Melbourne, Sept. 29. 1852.

We have sent off a parcel and letters by the Australian, which sails to-day. But heaven preserve us! What a piece of work it has been to get it off. The rage for gold here is not confined to the Diggings; it seems to pervade everybody and everything in the colony; so the agent of the steam-packet company only wanted to charge me two guineas instead of ten and sixpence for the parcel to London. Fortunately, I had the printed terms of the company, and showed them to the man; here, they take care to keep these terms out of sight, and to put into their own pockets the modest sum of three times the amount they take on the company's account. At first, the man refused to take the proper sum, and declared that he would not take the packet at all. “Be so good,” I observed, “as to say that again, for I am writing to-day, and shall be glad to address a note to the packet company, to apprise them of the happy style in which you execute their business.”

On this he took the parcel, but with the scowl of a thunder-cloud, and not deigning to give me another word. I left Alfred, to fill up the required bill of lading, but the amiable fellow was resolved to put me to all the trouble possible, in revenge for my mulcting him of his guinea and half booty, and insisted that Alfred should come and send me down again.