, I must know that the lawyers were the mainstays of Magna Charta. If conveyancing was abolished, was I prepared to give up the silk gowns, the legal horse hair, and the judicial ermine ? If I was, where would I stop ? Was the Hospodar’s crown to go to rack ? Were pensions to cease? It was a difficult and tender subject. All he would say was this: this w7as not a revolutionary country, nor did they want revolutions. People had grown rich while subject to these conveyancing charges, and why should things be altered ? I instanced to my friend a more perfect security of title as one of my reasons for desiring change—told him of a case I had lately heard of where an attorney had trafficked between buyer and seller, and “sold” both parties. Stated my opinion, that lopping off the excrescences and rotten branches of trees was the best way of preserving their fruitfulness, and asked if it was not better to improve, as I proposed, than to have all the improvements made some day for them, nolens volens. Not that I conceived my scheme, as I propounded it, fit to be put in practice, but that I threw it out to him as a native of the place, or to any legal man or fitly qualified legislator, to paint, polish, and present it in a tangible shape. I also hinted to Von Mica the abolition of a practice existing in Snaggerack of having all the complicated trials in the chief city; bringing witnesses, plaintiffs, and defendants, hundreds of miles, at great cost and annoyance; suggesting the court should pay periodical visits to various districts to hold its sittings. But here, again, Von Mica objected to my reasoning. Where was land the dearest, town or country ? Town. Good. Then holders of town property deserved encouragement, as they had supplied the governing powers liberally with money. To encourage holders of town property rents must be kept up, and to enable kept-up rents to be paid customers must be obtained. Now, every plaintiff, every defendant, every witness—winner or loser—spent something on coming to town. Of course, then, the policy of the government was to draw people to the town, and not send people— lawyers, and such like—from the town. As for any benefit to the persons directly concerned in the cases to be tried, what did it matter ? The system had been in force so long—why alter it ?

There was another matter which I touched on with my friend, on which,

however, he opposed me vehemently; this was the practicability, or the desi-rabitity, or what any one likes to call it, of admitting any one to practice as an Attorney, without the trouble and worry that they now undergo. I know, and many hundreds of others know, that examination in law or anything is all moonshine ; a man of nerve, however ignorant, will pass ■where a clever but timid man fails; and besides, I don’t see the benefit the public gains by it, and I contend all laws should be for the benefit of the many, and not for the few. Yon Mica talks about public safety— But what i's that? who will deny lawyers to be now and then incompetent, now and then dishonest, now and then useless ? Then why all the nonsense of admission ? why pay for the prerogative of gentility and exclusiveness ? Yon Mica says I am a radical, and would level all things; not so, I would stop people’s mouths as I would shut up the outcriers against a House of Lords—offer to the noisiest a peerage, and give to those who clamour against lawyers the opportunity of practising law. I see many eminently fitted men are deprived of the power of practising through some technical difficulty, while many incompetent men are practising, and the ignorant public confide in them from the fact of their bearing the judge’s stamp. How, if the arena was thrown open the best man would win, dunces and blockheads would be kept out, honesty would be sure to rise, and chancery to sink. In fact, I don’t see why a man should not open an attorney’s office as easily as another can start a hair-dresser’s shop, and I cannot believe in the sincerity of Law Reformers until I see some attempt made to put an end to the tomfoolery of admission that is as rife at Snaggerack as in England. My little friend almost determines to close our acquaintance; he vows I am a revolutionist; a radical; a red republican; an everything base, barbarous, and brutalizing. I can’t help it, Von; I hate nonsense; I am, or endeavour to be, practical. It is all very well for the Snaggerack Native, or the London born and London educated man, to look at everything through the eyeglass of custom, but a ramble through countries, a perusal of the newspapers of the world (the best histories of the civilization of kingdoms), and converse with men of all classes, creeds, and opinions, shew that there is a concave and a convex side to all things, and when the one side does not exhibit that clearness it should do, the other may. If law and lawyers dovetailed always with justice I would not distrust the regulations or the regulators; but as they don’t, why not try a little alteration? and Snaggerack might, in this too, set older countries an example.


As I have jotted down pretty freely what I saw at Snaggerack, and have offered an opinion or two on subjects on which I know very little, I make no apology for giving my impressions upon another matter, and this I do with more boldness, when I consider that a man who has had his Wellingtons made by the wide-world-known Hoby, and his coat sent direct from Nugent’s studio, he should be, even in fashionable Snaggerack, allowed to offer an opinion on any matter connected with costume.

Now I do raise up my voice against that monstrous absurdity, the shirt collar, and I do entreat the bucks of the city to aid me in getting rid of so detestable a nuisance. I need not solicit the help of the ladies; I have

that, for I firmly believe more quarrels have arisen in domestic circles about that paltry article, the collar, than on any other subject that occasionally causes a division between man and wife; a husband will forgive a little bill at a milliner’s, or even a small jewellery account occasionally, but can he forgive his collar box being placed full of bits of linen, starchless, stringless, defiled with blue spots, and slightly frayed on one side; and can any wife, whether she “ does up ” this article herself, or watches closely the laundress either at home or abroad, guarantee these miserable accessories of man a clear appearance and perfect stiffness ? I say, I have the help of the ladies. Why, if only the collar got abolished through my appeal, a statue in one of the New Parks, the subscription of the ladies— like that of Achilles in Hyde Park—would mark their gratitude.

In the first place, what is the use of the shirt collar ? Can any one tell me ? It does not give a more martial appearance; soldiers do not wear it. It cannot be considered as denoting learning; priests and parsons seldom do. Is it the badge of gentility ? Bricklayers’ laborers, bullock drivers, and navvies often sport the collar, although not always a stiff one. What then is there in its favor? It was of princely introduction in Great Britain, and therefore the fashion; but in Snaggerack, where there are no scions of royalty nor yet setting fashions, and where the people should have the courage to dress for the climate, and for their own comfort, it could be and should be easily and quickly banished. I have spoken of it as the origin of much discord in the marriage life, but even when the collar is fit to be worn, and worn, how easily it becomes a nuisance to the wearer. Does it not catch and retain the dust sooner than any other portion of the dress? How seldom can you shield it entirely from a shower of rain! The bosom of your shirt may be secured from damage, but the collar almost inevitably gets wet, hangs miserably and forlorn over the cravat, and makes the wearer of it look dirty and feel uncomfortable. Strolling with Von Mica but last week, from the Snaggerack Post Office to the Education Hall, I was first almost smothered with dust, and had to seek refuge in a friend’s house and “ borrow a collar,” which, when on and once more on the road, was spoiled before we reached our destination by a violent storm. These little bursts of passion in the Snaggerack climate are by no means unfrequent, and I see no reason why fashionable gentlemen should not so arrange their dress that such little outbreaks could do no harm. Von Mica (to whom I relate all my ideas) talks of the starch manufacturers seeking compensation, but that is a financial question, and, as I before mentioned, I seldom consider that.

As I have got gossiping upon dress, I may as well offer a remark or two more. Now, it is with considerable disgust I find the Snaggerack fashion to be an imitation, two years after date, of the London fashion; the latter do n’t suit the former, and Snaggerack ought to be “ plucky ” enough to start a fashion that did suit it. I don’t know but that a “ dressing club” is an Institution that, if once started, would be a favorite here, if it had ¡but fifty members, and those fifty seriously set to work and reformed the clothing failures, the whole population would speedily follow. Everybody knows the fact that, “ get one sheep over the style,” <fcc. And although plenty of people will say, ‘‘But, who grumbles?” I’d venture a small bet that, in six months after the new costume took root, the

cry would be, “ However did we bear up so long ?” Look at the horrid English hat which the Snaggerackians will wear, which blows off if there’s wind, covers you with wet if there’s rain, causes fearful perspiration if there’s heat, and never keeps your head warm if it is cold—a hat that one is always smashing in a country where the door-ways are low, that drives you nearly mad if you are on horseback and have an objection to lose it, and gets broken by your neighbour at church or at the theatre.

Apropos of dress, I had a ride into the scrub a day or two back. That is, that portion of the shire of Snaggerack a few miles removed from the city—a few miles geographically, but many, many miles literally; for Road Boards, and Road Surveyors, and Road Officials have managed to send places twelve miles from town really fifty across this swamp, through this gully, over this ford. Oh! horror, horror. To think that a few men should be allowed to waste so many thousands of hardly-earned dollars with so little benefit to the community at large. Well, although the scrub is looked upon by the working classes with contempt, I found in it a neat little cottage, a quiet bed-room, a few flowers, some attempt at a fruit-garden, and a notion or two of an apiary and an aviary, which almost went to realize what has been written and published about Snaggerack by those who never visited, and knew nothing about it; for I need not say that Snaggerack has been pictured as little short of the Garden of Eden, minus the serpent. It shewed me, however, this much, that, if the people chose, the people might do a very great deal, enough to effect a social revolution in the whole country within three months, aye three little months, or say a single summer; but the people wont act; they want the government to work for them, and the government cannot, for, let alone the will, it really has not the ability. Well, I was about to remark, all seemed excellent save and except the costume of the people whom I fell in with. Oh! those who have roamed through the provinces of the Rhine, who have passed along the iEmilian way, or wiled away a month over the treasures of Coimbra, or the chesnut groves of Mertola, will understand my lament of what I witnessed; I do n’t want picturesque clothing, but useful clothing. Why will a Snaggerack female muddle in dirty white, when “ colors ” are to be had that will shield the wearer from the squalor that soiled garments always give the owner.

But it is no use discussing dress in this place. I remember when the Wellington boot first thrust itself into public notice to be covered over with “super best double milled doeskin;” and, after that absurdity, no Englishman must grumble at a Snaggerackian, even if the latter follows the former, and covers his Wellington with the—as above. If the boot is not seen, why is it to be so highly polished and so elaborately treed ? and if seen, why the “leg” part of the super, &c., to be sent home. It may be because tights look well on me that I am in their favor, but when I remember the padded old fogies that stumbled every day around the Square, down Waterloo Place, and into Boodle’s, or the Travellers’, or somewhere, I always think nature intended man for small clothes and pumps, or ditto and boots for the streets,' and that badly-shaped aristocrats altered the natural design.

I am just now sensitive on three articles of human apparel, perhaps, because I have just returned from a political meeting where my hat has

been crushed, my shirt collar rendered useless by collapsing, and my trowsers torn from the knee by the spur of an excited member of the oxocracy. I say, perhaps I am sensitive on these matters; and, as this is election time, and so many election pledges are demanded of the various candidates, I think I shall endeavour to extract a pledge from my member, for I have been naturalized, to introduce a bill compelling the withdrawal of the obnoxious articles I have mentioned from further service. It is election time. The Hospodar is changing his assistants, and all the people’s representatives are changing their opinions. The chief answerer-of-all-communications, finding his mighty roaring will not do now, promises to roar “like any sucking dove;” while, strange to say, all the chief compli-cators-of-public-affairs who were hitherto supposed to be, and always spoke and voted as if they were, obnoxious to the people, explain that they were ever liberally disposed; but a band here and a bandage there had fettered their endeavours, and, whenever that remark is made, the people cheer, and forget to put this matter of fact question: “ Dear me, if you were acting against your convictions, why not resign?”

I was present at a meeting of Somebody’s—Mr. Somebody’s—friends this evening. My hat and pants shew the pressure from without. Mr. Somebody has been rigidly cross-examined on votes he had given, and votes he was to give, and was declared to be an uncompromising liberal, and worthy of the votes of such a place. But what rather astonished me, plain, practical man as I am, is this: Mr. Somebody is recommended to the electors of such a place as a firm friend to civil and religious liberty, and ends by denouncing all religions but his own. I cannot see the liberality in this liberal member, and this is an important question in Snaggerack, for the whole election is likely to rest upon such statements as were made and put forth by Mr. Somebody and his supporters. There is a custom existing at present at Snaggerack—in my ignorance, I call it a good one—which applies a portion of the revenue derived from customs, &c., to the establishment of temples of all orders, and the payment of ministers of all denominations. In effect, it says to the drunken father, says the government of Snaggerack—“ My good friend Jobson, you wont attend church yourself; on Sunday you offer up your libations to Bacchus; you are not the man who will pay a minister, nor give a five pound note to the church you profess to belong to ; gin and brandy swallow up your income; and your wife, whom you keep short of money, cannot therefore attend with her young ones a place of worship. This is very bad, Jobson, very bad; we must settle matters for you; we must tax your brandy and build you a church; we must make your gin liable to the customs laws, and give your good wife the privilege of hearing religious words from holy lips. What church were you brought up to, Jobson, my friend, and what is your wife ? The same church. Well and good; then here is a place and a minister for it.” This, in effect, is what is said to Jobson; but then uprises a knot of people who wont have their own share of their own money (because I suppose there are no Jobson’s in their sects); and denounce the government, and badger the minister, and because they say the half-sovereign, paid by Jobson on that gallon of brandy he bought and drunk last week, loses its identity before it finds its way into the pockets of the Rev. Mr. Anyone (Jobson’s wife’s minister). It is playing with old clootie, supporting

errors, compelling one creed to supply the false doctrine of another, and, in short, if half of what is said is true, leading all who pay it, and all who receive it, down stairs at a devil of a pace. But I don’t know this, nor do I believe it, nor is it what I call civil and religious argument; mind, I don’t go into detail. I am an Englishman, and at home have the honor of paying church rates. I am only speaking of the general question of the government-aid allotment of funds—how it is distributed, and how it might be distributed, is another matter. That might be—I don’t say it is— but it might be a question of alteration; but, as for the general question, I hear the liberal elector extract a pledge from Mr. Somebody, and hear Mr. Somebody pledge himself to the liberal elector (as what aspirant for parliament will not pledge himself to anything and everybody), and call to mind the celebrated resolutions of the “ Civil and Religious Politicians ” that lived years ago: 1. The earth is the Lord’s and the fulness thereof. 2. What belongs to the Lord belongs to his saints. 3. That we are the saints.—Oh! humbug, humbug, humbug, I hoped I had left you in St. James’s Square, or had lost you in a cruize amidst the Archipelago islands, or had deposited you in the grave of the “ Rouge ” patriots who fought for honor and one’s cash box, but you are up again, bright and lively, Spick and Span, aliye and kicking, in Snaggerack. You dwell, my friend humbug, in the law courts, and are constantly visiting the Chief Answerer, &c. You have established a permanent abode with the road authorities, and are trying, under the name of protection, to gain a home with the farmers. I met you at a water commission party, and you appeared under the name of injured innocence at a meeting called to do honor to His Serene Effulgency the Mule of Snaggerack, but you never shewed so well, so rampantly, so gloriously, as you do under your new name of AntiTemple-Aid.    Your coat is new, and you have many many men to brush

it for you, but there your are, my old friend, genuine humbug, every inch of you, and those who pat you on the back, and urge you on, and use you, and swear by you, know -you, and laugh at those that do not, and sneer at those that believe in you, for they, good honest people, use you in your new coat for so much political capital, not caring two straws about you, morality, or any body else. My old friend, you are thriving in Snaggerack just now.



( Concluded from our last.)

My first impulse was to return to Melbourne. I had heard nothing from Ellen during my absence from thence : but this was no wonder, in the utterly disorganised condition in which the Post Office Department then was. The wonder, in those days, was when a letter actually reached its destination,. Nevertheless, it was but natural that I should feel some uneasines, and much anxiety on Ellen’s account; and, finding some casual acquaintances about to set out on foot for Melbourne, my resolution was soon taken to join them. We were three days upon the road, and, the journey having been undertaken daring one of those bright and balmy intervals which chequer the winter season, we camped out at night.

As I sat watching the fantastic effects of the flickering fire-light upon the faces of my sleeping companions, or building up glowing architectural fantasies in the changeful embers, or striving to penetrate the line of black shadow that enclosed us, I am conscious of having fallen into pleasanter reveries than had visited my mind since the time I was a dreamy boy : and, as all these reveries were occupied with scenes and events of which Ellen was the central figure, they seemed to intensify the anxiety I experienced concerning her. I lived two lives while I was sitting wakeful I y peering into the ruddy blaze of our camp fire; and the life of memory seemed the more real, actual, and vivid of the two. I re-entered the village church, where, upon the Christmas morning, I first saw her. Though the frost had been silently at work all night, and the rime glittered upon the grass, and the roads gave back a clear ringing echo to the tread, the cheerful sunshine shone warmly through the southern windows, and defined the arched outline of the porch very sharply on the sunken pavement of the church. I am sure I tried to keep my mind from wandering from the old familiar services of the day, and failed completely. First, the sunshine, glancing through a two-light window which pierced the chancel-wall, fell directly athwart the faces of a row of domestics opposite, and it was impossible not to notice the regular intermissions of their breath, like the reek of so many little lime-kilns ; yet very unlike withal, for each inspiration was so regular, and every respiration so vigorous. Then I speculated as to which of those rosy-cheeked schoolgirls, so happy in the transitory glory of new bonnets and purple ribands, were the carol singers, to the piping of whose childish voices I had listened on the Christmas Eve. Then there was the quaint little pulpit, niched in a corner, and so near the chancel-arch that I was fearful lest a burst of animation should imperil the safety of the preacher’s head. Also a gallery (with texts of scripture in flourishing characters upon the panels), in which the village choir was ranged; with a hand-organ in the rear; and the village clerk in spectacles, wdth one eye, and a grizzled head, and a most elastic and expansive mouth, who led the singing; and who, by virtue of his office, read the responses from a prayer book of imposing magnitude. Also a Flibbertigibbet of a boy, who pumped the breath into the organ’s lungs, and who slily indulged in making faces, with a visible relish for the occupation : seeing which, a small chorister, whose blue eyes were very prone to laughter, could not refrain therefrom, and laughed accordingly, but was solemnly chidden for the offence by an austere man upon the neighbouring seats: whereupon little blue eyes, possessing a very tender heart, incontinently let fall some tears, kneading those moist and laughter-loving eyes of his with a round red hand, in color like the holly berries, and dimpled at the knuckles like an infant’s. Then I remembered how the face had flashed upon me, which made my destiny. I remembered how I sat “brooding” over its girlish beauty (all the more admirable because its possessor was was wholly unconscious of its ineffable charm), just as I had often brooded over the tender grace and divine loveliness of the glorious Vierge aux Ccmdelabres, discovering in every curved line a faultless trait, and in the heart and soul which


looked out upon me, with such a sad serenity, from the eyes, something to reverence, as well as love.

Am I—who am but a shadow to you, reader—wrong in taking you— who are but a shadow to me—by the button, and pouring these confidences into your ear? Very possibly: and, therefore, I relinquish my hold upon your button, and pass on.

We—my companions and myself—reached Melbourne towards dusk, and seperating from them I hastened homewards. My heart beat quicker, and my pace quickened also, as I discerned the light streaming from the window of our little sitting room. I saw the shadow of its inmate pass across the blind. I halted for a moment to consider whether I should startle her by a sudden appearance, or, by humming some old favorite melody, warn her of my approach. I halted for a few more moments to indulge in the pleasure of anticipating the look of glad surprise which would beam from her face, the fond tones of her faltering voice, and even the silken touch of her soft hair as her head would nestle against my cheek. Shall I confess to you that my eyes brimmed with happy tears, as I strode hastily up to the door, and opened it with a trembling hand ?

Could I have mistaken the house? No, for the room, its form and fittings, were as familiar to me as my own hand. A drunken Irish woman with a black eye, and her exasperated husband, whose lips were colorless with passion, and whose hugh hands were clenched as if he were prepared to repeat a blow already struck, together with a ferocious bull-terrier, whose fierce bark his master silenced by a brutal kick, were the present inmates of the room; and appeared to be as much surprised at my intrusion as I was at what I at first believed to be theirs. I stammered out an incoherent apology, and asked—with an awful presentiment of evil, turning my heart to ice, and bringing cold drops of sweat upon my forehead— whither Ellen, whither my wife had gone. God help me! my very life seemed hanging on their answer; if it would only contradict my forebodings, I felt that I could have fallen on my knees, and implored a passionate and fervent blessing on the benefactors; as it was, the answer crushed me.

“ The woman as had lived in the house afore they took it, had been down with the fever ; and had died; and her ‘sticks’ was sold to pay for the berrin.”

This was all; but the woman who had nursed the deceased, and who lived “on the flat,” could tell me all about it—-if I could find her out.

I am conscious of having grasped at the door-post to prevent my sinking on the ground; of the tipsy Irish woman reeling towards me and offering me some ineffectual help and maudlin sympathy; of my waving her off, in a sort of speechless paroxysm of mental agony ; of staggering, rather than walking, for some little distance, until I sank down in a state of helpless, hopeless, and almost delirious despair; and of sitting in a trance or stupor of grief for hours, with now and then a lucid interval, during which I clung with the energy of desperation to the hope and belief that it was all a dream, and that sun-rise would dissipate the horrible spectrum which haunted my brain.

I must have fallen asleep, towards morning, however; for a rude shake of the shoulder from a mason, who was proceeding to his work, recalled me to consciousness, and instantly restored to me the conviction of my overwhelming loss. I suppose that, in the anguish of my soul, I imagined that a great change had passed over the face of every object that I saw. The morning sun seemed to me to shine with a fierce malignant light; the earth I trod upon was hard and obdurate; and the countenances of the people I met wore a rigid and pitiless aspect. In the desolation of my spirit I passionately craved for some look or word of tenderness, for some manifestation of sympathy—however trivial—to mitigate the unsupportable sense of privation, hopelessness, and solitude which weighed upon me as mountains sometimes weigh upon us in our dreams. Grief had subdued my mind to the helplessness and feebleness of childhood ; and, if I had been an unbeliever in a future life, I should have flung the present away with an eager if not a joyful haste.

By dint of incessant inquiries, prosecuted with a desperate tenacity of purpose, I found out the abode of the nurse, or, rather, the room she ■ had lately occupied; and which was still tenanted by a woman who had assisted Ellen in her last illness. The nurse had removed ; or, it would be more correct to say, absconded; having appropriated the whole of the trinkets, money, and such articles of dress as were of value, belonging to my wife ; and the woman who remained (not having participated in the plunder of the dead) was bitter and vehement in her vituperations of the nurse.

I listened to the repulsive story of the absent woman’s callous and inhuman stripping of the corpse with the stupid resignation of despair ; and I remember the very lettering of the box upon which I sat moaning, and swaying to and fro, and the strange fascination which compelled me to listen to a narrative that only served to make my mental sufferings more intense.

I gathered from the woman every particular concerning the last hours of Ellen’s life—the hope she clung to, that I would return before she died —the often recurrence to the mention of her favorite little sister’s name; and incidents which death has invested with a sacredness enjoining silence.

I begged to be shewn her grave, and the woman consented to accompany me to the cemetery on condition that I would remunerate her for the loss of time it would occasion. When we arrived there, she could not indicate the spot, for it was indistinguishable. Scores of newly-made graves had been formed and filled in that quarter of the burying ground, and the soil had been trampled upon, levelled, and indented, by so many feet, that the very outlines of the graves were no longer visible. No solemnizing associations seemed to connect themselves with the “ hallowed ” ground; and, when a gaunt little dog, with a look of almost human sorrow in its eyes, crept out from the coverture of some broken boards, and, feebly crawling towards the mound of earth upon which I had wearily taken my seat, laid its head upon my hand, and whined piteously, I felt that it was the sole living thing, near or around me, that had any touch of tenderness in its nature, or of which I could make a friend.

