A NIGHT IN THE MELBOURNE IMMIGRANTS' HOME.

Nelson Evening Mail, Volume XI, Issue 149, 15 June 1876, Page 4

A NIGHT IN THE MELBOURNE IMMIGRANTS' HOME.

A contributor to the Melbourne Argus, h&s recently, under tbe assumed character of a houseless vagrant, been passing a day and night in the Melbourne Lodging House and in the Immigrants' Home. The account of his experience 'in the latter institution is exceedingly interesting. After describing how he obtained admission, and the queer characters he met there, he states how he passed the night :— "At half-past eight o'clock in the evening a bell rings ; it is our signal for retiring. We cluster around the door of another wooden building. Our names are called out, and one by one we enter. Thou had'st reason, my friend — this is not a paradise ? It is a ricketty old shed, lighted by six barred windows. A number of mattresses are rolled up on the floor. I am lucky enough to secure one. There are about 40 of these mattresses, whioh are soon all appropriated, and spread out on both sides,, and in the centre of the floor. Inside each mattress are two rugs of theshoddieet of shoddy material. We soon prepare for rest. Some strip to the buff, and roll themselves in the rugs. Otbers merely take off their coats, to act as pillows, and lay down with their clothes on. I hang up my coat, waistcoat, and hat, and drop on to my mattress. It is straw, of course, but my thoughts are not as to its soft-ness-—for of that I care little— but as to its cleanliness. It is old, torn, and dirty. Faugh I I must reßt content for ooe night at least. The wardsman remains in the room where we sleep talking to several whom he knows. He leaves us after a few minutes, enjoining ns not to smoke on penalty of immediate expulsion, and retires to his room, which is. partitioned off nezt to the door. A brisk conversation is being carried on, chiefly on the side opposite to where I lay, as my neighbors are silent. * * * I look around the room. The figures crouching, rather than ; lying, on the floor, deserve the pencil of a Cruickshank properly to delineate them. In one thing moat of them seem alike— they have their right hands in their bosoms. I wonder at this for a moment, until the horrible truth Btrikes me thet tbey are verminhunting. At 9 o'clock the warder brings in a tin bucket, and lowers the gaß. I do not know if the door is locked, but am told that a few nights back a mad-man was locked with the rest of the inmates for two or three hours. The conversation still goes on. Several are talking about Ballarat and Sebastopol, which they appear to know well. An Irishman, naturally, is great on the affairs of Scotland — explains all its laws, and describes Berwick-on-Tweed, Edinburgh, and Gretna Greer, "where my grandfather was married." There is a better tone in the conversation than could be expected — for a time. In thisagea truthfulaoceuntof the conversation and scenes in such a place as tbiß could not be printed. It might haye 'been possible in the reign of Elizabeth. Life in the bush and on the diggings is not conducive to decency either of speech or eonduot. At last

one says to the Irishman, "You'd better shut up and let us go to sleep now, or you'll be reported in the Argus." This causes a general laugh. I am slightly amused to think that they have read my experience in the model lodg-ing-house, and that unwittingly one bas spoken truth. One by one my companions all drop off to sleep. Until they do bo, and even afterwards, there is one horrid sound — a continued scratching. One would imagine that this crowd would be more unhealthy tban the inmates of the ' Model Lodging-house, hut here there is none of that consumptive coughing : which struck me so painfully at the i King-street establishment. Mosquitoes, which in the upper part of Melbourne are now things of the past, torment me ; frightfully, and also other insects, but [ even without this annoyance I oould • not sleep. The smell is sickening; \ everything is foul— rug, mattrese, floor, and walls. Unwashed Humanity, and : there are some good specimens of it here, is abominable to every sense. ; And as I lay awake here, the atmosphere seemed ( heavy. May not moral : contagion hang* about certain buildings, the same as physioai? (This idea may ; not be new, although I think it is, but who can say what is original now-a---j daye? We live so late that our ancestors have pirated most of our best things. This may be but chaff from the thoughts of another, which catching, I handle, and turning around-, try to pass off as my own veritable gain). Yes, to-night I feelthat foul thoughts and ideas hang about this place. Strange suggestions of possible crimes 1 come into my mind. Horrible sur raisings seem . attached to the dirt of the walls. I am haunted by the ghbfcfcs of. evil sayings and aspirations if hot Sfdeeds. I would give anything to sleep, but it comes not. Hour after; hour passes throughout the night. Intbe earlier part several mbre arrivals are ' ushered in, and have to. lie on the: bare floor.. Bdt later, everything is -quiet.. I hear tbe. clock strike, and the Bound of the goods trains. Inside there is the: shoring and scratching of my compan--1 ions. About three o'clock it becomes very cold; the wind whistles through the many crevices in the building. Lying on the floor, as we do, we are exposed to every draught. The air becomes a little purer, but the cold is very great, and the thin rugs not; sufficient protection from such. Sleepless I lie. One; two; three; four;; five, There seems a glimmer of light, and I rise, blistered and benumbed, from my • sleepless couob. .