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belong to other departments. Nay, indeed, what is there that cannot be more cheaply raised by the squatter ?

The farmer is, thanks to our Local Legislators, a kind of creature for whom there is no Australian necessity !

MERRY MISERIES. The following song, written by a gentleman of Maitland, and sung in Australia with abundant mirth, is so real a history, if not of Billy Barlow, of many a wiser man than he is represented to be, that its reprint in England will explain much of the juggling played off on newly arrived emigrants by the older colonists-men, considered sensible in England, having too frequently fallen into the same trap.

When I was at home I was down on my luck,
And I yearnt a poor living by drawing a truck ;
But old aunt died and left me a thousand—“Oh, oh,
I'll start on my travels,” said Billy Barlow.

Oh dear, lackaday, oh ;

So off to Australia came Billy Barlow.
When to Sydney I got, there a merchant I met,
Who said he could teach me a fortune to get;
He'd cattle and sheep past the colony's bounds,
Which he sold with the station for my thousand pounds.

Oh dear, lackaday, oh,

He gammond the cash out of Billy Barlow.
When the bargain was struck, and the money was paid,
He said, “My dear fellow, your fortune is made;
I can furnish supplies for the station, you know,
And your bill is sufficient, good Mr. Barlow.”

Oh dear, lackaday, oh,

A gentleman settler was Billy Barlow.
So I got my supplies, and I gave him my bill,
And for New England started, my pockets to fill;
But by bushrangers met, with my traps they made free,
Took my horse, and left Billy bailed to a tree.

Oh dear, lackaday, oh,

I shall die of starvation, thought Billy Barlow.
At last I got loose, and I walked on my way;
A constable came up, and to me did say,

“ Are you free ?” Says I, “ Yes, to be sure, don't you know?" And I handed my card, “ Mr. William Barlow.”

Oh dear, lackaday, oh,
He said, “ That's all gammon," to Billy Barlow.

Then he put on the handcuffs, and brought me away
Right back down to Maitland, before Mr. Day;
When I said I was free, why the J. P. replied,
“ I must send you down to be i-dentified.”

Oh dear, lackaday, oh,
So to Sydney once more went poor Billy Barlow.

They at last let me go, and I then did repair
For my station once more, and at length I got there;
But a few days before, the blacks, you must know,
Had spear'd all the cattle of Billy Barlow.

Oh dear, lackaday, oh,
It's a beautiful country! said Billy Barlow.

And for nine months before no rain there had been,
So the devil a blade of grass could be seen;
And one-third of my wethers the scab they had got,
And the other two-thirds had just died of the rot.

Oh dear, lackaday, oh,

I shall soon be a settler, said Billy Barlow.
And the matter to mend, now my bill was near due,
So I wrote to my friend, and just asked to renew;
He replied he was sorry he couldn't, because
The bill had pass'd into Tom Burdekin's claws.

Oh dear, lackaday, oh,

But perhaps he'll renew it, said Billy Barlow.
I applied; to renew he was quite content,
If secured, and allowed just 300 per cent. ;
But as I couldn't do it, Barr, Rodgers, & Co.
Soon sent up a summons for Billy Barlow.

Oh dear, lackaday, oh,

They soon settled the business of Billy Barlow. For a month or six weeks I stewed over my loss, And a tall man rode up one day on a black horse ; He asked, “Don't you know me?" I answered him, "No." “ Why,” says he, “my name 's Kinsmill; how are you, Barlow?"

Oh dear, lackaday, oh,

He'd got a fi. fa. for poor Billy Barlow.
What I'd left of my sheep, and my traps, he did seize,
And he said, “ They won't pay all the costs and my fees ;"

- Then he sold off the lot, and I'm sure 'twas a sin,
At sixpence a head, and the station given in.

Oh dear, lackaday, oh,
I'll go back to England, said Billy Barlow.

My sheep being sold, and my money all gone,
Oh, I wandered about then quite sad and forlorn :
How I managed to live it would shock you to know,
And as thin as a lath got poor Billy Barlow.

Oh dear, lackaday, oh,

Quite down on his luck was poor Billy Barlow.
And in a few weeks more, the sheriff, you see,
Sent the tall man on horseback once more unto me,
Having got all he could by the writ of fi. fa.,
By way of a change he'd brought up a ca. sa.

Oh dear, lackaday, oh,

He seized on the body of Billy Barlow.
He took me to Sydney, and there they did lock
Poor unfortunate Billy fast “ under the clock;"
And to get myself out I was forced, you must know,
The schedule to file of poor Billy Barlow.

Oh dear, lackaday, oh,

In the list of insolvents was Billy Barlow.
Then once more I got free, but in poverty's toil :
I've no “ cattle for salting,” no “sheep for to boil ;"
I can't get a job—tho' to any I'd stoop,
If 'twas only the making of “ portable soup."