It sits watching me as I write these lines, with its bright, intelligent eyes fixed wistfully on my own. It has been my inseparable companion for three years, and, as often as my hand caresses its silken ears, my memory travels back to that trampled corner of the graveyard, and all my feelings are solemnized by recollections of her whom I have lost ; and with whom

“ Death has made This darkness beautiful.”


A tear ago, a year ago,

Oft boastingly I told How good a title I could show To coffers full of gold,

And dwelt upon the happiness It seemed this wealth could buy,

For little dreamed I then how soon The treasure all would fly,

And leave me but in memory,

To muse upon the show That charmed me as a phantasy,

A little year ago.

A year ago, a year ago,

I counted many a friend,

Fondly I thought in weal or woe My footsteps would attend.

Bright were the scenes I pictured then Of joys that would not tire,

Spent with them in the summer’s glen, Or round the winter’s fire.

But with my wealth they fled me all;

Others have found it so ;

And those, who shun me since my fall, Could fawn a year ago.

A year ago, a year ago,

A penitent, I thought Of how my time had hitherto Been thrown away for nought.

As darkly rose the long array Of wasted hours, spent In haply worse than idleness,

By heaven kindly sent,

Full solemnly I pledged my life Less to regret should show,

But sadly has the vow been kept I made a year ago.

I mourn not for the vanished gold : That may again be won;

And friends can still be bought or sold, As since the world begun.

These give me not a moment’s pain, Nay, scarcely cause a sigh,

Since all may be mine own again,

By striving, bye and bye ;

But, with old time once on his track, Alas ! it is not so :

No power can call the moments back Wasted a year ago.



Eiisish sowing all such perennials and biennials as you intend should be sown this season. They may either be sown in borders, or in three and four feet wide beds of rich earth, and raked in, or covered evenly with earth : the largest seeds not more than half an inch deep, nor the smaller ones less than a quarter of an inch. They had better be sown in drills. Water the beds frequently in dry weather.

Hyacinths, and, other Choice Flowers.—Hyacinth, Tulip, Ranunculus, Anemone, &c., will now be coming fast into blossom. The more curious and valuable varieties deserve particular care. Heavy rains, and cutting or strong winds, would do them much harm ; and the sun, if permitted to shine on them fully, would bring on the decay of the flowers in a short time. Therefore, when you wish to grow them in perfection, it will be necessary to screen them from all these by a covering of hoops and mats, or canvas, always in readiness for drawing on whenever it is necessary for the defence of the flowers. When the plants are in bloom, let the mats be drawn over the hoops every sunny day, from about nine or ten a.m. till five in the afternoon. When the stalks of the Hyacinth run up in large, heavy flower spikes, and are not able to bear up their flowers, let them be supported, each by a separate stick.    _

Grass Walks and Lawns.—To keep grass walks and lawns in good order, they should be regularly and frequently rolled and mowed. This should be done about once a fortnight; otherwise, it will be impossible to mow them close and even. Rolling is also necessary for short grass walks and lawns, as it not only preserves the sward firm, smooth, and even, but makes it much easier to mow. With a sharp hoe cut up all the weeds that will come up so abundantly at this season. Choose a dry day. After hoeing, rake away all litter, and make the surface smooth, clean, and even:

Supporting Flowering Plants.—Place sticks to all such plants as require support. The stick should be proportioned to the natural height of each plant; for, it looks ill to see a tall stick placed to a plant of low growth. Trim off all straggling shoots and decayed leaves from plants of every kind.

Newly-Budded Plants.—Look over the newly-budded rose and other trees. They will now be making their first shoots from the inoculated buds. They are, in some seasons, attacked by insects or blights, and these, if not prevented, will injure the young shoots, and, indeed, sometimes spoil them. This, however, may be prevented by a little timely attention. When the ends appear crimped and curled up, take them carefully off, for they are all full of small insects. Wash the shoots afterwards with tobacco-water. This precaution will prevent the vermin spreading further. Rub off all shoots and offsets that come from the stock, except the bud itself, that the whole efforts of the stock may go to the support of the bud shoots.


From the 25th of August to the 24th September (inclusive), from observations


During the last week of the month of August and the commencement of the month of September the weather was beautifully clear, and unusually warm for the season, the wind blowing strongly from the N. and N.E., and very little rain falling: subsequently, the weather was changeable.

The mean temperature during the month was 55-7°, Fahr. The lowest temperature recorded was on the 11th September, namely 38°. It fell to 42° on the morning of the 28th of August; to 43° on the morning of the 3rd September; to 38-5° on the 7th ; to •' 9-3° on the 10th; and 42-5° on the 16th. The highest temperature recorded was on the 14th, namely, 76-5°.

The thermometer rose to 71° on the 30th August; to 74° on the 31st; to 75-5° on the 13th September; to 75-9° on the 22nd; and to 72° on the 23rd. When the temperature of the air was very low, as on the 7th and 10th of September, the weather was very fine, the sky being nearly cloudless, and the barometer moderately high. When the highest temperatures were recorded the wind blew generally from the N. or N.E., bearing aloft clouds of dust in the vicinity of the city, the sky being clear until the period of the greatest heat was past, when large dark nimbi would appear towards the W., and the wind would change to S.W. During the continuance of the northerly wind, at the close of the month of August, vivid flashes of lightning were seen on the southern and eastern horizon.

On the 23rd of September the wind blew briskly from the N., the thermometer indicating a temperature of 72°. At 3J p.m. large cumulus and cumulo-stratus clouds appeared in the W., moving irregularly north-eastward. At 4£ p.m. the cumulo-stratus clouds grew darker, and small detached patches of dark scud moved swiftly from the southward, joining the larger clouds at their base. The northerly wind had met an opposing current from the S.W. Previous to the storm the barometer had fallen rapidly. At p.m., on the 22nd, it was 29-926 inches ; and at 3^ p.m., on the 23rd, 29-676 inches. As soon as the S.W. wind was felt the barometer commenced to rise. Thunder and lightning accompanied the rain which immediately fell. The forked lightning was of a violet tint, and often perpendicular. As the dark cloud was borne overhead, the thermometer sank 10°, and hail fell with great violence. The storm of rain increased rapidy, filling the streets and washing away corporation “ improvements ” with marvellous rapidity ; streets that had before been impassable being once more reduced to their natural levels, and to cleanliness. In the short space of half an hour the unprecedented quantity of -920 inches of rain fell. On the following day heavy showers of hail and rain fell after mid-day, and towards evening the sky became of a leaden-grey tint, and the rain fell gently and continuously, the barometer, meanwhile, rising slowly.

The barometer was unsteady during the month, several well-marked depressions having occurred. On the 28th it fell to 29-667 inches ; on the 2nd September to 29-690 inches. On the 6th it rose to 30-288 inches; on the 14th it fell to 29-632 inches; on the 17th it rose to 30*120 inches; on the 19th it fell to 29-698 inches ; on the 22nd it rose to 30*104 inches; and on the 23rd it again fell to 29-676 inches. Strong gales were frequent during the month.

Pain fell on eleven days. It fell to the depth of -220 inches on the 1st; -300 inches on the 3rd; -340 inches on the 5th; -430 inches on the 15th; -340 inches on the 18tli; •920 inches on the 23rd; and to *340 inches on the 24th. On other days the showers were light.

The late rains have largely benefitted the country, as, coming at this season, the grass will be abundant, and the water-holes well filled. The spring has been mild and favorable hitherto.

The nights have been fine, and moderately clear. Dew was observed on several occasions. A fine lunar halo was seen on the night of the 10th September.

The weather at this season is usually very agreeable; on the wannest days the thermometer indicating no higher temperature than English summer heat, and at night seldom falling below 45°. The changes are sometimes sudden, but they are not so severely felt as during the summer. At this season, too, the grass is of a brilliant green color, the breeze is usually cool and fresh, and fine large cumulus clouds move gently across the sky, casting their broad shadows over the landscape, affording every tint on land and water that the painter loves, or that could tempt the weary citizen to forsake the dry and dusty streets.



The polit'cal events of the month may be all summed up under one head', viz., Election. This is the centre of gravity on which all other events depend, as it were, by the laws of centrifugal and centripetal force ; for every public question now mooted either springs from an election movement or tends thither. “Vote for somebody, and something for somewhere,” is a blank form that may be filled up with the names of almost anybody and anything in any place. The “external paperhanging stations” (as London billstickers now periphrastically call the dead walls and boardings eligible for the publication of their works “in sheets”) are as one. The city is decked, as for a gala, with all the colors of the spectrum, and a great many more that Sir Isaac Newton never dreamt of. Wherever you go you are compelled to meet a “little bill,” presented by some self-denying patriot who ’umbly solicits the honor of being allowed to sacrifice himself to your interests. The farce of seeking, as a favor, a post of public responsibility yet remains, and will probably be the last removed. The vanity of his majesty the public is too much flattered by the bows of a candidate to open his eyes to the true position of the case. Either a member confers an obligation on his constituents or he does them a positive injury. There is no escaping this view of the case. Very few candidates have had the moral courage to say, “Here I am, willing to serve you to the best of my ability, but I cannot incur expense, nor shall I seek your suffrages as a boon.” Some few have boldly offered themselves, and more have received genuine invitations from constituencies, but most have been content with the pitiful farce of getting up sham requisitions to themselves, and then acceding to the “ complimentary request of so many influential electors,” &c. Perhaps it would not be too much to say that two-tliirds of all the candidates before the country have been introduced by means of measures preconcerted by themselves. Some of the best men have descended to this shallow artifice ; and, professing that it was not decorous to offer themselves uninvited, have set two or three friends to get up a list. Thanks to the Ballot, and the thousand reforms that follow in its train, we have no more house-to-house-canvass; no more cultivation of domestic relations for the sake of securing a doubtful vote ; no more bowing and scraping by the expectant to men whom the M.L.C. would indignantly cut; no bribery; no riots; no frantic rushing about with cab loads of drunken voters ; no tavern bills for liquor supplied to the “ free and independent ” in order to prime them for the exercise of a freeman’s right; no bamboozling of stupid voters by bounceable agents ; no faction fights. But we have money represented rather than brains. As long as the present property qualifications are allowed to disfigure the Constitution, so long will the councils of the nation be a refuge for men whose wealth is their chief if not their only qualification; and so long will those men who have thought too much to make money be prevented from giving their more valuable aid. For, “ It is he who hath little business who shall become wise ; how can he get wisdom that holdeth the plough, and whose talk is of bullocks!” says the wise man. It is a perfect fallacy that those only who have been successful in their own worldly affairs can manage the affairs of a people : it is a fallacy that a member, to be reliable, must have an independence. It is only in some departments of public business that the money-getting talent is useful; for all others “ head ” is better, and for them nearly as good. No “ independence ” will make a man independent: the wealthier men and the keener men of business are the men most likely to job, and to have one eye constantly fixed on their own ledgers, while the other surveys the public business in readiness for anything that may turn up. Scores of men, more able to perceive, to reflect, and to compare, and better stored with knowledge applicable to the work before them, than one half of the “ qualified ” candidates, have sufficient occupation to supply their means of life, hut neither have, nor are likely to have, a legal qualification. The lists of the candidates will shew that very many regard a seat in the Legislative as an otium cum dignitate to be enjoyed, like a carriage or a villa, by those, and those only, who can afford such a supplement to a life of profit. There are among the candidates now before the country some who, until lately, could hardly write their names, and many who might safely calculate on an acquittal if charged at any time with possessing intelligence. Time, however, will remedy all this, but it behoves us to remember that the return of men whose interest is opposed to such advancement must materially postpone the most vital reforms. The “ plum ’’-qualified member will desire to keep the Houses “respectable,” i. «., rich.

Suspicions have been expressed of attempts to tamper with voters and to exert influences at once dishonorable and illegal; but nc evidence is as yet possessed, so that we may hope that it is but surmise. Active personal canvassing, a practice sufficiently reprehensible, has been adopted by some candidates, and we have heard of one or two attempts at indirect corruption. One case only of impersonation has been detected : it is to be hoped that no mistaken clemency may lead to the discharge of the offender; it being the first offence is just the reason why it should be most severely punished. There are partisan returning officers in some places, and there has been “plumping;” quite bad enough. Few persons appear to understand this same plumping, The popular idea is that, as (say) five candidates are to be returned, every elector has five votes to do as he likes with, to give them all to one if he could (this the ballot effectually prevents), or to give his favorite an advantage of one over all the rest, by polling for him alone, and refusing to vote for any of the others. Such an act is clearly a dereliction of duty, at the very least; but it is more than this, it is a wrong (only not a crime, because not legally declared so) toward the whole community. The wilful neglect of refusing to vote at ail is only a shade less reprehensible. The franchise is not a privilege given to the holder to oblige a friend or support a partisan. It is a trust committed to each member of the community on behalf of the whole commonwealth. In the case cited, every elector is bound to do his share towards sending five men to represent the interests of the place in Parliament, there to legislate for the good of the whole country. It is his duty to select from the candidates those whom he considers the five best. He is not at liberty to dispose his votes otherwise, nor to withhold any or all of them. To do so is to commit a breach of trust, which, though nameless in law, perhaps comes nearer morally to perjury than any other offence, inasmuch as he enters the booth to exercise the five-fold vote for which he holds his franchise, and, having entered, deliberately betrays his trust to society in order to serve an individual.

The Ballot has, although somewhat imperfectly administered here, succeeded so well on its first introduction that many of its former opponents have already given ready testimony to its efficacy in checking the time-honored abuses of a contested poll.

The results, as far as yet ascertained, are as follow:—•

Legislative Council. "

Central Province.—Hodgson, 1,201; Fawkner, 1,196; Miller, 863; Hood, 736; Guthridge, 689.—Smith, 678; A’Beckett, 618; Fellows, 601; Wilkie, 516 ; Mayne, 439.

South Province.—Kennedy, 646; Power, 513; Clarke, 490; M'Combie, 458; Bennett, 435.—Russell, 315 ; Riddell, 311; Sherwin, 241; Barry, 77.

South-Western Province.—Strachan, 715; Hope, 697; Henty, 613 ; Roope,545 ; Cowie, 438.—Pohlman, 414.

Western Province.—Tierney, Palmer, Clarke, Henty, Cruikshank.

North-Western Province.—Keogh, 334 ; Allan, 334; Urquhart, 332 ; Patterson, 328; Mitchell, 268.—Simpson, 241: Thompson, 228; Miller, 74.

East Province.—Hervey, 150; Stewart, 132; Thompson, 125; Kaye, 109; Williams, 95.—Highett, 57; Anderson, 56; Pinnock, 56.

Legislative Assembly.

Melbourne.—Moore, 2,573; Michie, 2,225; Stawell, 2,221; Smith, 2,181; O’Sha-nassy, 2,122.—Langlands, 2,082; M'Culloch, 2,070; Heales, 1,157; Greeves, 1,518; Ebden, 746.

Emerald Hill.—Clarke, 669.—Blair, 320.

Richmond.—Evans, 561; Campbell, 559.Hull, 429 ; Johnson, 393.

Collingwgod.—Marker, 1,337 ; Enabling, 1,294.—A'Beckett, 922 ; Capper, 58.

St. Kilda.—Sargood, 713 ; Fellows, 687.—Chapman, 553; Stephen, 426.

Brighton.—Were, 269.—Wood, 122.

Geelong__Fyfe, 1,774; Sladen, 1,280; Brooke, 986; Read, 975.—Bright, 931;

Bailey, 751; Behan, 131.

From these returns it will be seen, not only who were the successful men, but in what comparative estimation the différent candidates were held by the electors. Not that this can always be taken as an index of merit ; for in some places there has been an embarras de richesses. In the city, and in most of the suburban constituencies, good men have been necessarily rejected, because the supply exceeded the demand. In some cases there has been some mistake in the selection of constituencies. Mr. Pohlman, for example, a man towards whom there is but one feeling of esteem and respect, was yet rejected at Geelong because he was a Melbournite : Mr. A’Beckett failed in Collingwood because the principle for which he gallantly suffered martyrdom was more unpopular there than in any other part of the colony : Mr. Chapman at St. Kilda was simply redundant : Mr. Blair had not the same means as his opponent of cultivating the affections of the Emeralders, and he found active enemies in the returning officers, who, though they ought to be perfectly neutral, were nevertheless violent partisans. All thèse, and many others who are now under the line, would have been useful members ; and some of them may yet sit for some of the distant constituencies which are now either entirely unprovided, or canvassed by really objectionable persons.

The Argus has been busily engaged in its search for “ The Ninety,” and has “ sum-totalised ” each of the more prominent candidates in turn with considerable judgment and anatomical skill: this we may safely say, without endorsing all the opinions expressed. The elections have been sharply contested, with the exception of that for Williamstown, where Mr. Foster had all the fun to himself, and with it the honor of constituting for nearly a fortnight the whole Legislative Assembly, and of that for Portland, where Messrs. Childers and Hughes, unopposed, exchanged compliments with the returning officer on the nomination day. The elections for the Upper House have now taken place, although all the final results are not yèt announced. The last writs for the Lower House are returnable on the 6th November, soon after which day the Houses will probably meet in the new building, which will be habitable by that time, although far from completion.

The subject of Law Reform is again ^attracting attention. Several members are pledged to labor in this lively field of occupation. Several of the evils and abuses which need correction are the subjects of controversy in the daily prints : the extravagant cost and complication of conveyancing being among the most cared for, because the most felt.


An agency more potent, because less obtrusive, than any moral objurgations is quietly exerting itself for the social improvement of the people. Years ago, when streets were laid out on-paper, there was great talk of public promenades, with esplanades by the river, fountains, &c. Some of the sites so marked out are now covered with bricks and mortar, and dry rubbish of various kinds. Others, since planned and named, are under crops of broken bottles and old kettles; and all that were stocked with trees, the next essential of a pleasure ground to the space itself, have suffered more or less from the woodman’s axe. Of late, since the public chest has been cured of its atrophy, attention has been turned to these parks and gardens, and several of them have been and are being enclosed. Years must elapse before those in the town itself can present attraction to the lounger or the lover of Nature : but a quarter of an hour’s walk will even now bring the dusty citizen to spots where only the dullest eyes can fail to find beauties. The Richmond paddock, the Government domain, and the South Park, enclosed as they are from bustling traffic, with grass scant it is true but still green, clumps of not unpicturesque trees, and vistas that would have furnished a Gainsborough with the material for magnificent pictures, invite the pedestrian. The Botanical Gardens, known to but few, present attractions beyond what those who have not visited them can conceive. There may be seen collected and somewhat tastefully disposed specimens of the Flora of Australia, from the ragged gum‘and graceful fern tree to the less pretentious but not less beautiful weeds of the swamp. There are such plants of other countries as have yet been cultivated here : the American Aloe, the New Zealand Flax, and the hothouse plants of Europe are found. Although too much of the mechanical xpind appears in the disposi-


tion of the grounds, sufficient of the natural heanty of the place remains to make the garden a charming spot. The tangled path by the Yarra, where the willows lazily dip into the stream and wave with every ripple of the current, has been made into a straightened, level, and gravel walk, and the wattle scrub that gave it half its beauty has been here and there cut away to give what soulless people call a clear view of the river; but the hand of man has not been able to remove all the natural charm of the place. The walk, the river, and the trees, are yet there ; and the lagoon, with its tangled thicket of reeds, and its flocks of wild fowl, has as yet escaped desecration. On holidays and on fine Sunday afternoons hundreds may here be seen imbibing, often unconciously but not ineffectually, the religion of Nature. Hardly will the stem ascetic venture to dispute that the most careless gatherer of a despised wild flower must have his thoughts toned in some degree by what he there sees. The balmy air that floats over the scene must at once invigorate mind and body: if it affect but one of them, good is done, but one can hardly be affected without the other. To possess mens sana in corpore sano is the great desideratum, and it must be the effect of frequenting such places of recreation. And if we can, by such simple and delightful means, induce a healthy tone of mind, we at once cultivate in a people the germs of thought capable of leading to the highest ends of human intellect. We are not prone to sermonising, but we may safely say that we defy any one to spend a quiet hour in such a place without coming away a better man. Some demands have been made of late for the Public Library to be opened during a portion of each Sunday. This we would earnestly recommend ; and would add to the list the Museum, whenever such an arrangement becomes practicable. It may be said that the persons who frequent such places are not those who need to be weaned from baser pursuits; but we reply that superior minds must sway the inferior in every community, and that the very existence of opportunity for the study of all that is beautiful in nature and noble in name at once and of necessity creates a demand for this mental food, which elevates while it amuses, and fits the mind for the reception of those higher truths of which they are the illustrations. Out door nature and indoor study are the greatest social reformers ; they are the ever-acting, though too often disregarded, aids to the preacher. The Bible and the book of Nature are companion volumes, and are filled with references to each other.

We need such aid. Crime stalks through the land; not perhaps with the unblushing front it once assumed, nor can the law even now reach all the cases: but the “abstract and brief chronicle ” provided by the daily papers shews enough to make the reader shudder for that he is of a kind with the murderer and the incendiary. A mangled corpse, blackened by fire or bleached by the winds of Heaven, is found in a lone spot; a half-murdered wife unwillingly appears to give evidence against her brutal husband, her sworn protector; a farmstead is set on fire by a jealous neighbor, or a store by a fradulent insolvent; a crowd collects at a Sunday prize fight; a carter brutally illtreats his more sagacious beast of burden; a minister of religion deals denunciations and even blows from the altar of Him who forgave all: all this and more enters into our daily history.

An all-important topic of the day is the prospect of rapid and regular ocean mails. This essential enterprise, so long delayed, has been undertaken by the British Government, which is to pay half the subsidy, the Colonies paying the other half. The contract has been granted to the European and Australian Steam Company, for five years, with a subsidy of T185,000 per annum. The service is to be an independent one from Liverpool or Southampton to Alexandria (calling at Malta) and from Suez to Point de Galle and Melbourne, terminating at Sydney. The maximum time allowed will be thirty-nine days outward from Suez, and thirty-five days homeward from Melbourne, fourteen days additional being allowed to and from Suez and Southampton. The line will be partially opened in October, and will be thoroughly established from the 1st of January next. Screw steamers are to be employed between Suez and Melbourne, of 2,200 to 2,500 tons, with 500 to 530 horse-power. Between Alexandria and Melbourne they are to be of hot less than 1,600 tons. The parties chiefly interested are Messrs. Patrick Henderson and Co., of Glasgow.

Internal communication is the subject of a small warfare just now. The roads up the country are, and have long been, in a very bad state ; in some places so nearly impassable that traffic has been all but stopped. Meetings have been held for the purpose of calling on the Government to take in hand, without delay, the necessary works. The following resolution is the result of (he deliberation: —

That experience having shewn the summer to be the only period of the year when large contracts for the construction and repair of the roads and bridges of the colony can be carried on to advantage, this meeting is of opinion that the extreme emergency for immediately proceeding with the above-mentioned works fully justifies a departure from the usual and constitutional mode of procedure; and that the Government be petitioned to anticipate the votes of Parliament, by carrying out these works without delay; and, in particular, to direct the attention of the Executive to the urgent necessity of forming side drains along the sides of main roads in the course of formation.”

