AUSTRALIAN LEAFLETS.

Colonist, Volume II, Issue 106, 26 October 1858, Page 4

AUSTRALIAN LEAFLETS.

------- -gy'yijsrNE BVERGREKK. (From -the-"Sydney Herald.) THE PAWNBROKER... "My "friends, we must confess it—amidst the humours nnd the follies, the vanities, deceits, and vices, that play their parts in the great comedy of life—it is our own fault if we do not find such natures, though rare and few, as redeem the rest."—Bulwer. The people of Australia, like those of all other parts of the world, have their faults, and are not deficient of the exalted virtues which adorn humanity. Be it a public misfortune or a private grief, the sons and daughters of Australia are ever ready to pour on the wounded heart the healing balsam. One morning last summer I paid a visit to a friend whose husband kept a pawnbroker's shop. Mrs. was dressing when I arrived, so I remained alone for about twenty minutes, in the little "parlor adjoining the shop; I could see plainly all that was going on there. The walls from floor to ceiling were filled with bundles, on each of which was pinned a faded-looking piece of paper, or cardboard. In the windows, watches in gold and silver cases, brooches, chains, \ rings, and other finery were displayed in endless variety. On a shelf might be seen the laundress's smoothing irons, the tailor's goose, the carpenter's saw, hammer, mallet and plane, the shoemaker's lasts, and \hh bricklayer's trowel. All these implements of industry were covered with dust at least a quarter 'of an inch thick. How many sad tales does the imagination conjure up of human wretchedness. , The pair of smoothing irons—do they not denote, by their presence, sickness, and misery, on the part of their owner; may they not have belonged to, and been the support of, the widow and the orphan ? It is more than probable that toil and anxiety have laid the widow low: the poor children bear the scanty furniture, their ' little all,' bit by bit to the pawnbrokers, at last everything is ■old; how hopeless then is the children's career ."Take, a walk at night in the streets of either Melbourne or Sydney, and you will learn what becomes of them. Doesn't the tailor's goose and lapboard tell a story of a wife's anguish—a family's sorrows; doubtless they are owned by some drunken reprobate who beats his wife, and starves his offspring. , You may be certain they were pawned for drink, aye, and while the family had not bread to eat. The carpenter's tools it is quite likely belong to a giddy headed fellow * out on a spree,' leaving his wife to labor day and night for the support of the family. Near the door are suspended fashionable coats and tawdry dresses. The last mentioned articles belonged to unfortunate women—as I look at thera I think of the axiom, ' that while guilt purchases a brief hour of pleasure, it also entails a life of misery—an existence of regret.' The : fine coats were probably pledged by fast young men bent on amusement. The silver levers by clerks out of situations. The gold watches by small tradesmen, to make up bills about to fall due. The rolls of silk, satin, and broadcloth pawned (which of course means sold, for they are never redeemed) to pay for other kinds of merchandise; thus the evil day which miist come, is delayed. The pawnbroker- could "explain many a mystery, and tell you how credit is preserved—how large houses are kept up with small capital. But lam forgetting the incident I indended to relate to you, when I took up my pen to write this article. While I sat speculating on the history of things around me, a lady entered the shop; her apparel bore evidence of her poverty, though her conversation convinced me that her education had been liberal; there was winning sweetness iri her countenance that drew my attention irresistibly towards her. Her husband was on a sick bed-; she had parted with jewellery, clothing, and household goods to keep body and soul together, and now after severe struggle with her feelings, she had schooled her mind to the task of parting with her last and only treasure—-her wedding ring, so I heard her tell the pawnbroker; I saw the tears mount in her large luminous black eyes, as she took from her finger the symbol of wedded love. She asked three or four times as much as the ring was worth. Poor lady, she did'nt think that the tiny hoop of gold, to her of inestimable value, was,to others a mere trifle. She was. offered a third of the sum demanded, but ?he begged so hard, 'she was sure to take it out,' her eyes discoursed most eloquently { for her—what man could withstand their silent appeal ? The pawnbroker could not— j he went to his desk and wrote the ticket, which he handed to her with the money; j a shilling fell to ihe ground, the lady stooped to pick it up; quick as thought he seized the ring, and placed it in her bag, which lay on the counter. 'Willyou oblige me, Sir,* said thß fair customer, *by taking care of this ticket till to-morrow, when I think I shall be able to redeem the ring/ y With pleasure,' was the reply. I called upon Mrs. H a few weeks later, and noticed a young gentleman busily engaged writing tickets and tying up pledges. 'You have got a new hand in your establishment,* said I to my friend. * Yes,' answered she, he is the husband of a lady who, through distress, was-com-pelled to become one of our customers; the young man was very ill, he did not like to go to the hospital, and had no means of obtaining medical advice. My husband paid his debts, got him a doctor, and everything else he required, and when his protege recovered Mr. H. gave him employment. I have dbne, but let not the reader think this touching instance of kindness is a creation of the writer's mind: ''tis strange— 'tis passing strange—and yet 'tis true.' The hero of my riarrative is well and widely known' for his unostentatious benevolence. In. business he may drive a hard bargain, fout when pain, sickness, or sorrow need relief, his • mite is always forthcomingJ Deeds like these are 'dews which mount to Heaven.'* WHY?—-AND BECAUSE. '--" Why are there bo many .marriageble girls

