VICTORIA.

Globe, Volume XXI, Issue 1677, 5 July 1879, Page 3

VICTORIA.

MELBOURNE, June 25. We have got Mr Berry back among us, happily or otherwise as the event may prove. He looks spent and wasting away, and his London maie habiliments do not seem to become him so well as the Monster Clothing Company’s wares used to do in former times. I am sorry that the gentleman should be ill, by the way, for though he is the worst ruler of of the colony I ever saw, and has retarded its progress by at least half a century, there is a certain fatuous sincerity in the man which redeems his character from utter contempt. Extraordinary as it may appear to sensible readers in a remote part of the world, Graham Berry, I verily believe, really holds Berryite notions, at least to some extent. No other member of his Cabinet is misled by a similar hallucination, which is all the worse for them if one would try to hold them in any

respect. But to return to Mr Berry's coming back to us. His colleagues went down to Queenscliff to meet him on his arrival in a free steamboat, liberally victualled, and with a well stocked wine locker (to bo paid for out of the usual vote for contingencies), and loyally assisted him to accept the felicitations of the governing body in the port of debarkation, as also those of the ruling powers of Geelong, Little Kiver, and WilHamstown. Maryborough and Lancefleld road duly telegraphed their congratulations, the cost of the messages to be collected on delivery. An immense concourse of enthusiastic Berryiteei variously estimated at from one to two hundred, met the Premier at the railway terminus, and escorted him to the Treasury, from the terrace of which noble building he addressed a few monstrous lies to the assembled concourse of two or three hundred people, most of whom wanted Government employment. He loudly asseverated that his mission to England had proved entirely successful; that he had educated the public mind of Great Britain up to the Victorian “ loyal, liberal ” standard ; that there was no longer anyone to bo found, even in the innermost circle of British Toryism, who entertained the slightest sympathy with the members of the Upper Chamber of our Legislature —all of which statements were of course entirely untrue. A curious phenomenon impressed itself upon the minds of observant witnesses of the

scone which I am endeavoring to describe. While Mr Berry showed some little weakness and hesitation in his manner of addressing his Werribte and North Melbourne auditors he seemed full of confidence when attitudinizing at tho top of his own stairs. It appeared as if he was then treading his own heath and his name was Berry. His having the Treasury at his back made all the difference. A day or two after his return to the colony, our Premier was subjected to a gross, wanton, and cruel outrage, A deputation visited him and presented a petition with 1080 names attached, demanding work for the signatories or food for their families. He (Mr Berry) took this very much amiss. He could not understand how men could be so ungrateful. Here was he, the People’s Minister, just returned from an exhausting voyage round the world on the People’s behalf, and yet they were so thankless and exacting as to object to having a little starvation to endure in the good cause. He really could not understand it. During this trying interview there were heard some scarcely articulate murmurings about a certain £SOOO expenditure, and the numerous family billetted on tho State, in all its varied ramifications, to the tune of something like £2BOO a year, and all of whom, if not actual Berrys, are Berry’s sisters, his cousins or his aunts. The highly superior maimer in which this Minister rebuked his visitors reminds one of the cook, who having put live eels in a fish kettle, tapped them on their heads with a basting ladle a they endeavored to wriggle out of it, and addressed them with the indignant remonstrance, “ Down, wantons, down.” While I pen these lines, in Fitzroy, tho din of a half-contested election fills my ears. The candidates are Mr Blackett, a free trade druggist, of course in the interests of the Opposition, and Mr Gray, a subsidized clothing manufacturer, running on tho Ministerial ticket. As the Bingarooma, with this communication on board, will be half-seas over to the coast of Tasmania before the poll closes, I am naturally unable to give tho result, but Mr Blackett should be the winner of the seat, and certainly would be, except that he labors under the disadvantage of being a sensible, moderate, intelligent man, which are properties our Victorian democracy can ill brook in a candidate. It is to be observed, however, as a slight indication of an approaching relapse into intelligence and independence on the part of the Fitzroy electors, that they hotly resented the interference of two members of the Government, who appeared at an electors’ meeting in the district last night, and attempted to force Mr Gray down the throats of the constituents, whether they would have him or no. An election for East Melbourne comes off next week, tho candidates being Mr Zox and Mr Nathaniel Devi. The former created the vacancy which is now to be filled up by resigning, through pecuniary embarrassments, and it was an understood thing that he was to be permitted to regain his seat unopposed, until at the last moment, Mr Levi, quite unexpectedly, popped in his nomination paper. He, Mr Levi, is a Government man, the occupant of certain railway book-stalls, and a general waiter upon Providence and Mr Berry. Zox is pretty sure to win, and all the more because there are always a certain percentage of electors who vote for him on account of the funniness of his name.