A singular case occurred lately at the Police Court. The mate of a ship was under examination on a charge of murder, committed on the high seas. When the prisoner was committed for trial the American Consul appeared, and claimed the prisoner as an American subject, having committed the crime upon an American subject, and under the American flag, and therefore to be tried before an American tribunal. Of course his position was indisputable, and the prisoner was ceded to him. But, to the surprise of every one who was acquainted with the case, the consul seemed only to have regarded the least part of his duty : for no step was taken toward the trial of the prisoner, who was next day set at liberty, and is now as free from the consequences of his crime as if he had been acquitted.

The Anglican Church will, under the powers granted by a recent Act of Council, hold this month its synod of delegates from tbe several congregations. It will be remembered by those of our readers who were here at the time that similar conventions have been held here some years back, for the purpose of discussing the preliminaries of a separation of the Anglican Church in this colony from the Church of England, so far as concerned the direct connection of the latter with the State, and of framing the Bill by which the church now has power to legislate within itself. The matter was at the time the subject of much controversy, for it was considered by many that the Anglican Church here, being independent of the Government, which recognises no dominant church, was not in a similar position to the Church of England, and therefore was not subject to the same restrictions, but was at perfect liberty to make such regulations as it found necessary for its internal government.

Plans have been prepared for a new and enlarged Lunatic Asylum, to be erected near the old one, at Yarra Bend. The present building is insufficient to accommodate the number of lunatics. The site is perhaps the most suitable that could be found. It is healthy, from its elevated position and its isolation from the town ; it is secluded without being gloomy; and the disposition of the grounds is favorable to perfect supervision.

The Hospital is to be extended by the erection of a new wing. Both this establishment and the Benevolent Asylum have of late received large contributions from the proceeds of concerts, balls, theatrical performances, and bazaars, to which the Garrick Club, the Philharmonic Society, and other bodies have contributed.

The suburban municipalities are busy in the improvement of the districts under their charge : and although there is the usual amount of talk and formality, the activity of these bodies is an evidence of the value of the Act from which they derive their powers.

The Chinese colonists have opened, at their head-quarters at Emerald Hill, a Joss House and temple for their peculiar worship. Some ultra saints have ventured to advocate a resistance to this proceeding, and to recommend that the Chinese immigrants should be compelled on their landing to adopt the Christian forms of worship. Apart from the bigotry and absurdity of such an attempt to legislate for opinions, and to compel faith by Act of Council, the bare idea of thus enforcing a compliance with tbe externals of Christianity is a very negative evidence of the value of the religious sentiments of those who would advocate such a measure. They must, to say the least, be totally ignorant of the natural effects of persecution in strengthening what it attempts to weaken, and of the vicious influence exercised by a substitution of form for spirit in religion.

A very interesting movement has been made for the association and improvement of a singular and hitherto disregarded class of the community, viz., the boys who gain their living by hawking newspapers, oranges, &c., and by other more questionable means. At a meeting held a fortnight since, several of these lads were collected together in a house in Little Oollins-street, and addressed by speakers, who recommended them to join an association for their mental and social improvement. It is proposed to establish a Home in connection with the Juvenile Traders’ Association, and to open classes for the instruction of its members. Making due allowance for the half-wild character of the meeting, the propositions may be said to have been well received; and if the project as now put forth he fully carried out, there is no doubt that much advantage will be obtained from the training of a class that is necessarily the subject of much anxiety.


At last agriculture is a recognised institution in Victoria. Land is now under cultivation in all parts of the country, and most such localities have their associations of farmers. Many meetings of these bodies havelatelybeenreported,for they seem to havebeen seasona-blv busy in discussing th e details of harvesting. The old farmers, as might be expected, peeps out every here and there, pretending to demonstrate by means of figures that machines do not answer. Such men waste the time of meetings by discussing not what improvements can be made but whether any shall be admitted. Fortunately they are in a minority, but they seem to be so far influential that many have thought their arguments worthy of combat. One Agricultural Association in the western district . especially recommends to all farmers the introduction of the most approved machinery for agricultural purposes ; and “that where farms are he’d on lease the landlord should arrange or assist in establishing a fixed threshing machine and suitable barns on each farm on their respective lands.” The Association further advocates the repeal of any laws now in torce for the prohibition of distillation from grain and agricultural produce, and for the limitation of distilleries to the metropolis. The desirability of establishing an Agricultural Museum has received official attention, and the co-operation of all who are interested in the matter is invited by the following notice in the Government Gazette:—

“ It being desirable to form a permanent collection of the various agricultural products and soils of Victoria, and also of the machines and implements most in use, such collections in Europe and America having been found of great value, agriculturists, gardeners, and others, are earnestly solicited to co-operate in its formation, and with this view are requested to forward to the Curator of the Unversity Museum, or to Mr. Henry Stevenson, Survey Office, samples (in pod or straw) of seeds enumerated in the following list; or specimens of vegetables and fruit grown by them. A memorandum should accompany each sample, stating the name of each grower, place of abode, and whether from virgin soil, or if not, the kind and quantity of manure used.” (The list comprises general agireultural, vegetable, garden, and grass seeds.)

A little while ago the question was “ Can we not grow com enough for our own consumption?” now the farmers want to open new markets for their produce before the crying want of breadstuff is at all relieved. A loaf of very indifferent bread now costs iron a shilling to fourteenpence, and flour fetches £22 to ¿626 per ton in the market; yet the new field of consumption needs to be opened in order to make farming remunerative. An Adelaide paper, reporting and commenting on the state of the grain trade in that colony lets us into a little of the secret. It seems, that the South Australian farmers and dealers are sedulously cultivating an impression that stocks are small and crops deficient this season with a view to stimulate prices by creating apprehensions of scarcity (themselves of course holding large stocks). Clever enough in its way, but sqmewliat shortsighted, as the news of probable scarcity will of course bring in supplies from America and elsewhere, probably before the speculators have had time to realise. The demand for distilleries may be designed to meet the risk of a flooded market, and to open a safety valve for corn for which the market has then been spoiled. It cannot be for damaged grain, because cattle and poultry can consume far more than ordinarily occurs; nor is it likely that the still is required to work off other kinds of produce, as there is very little suitable, except potatoes, which are this season plentiful and bad, but not cheap to the consumer. The Port Phillip Farmers’ Society announces a show of Implements and Stock to be held on the Sydney road, on the 15th inst. The Industrial Society has already had its show, at which were displayed live stock, wool, and implements. The cattle were few but fine; and the wool and agricultural machines excited admiration: but there was little else. In fact, it was rather a show of farming stock than that of general industrial products., although the old catalogue of prizes, with rewards ingeniously disproportionate to the articles for which they were offered, was duly advertised beforehand. Either a new Industrial Society, or a total remodelling of the old one is much needed. For years the same loose and clumsy system has been persevered in, and the prizes themselves are of comparatively little value. Of course we speak of them as honorary marks, and make no reference to their cost. We remember, on former exhibitions, seeing prizes indiscriminately awarded to all contributors without the slightest regard-to their merit, or to the compliance of the exhibitors with the prescribed rules ; the hope being that those who were not members would pay up for the sake of getting the medal: in other words, any one might get the medal and certificate of the Industrial Society for a guinea. This is a fact. Things are certainly better now, but not yet as they should be. A well conducted society for the encouragement of arts and industry would be of incalculable value to the Colony.

The question of the improvement of the Yarra, vexed two years ago and abandoned, has been again opened; not, however, with any satisfactory result, as far as matters have yet gone. Many of our readers may remember that surveys were made for a canal to connect the city and the port of Melbourne. The line selecteed led from Chenell’s slip, opposite the new wharf, to a point on the beach near the railway pier. There were two plans for the construction of the canal, one of which was accompanied by a much larger estimate than the other, but provided a much larger amount of accommodation. In the late discussion the proposition for improving the Yarra itself, which was formerly set aside, has been revived.

The “ Victoria ” steam sloop has been efficiently employed in facilitating the delivery of mails by going down to relieve ships that were weather-bound at the heads. It is somewhat significant of the amount of public spirit prevalent among some of our business men, that two mercantile houses, owners of steamers, have actually protested against this use of the “ Victoria ” as interfering with private enterprise ! These gentlemen would perhaps have preferred either that the mails should have been delayed, or that their own steamers should have been chartered for the purpose of delivering them while a vessel purchased for the public service lay idle in the bay.

It is gratifying to observe that the Victorian government debentures, on which six per cent, is payable, realise 109^ on the London Stock Exchange.

A tender has been accepted for the erection of a timber bridge over the Yarra at Studley. This bridge will have the effect of opening up a direct communication between the city and Kew, Boroondara, Eltham, Templestowe, Anderson’s Creek, and the surrounding districts. The contractor has undertaken to complete the bridge within six months from the present date.    •

A return issued from the Surveyor General’s office shews that there are now open for selection allotments of land, in various parts of the country, amounting in the aggregate to 182,047 acres. There is, however, much complaint of the mode in which the land is divided, and some surveyors have been distinctly charged with playing into the hands of capitalists, by laying out the ground in large and inaccessible sections, so that small buyers, who would really employ it advantageously, besides contributing largely to the revenue, are completely shut out of the market.


After a season of unusual plenty comes a famine. During the former two month's, colonial publications have been piled upon our table, but during September scarcely any, even of the most trivial character, have issued from the press. Two or three controversial pamphlets of an electioneering character are before us, such as that by Mr. Macredie, who uses the offensive term “infidel” to all that does not please him ; but they contain nothing worthy of note. It is a misfortune for the State Support of Religion to be defended by such champions, and all on either side who sincerely desire the furtherance of religion, and who hold their opposing views each because he considers his plan the most likely to accomplish the end which all seek, must join in regretting that bigotry and slander have ever been imported into the question. With the personalities in which such writers indulge we have nothing to do but to declare our disgust, no matter on what side they appear.

Several persons have assumed to themselves the censorship of the Press. It is common enough for men to abuse the newspapers, as they would the people that oppose them, but for a public man to denounce the press generally is, happily for the credit and sagacity of public men, a tolerably rare occurrence. However, Mr. Smith, now a member for the city, made the serious mistake at one of his meetings of spending an hour or more in attacking the newspaper Press, which he thought proper to call licentious, slanderous, &c. Mrs. Stark, too, an actress, once popular here, being dissatisfied with the amount of eulogy awarded to her by the Ballaarat papers, indulged in the delivery of an animated tirade from the stage, after the fashion of the notorious Lola Montes. The Press is the surest bulwork of right and justice, and those who will run their heads against it must not he surprised if they are themselves the only sufferers. We believe the newspaper Press to be far more upright and scrupulous than many even of its friends imagine, and would recommend any doubter to test for himself: the thing would be very easy; he need only request the advocacy of his interests, using the arguments which suggest themselves to him: and we are very much mistaken if he would not find out his error. To quote one of the writers attacked by Mrs. Stark, “ If the Press were less pure, we should hear less of its venality.”

The decoration of the new Houses of Parliament has awakened and brought into notice a vast amount of artistic talent that was until now lying dormant. Painters, sculptors, and modellers, carvers and decorators, for whom the magnificent offer by the Industrial Society of a money prize of three guineas for a marble statue was not a sufficient stimulus, have responded promptly to the invitations now put forth. The principal works which are now in hand are mezzi rilievi, emblematical of Wisdom, Liberty, Justice, Peace, Mercy, Fame, Victory, and Literature. These figures are designed to grace the lofty carving of the roof, which will be otherwise enriched with modelled ornaments. Provision is made for has reliefs and paintings on the walls, and for statues in niches behind the gallery in the Council Chamber.

An exhibition of works of art has been talked of, and now that so many artists have already appeared on the scene there is some hope of this idea being carried out. There can be little doubt of abundant contributions, whether they be limited to the works of resident artists or whether the specimens of the valued masters of Europe be also admitted.

The Medical Journal has completed its first annual volume, which is issued with an address calling upon all members of the profession to contribute their aid to a work so calculated to advance their interests. The volume contains many very interesting papers on sanitary and sanatory subjects, with reports of peculiar cases, reviews of medical books, and extracts from European periodicals treating of new discoveries in therapeutics, reports of scientific bodies, &c. The administration of the Journal is to be changed, for the purpose of giving to all who will an opportunity of laboring for its interests, and of making the work essentially an organ of the profession at large. A Bill for regulating the profession, by excluding pretenders, whose practices are an injury at once to the public health and to the qualified practitioners, has been prepared in readiness for presentation to the new Council as soon as practicable after its opening. Although there may be difference of opinion as to the details of the Bill, there can be no doubt that some such measure is absolutely called for. One point is worthy of notice, viz.: that the right of druggists to administer medicine to customers over the counter is untouched, so long as they do not assume to exercise the functims of medical men, by visiting or undertaking the conduct of cases.    _

•A. newly formed Religious Tract Society has commenced operations, and some other minor religious works have issued from the press. A new periodical, called the Cdtholic Chronicle, designed to advance the cause of Education according to the views of the Catholic body, has also appeared; and Mr. Archer’s lecture “Nodes Catholics" has reached a fourth edition. Apart from the views set forth in the latter work (on which we do not feel ourselves called upon to offer an opinion), the pamphlet is replete with interesting historical and literary matter, and evinces a remarkable amount of observation and study.

The prospectus of a new magazine, under the singular title of the People's Free Press, is before us ; of course it would be unfair to prejudge the undertaking, but neither the matter nor the manner of the prospectus is calculated to awaken very sanguine anticipations.

An interesting topic of the day is the movement for erecting a statue to the venerable patriot, John Pascoe Fawkner, the father of the colony and of its Press. We believe that the public is hardly aware of its obligations to this gentleman, who has labored earnestly for the welfare of the colony during the last twenty years ; and this, too, without the slightest regard to self-interest. Mr. Fawkner has, no doubt, made many enemies by his uncompromising opposition to every abuse and every corruption, as well as by a certain infirmity of manner; but the fact that to him, more than to any other individual, do we owe our present political as well as geographical position, is indisputable. As a geneial rule, the erection of monuments during the lifetime of the person so honored is certainly unadvisable, but this case is in every respect exceptional: it is no partisan movement— no temporary enthusiasm : the man whom we are about to honor has spent a large portion of his life, and has sacrificed his health and his temporal interests, in our service. Weholdthe whole testimonial system, as now commonly administered, in utter contempt. As has often been said of the Croix de la Legion d' honneur, the honor is rather in nonpossession : wealth and puffery have the worship, while worth is too often its own reward. We remember the case of a inan who purchased a service of plate|:and invited a number of “ admiring ” friends to present it to him at a dinner provided for the purpose; and we believe that, in one half the cases of ostentatious presentation, the movement has its origin with the recipient. The case before us can hear no analogy to any of these.




Solution to Problem No. 1, by A. Lulman.


Q takes P.

Q to K’s B 3.

B K’s B 6. mate.


K K’s R 8.

R Q’s 2.

B K’s Kt. 4.

B Q’s Kt. 6. Pawns at—

K’s 2.

K’s B 4.

Q’s Kt. 5.



K. moves.

K. takes Kt. (must)


K K’s 5.

P Q’s 3.

P Q’s Kt. 2.

White to move, and mate in four moves.

What are the distinctive points between madrigals, glees, rounds, and catches?

May Defoe’s History of the Plague he relied on as a faithful history of actual events ?

Druky Lane Theatre will hold—boxes, 1200; pit, 850; lower gallery, 480; upper gallery, 280; in all, 2810 persons, without crowding.

Rush Grub.—A living specimen of the rush grub is much desired. It is uncertain whether the larva (sphynx) survives for any length of time the growth of the fungus, and it will be interesting to observe the mode in which the latter germinates. Professor Quekett states in a private communication that this natural curiosity, hitherto considered peculiar to Van Diemen’s Land and New Zealand, has lately been found in England (vide page 48).

Unfermented Bread.—Take flour three pounds, cold water one and a half pints; carbonate of soda half an ounce (troy) ; hydrochloric acid, five fluid drachms. Mix the soda intimately with the flour by sifting; and the acid with the wateh. Then beat up with a wooden spatula (not metal). Put the loaves immediately into a quick oven and bake for an hour and a half. The dough should be moderately thin, and no more kneaded than is necessary to ensure perfect mixture. It requires a hotter oven than ordinary bread. No salt need be added. The rationale of the process is this; the hydrochloric acid decomposes the carbonate of soda, liberating carbonic acid gas, to which the lightness of all bread is due, and combines with the base to form chloride of sodium (common salt) ; the oxygen and hydrogen uniting to form water. This bread is very digestible, and is made with little trouble. A dish of breakfast rolls or tea cakes may be thus prepared in half an hour: for the latter, butter and sugar may be added to taste.

Teeth.—Tobacco juice and smoke, chlorine tooth wash, powderedbark, soda, ammonia, and various other popular detergents, although useful in their way, yet fail to destroy the vitality of animal and vegetable parasites on the teeth. Soap alone destroys them. The application of acids, which are sometimes used to whiten the teeth and to remove incrustations, should especially be avoided.

Magic Square.—The following diagram gives a solution of the problem, how to arrange the nine digits so that the sum of each row, read any way, may amount to fifteen:

2 9 4 .    7 5 8

6 18 '

Domdaniel.—In the preface to Southey’s “ Thalaha,” Domdaniel is described as a seminary for evil spirits under the sea. In Canning’s “ Loves of the Triangles,” the following couplet occurs :—

“ Gins, black and white, who in Domdaniel’s cave Writhe then1 scorched limbs in sulphur’s azure wave.”

And it is explained in a foot note to be a submarine palace, near Tunis, where Zatanai usually held his court.

Naturalist.—The following preparation will be found useful for stuffing and preserving very small animals, whose form might be distorted, or structure injured, by other processes. Take tobacco and black pepper, of each one pound; flowers of sulphur and sal prunella, of each eight ounces ; burnt alum, four ounces ; corrosive sublimate, one ounce. Powder and mix. The powder may be introduced by means of a tapered tube.

Queries and Notes on all subjects are invited, and shall receive due attention.

Our friend from Snaggerack” is requested to report himself early in the month. A note awaits him at our office.

A Night in the Bush” is very long and tant soitpeu gloomy.

We shall be happy to hear from J. H. W.

“ The North Wind ” is hardly welcome at this season.

“ Sociology ” in our next.

The “ Life and Poetry of Milton ” must yield for the present to fresher subjects.

The Author of “ Eight Australian Melodies ” must have been joking with us in offering them for publication.

The “ Fiction Fields ” have yielded a good crop, but it wa3 not gathered in time for this month’s harvest.

“ Basil Temple ” is rather remiss.

“ Aspirations ” deferred.

We are not determined as to the “Plurality of Worlds;” but, however we may incline to the doctrine, we have considerable hesitation with regard to the Poem.

We shall be very happy to render any required assistance to “ Giorgio,” whose now, de plume was no cipher to us.

The Young Empire ” will not pass the ordeal of the Literary Republic.

The Land of the South ” is deposited at the negative pole.

Our Thanks are offered to all contributors. From the mass of manuscripts forwarded to us, we make such a selection as we conceive best adapted to the tastes of our readers, and most consistent with the plans we have formed for the conduct of the Journal. As a matter of course, we are compelled to decline many papers: some few, because they are unsuited for publication; others, because the subjects do not seem likely to prove attractive, or because they have been already undertaken : and others, again, which we should be glad to use, because we cannot do so, and must “ draw the line somewhere.” Young writers should not be discouraged if they do not succeed at once: Ariosto re-wrote a simple stanza sixteen times, and chose the last; Bums’ poetry was the result of easy composition, but laborious correction; Collins burnt half his poems; Michael Angelo abandoned enough works to fill a gallery; and Buffon recomposed his Epoques de la Nature eighteen times before it satisfied his taste. There are many desiderata in writing for publication which will not occur to those who are unaccustomed to the pursuit, and on these we shall be very happy to give assistance or advice whenever it is desired. Of course the more material we have to work from the better shall we be able to cater for the tastes of our readers.

W. H.. Williams, Printer, 94 Bourke Street East, Melbourne.




In one of the dullest places in the whole colony is a small stone building, of no particular style of architecture, devoid of all ornament, and utterly destitute of any external attraction to the general visitor. It is a temple. A church?” No. “ A Joss house?” Nothing of the kind. It is inhabited by a solitary devotee, who spends his life in communing with the silent genii of the air, and in the contemplation of other, and, as far as they present themselves to us, brighter worlds. Iiis dealings are chiefly with impalpable and imponderable essences. Our solitary friend is by no means dull or lonely in his retirement. Although silent and thoughtful himself, he holds daily converse with the world out of doors. Hundreds consult his oracles, and wait with respectful patience upon the spirits whom he calls to do his bidding. He is the confidant of numberless conversations. He is the medium, who, by a mysterious rapping which we shall presently inquire further into, makes sometimes startling revelations, and opens communication between persons who are beyond the limits of sight and speech. His incantations are innocuous. He asks questions of the air and the water, the light and the fire, and is answered. The ocean storm is not permitted to pass his temple without reporting itself in full, and the scorching wind of the undiscovered desert is compelled to reveal whence it comes and whither it goes. The balmy zephyr and the crested wave alike write their names in his visiting book ; and Phaeton’s daily journey is marked off with infinitely greater exactness than the sailing of the “ Kent” or the trains on the Hobson’s Bay Railway. Our friend is the high priest of the temple of the winds.

We said that the place was dull. It is not in a mountain solitude, but among the haunts of men ; for, have we not mentioned that its invisible oracle is consulted by throngs of visitors. It is not in the depths of a forest. No such places are dull. Nature is never dull. Dullness is caused by the presence of people, the manner and circumstances constituting the degree. The temple is situated at Williamstown; and is known to men as the Observatory, from a sort of general impression that something is observed or to be observed there. The former is the prevalent idea, for the votary who goes to consult the oracle sees nothing of the mysteries. His prayer is inscribed on a scroll, and handed through a sort of trap door communicating between the atrium, a whitewashed lobby about six feet square, and the penetralia, of wThich more anon. The scroll, to take an example, may contain the words, “ Pass entry for fifteen hogsheads porter, ex Ashantee, to Cocket and Co.,—from I. M., Williamstown.” The priest, having con-suited his ‘rapper,’ returns answer, “Entry passed, hill gone down—C. and Co. to I. M.—‘ Half-a-crown.’ ” The customary sacrifice offered, the votary goes his way without any such misplaced demonstrations of feeling as were indulged in by Leontes, King of .Sicilia, on a memoi’able occasion. Most of our readers have probably thus paid their devotions and half-crowns at this and other similar temples ; our business is now to reveal some of the arcana of the place, and to unravel the means by which the high priest attains his mastery over the elements. First of the oracle, or, in other words, the Electric Telegraph. We start with a single wire, stretched on poles, and making the flat country look like the drying ground of some vast laundry on an idle day. Formerly, and even now according to some systems, two wires -were deemed necessary to form the circuit which is essential to all electrical operations ; but since it has been found that the “ sure and firmset earth” is capable of conducting, as it is called, the phenomena, one wire has sufficed. ‘ Phenomena’ is a safe word to use ; ‘ fluid’ was the old form of expression, before it was found out that electricity is not a thing at all, but a condition of matter, that is, a phenomenon necessary to the existence of every thing that does exist, but not matter itself. The current, being generated by batteries (which we need not now stop to describe, save that they are of the kind known to the initiated as “ Grove’s”), passes along the single wire from one station to another, and returns by the earth, finding its home with unerring accuracy. In the circuit is included a set of instruments devised by Professor Morse, an American philosopher, for the transmission and registration of signals.

