The debates are fairly well conducted,--at any rate without riot or that personal abuse and continual appeal to the Speaker which I have witnessed elsewhere. There is much useless and quite vapid talking,--members making speeches without even an attempt at a new point or a new argument, to which no one listens, but which are endured with patience. It is understood that when a gentleman has taken the trouble to get a seat, and is willing to sacrifice his time, he should be allowed to air his voice, and to learn by practice to speak with fluency. Mr. Lowe and Mr. Childers have taught colonial legislators the possible results of such lessons; and why should any man throw away a chance? I heard a debate on the great question of cab-lamps,--whether legislation should content itself with requiring simply cabs to be lighted at nights, or whether it should extend the precaution to other vehicles,--on which two-thirds of a full House were eloquent. I heard impassioned eloquence on the question whether the excellent Bishop of Adelaide should be allowed to retain his right of walking out of the room before other people,--a right which, as it came from the Crown, the parliament could not take from him, but which he gracefully abandoned when it gave annoyance to scrupulous politicians. Their minds were much excited on this question. And I heard another debate as to the governor’s salary, carried on with much energy. The Lower House, with hot parliamentary zeal expressed in fervid words, decided on cutting off £1,000 a year from the salary of future governors. But the measure of retrenchment, though essentially a money measure, was lost, because no seconder could be found for it in the Upper Chamber.