Oh dear, lackaday, oh,
Pray give some employment to Billy Barlow.


FELIX. The alliance of Australia Felix with New South Wales, is its one immitigable curse. Representatives have been sent to the Legislative Council at Sydney, but its resident representatives have declined.

The men most fit for the office must sacrifice their own interests to the public, by a 600 miles'-absenteeism. On this subject whilst in the colony, feeling its great importance, I wrote the

following, which appeared in the Port Phillip Patriot the day of my departure.

A FEW WORDS ON THE SEPARATION QUESTION. The relative positions of Sydney and Port Phillip, and the underling situation of the latter, its dependent and prostrate condition, has often brought to my recollection the following incidents.

I was walking with a literary friend in the delicious meadows near Lenton, in the neighbourhood of Nottingham, when our attention was suddenly drawn by two lads in a quarrelsome attitude, to themselves personally—the elder of whom was maltreating the younger. My companion assailed the assailant and separated them, reproving the strong for his ill-usage of the weak. The aggressor was indignant-he eyed the mediator with a look of malignity, telling him not very respectfully “ to mind his own business-that he had a right to do what he was doing—for,” said he, “he is my own brother."

The light of the sun of England must shine upon Port Phillip by reflection only : it must still be benighted : its dispenser of regal favour must still be Sydney. The blessings of direct fostering influence must not be felt by us. We must be humiliated by the position of imbecility and guardianship. Dislike to England will be the result, Colonial alienation, and a growing inveteracy betwixt Sydney and Port Phillip. Van Diemen's Land was once, alas, a New South Wales dependency !

But for our other incident.

A generous Roman Catholic baronet residing in Derbyshire had a steward of a stern disposition, a kind of Egyptian taskmaster, who expected the tenantry under him “ to make the same tale of bricks without straw.” Many of the tenantry suffered, yet none dared to go to so great a personage as the steward's master with their complaints. Good or bad seasons, crop or no crop, what the steward expected was, the rent. One farmer had tried repeatedly to gain a little time, but gained nothing; he must, and did pay. Nor would the steward do any repairs on the farm, although they were urgently needed. He was resolved to go to Sir Roger, and to him he went. He was kindly received-his petition granted at once : “ The steward should have immediate orders to do what he wanted.” The knight called for something to drink ; and the jolly farmer was soon very much at home, elated with success and brimming cups. Looking round the room, he asked familiarly—“ What do you call that, Sir Roger ?” “That is an image of the blessed

Virgin.” “And that other ?” “All the other ornamental figures are representations of saints,” “Ha, ha,” said John Homespun with a significant 'shake of the head, “I'm afraid, Sir Roger, you worship them baubles.” “Nay, my good man, they are only to remind us of serious duties, which we are apt to forget.” “Well, if you do worship them, you are a good landlord for all that-only let me tell you, and I hope you 'll pardon my freedom-they can do you no good, Sir Roger--it's of no use praying to them. Look you now, it's just like my case ; I've been to the steward times and times, and begged and prayed all to no purpose-I got tired of praying to saints, and here I came

Go to Jesus Christ, Sir Roger, and he'll do your business at once !”

Our chief intercourse with Sydney is by sea, the immense plains, the great distance, and its occasional barrenness, are sufficient barriers betwixt the two, were there no individual interests -were there no radical difference betwixt bond and free, penal and voluntary colonies, to render any imaginary line of division unnecessary. Heart and soul, the colonies of Sydney and Australia Felix are distinct. Yet the head-gaoler of the great Australian Penitentiary manages Port Phillip as a distant farm.

Sydney, it seems, John Bull's elder son, has a larger pocket, and larger heart than Phillip-a wiser head doubtless is a better manager, and on that account the moneys of both are entrusted to his keeping. I know not what crime Phillip has committed, or indiscretion, or what heritable incapacity renders him unable to manage his own matters. I only wish until he “ is older grown, and bolder grown," that Sydney were not subject to such obstinate fits of deafness on that ear which always happens to be turned towards him. The youngster is, however, not deficient in lungs, he has a powerful voice if he has no brains, and succeeds at times by the help of gesticulations in making Sydney guess what he would be at : but the Colonial-receivingpocket-general has so large and impracticable a button, that after some fumbling and sundry pauses, Sydney assures Phillip that he is extremely sorry, but that to grant his request is impossible _"he has no power !"

Van Diemen's Land, Western Australia, South Australia, Sydney or the Middle District, are all governed directly from England-all but Australia Felix, how happy! All have their resident Governors—and we have a mockery—and to make the mockery more bitter, the farce of representation in the Sydney Legislative Council.

It is probable that were the mother country more “at ease in

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