Morse’s telegraph is, perhaps, the best that has been devised. Like many other American inventors, he seems to have thought well over the work to be done and the means at command, and to have made his plans without any regard for the English Lar “ precedent,” as a brief glance will shew us. A soft iron bar is encircled by a copper wire, which forms part of the circuit, being connected with the main line on the one hand, and the batteries on the other, so that the current of electricity, when generated, passes several times round the bar. The effect of this is to convert it, for the moment, into a magnet; for, when a current of electricity passes along a coil of wire so placed, magnetism is induced in a direction at right angles to the current. The bar thus magnetised attracts a piece of steel, placed opposite to it, and so mounted that the moment it comes in contact with the iron, it breaks the circuit, and the power is destroyed. Ail similar instruments arranged in the circuit, no matter where, perform the same motions simultaneously. Here is the radical part of the telegraph. We now want the means of so working it as to convey determinate signals. These are afforded by a key, worked by the finger of the operator, and governing the transmission of the current, and, with it, the motion of the steel armature above mentioned. The language spoken by the oracle is, according to ancient usage, highly mystic, and intelligible only by the initiated. Its aural sounds are sharp raps, estimated by the length of their intervals, like the beats of a metronome. Thus, click might mean A—click-click, B—clk-clk-clk, C, and so on. A language so constructed has been formed, and is spoken fluently by all the telegraph operators. But, in order to record the messages on paper, the language is reduced to written characters. Opposite to the magnet is a

metal roller, over which passes, by the aid of clockwork, a ribbon-like sheet of paper, several yards long, and about an inch and a half wide; this is our friend’s commonplace book, in which all his conversations are made to enter themselves in full. The steel armature being mounted on a lever, the other end of which, resting on the roller, is armed with a point that does duty for a pen, it is easy to understand that at every contact a mark is made on the paper, and, in proportion to the duration of that contact, is regulated by the key ; so that, if the key were kept down, a long line would be drawn by the pressure of the pen upon the moving paper, while a mere dot would be the effect of a sudden impression. The messages when transmitted are of course translated into English, for the autograph of the oracle (of which this may be taken as a specimen--*-------)

would be less interesting to the philologist than the shop signs in the Chinese quarter.

It may naturally be supposed that the electric current, after having travelled to Melbourne, or perhaps to Geelong and back, will be too weak to work this mechanism, and such is the case. The electrician adapts the work to the powers of his familiar, and employs a very ingenious instrument, called a relay, for the purpose. The relay is similar in principle to the register above described, but is without the registering apparatus, and is so delicate, that, while it has a very light labor to perform, the faintest possible force suffices to do it. The register, by which name we imply all the signal apparatus, is worked by another set of batteries, which are only called into action when there is something for them to do. The vibration of the light spring that carries the armature of the relay is sufficient to complete, and break the circuit of the fresh batteries, and by their aid to communicate to the larger magnet the impulses received from a distant station. In addition to these arrangements, a multiplication of which constitutes the telegraph system, is a curious contrivance for cutting off certain stations, and monopolising the line for the purpose of any special signal. It was found extremely inconvenient that, at the instant when the Wil-liamstown operator was about to give his correspondent the time o’ day, somebody would send a message that would have kept perfectly good for a few minutes, which the invitation to the one o’clock Ball certainly would not.

At the top of the building, on a tower, is a vane that forms part of an Osier’s Anemometer. This is the mechanism by which a constant autograph report of the wind and weather is kept. Every motion of the air, from a light puff to a hurricane, records, as it passes, the direction in which it blows, and its force. Every shower is made to note the quarter whence it comes, and the quantity of rain that falls. There is no break, no risk of neglect, no need of attendance beyond the daily change of the paper on which the phenomena are self-noted. The large vane, communicating, by means of a rod passing through the metal column which supports it, with the mechanism below, gives motion to a pencil. Attached to the revolving head of the column is a plate, having a surface of a foot square constantly turned towards the wind : this is supported by balance springs graduated to every degree of pressure, from half a pound to the square foot, the lowest which is estimable, to the highest force of any known gale. The working of the springs is indicated by the motion of a second

pencil, connected with them by a rackwork below. On a table placed in the tower is a sheet of paper ruled with columns, graduated for the hours of the day, headed, “Force of the Wind” and “ Direction of the Wind,” and divided in the latter case for the points of the compass, and in the former for the pounds of pressure. The pencils, being adjusted to zero, register by their motion all that is desired to be known of these particulars ; and, as the table is so connected with a clock that the whole range of its scale passes regularly under the pencils during the day, the state of the wind and its changes are duly noted for every hour of the twenty-four. The paper has another column for the rain-fall. This is noted, in fractions of an inch per diem, by an instrument which is the beau ideal of ingenious simplicity. A vase, suspended from pulleys, and counterpoised by balance springs, receives the rain delivered into it by a funnel of given area in the roof. The range of the balance springs, by which the weight of the apparatus is measured, is from nothing to a quarter of an inch of rain; and all quantities within those limits are mechanically noted on the paper. When the highest limit is reached, the vase empties itself in a rather remarkable manner. At the upper portion is an escape p>ipe, by which the water overflows as soon as a quantity equal to a quarter of an inch of rain has been collected : this overflows brings into play a siphon which empties the vase, and the machine takes a fresh start, leaving the former registration intact. These instruments are never idle; all they want is for the paper to be the changed and pencils pointed at ten o’clock every day: the observer then translates the document into English at his leisure.

On the lower floor, the wall of which seems almost like a sort of scientific armoury, is a collection of barometers and thermometers of different constructions, according to the work for which they are intended. Some are exposed to the sun, others shaded: some transparent, some blackened, and some in muslin jackets. By means of the latter the amount of moisture in the atmosphere, its elastic force, and the temperature at which that vapor is condensed, so as to form dew, are determined. Two similar thermometers are here attached to the same frame : one of them has its large ball covered with muslin, and connected by a roll of lamp cotton with a vessel of water. The cotton, acting as a capillary siphon, keeps the muslin constantly moist; and the bulb, therefore, is cooled by the the evaporation of the water, and will, of course, give a much lower reading than the companion thermometer. But the cold produced depends on the amount of evaporation ; and the evaporation depends on the amount of vapor already contained in the air; so that the depression of the mercury may be made to indicate the dryness or dampness of the air, and also, by comparison with the twin instrument, a variety of other interesting information is acquired. Then there is the radiation thermometer, for estimating the radiation of heat from the earth; it is a clear glass thermometer, filled with colorless spirit, and with the scale enclosed in a tube to protect against causes of error: it is suspended horizontally a few inches above the surface of the ground, in the little garden, in a quiet place where half a dozen giant cabbages have been ruthlessly felled to make room for it. The rest of the out-door thermometers (for some are required for the adjustment of the other instruments within the observatory) are mounted on a contrivance known to meteorologists as Lawson’s stand; a frame of wood so constructed that each instrument is protected from all influences but the one it is designed to register, and is freely exposed to that.

As we are now in the garden, we may visit, before we return, the Astronomical Observatory. This is at present located in two edifices, of the kind denominated by auctioneers, ‘ portable one-roomed family mansions.’ That nearest to us is the transit house. Its tenants are a very excellent transit instrument, and a transit clock, with an electric telegraph to communicate with the clock in the main temple, and to note the observations made at the instant a planet passes the meridian; the observer, without taking his -eye from the telescope, works the telegraph, which records, in an understood form, all that need then be noted. The clock itself gives the time, and the touch of the operator marks the instant when the transit takes place, with any further particulars that may be needed. Thus the notation is exact: there is no relying, as of old, upon the ear for counting the beats, nor upon the attention of an assistant; nor is there any loss of time or risk of mistake in writing. From this place the time is given to the standard clock in the Telegraph office, when at one o’clock each day simultaneous signals are issued to the neighboring flagstaff and to Melbourne. There is a branch telegraph to a little hermitage at the foot of the flagstaff, where dwells a recluse, who, secluded from the vanities of the world, spends his time in looking out for ships and chronicling their arrival and departure. The intelligence he thus acquires is communicated to the High Priest of the Temple, who straightway proceeds to enlighten the denizens of the great metropolis on the subjects as they arise. The recluse just mentioned, and the companion of his solitude in William street, having had their attention called, by certain rappings, to the circumstance that one o’clock approaches, and that the “ sun has passed the fore-yard,” hold themselves in readiness for the final signal. This given, the triggers are pulled, the black balls drop. Watchmakers, who have been looking out for the last five minutes, and perhaps betting on their respective chronometers, 4 take the time,’ and the advent of dinner is announced to families of early and regular habits.

But we mentioned two 44 loose boxes,” as a sporting man would probably call them. The transit house we were inspecting, when our attention was drawn off by the impending descent of the time ball. All instruments used for astronomical observations must, of necessity, be so fixed that there is no possibility of vibration, as the shaking of an ordinary house would be far greater than some of the motions to be observed and measured. The reader, although, by long residence, he may have become used to the mock earthquake experienced in a wooden or iron house on the occasion of a 44 southerly buster,” may yet find a difficulty in understanding how more secure structures can be affected. For ordinary purposes a brick or stone house may seem the beau ideal of stability, but even there microscopic and telescopic work would be seriously deranged by the rumble of a passing carriage. It is, therefore, essentially necessary that these instruments be totally independent of the building. To this end they are fixed upon solid stone piers, built on a foundation to match, and not even touching the floor. You may lift off the house, like an extinguisher, or spin it round upon castors (as is actually done when sweeping the heavens with a telescope, and gathering up odd notes about the stars), without disturbing the instruments. They are also provided with means of adjust-

ment, to secure them against the possibility of error. The supports upon which they rest are regulated by screws, so that any little deviation from the horizontal, the perpendicular, the parallel, or the rectilinear, may be corrected. But a test of correctness in these particulars, or, as it is called in scientific language, collimation, is also needed. When it is practicable, astronomers select some distant and fixed point, by repeated sights of which they test, from time to time, the accuracy of their mountings. Now, at Williamstown, which has the sea nearly all round it, the only * chance of getting such a fixed distance point would be to make a chalk mark on one of the trees at the top of Mount Macedon, and, as some inconvenience might attend this expedient, the ingenuity of our mysterious friend has devised another plan. On a pier, outside the transit house, and directed to the meridian of the place, is a telescope, with the usual crossed wires marking the centre of the field. The position is predetermined by observation, and the “collimator” is immovable. When the transit instrument is to be tested, that is before any observation of special importance, it is directed to the telescope, and a view taken through them both : if all the wires then coincide, all is well; if not, adjustment must be made until they do. The Altitude and Azimuth instrument in the other house is similarly provided with means for testing the accuracy of its position, but, as its movements are somewhat different, the arrangements vary a little in detail.

Now, it turns out that a whole country may sometimes need to be thus a collimated,” and brought to its true bearings. Mr. Ellery (for we have in the last three pages become sufficiently well acquainted with the high priest of the temple and his familiars to call him by his name)—Mr. Ellery lias found, what other observers had before suspected, that Victoria is not where it used to be—at least on the maps. Whether the original calculations were wrong, or whether the place has moved, is uncertain, but a respect for constituted authorities, and a proper reliance upon all that appears in print, would incline us to the latter opinion. Be that as it may, Mr. Ellery is now engaged upon a series of observations, the result of which, when completed, will be to shew us where we are, a very useful piece of information in every day life, as well as in the results of science. The suspicion is, that Cape Otway, whence the earliest measurements were taken, is nearly nine miles further east or west than it appeared to Captain Stokes, some years since. Of course, this will throw all the almanac makers out in their reckonings, as, when the alteration is made, the sun will rise and set, and the moon go through her phases, nearly half a minute earlier or later than the appointed time. Virgil asks, “Who dares charge the sun with breaking an appointment?”

“ Sol tibi signa dabit; solem quis dicere falsum .


The challenge is now taken up.

Tidal phenomena, too, fall under the jurisdiction of the priest of our temple; but these eccentric joint productions of sun, moon, and wind, have hardly yet been brought to book. Although some tide-guages were imported years ago, they were so entangled with red tape that they are scarcely yet extricated. A home is now being prepared for one of them

in a kind of niartello tower on the new jetty, so that before long some distinct data may be collected. At present the local knowledge possessed on this subject is very limited; and as the actual tidal hours, being influenced by the winds, vary considerably from those obtained by computation, observation alone can furnish adequate information as to the extent of the disturbing influences. We know already that a southerly breeze accelerates, and that a hot wind retards, the time of high water, but we hope soon to be more definitely informed.

Many valuable observations of Meteorological phenomena are also made at the Survey Office, by Mr. Smyth, to whom we are indebted for the very interesting monthly reports published in this Journal. While Mr. Smyth’s observations have a special interest to citizens, from their being more immediately local, those of Mr. Ellery command our attention from their comprehensiveness and general application, as well as from the circumstance that the Williamstown Observatory is not only free from many impediments that must arise in a dusty city and a confined situation, but that it takes cognizance, by means of the astronomical skill and appliances there found, of celestial as well as terrestrial phenomena.

By the labors of these gentlemen, we are placed periodically in possession of numberless valuable data, affecting the public convenience and the public health. The unscientific reader of their reports may wonder of what use are the apparently interminable row of figures they present to us. We would gladly solve, if within our power, his doubts ; but a greater difficulty occurs to us. We are unable to indicate a single phase of our social existence of our health, comfort, and luxury, our agriculture and commerce, which is not in some measure dependent upon the natural agents whose operations are thus chronicled : and all these varied conditions of our welfare have more or less light thrown on them by the Priests of the Temple of the Winds.


( Continued from page 105.)

The month before last we cast a few rapid glances over these large and fertile, but almost untrodden, plains which stretch around us, in all directions, farther than the eye can reach, and to which even imagination can assign no definite bounds. This month we propose to examine some small patches that have already been cleared, and fenced, and cultivated, and to collect a few specimens of the fruit that they have yielded.

Decidedly the best Australian novel that we have met with is “ Clara Morison,” the work (as we learn from the preface, written by some friend in England, where the book was published) of a young lady who, for many years, has resided in South Australia, in which colony the story is laid. Considered entirely apart from its Australian scenery and coloring, Clara Morison would be a book deserving careful criticism and much praise. It stands, we think, quite alone among all Australian stories yet published, in that it is free from the defect of being a book of travels in disguise. It is not written exclusively for distant readers, and as a means of giving lazy people an idea of what they call “ life in Australia.” It is not a work of mere description, but a work of art. The novel is no more Australian than results from the fact that the author, having been long resident in Australia, having a gift for novel writing, and writing about what she knew best, unavoidably wrote an Australian novel. But the wish to illustrate local peculiarities has had very small sway over the mind of the author of Clara Morison. She has merely illustrated Australian life insensibly in the process of illustrating human life. Paul de Kock describes Parisian life because he writes novels and is a Parisian. Dickens describes London life because he writes novels and is a Londoner. The local coloring in each case is the accident—the pourtrayal of human life and interest being the essential. In the same way the Australianism of Clara Morison is not obtruded. The story is thoroughly Australian, but at the same time is not a deliberate attempt to describe the peculiar “manners and customs” of the Australians. The points of resemblance are more numerous than the points of difference between the inhabitants of various countries, and it is therefore destructive to the completeness of any picture of human life to give great and obvious prominence to mere local peculiarities. If any of us, who have lived in this country for some years, pass in review our memories of what we have done, undergone, and witnessed, we shall find that, only occasionally—not every day and all day long—have we been encountering either persons or circumstances strikingly and distinctively Australian. Such persons and circumstances are, indeed, sufficiently numerous to give a description of life in Australia a special character, but the specialities should no more be obtruded than in a picture of Australian scenery, where the artist has to paint the outlines of cloud, and hill, and plain, and wood, and water, and to obey the laws of perspective, which' hold good equally all over the world. It is by a judicious regard to tints—by a few artistic touches about the foliage and so forth, that the distinctive Australianism of the landscape is conveyed. If Australian characteristics are too abundant—if blackfellows, kangaroos, emus, stringy barks, gums, and wattles, and any quantity of other things illustrative of the ethnology, zoology, and botany, of the country are crowded together, a greater amount of detailed information may be conveyed upon a given number of square inches of canvass than would otherwise be possible, but the picture loses character proportionately as a work of art.

We remember to have seen, many years ago, a print of “ organic remains restored,” in which earth, air, and water were crowded with all kinds of flying dragons, and slimy monsters, and antediluvian nondescripts, with necks as long as their names. “ The world must have been very full of life in those days,” was the reflection of our ingenuous youth; for we mistook the artist’s design, which was not to shew how the earth looked before the flood, but what kind of creatures then lived. He treated the subject with an eye to science, not art. Had he wanted to make a good picture of the antediluvian world, he would have foregone to crowd it with creatures, and perhaps one long neck upreared from the waters of some vast and desolate swamp, and a few enormous tree ferns, would have sufficed to convey to the mind a vivid conception of what sort of a place this globe would have been to live upon in those times. Some stories written deliberately to illustrate national habits remind us, by the unnatural crowding together of local peculiarities, of that engraving of organic remains restored.

We have dwelt at such length upon this matter, because the fault we point out is one into which the writers of Australian fictions, for many years to come, are peculiarly likely to fall, and because it would be fatal to the claims of any story to rank in that higher class of literature, for the possible cultivation of which upon Australian soil we have been contending. From the fault in question Clara Morison is almost entirely exempt. The writer took too vital an interest in the fictitious personages she had created, in the development of their characters, in the furtherance of their fate, and in their mutual relations, to let the grand aims of fiction be subordinated to the desire of working up Australian peculiarities for the information of distant readers.

Clara Morison, indeed, deals with a time and place so peculiar that it was only necessary for the author to put her people down then and there, and to let them play their parts easily and natural among the circumstances by ■ which they were surrounded, to ensure the result being a thoroughly and unmistakeably (but not obtrusively) Australian novel.

South Australia, at the time when the Victorian gold fields “ broke out," as the common phrase runs, presented a most remarkable social aspect, well deserving to be recorded, and which has, we think, been put properly upon record only in the pages of Clara Morison. There is something very strange, and strangely alarming too, about the spectacle of a whole population packing up and going away. The men ran from South Australia in 1851 as the sand runs through an hour-glass, and the spectator, watching the rate at which they poured out, regarded absolute emptiness as a necessary consequence immediately to be expected. So far as the men were concerned, indeed, this result almost ensued, and in the midst of that sudden and tremendous social change very few people remained cool enough to feel secure that the ebbing tide would ever flow again. A man who owns fifty thousand pounds worth of land upon the Toorak road fancies he is rich for the rest of his life, and may he ever so think ; but if he suddenly found the colony emptying—heard nothing on any side but a panic-stricken cry of ruin! ruin! ruin! to all who remained—saw his friends, his clerks, his workmen, everybody hurrying off as from a plaguestricken place—found that he could not sell for two-pence what he thought to be worth a pound—and the whole social structure, which he had accustomed himself to think immutable, breaking up like a wrecked ship among rocks and breakers, he would think himself surrounded by circumstances note worthy, to say the least of them.

Clara Morison is a young orphan lady, shipped out from the land o’ cakes by an eminently respectable uncle, who thinks she may do very well in Adelaide, and is still more definitely persuaded that he can do very well without the cost of her maintenance in the modern Athens. So, with a letter of introduction, a Scotch blessing, and a ten pound note, he ships her off, to sink or swim, with a languid hope that she may swim rather than sink, but considerably preferring that she should sink at a distance than continue swimming longer in the Scottish waters. The description of the voyage out is not one of the best parts of the book, for poor Clara falls into very vulgar company, and the writer of the account seems to have been a

b 2

little infected by the nature of the scenes and people described. This small episode in the story is, indeed, so far tinged with vulgarity that Mrs. Trollope (in some of her most refined moods) might almost have written it. There is one good point to be noticed in it, however. The few people introduced to us upon the waters are genuine people, with distinct outlines, though themselves common-place and vulgar ; we forget them (thankfully) so soon as they are out of sight, but, during the few minutes for which we have to endure them, Mr. Renton, Mr. Macnab, and Miss Waterstone are as distinct and disagreeable as they would be in real life. But one can read contentedly for four minutes of people that it would be horrible torture to be bored with for four months.

The episodical character of this part of the book is, we think, in some respects, a distinct (though, perhaps, accidental) merit. Hundreds of our readers have experienced how, for ninety days or so, the world contracts within the wooden walls that hem us in during the “ passage out,” and how, when Australian life fairly begins, those whom we have lived with and quarrelled, and thought so much about, and hated with such preposterous ardour, and who have for a few months so filled the foreground of our stage, pass utterly out of sight. Even in this unprepossessing portion of “Clara Morison” we have indications of the writer’s affluence in “ characters.” The book is crowded with people, but even the supernumeraries, who appear upon the stage and pass off again in the course of the play, possess distinct individualities.

On arriving in Adelaide, Clara finds that her consignee has lost his wife, and he surmises that the respectable Mr. Morison, of Edinburgh, had heard of this bereavement, and had exported Clara expressly to supply the place of the late Mrs. Campbell. Fortunately for Clara’s peace of mind, she remains ignorant of this conjecture, and betakes herself to a boarding house while looking for (of course, alas ! poor women !) a governess’s situation. In the boarding house Clara and ourselves make the acquaintance of many persons, including the hero—one Mr. Reginald an up-country squatter, who begins talking modern literature, and displaying a highly cultivated mind with a promptitude and pertinacity frightful to contemplate. Clara, however, regarded Mr. Reginald in a more favorable light than we did on first making his acquaintance, insomuch that an hour’s vigorous and sustained battery of references to Carlyle, Thackeray, Dickens, Scott, Byron, and others, made a breach in her heart which never closes again till the end of the book, when the ordinary cure for love, matrimony, is administered with, we trust, satisfactory results. There is a great deal to be gone through in the mean time, however, for Mr. Reginald is under engagement to Miss Julia Marston, in England; a discovery which poor Clara makes coincidently with this other, that Mr. Reginald habitually buttons up in his waistcoat all that would make life worth having. Mr. Reginald’s sufferings are also acute; for his passion for the absent Julia has subsided a good deal in the course of many years’ colonial residence, which she obstinately refuses to share, insisting (without any considerations founded on the price of wool and “the disease called scab in sheep”) upon his coming home and living en grand Seigneur. Still, he adheres to his contract until Julia bestows upon him what is sometimes the greatest favor which it is in the power of woman to confer upon man—by jilting him.

