AUSTRALIAN LIFE.

Stratford Evening Post, Volume XXXII, Issue 90, 15 April 1912, Page 3

AUSTRALIAN LIFE.

(By Gordon McMinn in the “Manawatu Daily Times.”) She is a Mistress of Moods this beautiful Southern Queen and woo betide the soul that falls beneath her bewitching, hypnotising influence, for she will raise you to the highest pinnacle of happiness and pleasure and joy—she will thrust you back to the lowest depths of sorrow and sadness and pain. She will lure you on with a smile on her sensuous lips to expectations of untold sublimity—she will abandon you to the gruelling grasp of hopeless despair. She wdl encircle you with laughter and gaiety and smiling content—she will stab you to the heart with her empty hollow mocking and her sham and insincerity. She will draw forth all that is lofty and holy and beautiful in the mind—she will spurn you while you suffer the torments of poverty and sin. She will lead you on, like a spirit, through the realms of gladness and light-hearted gaiety—you follow her beneath the portals of misery and pain. Your soul writhes within you —she laughs on unheedingly the while. Ah! Sydney I The Slumbering City. Tis early morning. The streak of grey in the cloudless eastern sky heralds the approach of day. The city is slumbering heavily like a weary monster at rest in the noiseless deserted thoroughfares are dull and colourless. All is still and silent and gloomy. Passing through the Domain the shadowy forms beneath the heavy-leafed trees > and oh the numerous benches take the shape of human beings as we draw near and pass by. Some are beginning to stir—some have arisen to shrug the cold and damp from body and limb. They are the wrecks that cruel fate and misfortune have battered and mined and finally left high and dry—they are the “submerged tenth.” Theirs is a hard and unhappy lot and their lives are filled with regrets of shattered hopes long past, \and anxious forebodings of the uncertain future.

As we pass hqneath the gates the golden cross that surmounts St. Mary’s (R.C.) Cathedral catches the first gleam of the morning sun and is transformed into a cross of brilliant firs. lAi few of the faithful hurry along and enter the Cathedral where early Mass is being celebrated. Through Hyde Park we reach King Street and crossing Elizabeth, Castleroagh and Pitt Streets enter fjeorge Street and are into the heart of the city. It is a scene of weird desolation. The shuttered windows, the deserted streets, the dreadful silence, all combine to give the city an air of utter desolation. The policemen on the corners look tired and weary after their night’s vigil. Our footsteps echo hollow and distant. ‘ Stß. v kir?S into Life.

Presently a car from the Quay pass- t es—empty except for the conductor., and collector. One or two restaurants and butcher shops have opened their doors and are preparing for the early business. A milk cart rumbles down a side street and another car bound for the outskirts of the city, containing two passengers, flit by. A newsboy dawdles along giving vent to noisy calls which are difficult t/1 understand and presently two or throeearly buyers hasten along to the opened -shops. Then a workman carry-,, iiig his implements of trade slouches along and disappears down a lane. The city is awakening. Other business places are thrown open and work for the day is beginning. The post office dock chimes seven and we have reached Circular Quay where the ferry boats from North Shore, Manly, Mossman’s and other haVbour suburbs are discharging'their human freight, the harbour is alive with these feny boats plying to and fro. They land their fares and in a few minutes are returning. As they draw away from the jetties, others arrive with an increasing number of passengers unti. at length the later ferries arc simply crowded—mostly with workmen, noaily all of them carrying lunch baskets or tools. The Quay then presents a scene of stronuousdurmoil. The passengers hurry through the gates or turnstiles and out into the streets where' cars for all suburbs draw up, are instantly filled and are away. For an hour this bustling activity continues,- Crowded ferries —a rushing stream through the gates—overflowing tramcars! There are cars bound for railway stations, Drummoyno, Abbotsford, Forest Lodge, Glee, Coogee, Pondi, Wavorley, Surrey Hills, and the hundred and one districts and suburbs, some passing along George Street, others along Elizabeth and Castlereagh Streets and others again along Pitt Street. Travelling is .ridiculously cheap and special reductions are given to workmen travelling before, 7.30 a.m.

The Workers’ Day Begins. Wo have taken our seats in a car which will pass the Central Railway Station, cm rente to Emnorc. It was necessarily a case of “move” to secure seats, lor the instant the cai draws up a tremendous rush for seats sets in and oft times the footboards are carrying as many passengers as tiicie are seated. No wonder there are some fata] accidents, hut the wonder is that there are not twenty times more. Our fcllow-pascngers arc all workmen plasterers, carpenters, blacksmiths, cabinetmakers, etc., but not a word of “shop” is spoken. Tne chief topic of conversation is the Australian Cup or the girl Dick Arnst married, or Langford’s fight with Barry. They talk of nothing else but “sport” these Sydneysido workers. It is their chief characteristic. As wc fly along George Street past the ci.p.O., the Queen Victoria Markets, the Town Hall, the enormous business | emporiums of .Davy Jones, Laccssoter’s, Anthony Hordern’s,, and Marcus 1 Clarke’s, viewing the beautiful pub-

