NIGHT IN MELBOURNE LANES.

Poverty Bay Standard, Volume I, Issue 65, 28 June 1873, Page 2

NIGHT IN MELBOURNE LANES.

(From the Melbourne Age.} As the shades of evening begin to fall, an extraordinary activity takes possession of the inhabitants in the lanes. Loud is the laugh of the knots of larrikins that crowd the footpaths, as they concoct their plan of operations for the coming night. Furtively the male population, in twos and threes, slouch out of their dwellings, and, seeking the broad streets of the city, are soon lost in the stream of peaceable citizens whom pleasure or occupation calls abroad. The women, whose evening toilette consists of the addition of a hat great in gaudy flowers, or a shawl thrown hastily over the head, fortified with a spirituous stimulent, commence the night campaign. As darkness increases, the traffic through the lanes grows greater; men, * who make night hideous with their hMthanalian sonnets, and, guided by staggering female companions, reel down the nairew streets and enter the sordid dwellings in order to prolong their orgies at their ease. The faint flicker of a tallow dip, supported in a bottle, can be seen through many a dim uncurtained window, and the smoky lurid flame of cheap kerosine illumines groups of unsightly male and female humanity indulging in potations long and deep. The snatth of a song is rudely broken by the shrill notes of dispute, followed by loud imprecations, a smash of crockery, and the downfall of furniture, above the din of which is heard a feeble cry for the police. The bullies are in their element now; crash goes a door and out flies the stranger who has been acting the part of entertainer, hatless and costless, bruised and bleeding and falls senseless in the gutter, while perhaps the trio of loafers who have in their possession the contents of the pockets turned inside out, coolly share their ill-gotten gains and deparfto spend the proceeds of their dastaadly attack in some favorite haunt. Two stalwart iidßane are having a set-to in. the street, a ring been formed by a curie of *d miring women and avion* youths, who sheer the combatants and shriek with delight as their feature* become bUilhialuil by the otrerinleta of blood which, dammed by the encrustations of dirt, spread in a dotting mace, and form a gory mask more hideous than ever conceived by the most expert property-man for a Christmas

pantomime. An appalling cry for mercy reaches the ear, almost drowned by obscene vituperations. In the middle of the lane a brute in a pea jacket and moleskin trousers, with a woollen muffler round his hirsute throat, holds in his firm grasp a trembling creature who, by her fragile and unset form, and by her dark hair, seems but a child, but looks half a century old by the death diacs of her eyes. Down comes the brawny fist upon the pallid cheek, where it leaves in unmistaketf characters the sign manual of cowardice and fiendish brutality. The girl’s eyes close, her limp form is only upheld by the herculean grasp of her tormentor, who, seeing that his cruelty is about to be stopped, withdraws the support of his hold, and administering a parting kick with a foot encased in a hob-nailed boot, turns and seeks safety in flight. Still on the ground lies his insensible victim, her long tresses washed by the nauseous liquid that flows down the channel The crowd of females whom the noise of strife has attracted to the spot gaze on the inanimate form of their associate in misery in utter helplessness, and it is ouly when the poor bruised body is lifted by a couple of policemen, to be borne to the hospital, they show that a last flickering spark of womanhood dwells within their breasts, by the manner in which they arrange the disordered garments of the unconscious girl into something like an approach to decency. With a rush like a whirlwind comes a youth of some fifteen years down the narrow lane, and as he passes an acquaintance, pants out “ The traps are after me,” pushes into the outstretched hand of the other the purse just filched from the pocket of a pedestrian, and hurries on in his flight until he is lost in the darkness of the night. At the door of one hovel, during the whole of the turmoil which has been going on, a woman has been seated, her face buried in her hands, a very statue for quiescence. On being asked what is the matter, she looks up in astonishment, no doubt at being addressed in language other than that of command or abuse. Dy the light of a neighboring lamp it is easy to see that her features are pinched and her eyes are swollen with weeping, and as she sits and looks, that her emaciated fingers clutch convulsively the threadbare shawl that hangs about •her drooping shoulders. Once or twice she essays to speak, but articulation is impeded by the choking soba that rise to her throat; at last, with a desperate effort, and in a tone of anguish, she whispers, “ For God’s sake give me something for my child in there to eat —he took everything I had, and we have not broken our fast for nearly two days.” With selfish eagerness the hand closes on the proffered coin, and without waiting to bestow one word of thanks, the woman hurries to procure nourishment for her starving babe. Still thv r.vaa6 goes on — imprecations float upon the air, ribald jests are wafted to the ear, and sounds of drunken •clamour and passionate invective are only broken by the measured tread and official tones of the guardian of the night, as he pays his periodical visits. When the grey streak of dawn appears in the east, the noise and confusion gradually cease, lights are extinguished, guests are ejected into the street, doors are shut, and only opened at intervals to «dmit the last of the night birds under their sheltering roof; and then quiet reigns in the lanes while the denizens snatch a few hours of unholy sleep before once more resuming those courses of crime and profligacy, the stepping stones to the prison or to the gallows—the sure forerunner of a-life of lingering misery or of premature death.

June 21, 1873.