Though Mr. Reginald’s affections may alone be worth living for, something more substantial is necessary to live on while they are being got ready, and Clara begins the weary task of many lives—the search for suitable work, and finds none. She is not possessed of any considerable store of young lady’s accomplishments, and the more sterling kinds of knowledge are in this age and generation lamentably unsaleable when packed up in petticoats. She had not, indeed, entirely neglected “ the first duty of woman-—that of being pretty,” but, as a countervailing disadvantage, she possessed earnest convictions, depth of feeling, and powers of observation and reflection; qualities more or less incompatible with the prevailing English and Turkish ideas of perfect womanhood. Partly on this account, probably, Clara failed to get a governess’s situation, and, the ten pound manifestation of Scotch avuncular generosity being exhausted, she was compelled to go to service as maid-of-all-work to one Mrs. Bantam, a harmless and common-place lady, who, during some months’ intercourse, fails to perceive anything remarkable about her domestic. Poetical justice towards Mrs. Bantam is partially satisfied, however, inasmuch as she is victimised by a horrible and strong-minded Miss Withering (a consignment from home, like Clara), who knows the art of sticking-up people and robbing them of hospitality. To eject this lady from the premises is an object which Mrs. Bantam only accomplishes by the exercise of much domestic scheming and diplomacy. Among other visitors to Mrs. Bantam’s are M iss Minnie Hodges, a bright, pleasant, colonial young lady, with a great deal of South Australian patriotism, and who fights fierce battles with Miss Withering and Mr. Reginald, who is very discreet, and endures being waited on by the object of his affections with perfect philosophy, and without betraying anybody.

It is not till after the gold discoveries, and in the midst of the consequent social convulsions, that Clara falls in with some cousins—Miss Elliotts, whose brothers have gone off to dig, and with whom she remains some time. The domestic pictures in this part of the book are very pleasant indeed. The three cousins are all young ladies with characters, and (the British and Turkish theory to the contrary nothwithstanding) are very likeable persons, well described, and natural, without being common place. Female writers, like the author of Clara Morison, have an advantage in not being afflicted by the necessity, under which most male writers seem to labor, of making all their agreeable feminine characters fit to be fallen in love with by anybody at a moment’s notice, like the fascinating young ladies in Mr. Leech’s social sketches. It is while Clara remains with the Elliotts that the narrative becomes most characteristically Australian. For, attached to the central thread of story that we have referred to with perhaps a somewhat too disrespectful mirthfulness, there are numberless little fibres leading in all directions, and by aid of these, while following the main story, we almost insensibly imbibe conceptions of the state of society which was peculiar to the time and place.

Clara does not permanently remain with the Elliotts, however, for she has an unorthodox aversion to dependent inutility, and she and her cousins are all sinfully poor together, and, moreover, the fraternal digging remains inadequately rewarded. So she goes into the bush as a companion to Mrs. Beaufort, a lady in failing health, who—but we cannot stop to introduce to our readers one in a dozen of the people Clara encounters. Suffice it that poor Mrs. Beaufort’s most mistaken idol worship, and the execrable idol whom she believes in, are alike w’ell described, and that there is a great deal of true pathos about the closing scenes of her life.

We had intended to make some extracts from the pages of Clara Morison, but various considerations, of which that relating to space is the chief, induce us to refrain. Moreover, justice would scarcely be done to the book if it were judged by a few isolated passages. The author has not much of that humorous faculty which produces quaint fancies, descriptions, and forms of expression; nor has she such command over “ the sacred source of sympathetic tears ” as enables the master spirits of fiction to touch the heart by a few exquisite lines. But we believe that most readers who turn to the book itself, provided they can overcome some disagreeable impressions produced in the earlier pages, and the description of the voyage, and by the abruptness of Mr. Reginald’s literary love making—

Was ever woman in sucli humor wooed—-YvTas ever woman in sucli humor won ? ”—

will be inclined to read it to the end. The personages are not mere wooden figures pulled about by perceptible wires, but, with few exceptions, are full of life and truth. The circumstances which control their fates are sustained and seem to follow one another like the events of real life in natural sequence. The private story adjusts itself properly and easily to the public history of the time. The production of this work was no mere mechanical operation ; still less was the tale a toy in the hands of the writer. Her whole soul must have been given to it with conscientious earnestness, and she must have had her reward in the enrichment of her wrorld with a group of personages, whom, though the offspring of her own imagination, she undoubtedly and devoutly “ believed in ” herself, as in a reality.

A tale of a very different kind is Martin Beck, or the Australian Settler,” by A. Harris. Mr. Harris, long before the publication of Martin Beck, was very favorably known as the author of a little book upon Australia, called “ Settlers and Convicts,” which appeared about ten years ago in Knight’s series of weekly volumes. Mr. Harris was, however, certainly more at home in dealing with fact than with fiction, and Martin Beck, though full of very graphic descriptions of bush life and operations, possesses comparatively little merit as a novel. The story mainly concerns the fortunes of a Lieutenant Bracton and his family, settlers on the Mur-rumbidgee, and takes its name from their American negro overseer, who is an admirable Crichton as to skill in all kinds of bush work, but, unfortunately, addicted to cattle stealing and vengeance, both which propensities he indulges to such an extent as to compel him to fly and take to bushranging. At length he gets shot by the son of his old employer, and the redundant personages being killed out of the way—the Bracton affairs prosperous—and divers young couples joined together in holy matrimony—the story is brought to an orthodox conclusion. The book is full of incident and adventure—adventures with wild bullocks, adventures with wild blacks, adventures with bushrangers, adventures on land, and adventures on water. There are many good descriptions of cattle mustering, and cattle branding, and stockyard making; and the way flocks get scabbed, and drays bogged, and how cattle and sheep are stolen both by black and white practitioners. The story, in fact, is a vehicle for such descriptions ; and, though Mr. Harris has perceived the obligation that rests upon the novel writer to delineate characters and to introduce the love-making element into his composition, we do not think he has been very snccessful in these respects. The heroines are, no doubt, very angelic beings; for, Mr. Harris, who knows them much better than we do, assures us of the fact: and we have already learned, in many hundred novels, what a blessing it is to an old gentleman to have two beautiful girls in his family, both charming and pure minded, but one calm and the other lively. Between the characters of amiable young ladies this is the stock distinction recognised among legions of novelists. We must not overlook, either, Rachel, the wonderful young Jewess, daughter to an old Israelite storekeeper on the Murrumbidgee, where she has learned to talk about the wrongs of her people, after the style of Rebecca, daughter of Isaac of York, and where she has expanded into such marvellous loveliness that for it this pen can write no word adequately expressive. Mary Kable also demands our admiration, particularly as she is a “ daughter of the soil; ” and it is delightful to know that she, too, was the sunshine of the house she dwelt in. The young men to marry all these young women are Willoughby Bracton, gentleman and whaler; Reuben Kable, cornstalk, and brother to Mary; Mr. Henley, police magistrate; and Charles Bracton, a young medical practitioner, who emigrates just in time to whip up the beautiful Jewess, she having been, it seems, a Christian at heart all along, and no theological difficulties therefore intervening. It is perfectly delightful to find that, in so small a circle, not merely has the adjustment in the number of the sexes been so complete, but that the matrimonial requirements as to age, disposition, &c., of every body are all supplied to a nicety, and nothing over. The dialogue of the book, except perhaps some of the conversations between Martin Beck and his cattle-stealing accomplices, is very undramatic. The merit altogether lies in the vivid description given of the externals of Australian bush life. One drawback to the book arises from the fact that it was written after many years’ absence from the scenes described. It treats entirely of Australia before the flood, and, being in effect a book of information, loses much of its value by describing things as they were many years ago rather than as they are now. It is not without value, however, as a graphic record of how things were managed some years ago in New South Wales, when convictism was rife, and the assignment system in full operation.

Rowcroft’s “ Tales of the Colonies,” a description of life in Van Diemen’s Land many years ago, certainly long bore the palm among Australian stories. Though avowedly designed to give intending emigrants information—which is now in a great measure out of date—and though many artistic considerations have been sacrificed to that design, it is a very vigorously written book, full of life and adventure, with many interesting scenes, bold sketches of character, and dashes of humor, about it. Perhaps it received rather more attention than it deserved when it first made its appearance a dozen years ago, for at that time bushrangers and wild Australian cattle were alike unfamiliar to the reading world of London. The prevailing ignorance of affairs at this side of the globe was startlingly great at the other, considering that thence came the ukases of Downing street; and Mr. Rowcroft’s clever book took people by surprise. Society was agitated to find that Van Dieman’s Land was really an inhabited island, most people having previously only considered it “ a place on the map.” Used-up readers discovered a new emotion as they read bush stories, colored up to the highest tints compatible with truth, and other people found other sources of interest in the “ Tales of the Colonies.” Though we cannot read accounts of cattle branding, and that kind of thing, year after year, in successive works, with any great degree of interest, the field which Mr. Rowcroft opened up was so entirely new, and he performed the duties of a describer of external things so well, that it would have been unreasonable to complain much because his book did not possess the dramatic merits of a first-class fiction. Mr. Rowcroft’s enter- • prise in breaking up new ground was duly rewarded. His book had gone through six large editions in 1850, and we know not how many more have been published since.

In the “ Tales of the Colonies” Mr. Rowcroft alternately assumes and ignores dramatic responsibilities just as circumstances render expedient. If it becomes convenient to explain or to argue out of the mouth of one of the personages of the story, that personage’s powers of oratory rise with the occasion in a most marvellous way, and he speaks off half a page or a page of well constructed sentences with an accuracy and fluency that the best debater of “ the ninety ” might envy, and which his previous manifestations of conversational power by no means led us to expect. It would not be fair to apply the laws of dramatic criticism very rigorously to a work which, though in the novel form, purports to have for its chief object the supply of a kind of emigrants’ hand-book—now, of course, much injured as a practical guide by the changes years have made. A book setting forth such modest pretensions disarms censure, and compels gratitude for the performance of so much more than the preface promises. It is a very much better novel than the avowed scheme of its construction would have justified us in expecting, and it is only because its own merit has forced for it an entrance into a rank of literature to which it does not altogether properly belong, that we allude to its dramatic imperfections. Some of the characters, however, are really good. Crab, for instance, though a bit of a caricature, is an excellently sustained personification of inveterate grumbling, and he is, moreover, the type of a class by no means uncommon in this part of the world—men wTho are continually fattening on the fruits they as continually condemn.

Mr. Rowcroft has written another story, wdiereof the scene is partly laid in these colonies : “ The Emigrant in search of a Colony; ” but in this, even more than in his previous work, the dramatic purpose is subordinated to the design of giving specific information upon all sorts of subjects interesting to emigrants.

The hero—who, by the way, is in such constant danger of being hanged (now by Lynch law administrators in the slave States, then by pirates at sea, and anon on board a British man of war on suspicion of piracy) that in the end he must have lost all confidence in the powers of hemp—is sent “scuttling” over the world to give information about the different emigration fields to his readers, and to try and clear up for his own satisfaction the mysterious circumstances of his parentage. On one occasion when he is going to be hanged—we forget what for that time—-a clergyman turns up full of valuable recollections, and—but we will not spoil the interest of possible readers by saying what happens. As a story the book is full of exaggeration and absurdity. For example, near the beginning we have a scene, in the house of Captain Sullivan, intended to illustrate the miseries of keeping up appearances on small means in England, and the tax collectors keep dropping in as fast as they can knock, exactly as they would under similar circumstances in a broad farce at the Adelphi. However, let us not grumble at the book. It is something to get the medicine of fact in an agreeable medium, and although a high-art confectioner may scorn the notion of degrading jelly into the mere vehicle of calomel powders, yet utilitarian philosophy has much to say in support of that subordination of the beautiful to the useful. Moreover, the jelly in which Mr. Rowcroft gives us the medicine above alluded to, though much better than that ordinarily used for such purposes, is hardly good enough to be consumed as a luxury upon its own merits, and is therefore appropriately bestowed where it is.

Some very good Australian sketches have appeared occasionally in the Household Words, and we particularly recommend for perusal two papers entitled, respectively, “ The Old Squatter ” and “ The New Squatter.”

In the remote antiquity of sixteen or eighteen years ago, long Tom Scott, the “ Old Squatter,” came over from Van Dieman’s Land, and pushed up into the interior, fighting manfully against difficulties and dangers, and leading a hard, rough life for many years ; a true rugged pioneer of civilization. Little thought Long Tom Scott that a worse enemy than blacks or drought, or scab itself—the “ New Squatter,” destined eventually to take possession of all Tom’s territory and flocks and herds, to reap all the harvest of Tom’s sowings, to gather all the fair fruit that Tom’s toil and perseverance had caused to grow—w’as standing “douce” and snug in a white apron behind a grocer’s counter in Glasgow, even at the time when Tom first pushed up into the interior. Yet so it was; for some years previously little Davy McLeod, ragged callant, out of pure mischief, spattered some dirty water over a decent bailie body, and the bailie, having first caught and cuffed the little vagabond, benevolently tells him that some better employment than dirtying honest people’s clothes shall be found for him. So Davy becomes supernumerary boy in the bailie’s shop, and works himself up to the dignity of the white apron of the regularly constituted assistant; and he has quiet specs of his own, and does all things prudently, and, finally, with a snug little capital, comes out to Melbourne, and goes cautiously into business, and gradually increases it, and becomes a capitalist, and makes advances (douce good-natured man) to divers of his customers, and gradually draws many persons into his net. Of course, commercial crises overtake the colony, and Davy has to bewail his awfu’ losses; but somehow or another, when the storm has blown over, it always turns out that during the panic more property has been sacrificed to him than by him, and so douce Davy swells into a colonial magnate. He is now “ The New Squatter; ” for many stations and flocks have fallen into his hands in satisfaction of long arrears of debt—the douce honest man knowing well how to put the screw on at the right time, when a debt paid in kind will be paid twice over at least—and one fine day he takes it into his head that a trip into the bush would do him good, and also give him an opportunity for the first time of seeing his nibbling flocks and his “ cattle upon a thousand hills.” Of course, it need not be told that poor Tom Scott’s run has been one of douce Davy’s peaceable and easy conquests. On that run the old and new squatter casually meet—the ruined man, gaunt and grisly with toiling and fighting for years to break in the wilderness for the other’s enjoyment—douce Davy, sleek and fat, and filled with the comfortable sense of large possessions. Tom gives Diivy a piece of his mind, accompanied with such vigourous gesticulation as make that amiable gentlemen shiver down to the tips of his toes, and then strides away into the bush, and we know him no more. As for douce Davy, we presume he returns to Melbourne to urge his claims to compensation as a much-wronged “ pioneer of civilization.”

These capital sketches are evidently the work of two hands. The stories have been written in Australia by some one, knowing the place well, but not brilliant as a writer, and some very first class writer, probably Dickens himself, has breathed into them the breath of genius. In some places phrases occur that could not have been written by any one who had ever been in Australia, but which are wonderfully conducive to literary effect; and in others we can perceive unmistakeable traces of local knowledge. The polishing process is, however, so skilfuly performed, and the general effect is so good, that it is only by close observation that we are enabled here and there to detect the tool marks.    .

We might easily lengthen out this paper by references to other Australian stories that have appeared in various fugitive shapes, but we content ourselves with having briefly called attention to a few of the best products of these fiction fields that have yet been published. We believe it is found among farmers generally that nothing stimulates agriculture more than the exhibition of good specimens of agricultural produce, and we hope like benefit may be produced by like means with respect to cultivation of a less material kind.


Far away, o’er many a dreary mile of trackless water, lies our childhood’s home. Few of us speak of that home but with a softening heart that calls up images of bygone days, and dear ones in whose affection the weary soul found a sweet refuge and repose from the cares that a struggle with the hard world brought daily to weigh us down. Many are the links in the strong chain which binds our hearts to these lost treasures.

From pleasant green country nooks and bustling town thoroughfares of our own dear Britain—by rumbling diligences, lazily creeping over many a sunny continental landscape—from distant western clearings, where smiling garden-spots contrast and lighten the dark gloom of the old pine forests, come these tokens of remembrance to loved but wandering children.

Large, square, formal missives, looking bold and confident, with delicate little notes pressed close to their protecting sides—good news and smiles jostling black bordered sombre messengers, that carry with them desolation to the heart—love and mammon, joy and sorrow—fellow-pasengers—• types of the chequered, ever-changing lives they are destined transiently to influence or affect.

“ Later news from England.” “ Arrival of the Mail.” Let us, from this quiet corner, examine some of this crowd of hopeful faces that throng the Post Office windows, to turn away with a lightened bosom, or a slow step, and disappointed sigh of “ forgotten again,” and a feeling of loneliness creeping into the heart as it thinks of distant ones. Look at yonder sturdy young specimen of a true colonist: the letter he has in his hand has been a work of much care and labor, and is blotted here and there, sometimes with ink, and often with lighter spots, which have fallen on the writing, blurring it over, and rendering it indistinct in places. He knows how these came there, and his eyes moisten : foolish, soft-hearted fellow that he is. It takes a good hour to spell through the blots, and master the contents of the letter completely, and, when he has finished, there is a curious sort of feeling at his heart he can’t exactly make out, but which keeps him very quiet the rest of that day, to the wonderment of his horse, who ponders on the subject in a dreamy sort of manner, coming to short stops occasionally, in the depth of his abstraction, or wandering against drays, to get awakened by an equivocal blessing against himself and his master, which rouses the said master from a deep reverie, in which he has been following young Teddy Hills, the post boy, and his ragged pony, from a little out-of-the-way village to the old town, and wondering whether Peggy Hills is married yet, or ever thinks of him now; and confusedly mixing up the “ Chequers’” parlor with the old cottage kitchen, and losing himself among old faces and recollections quite hopelessly.

Poor Jem! At home they are weary of talking of him. In the long winter evenings the boys gather round the fire, with deep chimney, and wonder, as they spell over the last letter, of all the strange things there spoken of; and little Jack wishes he were a man, to dig gold and see the Chinamen. Jem is raised into a family hero, and there is a spirit of enterprise and daring adventure infused into their homely plodding lives which will only find a vent in some spreading sail in the wake of their pioneer brother.

What a contrast in yonder handsome but reckless face. There is a portrait of him, and a curl of his black hair, on his mother’s table, in a stately house in England ; she looks at and kisses them the last thing at night, and prays for her dear boy in Australia. But, sleeping or waking, a bitter remembrance haunts him, which time alone can efface, as he steals on, deepening the shades and blotting out the lights from the bright picture of young dreams. Many a foreign sun will leave its witness on Ids fair cheek before his restless heart has ceased its wandering, and his unquiet soul finds rest.

You cold, stern men, who walk through life with knitted brows and hard, impassable faces—to whom a thing of beauty (if grudgingly admitted) must be a mathematical definition, a fact cut deep with a sharp chisel— not to your profane gaze would we unveil the feelings, fresh and pure, that well up from the rich spring of a young girl’s heart, reflected in a thousand beautiful emotions on its fair index, her sweet face. In yonder gentle

heaving breast a resistless tide of tender recollections is fast sweeping away the barrier which pride, after many weary months of hard-fought struggles, has reared against love : vain protection, that the mere sight of that well-known writing can so triumphantly cast down—unconscious of the curious eyes upon her, unheedful of all else, knowing, caring for nothing but the blessed truth that it is his, she gazes still at these, once so dear, familiar characters. A sympathising touch from a small hand breaks her happy trance, and, hastily dropping her veil, she hurries away, pressing her treasure closely to her beating heart. Welcome an erring wayward subject back to thy pleasant realms, 0 Love! Bind fast his truant heart with rosy fetters, and bewilder him in thy delightful maze.

' He has sinned, but her gentle woman’s heart forgives him, and his own lonely thoughts have been his punishment : ever remorsefully recalling the priceless treasure, in a moment of blind pride and passion, cast away.

There are others who haunt the Post Office—poor bankrupts in love, and all the tender ties which strew with flowers the rough, uncovered road we all are journeying ; their remembrances of home are made up of sad experiences. They steal in, impelled by a faint, feeble hope, and read the old lists on the wall furtively, before gaining courage to face the inquiry ; they watch the clerk humbly, with a consciousness of giving him useless trouble, and are sometimes doomed to glimmering flashes of suspense as he pauses at some letter and asks their Christian name, but only for a moment; he has passed on again, and you can see thé expression of the face deepening with painful intensity, as the hope is gradually dying out with the few remaining letters to be examined. They bear their disappointments meekly enough. God help them!—the smallest grain of the wealth of love, hourly lavished on ungrateful idols, would fill the void in their yearning hearts.

A dark uncertainty hangs over one portion of the Post Office picture, dimly shadowing forth glimpses of whitening bones in the wild bush, known only to the sun and rain, that have bleached them for many a day. Crushed forms of stalwart men, who, in the deep bowels of the earth, found the gold they had toiled for, and their death, together.

Many an anxious thought and earnest prayer will be wafted across the waters for these unreturning ones, ere the painful doubt deepens into conviction, and their names are breathed in whispers, in the presence of loved ones, in old homes, where they once made a sunshine—ere, flushed with high hopes, and golden dreams, they left a vacant place in the household circle, and took their bold, hopeful hearts out into the wide world, to meet an unknown grave. Many a tender thought of love, to brighten the eye, and stir the heart—will never waken an emotion in the breast that called it forth, but lie unheeded in the dead letter office.



( Continued from page 1Y6.J A GOSSIP ON POLITICS.

What my own politics are I shall not tell my readers; I will merely beg of them to observe that I am of no party. _ In another place I have agreed with that most philosophical and conscientious of all radicals, Mr. Roebuck; while on many subjects I have held the same opinions as that most legitimate of tories, Sir R. R. Vivyan. I am thus (though a strong politician) free from the bias of party, and, as such, I wrant to offer a few remarks upon the politics of Snaggerack and the political parties of Snaggerack. Just now there is a furious outcry against the government, and a fierce attack made on it. It is declared to be incapable, and this and that, and there is a denunciation meeting held here, and a vote of censure on it passed there; so that any one not versed in the mystery of political charlatanism might believe fifty or a hundred accomplished politicians had sprung up spontaneously from the fruitful soil of Snaggerack. I know better. Mind, I am no ¿riend to the powers that be; I don t believe in the Chief-Answerer-of-all-Communications; the Chief-Measurer is rather tainted with nepotism; the Head-Cashbox may mean well, but he does not know how to exhibit his meaning; and the bombastic self-sufficiency of the Great Tribute Taker makes me suspect him to be rather a bit of a humbug. But still, who are those who cry out against them? Snaggerackians! who never cared two-pence for their country, while the task of governing it was hard and difficult; but now, that a great deal of its roughness has been planed away, come forward as model governors, and try to outbid the Ministry in the Hospodar’s and the public’s favor. I see through that game. I mentioned before that Snaggerack had experienced a revolution—well and good. That revolution overthrew the order oi things. There was such a thing as money to be made. There was still such work as a country to be governed, but the then Idospodar could not obtain qualified persons to assist him. Everybody was hunting, save and except those who followed the plough through good report and bad report, who worked hard, I wont say well, but who worked as well as they could, with no one to aid or assist them in the task. Some rushed abroad, to England, to discover the best method of regulating the supply and demand; many rushed “up” the country to become the chief sharers in the glittering returns the revolution had occasioned; but they all left the Hospodar and his ministry, and thought no more of the political justory of Snaggerack than Boll Loss Singh of the price of potatoes in Rathkeale market. But a change comes over all things. Trade, being overdone, declines. Money is not so plentiful; jobbery not so rife; an extra hour’s poring over ledgers, journals, and cash-books, will not end in so glorious a result as it once did,

and so the political dodge is again to be resorted to. Halls and amphitheatres hold large bodies of people listening to mercantile “ facts ” and Oxocracy “liberality,” and the whole troup of officials, from His Honor the Chief-Answerer, &c., down to the common pick and shovel men on a road contract, get unmercifully abused, and are told what they ought to have done when such an event occurred, and how Herr Rumbred would have acted had he been Chief-Answerer, &c., at such a time; and all of which rubbish the people cheer, and believe in the patriotism, integrity, and ability of the said Herr Rumbred. All I can say is, I don’t.

