Australian Tales - Setis

“Light Weights” and “Short Lengths.”
I REMEMBER my scepticism, on being told (when I was a little boy)
that a “pound of feathers was equal to a pound of lead,” and when good
old dame Birch, who taught me the rudiments of my “mother tongue,”
reiterated that fact, and, with a grave look declared that “a pound was a
pound all the world over,” my childish mind still doubted. Poor honest
old soul! she has gone out of the world long ago; and here am I, her dull
pupil, still acquiring rudimental knowledge, but no longer doubting about
her last-named theory; for my experience in travelling the world over has
fully convinced me that a pound is not always a pound, of which fact I
have had many expensive reminders. I will give one example of recent
occurrence, which, though insignificant compared with other parts of my
experience, will help to illustrate certain very common tricks of trade that
unconscionable persons have invented, and on which I purpose making a
few comments.
The other evening, my servant brought two miserably thin composite
candles into my study; and being too small to fit the sockets of the
candlesticks, they were leaning over, like the wonderful tower of Pisa;
while the grease dropped on to my table cover, and soiled some of my
manuscripts. On questioning the girl, I learned that she had bought the
candles at a shop in the city; and on examining a pound packet, I judged
it weighed not more than thirteen ounces, possibly not so much. “Ghost
of old dame Birch,” I exclaimed, holding the packet up at arm's length.
“Look at this for a pound! and if you still love fair play, go and pinch
that swindling candlemaker's nose. You will probably find him in Russia;
unless — and you must be very careful to ascertain that fact — some
rogue elsewhere, has borrowed the candlemaker's brand. Pinch the real
culprit till he roars, for greasing my papers — stay, I forgive him for that;
but please to punish him for cheating thousands of poor people who must
work for their bread by candle light, out of three ounces of matter in
every packet of his skeleton composites that they buy. Pinch him for
dimming the prospects of a host of honest diggers, who are hard at work
in the bowels of the earth, far below the reach of a ray of sunlight. And
pinch him very hard for tempting many an honest trader to sell short
weight wares, in the erroneous belief that it is necessary for him to do so,
to save his trade from suffering from the competition of unscrupulous
neighbours. But nip all these ‘honest traders’ at the same time, for they