MELBOURNE CUP EVE.

Timaru Herald, Volume XIIC, Issue 14055, 12 November 1909, Page 7

MELBOURNE CUP EVE.

LOOKING FOR BEDS. ? Any bods? That, says the ••Argus"' was the uppermost question m mo city lasL niglit. l'rofiling by past experiences, tno great throng of Holidaymakers from districts distant from tno city had booked their betls in. advance, but the outside ranKs, who had eitiiL-r not made up their minds to conn: to Melbourne until the last moment, or nad made the purchasing of a. bed as porting a chance as tho picking of the winner of the Cup, strolled down Bourke-strcet as leisurely as a portmanteau would permit, and complacently remarked as they stepped through the doorway of an hotel, "I want a bed."

Tho want was a general oue. It seemed as if everybody had come down to Melbourne with the one desire —to go to bed. A tramway conductor said, "I never saw so many peoplo wanting to go to bed in my life. They must have tho sleeping sickness." A barmaid said, "You would think there were nothing else but furniture shops in the city." Telephone bells rang all day through city and suburbs —rang as usual, with the. exception that they mostly signalled inquiries for beds. Hotels and boardinghouses organised in one grand scheme to give shelter to visitors over Cup night. The Hon. Mr. Tompkins, of England, and Bill Smith, of Birchip, shared the same wire, and tjic same answer, "There's one shakedown left in the billiard-room."

Aii old lady sat on her luggage jn' the passage of a Bourke-street hotel, and fanned her face with her hat. She was in possession. She knew it. "Two shillings!" she cried.. "Two shillings for a corner of a'room, when I left my own clean hod in M ! The idea!" "Yes," said the landlady on the telephone. "Yes, we have three be Is left. Send them along. We'll accommodate them." And the landlady y. as accommodating. She peeped out ct the window of the front room, as the cab drew up to the door, and she fu.d. "Alary, they look as if they had plenty of money; run to the door, and if thoy want to know the price of rooms it stiff. I'll do the rest." He walked down Bourke-street with a bundle held by a pair of straps. The bundle was enclosed by a coat turned out. It appeared to bo a. very light [ parcel. He guarded it carefully, pujeing it .through, the passers-by. Ho h.ul a worried look on his face, and l;e glanced frequently at the weather, or so much of it as could be seen i.i Bourke-street. He walked into an hotel. The barmaid said "Isn't it a beautiful afternoon:-"' He asked, "Have you .got a safe " The young lady looked puzzled. "Oh!" she exclaimed, after a pause. "A safe to put your money in? Yes,' of course we have." The man's lace, brightened, and he placed nis bundle on the counter. "Give me a bed, too." It was his Cup suit. He had brought it a long way. A gentleman with a. heard and ;i dress-basket walked into a code palace, and, putting down a half-crown, said, with a confident smile, "No. 130.", "Have you booked the room?" inquired the cashier. "Well, I slept :u it during show week, and further-moro was here last Cup." The cashier smiled, "I'm very sorry, hut No. 139 is engaged, and every other room is hooked as well." "Well, I'd never have thought it," said t,he middleaged gentleman. "You might have known I was bound to call here again." A weary man walked into a suburban coffee palace late at night, and, as the night porter opened his lips lo speak, ho raised his right hand pro-

testingly, and exclaimed, "Not a word! I don't want a bed. I nniv want a. resting place—for this." And ho held out a. portmanteau. The. night porter glanced at the pile of hoots which covered the Hour around him, and said, "As long as you don't v ant it polished, 1 don't mind. I'ut it down in the corner." "I'll look in to-mor-row," said the stranger, as he se.:- off to walk tho parks and streets until daylight. J3ut he did not know the ropes of the city. There was no need to walk tho streets, even although he did not have tho corner of a billiard-room to sleep in. All night long they s-at around in the smoking-rooms talking of all the last Cup eves, extending hack to thirty or forty years ago, until somebody said, with a yawn, looking at the light in tho window, "If wo don't hurry up we'll miss rhe first race."