There is another question in the Snaggerack politics, and a curious one. Society seems divided into two parts : the Antiques and the Moderns. Antiques say, What can young men know of anything ?—geography, history, politics, or science. The Moderns sneer at the old ones as being ignorant, unlettered, spiritless beings. The Antiques declare that they made Snaggerack, they preserved it, they own it. The Moderns assert it was the young men who urged on road making, pressed on public works, populated the districts, and obtained political liberty. There is much to be said on both sides ; perhaps the moderns have more energy, and perhaps something about the middle age might better define the proper era of a Snaggerack statesman ; but I sometimes see the Antiques press on with extraordinary speed to welcome an arrival from another country; and some of them, the most violent of the antiques, too, press their newly-arrived friends rather too prominently before the public—too prominently both for their own consistency and the position of their friends. As the wisest often fail when too much honor or applause is thrust upon them, and the newly arrived, &c., were, if among the wise ones, certainly at their tail. But this is a digression; I only alluded to it to point out that, in my opinion, every man, old or young, antique or modern, who buys one pound of exciseable articles, or pays one shilling of rates, under whatever name they may be pleased to calLthem, has a right to give an expression to his opinions, and that neither wealth nor antiquity will, without some other aid, render Snaggerack great. An ignorant man does not improve by age, and (I know well, it is a stereotyped sentence) William Pitt was Chancellor of the Exchequer at twenty-four.

I said, I was no friend to the powers that be; I don’t see how any one can be. I know there’s a great deal of red tape used in Downing Street, but the great Supply Depot of Snaggerack is so troubled with rules and regulations, that it is difficult for a man to be honest if he tries—and many who deal with government don’t. Porms, and Duplicates, and Triplicates, stare one in the face on all occasions, so that it must enter into the heads of thinking people, “ These forms can never be looked over, or at least their correctness ascertained; I shall fill in what I like: ” and this is often done. Of a set of Duplicates once set in, I saw written, for a joke, what should have got the sender at least a rebuke. But, of course, the papers were tied up and labelled in their respective bundle, without being looked at, and, not being looked at, the insult was never observed. But it do n’t look well. There is a case, not long since made public, where a gentlemen, dealing with this great Supply Depot, is quarrelled with by the great supply depot. He is forced from his contracts by the great supply depot, and through the great supply depot is forced into the Insolvent court, but there he commences retrieving his steps. Ample evidence is afforded by the great supply depot itself, to shew it neither understood Ms business or its own ; and people, remotely connected with a remote branch of the great supply depot, bring in a balance against it, and the great supply depot pays (that is, the public pay for the great supply depot, as they do for all ill-managed depots) to the injured gentlemen enough to take him out of the Insolvent Court, and into prominence and position. I’m not going to abuse the great supply depot, even the Snaggerackians have been doing that for years. For, I don’t suppose it is worse than other depots or similar establishments, but there is something wrong in the matter, and a little research into “ Departments ” is worth more to a country than fifty attacks upon officers or policy, or any of the legion of grievances the political dodgers I have alluded to can manufacture upon an occasion. Mind (as I tell Von Mica), I have seen this game in other countries.

The abrasion of my skin, and the contemplation of my damaged chapeau, reminds me, I mentioned it was election time; certain elections are over ; certain representatives of the people elected ; certain principles triumphant; and certain persons disappointed. In Snaggerack there is no great “ cry”—-no large or small loaf. In fact, except upon the Temple question I before notified, it is almost impossible to say how one man can oppose another on any principle. Of course, some talk louder than others, promise more and may perform less, but there is no different line of policy shadowed forth— at least to the electors. They have a quaint way of exercising the franchise in Snaggerack. Instead of a voter announcing that he votes for William Pitt, or Charles James Fox, orBaunders MacSaunders, he drops a folded piece of paper, with the name of the candidate he objects to scored through, into a box, and no one save the overseer of elections knows how the man votes. It works well in Snaggerack. I do n’t know how it would do in England; but I cannot see, after all, any very great advantage, excepting that it allows the voter to take fees from all the candidates, and swindle the lot, by not voting at all, and that it compels the candidate to bribe every voter, promise or no promise. I can’t say, of course, what candidate would pay high for votes with such system of voting, but certainly every body saw at Snaggerack City election that the game was tried of paying something, small vessels of spirits being a common bribe, and really, as it ultimately proved, a successful one; for the Snaggerackians resemble a good deal my own countrymen, the best way to whose hearts is through the stomach.

However-, the elections were got through with few fights and little fun, but, the men returned were not all, at least in my humble opinion, the men. Talk is evidently a valuable commodity, highly prized in Snaggerack. The great talkers have been successful. Untried men, with plenty of eloquence, against good workers and capital thinkers, not quite so fluent of speech. Von Mica coincides with me, and states his reasons for this : ‘the increase of the moderns,’ at which he sighs. But I differ altogether there. I believe it to be from the 'proper men having too high an opinion of themselves. It’s bad policy to blow your trumpet too loud, however well you play it; and, in the same way, the people do not like to be perpetually reminded, “ I did this,” and “We did that,” and “ I voted so and so,” and “ I spoke so and so,” and when this is told them they sometimes ride rusty. They did so at Snaggerack. Ah! folks will be wiser bye and bye. After all, and considering all things, the country shines well in comparison with many others, and would shine with still greater lustre if it was not so trammelled with notions of wealth, which are, in reality, but illusions. Yon Mica denies this. He urges the expediency of erecting a still higher barrier of guineas between the governed and the governing. He wants no one to control the destinies of their country unless they are rich in flocks and herds. He thinks (with many a candidate) that wisdom increases with the balance at the bankers, and laughs at the notion of a poor man making a respectable senator. “ Pitt was an earl’s son,” quoth Von Mica. “ Fox was akin to a baron,” cries my little friend. “ Schwartzenburg and Metternich were princes; Guizot was a parvenu, and lost his master the crown.” (I told before of Von Mica’s origin.) “ Ho, signior,” says my little friend, “the true nobility of soul is exhibited by the ducats a man possesses. Look, sir, at the leviathan, with thousands of acres: that man is fit to be Hospodar, or Chief-Answerer-of-all-Communications, and will be, signior, will be. What will Snaggerack be if the rights of property are not preserved ? ” Is Von Mica right? That is the question: are the have-alls or the have-nothings to rule the day ? In short, are the Snaggerackians to be defenders of abuses or destroyers of usefulness ? There seems no medium in the place; the moderates, at least, if there are any, being in the background. I do n't like this state of things. I do not see a clear field in a Snaggerackian policy. I see grumbling about trifles, personal onslaughts, and factious speeches. The spirit of discord, I am afraid, has arrived in the country. If so, good-bye to its greatness. My old friend, the Margrave of Pumpkinsorce, had a ministry as incapable and a people as eccentric as the Snaggerackian ministry and the Snaggerackian people. In the days of revolutions a majority of the people (I think twenty-five) demanded a constitution and the head of the Chief Deputy Assistant-Overlooker of the Seltzer Water Tub. The Pumpkin-sorcians thought the office ought to be abolished, and imagined the speediest way of abolishing the office was to demand the head of the incumbent. My friend, the Margrave, finding the army (seven stout, handsome men, in yellow and gold) in favor of the popular demand, granted the constitution, and banished the Chief-Deputy-Assistant, &c. After all talk of constitutions had gone by, the subjects of the Margrave (having got the Margravisate in debt some three hundred thalers, from which it never can recover) implored their sovereign to resume his abandoned power, which he did, and rules the Pumpkinsorcians now with something like an iron rod, in place of his former feathered sceptre. Mind, some of these wise financial reformers, who are determined to place Snaggerack on the economical schedule of other more favored countries, will only inflict a debt upon Snaggerack, and hand it over to an iron ruler. When so much is to be done at once, and by a given few, it behoves true Snaggerackians to guard against the clamor and outcry of the given few. Other chief officers, besides the Chief-Deputy-Assistant-Overlooker, may quit their country, and luxuriate themselves at Cheltenham, as he has done (he keeps a toy shop, or did, and sold some superb Emeute Mixture,” a slight dash of rappee, with some genuine blackguard), with better

advantage to themselves perhaps, hut not to the country. As I remarked before, there is a spirit of discord about. If the Snaggerackians listen to cant cries, they will earn a niche for their country in some future history of decayed nations; and yet it is more than anybody (using the noun body in any way that it may be used) can do to stay them. And now I will quit politics in Snaggerack.

For a relatively poor man, I am very happy; all the happier, perhaps, because I am poor—because all my highest enjoyments have been purchased by effort, and some of them by self-denial. Like Elia, I have clomb into the two-shilling gallery at the Covent Garden Theatre, to be present with Rosalind in Arden, or with Viola at the Court of Illyria; and have worn a coat until it was white at the seams, rather than forego the pleasure of possessing a long coveted book, or a choice picture, upon which I had set my heart. The old tastes abide with me still, and the gratification of them constitutes one of the sources of my happiness in an equal degree with music, flowers, the gracious faces and innocent talk of children, sunshine, hope, memory, and belief.

But that I am somewhat methodical, this little cabin of mine—study, library, picture gallery, and sleeping room, combined in one—in which I possess    .

The poet’s treasure, silence, and indulge The dreams of fancy, tranquil, and secure”—

would resemble a curiosity-shop. Here a Cupid and Psyche in gleaming Parian, and there a Shepherd-Boy, “ piping (as sir Philip Sydney says) as though he should never be old.” In this niche a bronze Pifferaro, in the garb of a Calabrian, and beneath that shade an ivory carving, worthy to have been wrought by Titania’s delicate artificers. And as to pictures, I am afraid, ultra-protestant as I am, that that Madonna and Child (a Raffaelle, engraved by Bettelini), to which my eyes turn instinctively the moment I am awakened by the morning light, is almost an object of worship, certainly of the truest admiration and reverence. But I absolve my conscience thus : both of those faces are a revelation, and the genius which inspired their creator was divine.

When I turn to that lovely water-color drawing of Fiesole, which hangs hard by, I seem to respire another atmosphere, and tread again the “haunted holy ground” of Tuscany.

“ ’T is tlie Past

Contending with the Present; and in turn .    Each has the mastery.”

To come into this cool and shadowy room, in a burning afternoon in January, and let the eye repose upon the massed foliage of that covert of old trees

“With trunks all hoar,

But light leaves, young as joy”—

upon the cool and limpid waters of the Mugnano, with the fishermen and laundresses laving their brown arms in its ripple—upon the soft bloom which lies upon the mountain slopes-—upon the snowy peaks of the distant Appenines, and the tender blue of the embracing heavens, is as soothing to the mind as solemn music, and as grateful to the vision as the green sward after a continued investiture of the earth by snow.

My bookcases overflow with true and loyal friends. Each volume is endeared to me, as wTell for its own sake as for the associations connected with it: for each of my especial favorites has a little history of its own. Old and true companions, they have accompanied me in all my wanderings, and link the “ ignorant present ” with the fruitful past. I share, indeed, in the wish expressed by Leigh Hunt, that, when death summons me from hence, the peremptory shadow may find me, as it found Petrarch, with my head bowed down upon a favorite volume. Not that this has anything to do with the stereoscope; but I am coming to that immediately: just observing, parenthetically and by the way, that this anonymous mode of writing offers a great temptation to those who are prone to indulge in egotism. It is a temptation I easily fall into, because I like to establish the same frank and unreserved relations with the reader which I suppose would subsist between us if we were intimately allied by blood or friendship ; and if I were writing a familiar letter to him, as thus :—

My dear Fritz,—I have bought a stereoscope ; and the views I have selected are those of scenes with which I am more or less well acquainted. In idle moments this new toy of mine engrosses much of my admiration. It is the wishing cap, the enchanted carpet, and the magic ring of the old fairy tales. I have only to have recourse to it for a second, to be instantly transported thousands of miles away. Come and see it, and believe me ever, Ac.

And Fritz comes, and I tell him this little episode in the history of my life, suggested to my recollection by


Which is merely a Swiss chalet, you see, built upon a little coign of tableland, forming one of the spurs of the adjacent mountains. A ring of larch trees environ the cottage, with here and there a break in the leafy zone, through w’hich you obtain glimpses of the valley below (the campanile tower of the village church peeps above the sloping roof of the chalet), and of the misty mountains which rise up in vague magnificence beyond. I arrived at that cottage one evening in the summer of 18—, after journeying all day on foot from Basle. Over-worn with too close and unremitting an application to the study and practise of my profession, I had determined to renovate my health and invigorate my mind by six or eight months’ respite from work, and I chose Switzerland as the country of my residence. A friend at Basle had recommended me to place myself under the roof of Hendrik Trien, who, with his wife and daughter,, occupied a

small dairy farm at--, in the Canton of -. I was assured that I

should find the best traits in the Swiss character exemplified by the members of the Trien family, and the utmost cleanliness and comfort in their primitive home; and the assurance was fulfilled to the very letter. My friend’s recommendation secured for me as warm a welcome as could have been extended to an old acquaintance ; and in less than a week l felt myself perfectly at home, and a member of the family. My books and sketching materials, which had been forwarded to me from Basle, were suitably arranged in my new abode ; and once a week I received a packet of Galig-nani's Messengers, which kept me au courant with the sayings and doings of the distant world of Western Europe.

The simplicity and novelty of my new life, and the glorious scenery by which I was surrounded, possessed an unspeakable charm for me. The free air of the mountains seemed charged with health; and my spirits shared in the exultation with which the sounding cataracts appeared to leap from glistening crag to darkling ravine. I was awakened from sound slumbers by the horns of the herdsmen, driving the lowing kine to the mountain pastures ; my days were spent in botanizing and sketching excursions, and at night the “ heavy honey-dew ” of sleep used to fall upon my eyes the moment my head was laid upon my pillow.

Naturally taciturn, my propensity to silence was not lessened by the habit I had acquired of spending so many hours daily among the solemn solitudes of the mountains, to say nothing of the difficulty of understanding the curiously compounded patois—half provincial French and half provincial German—spoken by theTriens, and of making myself understood by them. After a time, however, their daughter Gretchen ventured upon a few words of broken English, which she had learned from an artist who had occupied my apartment for three months in the previous spring, and who had since proceeded to Rome; and the blushing girl displayed such an anxious desire to acquire the language, that I volunteered to give her a lesson every evening, and to teach her to write, an accomplishment of which poor Gretchen was entirely destitute. She proved to be so apt a scholar; her gratitude was so sincere, spontaneous, and frankly expressed; her questions were so full of intelligence, and her delight was so great, at the acquisition of such knowledge as I was enabled to communicate, that I gained more as her teacher by the insight I obtained into the operations of a pure, guileless, and unsophisticated mind, than she did by the instruction she received.

Gretchen was not beautiful, and yet her face wras very winning. I thought it plain at first, for the narrow forehead, the nez retronssee, and the peculiar tint of her eyes, wTere not in accordance with my notions of beauty, as an artist. She had inherited from her mother the dark hair and “ rich peasant cheek of ruddy bronze ” of the Italians; and her countenance, when lit up by some animating emotion, was infinitely more attractive than many faces composed of features that are absolutely faultless. The soft expression of her eyes made you forget that their color was open to objection; and the most critical observer could not have hinted a blemish in the curve of those rosy cheeks, or in the form and color of the budding lips.

Gretchen’s great charm, however, consisted in the innocence, the candour, and the artless simplicity, of her character. Accustomed as I had been to the gaudy exotics, reared in the forcing-houses of European capitals, this mountain snow-drop won upon my admiration more and more, in proportion to the contrast which I perceived between herself and the artificial women of the conventional world I had left behind me. She was so truthful, ingenuous, and unsophisticated; so frank, earnest, and undoubting; bo strong in a natural and untaught goodness; so faithful to what appeared

to be her intuitive perceptions of duty ; that she became, by the exercise of an unconscious influence, my moral teacher; and I felt that, in comparison ’ with the affluent heart-lore of the girl of seventeen, my mental culture was of little intrinsic worth.

So, gradually, and in process of time, Gretchen came to occupy a large share of my thoughts. A light seemed to rest wherever she moved; and a shadow to fall upon the vacant place which she had occupied and left. The rude furniture of the primitive chalet caught some indefinable grace and beauty by association with her; and I even discerned something to admire in the seamed faces of the Triens, (both of whom regarded their daughter with as much of pride as of affection) from the indistinct resemblance traceable in their features to those of Gretchen. Do what I would, her face would find its way upon my canvass; always idealized, it is true, but so like, that Gretchen’s face would flush with a richer glow than usual as often as she approached my easel, and observed the lineaments which I so persistently reproduced.

When I returned from my excursions in the mountains, or among the villages in the valley below, I experienced something like a pang of disappointment if Gretchen’s was not the first human form which I discerned as I neared the leafy ledge of table-land on which the chalet stood; and once, when she was absent for a week, upon a visit to her uncle (the cure of a parish in an adjacent and catholic canton), the house wore such a desolate and cheerless aspect that 1 spent a whole evening poring over the map, and planning an equestrian tour in Lombardy. At the expiration of the week, which must have been composed of the longest days in the year, the map was returned to its pocket in the “ Guide Book,” and Lombardy was exempt from my invasion.

Gretchen’s thirst for knowledge was almost insatiable; and she possessed such a quick apprehension, and so retentive a memory, that, in little more than six months, she could speak English—if not fluently—at least sufficiently well for the purposes of ordinary conversation; and the very imperfections of her articulation gave naivete and piquancy to her words.

In the quiet summer evenings, my pupil and I used to sit under the broad shadow of the walnut tree, which you see there, on the verge of the downward slope, and read Sismondi’s “History of the Italian Repulics; ”— a book which seemed to arouse all the Italian enthusiasm of her nature. I never turn to its pages now but the scene, the hour, and all their adjuncts vividly recur to mind: the waterfall, leaping, in delirious joy, from the jagged chasm,—-the long duct of wooden troughs by which its waters were conveyed to that picturesque saw-mill in the valley,—the grey tone of color upon all objects in the village of Brichthausen,—the glittering of the setting sun upon the metal spires and lancet windows of the churches, perched upon the various mountain spurs,—the more than Imperial purple of the shadows in the gorges, the changing color of the clouds that had drifted to the mountain sides and appeared to anchor there,—and the soft blush that tinged the virgin snows upon their inaccessible peaks,

“ Carnation ’cl like a sleeping infant’s cheek,

Rock’d by the beating of her mother’s heart.”

We whiled away the long winter evenings with Shakspere chiefly: and

from tliat time, too, some of his dramas have become inseparably associated with the hoarse voices of the plunging cataracts—the dull boom of the avalanche—the crash of the pine trees in its awful path—the wild raving ot the wind, that almost displaced the massive boulders on the root the hissing and crackling of the snowy logs upon the fire—and the creaking and groaning of the griding branches of the trees which sheltered the chalet from the northern blasts.    _

But winter and summer months sped past me with equal swiftness. My health was perfectly restored; every square inch of canvass I possessed had been converted into pictures; and the spring found me at the chalet still. I was loath to leave it; and I did not venture to ask myself why. Did I love Gretchen ? I often proposed that question to my own heart, but no reply ever came. Did Gretchen feel any other sentiment, save that of gratidude, for her teacher ?—An unlooked for incident—unlooked for, by myself, at least—supplied an answer to the query.

One bright April morning, as we were all seated at breakfast, something suddenly intercepted the sunshine from the open door-way of the room, and a stranger crossed the threshold. Gretchen sprang from her place at the table, uttered a faint shriek, and the next moment was folded in the visitor’s embrace. Her parents pressed forward to welcome him; and the mother introduced him to me as the young English artist, of whom she had often spoken to me as having occupied my apartment in the previous spring.    ,    ,    .    „    .    .

I don’t know how I returned the stranger s salutation ; for m an instant a change seemed to have passed over the house and all its inmates, myself included, as though the heavens themselves were overcast, and the atmosphere were heavy with impending tempest. Nevertheless, and even then, I could not repress a tribute of admiration to the manly beauty of my young countryman, as he stood there in the morning light—his bright eyes literally radiant with happiness—his lithe and well-knit figure bending fondly and protectingly over the sweet mountain snow-drop I had been culturing so carefully; and, as he smoothed her dark hair caressingly with his hand, and looked into her soft eyes with a pleased surprise, while she endeavoured to tell him, in his own tongue, the delight which his anxiously hoped-for return afforded her.

Since they had parted in the previous spring, he told her, he had summered in the north and wintered in the south of Italy. He nad been very successful with the pictures he had painted, and had returned to redeem a sacred and secret pledge, and claim the hand of Gretchen.

I do not think that, until that hour, when I stood silently, and, it may be, sorrowfully—but not enviously—contemplating the winning sweetness of Gretchen’s face, and the handsome features and figure of her lover— both glorious with youth (for youth is glorious), and both inspired by love and hope—that I ever thoroughly accepted the conviction that youth and I had parted company, and that I was a lonely traveller along what Dante calls the “mezzo del cammino ” of life.

But let that pass. Next morning I was early abroad, and on the road to the Lake of Como. I quitted the chalet, without apprising its inmates of my departure, but a letter, which I left behind me, contained the best explanation I could invent of my sudden movements, as well as directions

for the transmission of my luggage. The letter also enclosed a draft upon my friend at Basle, for a certain sum in augmentation of Gretchen’s marriage portion.


Whatever system of elementary education may be adopted in this colony, its success must, in a certain measure, depend upon the character of the actual educators. It is beyond dispute that the office of educator is one of the most important that man can fill. It is equally beyond dispute that this truth is not practically acknowledged. Whatever we may say about the lofty functions of the teacher, the hard fact remains, that, in social position, he barely ranks above the humblest mechanic.

The limited space at our disposal prevents us from dwelling as fully as wTe could have wished on this absurdity. We must be content to assume that that is a liberal art which demands for its proper performance an acquaintance with complicated mental phenomena; and that those who train and discipline the human mind are not less deserving of our respect than those whose care is given to our physical health, or to the transfer of our property. How far this assumption is borne out by fact it is needless to state. It is patent to all that a schoolmaster is very far from occupying the same rank as a physician or a lawyer. The mere comparison seems absurd. It is our present object to account for this confessedly undue depreciation of the educator, and to seek for a remedy.