and so few marriages? Because, young ladies how-a-days . will marry none but rich men; they won't struggle like their parents did before them. Oh, no; if they marry, their husbands.must be wealthy. A young lady once told me that she would sooner remain single all the days of her life than wed a tradesman. What folly; tradesmen indeed! Are there not instances on record of tradesmen vvho have become members of parliament, bankers, millionaires, and baronets? All tradesmen are not opulent, but most of them can maintain a wife and family in comfort; and I put the question to the single young girls of Australia whether it would not be better for them to take an industrious, sober, and persevering man for a husband, than live a burthen on their parents. There are gentlemen in this country who hold appointments bringing in from £500 to £600 a year, many of whom have several daughters, and as they are on the look out for moneyed husbands, they must keep up, what is termed in genteel parlance, a 'good appearance,'—to do which the salary of their papa will barely suffice to make ends meet. What is the result? After years spent in the blissful expectation of seeing some Jason appear with his golden fleece,"1 they are miserably disappointed, '• and still unmarried. In the meantime ! papa's hair has got from black to grey, aiH his health begins to fail; he is full pf anxiety, asking himself over and over again what is girls will do when he is taken from them. They will be governesses if they are fit for such employment; if not, ! they must be content to take the position of ladies' maids, when they might have been happy wives and mothers. This is the plain truth.. I could name families in Sydney where young women may be found filling humble situations who, had they looked with less scorn on the offers of men in-middling circumstances, would have been their owu mistresses. Why is the number of good pianoforte players so limited ? Because parents expect their children to play difficult pieces before they have had time to get through the rudiments. lam aware that all parents are not so unreasonable, but they forget that children are not gifted alike-—that one child may do a thing in a week which would take another a month to perform. Masters are changed to often; this is a general fault. Each professor has his own system of teaching; a new master in nine cases out of ten finds fault with the system of his predecessor; the pupils are put back and bewildered, not taught. There are many talented professors of that popular instrument, the pianoforte, in this colony, but if you want justice done your children you must deal fairly with them, and not expect too great an amount of ivork to be done in a short space of time. In England I have known young ladies practise two hours every morning before breakfast—in Australia, half-an-hour, three times a week is frequently deemed sufficient—not by the professor, but those whom he instructs.— A hint worthy the attention of young and old. DEATH AT SEA. The approach of death, mournful at all times, is most mournful at sea. I shall ever remember that which occurred on board the ship M , midway between Liverpool and Melbourne. On the tender, which conveyed the passengers from the quay to the ship, I met a young man, tall and thin; his face wore the garb of health—though his eyes shone with an unnatural brilliancy. He came prepared for a campaign on the diggings, having all the requisite mining utensils. As he descended the hatch to go to his berth, he said to a companion, 'don't you think I'm well equipped, hurrah! boys, for the diggings.' A fortnight after the vessel left the shores of England he was taken ill, and it soon became apparent that he was in a decline. The surgeon confessed he could do nothing for him ; but the young man would'nt believe that his death was so near at hand, he was talking ever and anon of the gold-fields, and what he would do when he got to them. , The passengers, to their honour be it recorded, did all in their power to render his moments happy—as happy as those of one dying at sea far from home and kindred could be. How sorrowful we were the morning he died. He was so amiable and affectionate, so grateful for the slightest favour, that he endeared himself to all on board. In the evening he was buried, and a lovely evening it was; the ship was becalmed, the surface ofthe ocean resembled a huge sheet of glass-—not a ripple ruffled its serenity, the moon shed her lustrous rays on the scene. The union jack was hoisted*—the sides and rigging ol the [vessel were crowded with the passengers— all neat and clean. The solemn, simple, yet beautiful prayer for the dead, was read by the captain till he came to the words, *We therefore commit his body to the deep,' the plank on which were the mortal remains of our late fellow passenger, then fell, Iheard a dull heavy splash, the people left the vessel's sides; arid as soon as,prayers were over they hurried silently to their respective cabins.