lie buildings and commercial houses, wo notice that the air of desolation has given way to activity and movement. Hundreds are hurrying along the footpaths to business, the side streets resound with the bustle and noise of vehicular traffic, the cars are now running more frequently, accompanied with the deafening “cling-clang-clung” of the warning bells which add considerably to the general commotion. It is a scene of 'hurried movement. Shutters are being removed from shop windows, doors are filing open and bareheaded and coatloss assistants arc busy dusting and displaying the various goods. the sun is shining brightly and gives forth a. general warmth and the air is mild and invigorating. Belmore and Haymarket are passed and we dismount at tho railway station. Dozens of cabs and motors and express vans are awaiting the incoming trains and as we wend our way along the path that runs beside the well-kept gardens wo meet a stream of people pouring out of the station and making their way citywards. We reach the platfoim and see i another stream pour out of the gates—a swelling crowd that hurries along and disappears. In another

live minutes from another gateway the How continues. There is no shrieking of whistles or shouting of porters to announce an incoming train as in other places. The train draws up silently and swiftly and the passengers flocking through the gates is the only intimation that a watcher has that a train has arrived. Wo watched the pocess for half an hour an<l\our thoughts go hack to the Quay. I rom both ends of the city crowds are flowing in.' It is the vast swallowing-up that takes place daily. Sydney is a

hungry monster and feeds on the hundreds of thousands of men and women workers who flow to her by ferry and train and car and are swallowed up entirely. The workers hasten away in all directions and arc a happy, careless, cosmopolitan crowd, dressed to suit their labour, but all wearing a happy, glad smile that is good to see, and all laughing and chatting gaily as they go along. The Pleasure Seekers.

Eleven o’clock strikes as we near the G.P.O. and the city has undergone another change of appearance. We had seen her asleep, we have seen her dressed for toil, and now as we stand on the post "office steps watching the continual stream of well dressed business people- and sightseers and others on pleasure bent file by, we realise that she, having satisfied herself that her workers are hard at toil, hau changed her garb once moie. the flower sellers facing the G.P.O. are strenuously bidding for patronage. Their baskets and stands arc a pictur e

of beauty anti colour. The crowd at the G.P.O. counters are awaiting the delivery of letters, some with an air ol eager expectancy, others passing out with abject disappointment plainly written oh* theiV j faces, Many are {Abiding ahdiit opening envelopes and reading epistles-from loved ones left before,. their bright eyes and witful smile indicating the joy and gladness that only an exile from home can know. Along George Street the scene is one of stupendous activity. Oh, the hum, the row, the rush of the crowd and .the sir! It is hewilder'j'ng, it is intoxicating —aye, it is sometimes tensifying! The crowd serges along in hotp directions, air is laden with laughter and pleasure and merriment. Everyone is smiling and happy. Even! the shrewd business man has forgotten his cares and worries ami hurries along with a smile. The car and vehicular traffic is teirilic. Oh! the noise and swirl and shock! What a scene! Yet—and yet—as we stood on the steps and watched the endless crowd flow swiftly by surrounded as we were by happiness and gaiety and beaming smiles, we felt lonely and sick at heart, for to us it was a long strong procession of strange faces! There was not one smile of recognition in that vast throng for us. We were miserably lonely in the midst of a happy people:— “Bov, my boy, it is lonely in the city, Day's that have no pity, and the nights without a tear Follow all too slowly, and I cau no more disenable, I am frightened and I tremble. — I would that you were here 0 hoy—God keep you.”

The busines places are crowded with eager buyers, the assistants are racing to give customers satisfaction. Business is done, swiftly and without needless waste of time. King Street vnnd Pitt Street are thronged with well dressed people and the colossal millinery establishments aro the - scenes

of fashion and colour. Further down George Street, street hawkers and boot-blacks are plying their callings, the blind are also in evidence and are

soliciting alms. At many corners musician? and singers are surrounded with a curious congregation and meeting with varying success. Here and there a cheap-jack is bent on transferring a stray shilling from the people’s pocket to liis. Then in the back streets one may see hideous examples of poverty and crime and degradation. Ah, some of it is terryfying. V/e could go for weeks before we would see all that Sydney ami the suburbs have to show. It is a big city and to one accustomed to the meanness and narrowness of country town-

ships, tho “bigness” ami the enormity a city like Sydney gives one the feeling of fear and timidity. But the feeling wears off with familiarity and instead of appalling the stranger, the pity grows on him and he glories in its glamour and strife. Another Day Done. ’Tis five o’clock and work for the day is nearing its close. Wo almost hoar the sigh of relief that goes up from those thousands of workers, as they lay aside their work and prepare to return to their places of abode. I nearly wrote “homes,” but a large

percentage of these workers are aliens to Australia and their “homes” arc thousands of miles away. The city streets are again becoming crowded. The disgorgement is taking place. From bench and factory and desk and counter, the toilers arc pouring once more into the streets, are rushing for cars and trains and ferries. "While they were clean and tidy and fresh before the city swallowed them, they are now being disgorged stained with signs of their toil and weary in body and mind. There is not the gaiety and laughter now as in the morning—their faces do not bear the happy, beaming smile. They have paid their toll to their mistress and are glad to have freed themselves from her clutches. But she smiles this time at their tired eyes, she laughs at their stained hands and clothing. She seems to say, “Yes, you arc free now, but I will have you again to-morrow. You are mine! mine! mine! Ha! Ha!” There is the repetition of scene at. Lhe Quay and at the station.