The public, when it really requires any service, and when that service is duly performed, is never slow to acknowledge it; if, on the other hand, the want he merely forced and artificial, or if the quality of the service be bad, those who render the service will undoubtedly fall in the public estimation. As with individuals, so with classes; the surest way to obtain success is to deserve it. We may at once admit that, in the case of education, this primary condition of success has hitherto been wanting. A general impression seems to prevail that any one can teach; it is thought an ample qualification for conducting a school to have attended one some five and twenty years before.

In education and in politics, the two most difficult of all human arts, every person considers himself competent, without any special study, to pronounce an authoritative opinion.

Accordingly, as there is no restriction upon the profession of teaching, and as it requires a very small expenditure, young persons, who have failed in every other business, rush into the business of school keeping. Mr. Kay, in the second volume of his work on the condition of the people of Europe, gives a curious list of the numbers of bankrupt and broken down tradesmen, who, a short time since, adorned the scholastic profession in England. We believe that even in Victoria similar cases might be found. One singular specimen of educational talent, as it exists among us, occurs in the last report of the Commissioners of National Education. At the examination for the classification of masters, held in January, 1856, one

gentleman gave the following description of the exact situation of Lisbon: “ Lisbon is the capital of Portugal, is bounded on the north by the Pyrenees, on the south by the Mediterranean, on the east by Asia Minor, and on the west by the Atlantic Ocean.”

We have heard that the accomplished individual in question has since become the assistant master of a large school, and that his abilities in that capacity are so highly prized that he has been employed to give private instruction to his principal. We cannot wTonder if the inferior quality of some of our educators should have degraded in the eyes of the public the profession to which they belong; nor is it strange if that degradation should, by an irresistible reflex action, repel teachers of real merit, and thus perpetuate the inferior quality of the educators. Such a vicious circle might well excite alarm. It might be supposed that in this state of action and re-action no progress could be made. Prom our previous remarks, however, it may not be impossible to determine the sequence ; it is at least in our power to raise the standard of learning among our educators, but it is not in our power directly to deal with so delicate a subject as popular opinion. There is no reason why admission to the functions of an educator should be less a matter of public care than admission to the holy orders, or to the practice of law or of medicine. A broken down mechanic is not allowed to mend his fortune by attempting to sell poisonous drugs. Why should he be permitted to sell a pretence of teaching, which is avowedly deleterious to the mind. Great reforms on this point have already been made. In this colony both the educational boards require their masters to pass an examination, and the national board has adopted a system of classification, and has established a training institution. There should be, however, a positive prohibition against any person attempting to teach who is unable to produce some duly authorized certificate of qualification. By this means unqualified practitioners would no longer disgrace the profession, and injure the public. Nor is the restriction unprecedented or unjust; analogous cases, as we have observed, occur in almost all the principal professions. If prevention is better than cure, if a butcher may not expose for sale unwholesome meat, or a baker adulterated bread, so it is just that we should abate the moral nuisance, and guard, as far as possible, against the vending of unwholesome and inadequate education.

But there is another condition to which, if we desire an improved class of masters, we must conform. The duly qualified educator should be independent. When once he has been appointed, his continuance in office ought not to depend upon the pleasure of the local patrons. Here we may observe a similar reflex influence to that which we have already indicated. The admission of inferior masters rendered necessary the power of arbitrary dismissal. The power of arbitrary dismissal, by deterring the better class of applicants, led to the admission of inferior masters. But, if education be a distinct profession, the educator ought to know his own business better than any non-professional patron can do, and ought not, therefore, to be subject to interference in the management of his school. It would, of course, be necessary to provide for the removal of an immoral or otherwise objectionable person, but this power I should rest with a more impartial tribunal than a board of local patrons can be expected to prove. The educator must be protected against the caprices of the local patron,

and the local patron must be protected against the misconduct or indiscretion of the educator. To effect these objects, the most satisfactory course would be to give the local patrons the right of appointment out of the roll of certificate teachers, but to require that all complaints against the master, after he had entered upon his duties, should be made to the central board of education, who alone should possess the power of removal or dismissal.

Although these measures would, of themselves, greatly improve the condition of the educator, there are other methods which would tend to promote the same object. One of these is the growth amongst educators of a proper esprit du corps. No such spirit at present exists. Every man fights for his own hand. A consciousness of the want seems to be implied in a recent attempt to establish a Teachers’ Association. But the basis on which the association was framed was miserably narrow. It was limited to the Denominational School teachers, to the exclusion of those who were engaged under the National System. To the inherent difficulties of their undertaking the projectors insisted upon adding the interminable disputes of the rival boards. We have heard that, from the same want of judgment, a schism has arisen even among this limited association. Yet, whatever may have been the faults of its execution, the original conception is worthy of all praise. Great advantages, both in suggesting improved methods of teaching, and in giving unity and, if we may use the term, individuality to the profession, might be expected to result from periodical educational conferences. But such an assembly ought to embrace all who practice the art of teaching, and its objects should be strictly professional. It should be, in one respect, more comprehensive, in another, more limited, than the existing association.

If such a conference were in existence, its opinion on general questions of education would, in all quarters, be received with due respect. But it is possible that arrangements might be made to enable it to send a representative to the Central Board of Education. It seems not unreasonable that the working educators should have some one to express their views and call attention to their wants, and it is surely desirable that the Commissioners of Education should have the means of acquiring accurate and trustworthy information regarding the condition and wishes of these few when they legislate. We believe that this measure would have a great effect in giving a recognized position to the profession, and of raising it both in its own and in public estimation.

It must not be supposed that these suggestions are merely visionary, and unwarranted by experience. On the continent of Europe, where the subject of education has received much greater attention than it ever has in England, almost all the measures which we have proposed have been adopted. We cannot at present enter into the general educational arrangements of those countries; we shall merely observe that the local patrons nominate the master out of a list of certificated teachers, that the minister of education alone has the power of dismissal, and that every facility and encouragement is given to the formation of educational conferences. The result is that the position of the educator is much higher on the continent than it is in England, and that the art of teaching has attained there a perfection which amongst us is as yet unknown.

There is another recommendation of these measures—they cost nothing; on the contrary, they will, by increasing the inducements to enter the profession, make a given sum of money go a much longer way than it at present would. Therefore, not merely on the ground of efficiency, but also of economy, we commend them to the attention of the friends of education.


Next to the Roman Catholic church, which has always had the sagacity to discern the value, and the wisdom to profit by the employment, of music, painting, and sculpture, as nourishers of the religious sentiment, and accessories to religious worship ; and next, also, to the heads of the princely houses of Mediaeval Italy; art has always found its best patrons among the mercantile clashes. The merchants of Amsterdam, Antwerp, and the commercial cities of Flanders, munificently rewarded the artists who decorated the mansions of the wealthy burghers with those pictorial master-pieces, which are miracles of patience, as well as triumphs of art. And it is interesting to note that, as late as the middle of the eighteenth century, an artist of Bruges, Joseph Bernard Suvée, on the occasion of taking his departure for Rome, received the congratulations of the magistracy of his native city, at the Hotel de Ville, was invited to a splendid banquet, and presented with a service of plate ; the whole of the city being at the same time spontaneously illuminated in his honor.

Fostered by the wealth and taste of the merchants, schools of art sprang up and flourished in the great trading cities of Florence, Genoa, and Venice. The bill-broking and money-lending Medici, of the first-named city, were warm patrons and liberal paymasters of some of the greatest artists the world has ever seen ; and two of the noblest galleries in central Italy owe their foundation to a family which amassed the greater portion of its wealth in mercantile pursuits, within “ the fair white walls of the Etrurian Athens.”

In Venice, that city

Which held the gorgeous east in fee ;

And, when she took unto herself a mate,

She must espouse the everlasting sea

we find the men, into whose coffers flowed so large a proportion of the gains of the world’s commerce, showering their largess on artists like Titian, Giorgione, Tintoretto, Paolo Veronese, Pordenone, and Da Ponte; on sculptors like Sansovino, Verocchio, and Bergamasco ; and on architects like Palladio, Nicolo Pisano, Sanmicheli, and Scamozzi. And hence the façade of every merchant-noble’s palace exhibits some beauty or originality of design ; the monuments of the doges, and the statuary which adorns the public buildings or the private residences in the city, are exquisitely admirable works of art ; and every picture gallery contains a score of paintings, each of which is worth the fee simple of the mansion which enshrines it.

Enterprising Genoa, which sent forth the discoverers of the new world, justified its claims to the epithet of “ The Superb,” quite as successfully by the taste and liberality of its merchant adventurers, as by the magnitude of its commerce, and the magnificence of its site. The marble palaces of its trading magnates exhibited externally the genius of the best architects of the period; and the various apartments glowed internally with priceless pictures, and were enriched with the choicest creations of the sculptor. That spirit of sumptuous prodigality, which induced the wealthy owner of a princely mansion to expend a million of francs upon the gilding of a single saloon (in the Palazzo Serra, No. 49, Strada Nuova), characterized most of the transactions of these splendid Genoese with contemporary artists; in the patronage of whose works, these merchants displayed the same noble emulation which they exhibited in commercial enterprise.

In our own times, the merchants of Manchester, London, and Liverpool, of Glasgow and Edinburgh, purchase largely every year at the various exhibitions of the royal academies in the English and Scotch metropolis. With the exception, perhaps, of the Vernon gallery, the finest assemblage of modern paintings, with which we are acquainted in England, has been collected with equal taste and judgment by a retired wool-stapler, formerly a resident in Leeds ; and it may be worth while to mention, for the benefit of those who look at every operation and pursuit from a “ profit and loss ” point of view, that the money value of the gallery we refer to is, at this moment, at least three times its original cost, owing to the advancing reputation of the majority of the artists whose works figure in Mr. Sheepshanks’ collection.

An exhibition of art treasures is to be held, as many of our readers are aware, in the city of Manchester, in May next; and among the names of the hundred gentlemen who have subscribed £500 to £1000 each to a guarantee fund of £7000, we find those of the most eminent merchants and manufactures of “ Cottonopolis.” Commerce owes something to art as well as science, and commerce never shows fairer than when she extends a fostering and protecting hand to music, painting, poetry, and sculpture.

In a purely commercial city like our own, art necessarily relies for protection and support upon those classes which, as we have shewn, have been its most munificent patrons in Italy and Netherlands, and are so still »in Great Britain, and (we may also add) in the United States.- We will not do the merchants of Melbourne the injustice to believe that they regard the accumulation of wealth as the be-all and end-all of their efforts and their enterprise ; but simply as a means to an end—that end being a wider and more complete command of the enjoyments which the possession of wealth enables its owners to secure. And this being so, we confidently ask, What enjoyment can be more exquisite, pure, permanent,and unalloyed, than that which springs from the habitual contemplation of works of art— from daily and familiar intercourse with all that is most beautiful in form and harmonious in color ? Surrounded by works of art, “ a new heaven and a new earth” exist for us. The past is re-animated, and the distant is immediately present with us. The loveliest and most fleeting aspects of nature ; the most fugitive and beautiful expression of the “ human face divine,” impressed upon the canvass by the skill of the artist, remains there, “a joy for ever.” And not only so, but the artist, gifted with the “seeing

eye,” reveals to ns that which he discerns in nature or the face of man— a meaning and a sentiment which escape the perception of ordinary-observers. There are mysteries which he alone is qualified to interpret, and an evangel which he only is commissioned to expound.

We have been led to make these remarks by the announcement, which has appeared in the public journals# of a Fine Art Exhibition, to be held in this city, in the course of the current month. Such an exhibition will bring the artistic resources of the colony prominently into public view ; and, taken in connection with the formation of an Artists’ Association in this city, will give a marked impulse, we hope, to the cultivation of art, and its encouragement by the wealthy classes of Victorian society.

We must confess that we are sanguine enough to believe in the possibility of some important results growing out of this Exhibition and the establishment of the Association referred to. Why should we not have our national gallery, and commence the collection of pictures for its walls at once? Such a gallery should possess a four-fold character. It should include (1) a hall for paintings, (2) a hall for sculpture, (3) a music hall, and (4) a lecture hall. The music hall would serve to give concerts in for the people, similar to those which have become so popular and have done so much to elevate the minds and refine the manners of the working classes in Liverpool and Birmingham ; and the lecture hall would be a valuable agency for popularizing art, literature, and science, among the “masses,” as it is the fashion to call them.

The site of the edifice might be on the high ground near the Supreme Court, and its architectural features should include a dome, or towering campanile, so as to furnish the city with a conspicuous central object—a striking point of sight—something that would impress itself upon the attention and memory of people approaching Melbourne, for the first time, just as St. Paul’s, St. Peter’s, and St. Stephen’s do those who draw near London, Rome, or Vienna; and that should, for ever after, be associated with a visitor’s recollections of the general aspect of Melbourne.

For such a building, we would ask from the government nothing but the site. . We would trust to the professional enthusiam of our architects for the design and supervision of the work—to the. public spirit of the professional and trading classes for the means of purchasing the materials; and we would appeal to the working men of Melbourne to give, each of them, a quota of his labor towards the erection of the structure; while we should rely upon the taste and zeal of our artists for its internal decorations, when completed. A public edifice, reared and embellished under such circumstances, would be something new in the world’s history, and would reflect eternal honor on the people by whom it was founded.


I miss thee from my side,

With thy merry eyes and blue—

From thy crib at morning tide,

Oft its curtains peeping through—

In the kisses not a few,

Thou wert wont to give me then—

In thy sleepy, sad adieu,

When’t was time for bed again,

I miss thee from my side

When the dinner hustle’s o’er,

When the orange I divide,

Or extract the apple’s core.

What avails my boarded store Of barley sugar, comfits sweet ?

Thou art by my side no more;

Vacant is thy wonted seat.

I miss thee from my side,

When brisk Punch is at the door;— Vainly pummels be bis bride;—

Judy’s wrongs can charm no more.

He may beat her till she’s sore ;

She may die and he may flee :

Tho’ I loved their squalls of yore,

What’s the pageant now to me !

I miss thee from my side

In the haunts that late were thine, Where thy twinkling feet would glide, And thy clasping fingers twine;

Here are cbecquer’d tumblers nine, Silent relics of thy play ;

Here the mimic tea-things shine,

Thou 'would’st wash the live long day.

Thy drum hangs on the wall;

Thy bird-organ’s sounds are o’er; Pogs and horses, great and small, Wanting some a leg or more;

Cows and sheep—a motley store—

All are stabled ’neath thy bed;

And not one but can restore

Memories sweet of him that's fled t

I miss thee from my side,

Blithe cricket of my hearth !

Oft in secret have I sighed

For thy chirping voice of mirth : When the low-born cares of earth Chill’d my heart or dim’d my eye, Grief was stifled in its birth When my little boy was nigh 1

I miss thee from my side,

With thy question oft repeated.

On thy rocking horse astride,

Or beneath my table seated.

Or, when tired and overheated With a summer day’s delight,

Many a childish aim defeated,

Bleep hath overpowered thee quite !

I miss thee from my side

When the light of day grows pale ; When, with eyelids opened wide,

Thou woulds’t list the oft-told tale, And the murdered babes bewail:

Yet so greedy of thy pain,

That, when all my lore would fail,

I must needs begin again !—

I miss thee from my side,

With thy bright ingenuous smile; With thy glance of infant pride,

And the face no tears defile.

Stay, and other hearts beguile,

Hearts that prize thee fondly, too; I must spare thy pranks awhile; Cricket of my hearth, adieu !


Take heed of Theophilus Digit; he is in Melbourne. Is there any body knows Digit? When I first knew him he was a little boy, with a dirty face, a foxy head of hair, and an uncommonly short pair of nankeen trowsers. He always had to be left at home on Sundays, his clothes being too shabby to admit of going to church with the rest of the school. All the boys pitied Digit then, and Digit toadied all the boys. At the com-raencement of each‘half ’ he managed to coax the whole school out of their new toys, pencils, things ornamental and things useful, which all boys have alter the holidays, and which articles he always sold, before the expiration ot the ‘ hall,’ to the original owners for cash, at a good figure. How he managed it I can’t tell now; I couldn’t then; hut this Í know, that my spare coppers were diverted from Tom Trot and toffee, their proper channel of evaporation, to re-purchase such things as Í wished to shew Aunt Sally or Uncle Gilbert had been retained as tokens of recollection, and which the insidious Digit had made his. What I did nearly all the other boys did also.

After leaving school, and leaving Digit there, I saw no more of him for some years. We met accidently. I was at Ballybristlebrush, canvassing with my friend, Bob Thornton (a splendid fellow at a five-barred gate). Bob was a candidate. There were lots of ladies in the place, with whom he was very popular. We gave balls, picnics, and so on, and almost made certain of success, especially as our opponent (that is, Bob’s) was one of the manufacturing class, with a turn for sermonizing and tea meetings, which every one knows Ballybristlehrush was never noted for. One night, after a neat supper of ‘ broiled bones,’ at the “ Goose and Grindstone,” and while the ninth or tenth bottle of claret was passing round, in walked Theophilus Digit. He was dressed rather shabbily, and I didn’t care much about knowing him ; but he was excessively fond, spoke of the old days, and shewed little Jemmy Trail, of the 112th, how to make whiskey punch in an improved manner. Before the night was out Digit had shewn us we knew nothing of election matters, and he knew everything. Thornton installed him forthwith as sole agent—paid agent; and, Digit getting a draft on Labertouche for “ prelims ,” as lie quaintly termed it, set to work with astonishing energy, and gave us to understand all was settled. All was settled ! I am not going to bore Melbourne with anecdotes of home elections. The day of the polling came at last. The returning officer declared the poll—

Tadger, - - - 721 Thornton,- - -    196

We rushed round madly to Digit’s box. lie had gone that morning, while we were engaged in hunting up (by his directions) non-electors; and the chairman of Tadger’s committee politely informed us that Mr. Theophilus Digit had exerted himself admirably for his wife’s- third cousin, Christopher Tadger, Esq. What a ruffian!

*    * *    * *

Next time—five years after—that I met Digit, I was returning from an Italian trip, and had passed a few days at Nice, when one day there stepped out of a boat, just from Marseilles or somewhere, Theophilis Digit, a shade dirtier, darker, and certainly redder about the head. Digit knew me, spoke to me, and, although recollecting his treatment of us all at home five years before, 1 called him something not necessary to be set down here, he volunteered to dine with me, and did. Not only that, but he got lodgings in the same hotel, breakfasted with me next morning, and for three weeks was my constant companion. One day he came—would I lend, for two days, two hundred pounds? 1 lend ! and him !—pah ¡ But he would not take any answer but the money. He shewed me jewel after jewel, which he proffered as security—pictures; I don’t know how many Raffaelles he had picked up—antique daggers—yataghans—all sorts of things. Two hundred pounds, and for two days. I got a box of jewels as security, and he got the money. When I wanted it re-paid, he promised and promised—-broke his promise ; vowed again—and forgot it; Coutts did not remit, or Herries had not replied ; some inconvenient thing or another. I did not get my cash; but 1 did get into a terrible passion. At last a day was fixed for a settlement. It was a bright, hot morning; I remember it well now. Digit called just after breakfast. The usual excuse : no letters. I. rode rusty—produced liis casket—left it on the table—and declared I would have my money. Digit looked in the street: “ By jove,”cried he, “ there’s the very goldsmith that will lend me the money on these jewels 1” —w'hipt up the casket, and was off. I thought I was done, and ran after him; saw him before, waving and telegraphing to some unknown person, rush round by the galley slaves’ prison, cross a bridge of boats, and give a prodigious leap upon the Marseilles steamer that had cast off her painter a half minute before ! Ere I reached the jumping place, the steamer was spluttering out of the harbor. Digit was off, and I was done. I was done, indeed ! He had left me his bill to pay, and, as he dined, supped, and I don’t know what besides, every day with me, 1 was obliged to pay it, for my own honor.

* * * * *

We met again. I was at Malvern ; everybody knows Malvern : a neat watering place, where people get acquainted without any trouble of an introduction. All the people staying there were pleasant: billiards and whist, scandal, whiskey punch, and flirtation. I heard praises bestowed upon a pious minister, who had been staying there for a month, but had ridden over to Worcester to see a sick friend. I heard his name, too; Digit: not a common one; but, then, a minister. Could it be my Theophilus ? I ransacked out his I.O.U. I had that—undated, by the bye—■ and waited the return of Mr. Digit. He came. We were at dinner when he arrived; but room was made for him at the well-spread table; and down he sat. I hardly knew him, he w7as so spruce and clean ; and he did not know me, sitting bodkin between the widow of an Edinburgh tobacconist, and the youngest daughter of a Welch squire. His place was between a pious attorney, and a gouty naval commander, with whom he rattled on for some time. At last I, raising my voice, and desirous of taking wine with an acquaintance in his vicinity, arrested his attention. Die turned wdiite—I saw that—and, with a gentle shrug, went on eating his dinner. I could say nothing then, and I went on with mine. Strange to say, however, all the diners left the table early; one by one they dropped off, and to all my inquiries (as usual) for a game at billiards, whist, &c., I got but a curt, “No, sir.” I began to stare, especially when I was left alone; for Digit, coming round, as I thought, to speak to me, vanished with my fair widow, while squire Jones (contrary to custom) carried off his daughter in a hasty manner. I strolled through the house ; everybody kept aloof; at last, when I reached my own room, and was meditating ringing for the landlord, in walked Fisher, who quietly advised me to go by post chaise to Worcester, and then take the London mail.

Was he mad?—What did the man mean? Was he mad? No; but I was! “What!”—I screamed with horror. It was no use me yelling. Digit had told the whole house I was mad ; there I should not stop; and this much would the landlord vouch for, that no one would believe to the contrary. Where was the scoundrel, the--? I called him every action

able word I knew. He—oh !—he had been summoned back to Worcester, and had left directly after dinner. What was to be. done? I paid my bill, and then tried to see if what Fisher had said was correct. Yes; all shunned me like men shun venemous reptiles. The gouty officer shuffled out of the room as I entered. The ladies all fled to their own rooms. The attorney, giving me some legal latin, made a precipitate retreat through the French windows. The thing was laughable, although I was completely sold. What was to be done? What did I think was the wisest. I took Fisher’s advice, and came away.


Three years have elapsed since then. I am at Melbourne now; but I saw Digit yesterday. He was on the top of a Richmond omnibus. As for waiting to sue him for my twq hundred pounds, I’ll be off in Cobb’s conveyance to Bendigo, and get along the Murray into another colony. But my parting advice is, take heed of Theophilus Digit.



