tired, newly-arrived "gent" from London, who stares
around him in amazement and disgust. You may see, and hear too, some
thoroughly colonial scenes in the streets. Once, in the middle of the
day, when passing up Elizabeth Street, I heard the unmistakeable sound
of a mob behind, and as it was gaining upon me, I turned into the
enclosed ground in front of the Roman Catholic cathedral, to keep out
of the way of the crowd. A man had been taken up for horse-stealing and
a rare ruffianly set of both sexes were following the prisoner and the
two policemen who had him in charge. "If but six of ye were of my
mind," shouted one, "it's this moment you'd release him." The crowd
took the hint, and to it they set with right good will, yelling,
swearing, and pushing, with awful violence. The owner of the
stolen horse got up a counter demonstration, and every few yards, the
procession was delayed by a trial of strength between the two parties.
Ultimately the police conquered; but this is not always the case, and
often lives are lost and limbs broken in the struggle, so weak is the
force maintained by the colonial government for the preservation of
order.

Another day, when passing the Post-office, a regular tropical shower of
rain came on rather suddenly, and I hastened up to the platform for
shelter. As I stood there, looking out into Great Bourke Street, a man
and, I suppose, his wife passed by. He had a letter in his hand for the
post; but as the pathway to the receiving-box looked very muddy, he
made his companion take it to the box, whilst he himself, from beneath
his umbrella, complacently watched her getting wet through. "Colonial
politeness," thought I, as the happy couple walked on.

Sometimes a jovial wedding-party comes dashing through the streets;
there they go, the bridegroom with one arm round his lady's waist, the
other raising a champagne-bottle to his lips; the gay vehicles
that follow contain company even more unrestrained, and from them
noisier demonstrations of merriment may be heard. These diggers'
weddings are all the rage, and bridal veils, white kid gloves, and,
above all, orange blossoms are generally most difficult to procure at
any price.

At times, you may see men, half-mad, throwing sovereigns, like
halfpence, out of their pockets into the streets; and I once saw a
digger, who was looking over a large quantity of bank-notes,
deliberately tear to pieces and trample in the mud under his feet every
soiled