There has recently been started hero in the interest of Ministers, a small illustrated newspaper called “Sam Slick,” which would seem to aim at comicality, though without, as yet, any very marked success. Indeed, comic journalism does not flourish amongst us. Even “ Melbourne Punch ” is more truculent than facetious.

But, oddly enough, comic matter is sometimes discovered in the most unlooked for quarters. For some time past the managing committee of one of our great charities has been greatly exercised in its mind on the subject of a half-penny worth of flea-powder, which tho resident-surgeon improperly obtained from the public store to apply to the back of his own private dog. Again, we have amongst us a very distinguished savant .Mr Ellery, the Government Astronomer, who supplies the newspapers with interesting “ Notes from tho Observatory.” There is no question whatever as to this gentleman’s scientific attainments. As Captain Cuttle said ot old Sol Giles, “ He could put the north star ia a scale and weigh it, or determine the density of tho atmosphere of Sirius with the utmost precision,” but it ia only quite lately that he has exhibited a talent for jocularity. Recently, in the columns of the “ Argus,” he has been discussing the varying brilliancy of certain heavenly bodies, and has shown conclusively that Argns is tho most inconsistent and variable orb in the heavens, flashing up some times till it dazzles with its coruscations, and anon fading away until it almost dies out of sight. There ia an immense latent fund of amusement in physical science, if properly considered.

But it was not a good scientific joke which our railway department perpetrated the other day, when it started two trains on the Eaaendalo line (single), to that they might meet each other slap in the face, almost with a certainty that a dreadful calamity would ensue. The collision so carefully planned was avoided by pure accident. The Minister of Railways has dismissed the officer who had nothing at all to do with the affair, and a newspaper correspondent has sent £5 to a station mistress who was not there at the time, in reward for her presence of mind in being absent from her post—truly a pretty little comedy all through. The tragic death of the French Prince Imperial, on the very first day of his first campaign under the British flag, has been the subject of general and sincere regret here. His gallantry in “ attaching himself to the column likely to see the sharpest fighting,” in return for English hospitality, and out of camaraderie with “ the troops amongst whom he had so many friends,” only led to his being butchered —not ingloriously, certainly—by a savage host. He was immensely popular Enjla id. His open, bright, and intelligent face, and fine eyes —like his mother’s —predisposed everyone in his favor, his indmtry and success at Woolwich Academy showed there was “something in him,” the eager interest with which he took part in the autumn minoeurres brought him the good-will of all ranks in the army' and his unfeigned liking for English country life and society, won him cordial good feeling from all with whom he came in contact. The first time I saw him was at the Grand Prix de Paris n 1864, when, a boy of eight, he joined his father and the Due do Morny in cheering from the Imperial box the victory of French horse Yermoi t over the jeiloubtable Yorkshire Blair Athol. The last time was at a charming bijou review of the Household Brigade and a few crack regiments at Bushsy Park in 1871. Very beautiful the grand old chestnuts looked, with a picturesquely dressed 9th Lancer between every two trees, presenting a striking effect of iolois. The Queen and “ all the world ” were there, and military attaches from every European Embassy. Just before the march past, the Prince, accompanied by a single attendant, rode unostentatiously on to a retired portion of the review ground. Her Majesty at once sent an aide de camp to request his attendance at the side of her carriage. The Prince rode up, and was moat graciously received. For fully half on hour an animated conversation was kept up between the firmly seated ruler of two hundred millions and the boyish exile. I well recollect how everyone —and there wero several hundreds —who witnessed that interview was struck by the manly, courteous, and really high-bred manner of the young Prince. While freely and even gaily chatting with youthful animation, he seemed never for one moment to forget that he was the son of an Emperor, and that the elderly lady whom he was addressing was the Queen of the country of which he was a guest.