Propagating Evergreens, <Fc., by layers.—As early in the month as possible, begin to propagate, by layers of the young shoots of the same year, such evergreens and other shrubs as do not succeed well by layers of the old wood. This method of laying is now principally employed with such kinds as do not succeed or put out roots freely from any but the young shoots of the same summer’s growth. It may, however, be also practised on any other evergreens, and, on some forward shooting sorts, the shoots will be probably advanced to a proper growth for that purpose by the latter end of this month. As soon as the shoots are ten or twelve inches long they may be layed, by drawing them gently to the ground, and fastening them securely, with strong hooked pegs, two or three inches into the earth, leaving about three or four inches of the top of each shoot out of the ground. As soon as they are laid, give them a moderate watering to settle the mould properly about them. Then lay a little mould, or some long litter, thinly on the surface. After this, let the earth be moderately watered in dry weather every five or six days : for, a moderate degree of moisture will promote the emission of roots, and encourage their growth, as they issue from the layers. Although this method of laying in the young wood is more generally practised or adopted for such evergreens and other shoots as do not put forth readily from the older shoots, yet it need not be confined to any particular sorts : for, there are many kinds that may be propagated by the same practice, and the trial may be made on any such sorts as you may desire to increase.    •

Transplanting Seedling Perennials. &c.—Transplant, or prick out into nursery beds, some of the seedling perennial and biennial plants which were sown in August: snchas,columbine,stock,sweet William, hollyhocks, French honeysuckle, primrose, foxglove, rose campion, Canterbury bells, Campanulas, Greek Valeria, eatchfly, and such other sorts as were sown early in the spring, and are advanced three or four inches in growth. These must be all planted into nursery beds, where they must remain to get strength, before they are planted out for good. Dig for this purpose a spot of good, clear, ground ; divide into beds four feet broad, and rake the surface even; then put in the plants by a line, six inches distant each every way. and each sort separate. Let them be moderately watered, to settle the earth well about their roots; all these must remain in their beds till next year, and then be planted out for good. They will all flower next year, and make a fine appearance.

Succulent plants, such as the partridge-breasted aloe, cacalia, cactus, «fee., should be planted from the pots or tubs, in a light, dry border, at the end of the month, if the weather is settled and dry.    When any of

the leaves are decayed, let them be cut off with a sharp knife.

Hyacinths, Tulips, and other Bulbs past flowering.— When these bulbs have done flowering, and the leaves appear to decay, they should be taken up and spread, to dry and harden, upon a mat or the floor of a dry room, for a fortnight or three weeks, then cleaned, and deposited upon shelves or in boxes till autumn, for replanting.

Propagating f rom, Guttings.—There are many kinds of tender exotics which may still be propagated from cuttings taken off the shoots of last year, such as geraniums, myrtles, <fec. The better plan would be to plant the cuttings and slips in pots and boxes, but flower pots are preferable, and they succeed better if planted pretty thick—say, ten cuttings or slips in a forty-eight sized flower-pot, and plunged in a hot bed. This will strike them in a short time, but, as geraniums will strike so freely without artificial assistance, we would only recommend the forcing of the more tender and choice kinds of plants. Myrtle and similar hard-wooded plants, as root reluctantly by cuttings, may, when plunged in the frame, be covered down close with a hand-glass, which will greatly forward the emission of young roots.

Laying Carnations.—This work should be done towards the latter end of the month, and continued according as the shoots of the plants become fit, until next month. The proper parts for laying are principally the young bottom shoots of the same year’s growth, when about six inches long, and their stems of some tolerable strength. These may be layed the lower part into the earth, as they remain in growth on the parent plant. The method of performing the work is this : in the first place, provide some light, rich, mould or sand, and small hooked pegs, cut about three or four inches long, with which to peg the layer down together.

Having these ready,clear away the weeds and litter from about the plants. Then stir the surface of the earth a little, and, when necessary, you may add as much of the light earth as will raise the surface round each plant to a convenient height. When this is done, prepare the shoots in order for laying in this manner : pull off the leaves of the lower parts of the shoots, but let those above, which grow on the head of the shoot, remain.

Then, about the middle of the shoot, on the under side, fixing upon a joint, place a sharp knife towards the ower part, cut half-way into the joint, slantingly, upwards, slitting the shoot accordingly, from the said point, rather more than half-way up towards the next joint above; then make a small opening in the earth, one or two inches deep, and lay therein the slim and slip parts of the shoot, with the cut open, and the top an inch or two out of the earth, and seam it there with one of the hooked sticks, between the root and the slit, raising the top of the shoot gently upright, so as that the joint or slit at the bottom may keep open ; then cover in that part and the body of the shoot with more of the same mould, and, in that manner, continue to proceed, laying in all the shoots of each plant or shoot. As soon as all the plants of one shoot are layed, give them a gentle watering, which will settle the earth regularly about all the layers. The watering should be often repeated in dry weather, and always in moderation, pouring it on gently through the rose of a wateringpot, so as not to disturb or wash away the mould from the layers. In six weeks time the layers will be well rooted, and may be taken from the old shoots and planted into beds, to remain till autumn. They will all flower in great perfection next season, and afford a supply of layers for fresh increase.


Fbom the 25th of September to the 24th October (inclusive), from observations


The weather during the past month has been cool and very agreeable, unlike the season of early summer, which is usually characterised by severe hot winds and squalls.

The mean temperature was 56-3°. The lowest temperature recorded was on the 27th of September, viz., 340°; and immediately following the barometer fell rapidly, and a strong wind blew from the N. on the ensuing day, when the weather changed. On other occasions the thermometer fell as low as 42°, 44°, and 40°. The highest temperature recorded, in the shade, was on the 22nd of October, viz., 82-5°: the barometer on that day sank to 29-582 inches: and a strong wind blew from the N., bearing aloft clouds of dust. The wind changed and rain fell on the following night. On October 3rd the thermometer recorded a temperature of 73-8°, on the 6th 74T°, on the 7th 79°, and on the 13th 705°. The north wind blew on each of these days, and at 3 p. m. the heat was somewhat oppressive. The change of temperature in twelve hours was sometimes as much as 35° when the wind changed after a very high degree of heat.

The barometer was unsteady during the month ; sometimes sinking as low as 29-521 inches, and again ranging as high as 30-500 inches. The changes of atmospheric pressure were occasionally sudden, and strong winds blew. On the 27th September, the 7th and the 22nd of October, it blew strongly from the N.; but the temperature of the wind was cool rather than hot, except on the afternoon of the 22nd,when it felt slightly warm.

A thunder-storm occurred on the 7th October, at 34 p. m.; the wind changed from N. to nearly due West, and rain fell.

Rain fell on ten days. It fell to the depth of -300 inches on the 27th September; •880 inches on the 5th October; -110 inches on the 7th ; -300 inches on the 14th ; -510 inches on the 15th ; -300 inches on the 16th; and -170 inches on the 23rd. On other days the showers were light.

The copious rains during the early spring, and the remarkably fine weather succeeding, have given to the country a fresh and green appearance, delightful to the eye, and contrasting strangely with the bald and barren streets, parks, and “ pleasure grounds,” in the vicinity of Melbourne.

in the ensuing months, until March, we may expect “hot winds ” at intervals, of which we had a very mild specimen on the 22nd instant. And, with the preparations made by the civic authorities in North Melbourne and in all parts north of the city, where they have loosened the hard earth over nearly the whole area, the dust in Melbourne will be unbearable, and no doubt some lives will be sacrificed on the road. Not to speak of the discomfort, the danger to health is very considerable, when the air for twenty-four hours is quite darkened with fine dust, and is inhitled in that state.

Would toat some spirited agitators were moved to take up this question. A few pounds, judiciously expended, would suffice to sow the waste lands with grass, and grass would be a blessing on a hot day, with a high wind blowing, and the thermometer at 100° in the shade.



The elections are now nearly concluded; the finally received returns have been made up and declared for most of the constituencies, and there is little ground for expecting any material alteration in those which have been received in the rough. Of course, there have been the usual vicissitudes : some candidates who were over sanguine have been doomed to disappointment; some notoriously unfit men have received at the hands of the electors a verdict all along anticipated by calm observers; some good men have failed because they were competing with others as capable and somewhat more popular; some entirely new men have obtained a footing in the political arena; and many old ones have stepped into their seats as it were a matter of course.

Now, thanks to the ballot and to the improved state of the public mind, an election is no longer necessarily a scene of riot and confusion, of antagonism and heart-burning. Even the less disreputable, but by no means unobjectionable, practice of issuing squibs has been sparingly resorted to. In one instance, at Geelong, a libel prosecution has arisen out of a newspaper anatomy of a candidate, Mr. J. R. Bailey, who, although he had used the strongest language himself when writing of his competitors, did not hesitate to prosecute when a similar means of warfare was employed against himself.

Loafer ’ and ‘ filibuster ’ were the offensive expressions to which exception was taken. These are certainly bad enough, but the character of the prosecutor’s previous articles in his own paper has turned the public feeling against him. ^Tbe affair is viewed altogether in its political and not in its moral aspect: the partizans of the defendant, Dr. Thomson, who is the mayor of Geelong, sympathise with him, and talk of paying his damages ; while his opponents, who were strong upon the bench which committed him for trial, treated him with studied and offensive harshness. A single case of impersonation has been detected, but not one of riot, nor, as far as we are aware, one of direct bribery, although it is generally understood that attempts were made to influence electors, as well by means of social and business relations, as by appeals to the palate. A petition is prepared against the return of Mr. Bennett for North Bourke, a district in which there was a disgraceful amount of intemperance, which is attributed to the successful candidate having thrown open the public houses, or, at all events, practised extensive treating. Several candidates have endeavoured to repudiate portions of their election accounts; and it is not uncommon to hear of an offer of two-thirds the amount of a bill being made to the claimant: this has especially occurred in the case of the printers, who are supposed to have made a harvest out of the acres of posters which decorate the towns. Some candidates have even objected to pay the expenses of their committee rooms, and a considerable amount of meanness has been manifested in these particulars.

Happily, there are here no organised parties or factions. Every politician is, more or less, on his own hook, and cabals are only formed for special objects. Thus, the opponents of the 53rd clause, unanimous in their objection to that part part of the constitution, can hardly agree upon any other question; while the squatters entertain every shade of opinion upon State Aid, and are even divided among themselves as to the nature and extent of their own claims for compensation. The formation of a society to investigate cases of doubtful qualification on the part of candidates is talked of.

We subjoin a statement of the results of the elections, with the votes polled for each candidate :—

Kyneton Boroughs.—Johnson, 244;—Chisholm, 123 ; Clarke 31.

Castlemaine Boroughs.—Palmer, 317; Pyke, 295 ;—Hitchcock, 181; Thompson, 183.

Sandhurst Boroughs.—Grant, 691;—Sullivan, 414 ; Rowe, 1.

North Grant.—Humffray, 690 ;—Loader, 254 ; Black, 24.

Ovens.—Cameron, 487;—Smyth, 280 ; Lee, 168.

Rodney.—Baragwarath,—Horne, Hellicar.

Loddon.—Owens, 195; Syme, 188 Candler, 50 ; Benson, 45 ; Prendergast, 30.


Talbot.—Aspinall, 493; Blair, 425Stephen, 326; Longden, 133; Nichols, 83; Armstrong, 69; Langlands, 35: Hitchcock, 22; Moore, 17 ; McDonough, 14; Pyke, 14; Bliss, 4.


East Bourse.—Bennett, 491; Greeves, 369 ;—MacDermott, 303 ; Cooper, 271; MacGregor, 174; Keeley, 140; Kirby, 40; Hallett, 12.

Murray Borough.—F. Murphy.

West Bourke.—Phelan, 452; McDougall, 285 ;—Wilkie, 277; Chapman, 72; Robertson, 147.


South Bourke.—Pasley, 392 ; O’Brien, 299 :—Ricardo, 290; Young, 208 ; Foxton, 185; Stephen, 77.    _    _

Evelyn and Mornington.—Anderson, 247;—Pender, 117; Craig, 36 ; Burnley, 27.

North Grenville.—P. Lalor.

Anglesey and Dalhousie.—Snodgrass, 130 ;—Mollison, 83 ; McCulla, 5.

Dundas and Follett.—Griffith, 68 ;—Wilson, 64.

Normanby.—E. Henty.    '

Villiers and Heytesbury.—Duffy, 533 ; Rutledge, 360 ;—Allan, 282.

Gipps Land.—King.

Murray District—Goodman, 37; Adamson, 21;—Forlonge, 13; Watson-, 3.


South Grant.—Haines, Wills,—Myles, Behan.

Belfast.—F. E. Beaver.

Warrnambool.—G. S. W. Home.


Public attention has been excited of late by more than one lamentable occurrence in which life has been sacrificed. After the recent review of the troops on the ground ad jacent to tlie Prince’s bridge barracks, four shots, fired in rapid succession, attracted the hearers to the officers’ quarters. It was found that a young ensign, named Pennefather, who had for some time past been laboring under mental depression, had, on returning from parade, seized a revolver and gone forth to the lodgings of surgeon McAuley, whom he shot through the head. He then turned to ensigns Veith and Lucas, at whom he filed in a similar manner, striking each in the mouth and inflicting severe wounds, which leave them yet in a dangerous state. He then destroyed himself with the same weapon. Messrs. Pennefather and McAuley died the same day. After the inquest, which resulted in the common verdict of ‘ temporal insanity,’ the bodies were intened with the usual

military ceremonial.    0    .

On the same day some convicts, belonging to the penal lmlk, President, made a desperate attempt to escape, as they were being conveyed in boats from the sbouq where they had been at work, to the hulk. By a sudden movement on the part of the desperadoes, the officers in charge of the boat were thrown over-board, but were, with one exception, fortunately rescued from drowning. One of the convicts was shot tlnough the head and killed on the spot, and another seriously wounded. P_he notorious Melville was in the boat at the time, and took part in the outrage. Ihis man has before committed violent assaults on his keepers, but it was thought that the fierce biutality of his nature had been in some degree tamed. Indeed, the restraint under which it had been deemed necessary to keep him had of late been somewhat remitted, and he was allowed to go out with the other convicts to labor; he was also allowed the use of wiiting materials, and was actually engaged on a translation of the Bible into the language of the aborigines. On the occasion of the outbreak, in which eight (all long-sentenced men) were engaged, Melville led the assault, and himself murdered a warder named Owens, by striking him on the head with a heavy stone hammer. The whole gang is now in close custody, awaiting trial. Melville is reported to liave expressed joy at the hope of being hung, as an escape from the punishment he was then undergoing. So much for the value of capital punishment as compared with the restraint and labor of the hulks!

Two savage assaults, committed by men in a higher station of life, demand noticg. Mr. Kane, the secretary to the National Board of Education, was sitting in the boxes of the Theatre ftoyal one evening, when a solicitor named Manby, and another man whose name is unknown, assaulted him in a savage manner, beating him over the head, at the same time using the coarsest language. The assault, which was witnessed by some hundreds of persons, was committed without the slightest provocation. In the morning, the Bench at the City Court, not having a precedent for committing a “ legalised gentleman ” to prison, fined him ¿£10. A similarly cheap bargain in brutality was given to one Protberoe, who, at Sandhurst, attacked a Dr. Hutchinson, and tore out his heard by the roots, and then aggravated the offence and manifested his own character by producing the beard wrapped in a hit of paper at the pohce office, and saying that “ he could have it stuck on again for sixpence.” In no such case is any real punishment inflicted. The only use of alternative punishments (if there he any at all) is that they may be so adjusted to the circumstances as to prevent that evasion which our magistrates seem so ready to afford, and to make the sentence really a penalty to the offender. To such men as these a money penalty is as nothing in comparison with the gratification of their passions. In fact, a money penalty for a criminal offence is no punishment at all; it is merely the price of a luxury. The alternative of imprisonment is the punishment for poverty, the penalty for being unable to pay the tariff price. Our magistrates would seem to place life and personal safety at a very low valuation. Assaults, even when nearly approaching murder, are habitually visited with very trivial punishments. A man may almost kill his wife at the cost of three months’ imprisonment; maim her for life, for one month ; and common assaults range in price from one to forty shillings ; while such cases as Manby’s and Protheroe’s are charged ten pounds, because the offenders can afford it. If it were desired to emulate the atrocities of California this would certainly he the best way of proceeding; but as we desire to take every possible step in the opposite direction, we fervently hope that, early in the first sitting of Council, some member will take the matter up, and either abolish money fines altogether for offences against the person, or introduce a hill specially providing for cases of this kind.

Considerable anxiety is manifested at an announcement of the Sydney Government calling on certain classes of convicts to apply for free pardons. Tickets of leave have been issued to the former for oats of Norfolk Island (lately made over to the Pitcairn’s Islanders), and to the chain gangs of our last penal settlement; but as these ruffians have, ■when at liberty, become a nuisance in Tasmania, by returning to their old courses, the dodge of offering free pardons is adopted to get rid of them, in the hope that they will be tempted, when masters of their own movements, to migrate hither in search of richer prey than Yan Diemen’s Land affords.

Some coiners and jewellery duffers have lately been detected. In one case the police, having received information from a party concerned, found the necessary appliances in full working order; but on the trial the prisoner was acquitted, from a difficulty arising as to who was the real culprit, the informer or the prisoner, v Several petty cases have been brought before the various police benches lately by common informers, the infamous crew that arises from the present divided penalty system. These men endeavour to entrap people into breaches of the law, for .Jhe sake of the fines. The common trick is to purchase two gallons of some liquor and take away part, leaving the rest to he called for, and then to prosecute the vendor for selling less than the permitted quantity : another dodge tried lately was, to buy a dozen of beer, and to ground an information on the circumstance that the contents of a dozen bottles is a portion less than two gallons: although they are commonly understood in trade and in law to hold exactly that quantity. But perhaps the worst case of all was that of a fellow, named Caird, who went into a store, seized a bottle off a shelf, and threw some money on the counter, and rushed off with his plunder to the police office, there to lay the accustomed information. Now, it is all very well to give a premium to regular police officers, to encourage vigilance ; but to award half the penalties to common informers does not aid the enforcement of the law, while it creates a new crime and makes an opening for perjury. The system altogether shuts out any respectable person who happens to he cognizant of a breach of the law from giving information on public grounds, on account of the odium which he is likely to incur.

Several points on which Law Reform is needed are now being ventilated, and some of our new members have declared their intention of moving in the matter. If they will add to their list of abuses the whole system of penalties great public benefit must ensue.

A race between the imported’American horse, “Volunteer,” and the colonial, “ Camel,” was run at Emerald Hill. The latter won easily. One or two steeple chases have also taken place. A miserable attempt at a hunt was made at the same place. The whole affair was so ridiculous that it can hardly be again repeated, although the Humane Society, which possibly may have seen some of its subscribers among the huntsmen, did not think proper to raise its voice against the cruelty of the proceeding. The so-called stag, a mere fawn, was so cramped by its confinement that it could not run, and had to be flogged to make it start, when it trotted leisurely to the river and swam over, the huntsmen crossing leisurely by the punt.

The cricket clubs have commenced their practice for the season: we cannot see the necessity for cutting up the public pleasure grounds to make separate enclosures for each club, as is now done to the detriment of the park lands ; nor do we think any thing short of absolute necessity can justify the felling of trees near the city, when there is plenty of open ground that might be used for the purpose.

Bazaars and entertainments are being held in aid of the funds of the public charities; and the delegates of the various operative trades have resolved upon raising a contribution toward the erection of a new wing to the Hospital.

The Assembly of the Anglican Church is now sitting. Although a criticism of its proceedings hardly falls within our province, we feel bound to remark that considerable dissatisfaction is expressed at the treatment which has been received by some ministers, Messrs. Brough, Barlow, and Byrnes.


Many of our readers will recollect when a passage from England to Victoria, then Port Phillip, was reckoned in months, when four months was esteemed a very fair voyage, and when returns could hardly be expected much under the year. We have known a vessel, that took a hundred and thirty days, to have the advantage of all the ships she spoke on the voyage. Now, thanks to the position which the attractions offered by our gold-fields, and the consequent extension of our commerce, has obtained for us in the scale of nations, ships of the newest and best construction are entered in the Australian trade, and we begin to look for our letters in sixty days, and for returns in about five months. But we are not satisfied with this. A knowledge of the extent to which, science has improved the art of shipbuilding and navigation, and of the importance of our commerce, justifies us in demanding the application to our use of the very best appliances that can be obtained. Accordingly, the cry of years for improved postal communication has made itself heard in England, and the result is, at last, that a new company has been formed for our mail service. The contract has been let to the European and Columbian Steam Navigation Company for ¿6185,000 a year; the term allowed for the outward passage to Melbourne, via Suez, is 52 £ days, and the homeward one 48$ days. A penalty commencing with i£50, and increasing by £50 each day, is imposed for all delays. Three ships, the Oneida, the European, and the Columbian, are already built, having been originally designed for the Canadian mails (whence the name of the company), and have been found very efficient when used as transports ; and others are in process of construction. The superintendence of the new fleet has been given to Captain Stewart, late commander of the “ Golden Fleece.” Captain Hyde, late of the “Argo,” has a command. The disparity between the terms of this contract and the proportion of the Peninsular and Oriental" Company, which offered to perform the service in six days less time, for ¿£150,000, has given rise to some dissatisfaction among the parties interested. It must, however, be borne in mind that the P. and O. Company refused to consent to the scale of penalties. But it is argued by some that the new company can afford, even with the penalties, to reduce its passages to the lower scale, and yet obtain ¿£177,800 for the same work. The following are the main particulars of the transaction:—Four tenders were sent in to the Treasury—from Mr. Laming, Mr. M!Queen, the Peninsular and Oriental Company, and the European and Columbian Steam Navigation Company. The first two tenders were unhesitatingly rejected by the Lords of the Treasury, on the 24th of June, on the ground that the whole or a part of the vessels were to be built for the service. The tender of the Peninsular and Oriental Company was also declined, for various reasons, including die undue length of the voyage (forty-five days from Suez to Melbourne out-

■ward, and forty-three days homeward), and the attempt of the company to impose on the Government new terms of their own, the acceptance of which was out of the question. The tender of the European and Columbian Steam Company is the only one of the four which the Lords of the Treasury, with the Secretary of State’s concurrence, felt justified in accepting :—1. Because they adopt all the conditions in the proposals contained. 2. Because the time which they propose from Suez to Melbourne, and viceversa, is much shorter than the tardy passage proposed by the Peninsular and Oriental Company, being only thirty-nine days out and thirty-five home. 3. Because they are prepared to commence the service at a date early and defined; and lastly, because they propose, for the same sum, to contract to convey mails and passengers direct from Southampton to Alexandria by separate boats, running in communication with the boats plying between Melbourne and Suez. The tender of this company was accordingly accepted, with a slight modification respecting the continuous and uninterrupted character of the service throughout the year, and the other three were rejected. An attempt was made by the Peninsular and Oriental Company to influence the decision of the Treasury, when apparently unknown, by sundry fresh proposals, but to these no answer was vouchsafed.

It appears that the time to be occupied from Suez to Melbourne is thirty-nine days, and from Melbourne to Suez thirty-five days. But the contract is to be made from Southampton to Sydney ; and the time to be occupied in the entire passage each way is as follows :—

Days. 12 è 1 39 1










Southampton    to Alexandria    ...    ...

Alexandria to Suez ...    ...    ...    ...

Suez, touching at Point de Galle, to Melbourne Stay at Melbourne ...    ...    ...    ...

Melbourne to    Sydney ...   &nb