OUR VICTORIAN LETTER.

New Zealand Times, Volume XXXIV, Issue 5818, 21 November 1879, Page 3

OUR VICTORIAN LETTER.

(from our own correspondent.) Melbourne, November 16.

Just as politics were beginning to look lively, and the air was filled with rumors of reconstructions and coalitions, the whole aspect of things changes. Every man in the community had backed his opinion on the Melbourne Cup, and*with the usual result of all being in the wrong. The sombre steed Darriwell, whose chances the learned put down at 3 out of 100, comes past the post, having achieved his two miles m the unprecedented time ' of 3min. 30fsec. The public go about and weep, whilst the “ring,” with revel and ungodly glee, now vex with mirth the drowsy ear of night. In the centres of population the time from 3 to 4 o’clock was spent with the same sort of wondering expectation as that which I have noticed prevails when the gaol bell announces the, hour of suffering to some hapless criminal. Shopmen are standing at the doorway, and anxious groups assemble at points convenient for watching the Telegraph Office. Out come half a dozen messengers, and run each his several way. Some excited individual rushes up out of breath, and “an outsider, an outsider ” flies along the street. A few turn sick and disappear. The unbetting moralise, whilst drapers sigh in anticipation of seeing their “ accounts rendered ” laid on the table to be read this day six months. In politics the most significant item is the feebleness of the support now accorded by the Age to the Berry Ministry. That organ has grown more and more imperative in insisting on its ideas for the guidance of the Ministry, and is reported to be feeling its way to the change it believes imminent. There is not the slightest doubt that the Government is drifting into stormy waters. A strong Opposition, a Corner virtually in opposition, ambitious men striving for office, and a country generally discontented with the imposition of fresh taxation, are quite enough for any Ministry to face; and observant men, while hesitating to say the Government must go out, still look confidently to a great reduction of Mr. Berry’s majority. The policy of the Opposition is to raise many issues, and iq, pursuance of this scheme they have succeeded beyond their expectation, and it remains to be seen whether they will be able to drown the Reform clamor in a hubbub about education, local railways, and retrenchment. That is the evil Mr. Berry hopes to obviate by a stumping campaign, to be undertaken shortly. An attempt to stick up the Bank of Australasia at Moe, in Gippsland, has resulted in ignominious failure and the capture of two brothers Shanks, who made the attempt. Rigged out in full blood and thunder masks and revolvers, they entered the bank at nine o’clock at night, and erdered the manager to hand over his keys. The manager, mt approving of this novel method of arranging for an overdraft, wired into, them and kicked them both into the back yard. The house of Shanks are therefore out off from the hope of eclipsing the house of Kelly in their banking arrangements. Letter from a young fellow of eighteen to whom X gave a note of introduction to some Melbourne business men on the occasion of his arrival here to seek his fortune in the grocery line ; “ Dear B., —I have been waiting till I could write of something good, but my account does not come up to that yet. I have been to three different grocers, for periods ranging from three to six weeks. Mr. Grocer No. 1 filed his schedule after I had been with him three weeks. No. 2 kicked the bucket in a fortnight, having thought it more profitable to do so than to continue running a poor business in this sinful world. He made up his mind to, and accordingly went forth. The last engaged me when he was ill, and on recovering could not make it convenient to pay my screw, so X am once more in the labor market in the list of ‘ active young men.’ ”

During a recent visit to the Wimmera district I had an opportunity of witnessing the trial of a rabbit-exterminator. It the thing is not in use or not required in New Zealand, a word or two concerning it might interest. A cylinder resembling a section of stove-pipe is fixed vertically in a frame-work of light iron. A pair of ordinary bellows supplies a strong current of air to the cylinder, in which is burnt some patent composition. An indiarubber hose on the opposite side conveys the fumes into the burrows, which are carefully closed. The whole is moveable by being constructed in the'form of a wheelbarrow. The cost is from £7 to £lO, but farmers pay 10s. a day for it by way of hire. I have seen 150 dead rabbits dug out of a burrow, the whole operation not lasting above 15 minutes. In the same region I was told a tale illustrative of that side of the squatting character which has brought our noble lords of sheep into such strong odor with the working classes. The shire council consisted wholly of squatters. A poor selector in the shire was engaged putting up a fence on his selection, and had laid a load of rails on the main road—the said road being a three-chain one. A policeman rode up and told him he had been instructed by the council to give him notice that he was obstructing the thoroughfare—a thoroughfare, by the way, on which you might travel 20 miles without meeting a living thing. There was no help for it ; but it came very rough on the man, because the very squatters who moyed and seconded in the matter had had the road fenced half across at both sides for years. And since I have then assumed so far the character of the travelled Thane, I may as well complete my column in that guise, and to that end I will relate an anecdote proving the truth of an opinion X have held from my earliest days, viz., that age is not always wise. In the farm-house where I was visiting there dwelt an aged man whose gigantic pretensions to universal wisdom became some times oppressive. He possessed the merit of having seen Bonaparte on board the Billyruffin, and could “ mind when ould Bunny was beat at Waterloo.” I doubted, however, that this flavor of antiquity was sufficient justification for his setting up as a judge of wooL I straightway cut me four samples of woolthree from pet lambs, and the fourth from a poodle dog. Adopting that beautiful reverence for three score and sixteen, peculiar to Australian youth, I said, “ Look here, old sonny, I present to your somewhat rheumy, but withal, critical gaze, four samples of wool. One of them is cut off of that there dog. Which is the merchant here and which the

Jew?” After severe scrutiny, wrath puckered the old man's face. “ You’m fulin’ me, they’in all from the dog.” Mow, whenever grandp’r becomes too dogmatic, somebody starts a conversation about wool, and peace reigns forthwith.