

310 KIDD’S OWN JOURNAL. 

indeed in a sad condition. All I can say is, 
God help them! for few else will. For the 
working man, this country is the finest in 
the world, and he is sure of a fortune if he 
dees not take to “ nobblers ” (small glasses of 
brandy or rum), Drunkenness is the very 
curse of the country. 
I must now really turn in with the fleas 
(they are anxiously waiting for me), and 
fmish this another time. I have to be up 
before sunrise to fish ; as fishing pays at 20s. 
a-dozen, large and small; so good night !— 
J. G., licensed waterman, No. 119, at your 
honor’s sarvices) drt I. 
The Melbourne has arrived, but I have no 
letters. I fear the fault is with the post- 
office, for so badly regulated a place I believe 
does not exist in the world. To get to the 
window for a letter, takes at least two hours; 
and then you must fight against a crowd as 
rough and large as on a boxing-night at 
the “Royal Vic.,” and the great difficulty 
is to get out again. All this could be set to 
rights by making a barrier; but no; the pig- 
headed Government won’t do it. Hundreds 
and hundreds of letters are lying in the post- 
office, aud the persons to whom they are 
directed know they are there, but cannot get 
them. As for the post-offices at the diggings, 
they are a perfect farce; they take the 
postage, but the letters never arrive. A 
lady friend of mine wrote four letters to her 
husband at the diggings, begging him to 
return to Melbourne, as their eldest daughter 
was dying. He not coming, she advertised 
in the Argus; that he saw, and returned. 
But, alas! too late. The letters he never 
received. I wrote three letters to a friend at 
Sydney; he only received one; the others 
are not to be found. 
I will now tell you what an emigrant may 
expect on landing—say a man, his wife, and 
family, with £5 and no tent—(the case I am 
going to make up is not one in 100, but 99 
out of 100). He lands; and finds the whole 
of his money gone for conveyance of himself 
and family ashore. He sits down on his 
boxes, debating what he shall do for the 
best. He hears he can get work on the 
roads at 10s. a-day, or if he’s a stonemason, 
carpenter, or blacksmith, his prospects are 
even better,—ready employment at 25s. a- 
day. This revives him. He looks around 
and sees a waste sandy desert, which, from 
the reeds, is a bog in winter, and close to the 
sea. He therefore sets to work, opens his 
boxes, gets out sheets, blankets, tablecloths, 
gowns, handkerchiefs, &c.; and, while his 
wife sews them together, he gets some sticks 
and manages to make what he calis a tent to 
cover them from the weather. He then 
takes a seat by the roadside, and sells some 
of his things ata sad loss, and with the pro- 
ceeds buys a supper for his family ; and the 




next morning he is off to town to try and get 
work. He comes back saying he has suc- 
ceeded; but what is his surprise at finding 
his tent pulled down, and things scattered 
about! He asks the cause, and his wife 
tells him that the Government officials have 
been, and, after abusing her, took, or rather 
tore down the tent, because, as they said, it 
was Government land; and also, that if they 
saw them pick up any sticks again, dead and 
rotting although they might be on the 
ground, they should be tind £5, or amonth’s 
imprisonment ; and this, too, where firewood 
is at £5 and £3 a-load. 
What does he then do? Why, perhaps 
he growls, and then packs up; carries 
and drags his goods on to Melbourne, sells 
some more, and then goes to a Government 
office for permission to pitch his tent on 
what is called ‘Canvas Town,’ and pays the 
Government 5s. a-week rent. Away he hies, 
and pitches his tent, goes to work : and when 
he returns, he sees his tent again in con- 
fusion. He hears from his wife that she, 
finding the ground dirty and very dusty, and 
thinking to makethe tent more comfortable, 
laid down some planks in the shape of box 
lids, &c., when, lo and behold! up comes a 
Government official, and orders her to take 
up the boards, as they were not allowed to 
board thevtentssvamin <i) 
At the present moment, typhus fever and 
dysentery are raging among the 6,000 tented 
inhabitants of Canvas Town; and in most 
cases producing fatal effects. A little girl 
I know who died, died of sun-stroke during 
a hot wind. Four diedthesame day. They 
were struck in the tents near to her. The 
doctor who attended her, said,—that he 
should give up attending persons im tents, 
as nearly all cases proved fatal; and yet 
Government, after squeezing out 5s. a-week 
for a little piece of dirty, useless land, lying 
near a swamp, won't allow the poor people 
either to put on a wooden roof to keep the 
heat and wet out, or a wooden floor to rest 
their beds on and keep out the dust... . . 
Talking of tents, there are some queer 
ones, I can assure you. The first [ had was 
a calico one, about 6 feet by 8 feet, in which 
I could not standup. This cost £2 12s. 6d. 
In this place four, and often six, slept on 
the ground, while our boxes remained. out- 
side exposed to the wind and rain, which 
spoilt all their contents. This tent was any- 
thing but waterproof ; and when it did rain it 
was one of the finest shower baths I was ever 
in, and many a cold night have I lain in sop. 
One little tent near me, I have named the 
tombstone, from its resemblance to that 
structure. It belongs to a young man who, 
disgusted, is returning to England. Thou- 
sands would follow him if they could. It 
measures, length 4 feet, breadth 2 feet, height 


