The Autobiography of "Cockney Tom" potx

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Title: The Autobiography of "Cockney Tom" Author: Thomas Bastard
The Autobiography of "Cockney Tom," Showing his Struggles through Life, and proving this Truth of the Old
Saying "that Honesty is the best Policy"
Published under the Patronage of His Excellency Sir W F D Jerbois G.C.M.G.
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Adelaide: McClory and Masterman, Printers, Grenfell Street.
1881
PREFACE.
It has been said that where there is no sense of danger, there no danger need be feared; so the writer of this
Autobiography ventures, despite any array of critics, to present the sketch of his life to a public whose
indulgence he craves. He claims no merit for literary workmanship, but solely for truth and candour, and in
those respects his book cannot be excelled. As understood by the writer of this preface, the aim of the work
has been twofold, namely, to leave to a large circle of cherished friends, acquaintances, and relatives the exact
memorials of a life marked by more than an ordinary vicissitudes; and also of the manner in which it is
intended to illustrate how possible is the growth of evil habit, upon a genial, sociable disposition, and how
equally possible an absolute reformation. If the work should prove pleasant, the author would be pleased; if
profitable, he will be paid by coin that he would not exchange for the best mintage of the world.
THIS WORK IS RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED T0 MR. MATTHEW BURNETT, THE GREAT

TEMPERANCE ADVOCATE, AS A SLIGHT TOKEN OF ESTEEM BY HIS ADMIRING FRIEND, THE
AUTHOR.
CONTENTS.
[Note: Page numbers are shown in the paper book, however there is no other indication as to the actual place
where the description of each event begins. In this ebook, which does not include the original page numbers,
the list below merely provides the sequence of events described in the book.]
My Grandfather, and what he was Introducing My Father and Uncle Phillip My Mother, Foster Mother, and
Nurses A Rich Aunt and an Old Gun Nearly Burnt to Death Old Gun Takes me Home What he did with me
there I am Apprenticed My Master, and What He Was Like I get into Prison, and make many acquaintances I
Get Out Again, and Return to My Master I Run Away, and Travel to Gain Knowledge I Commence Singing
for a Living, and Return to London My Courtship, Marriage, and many Hardships A Change in My Life much
for the better Join the Choristers at St. Barnabas, Pimlico Become a Tradesman, and have many Good
Customers I Catch the Gold Fever, and make up my mind to go to Australia My Visit to the Rev. W. E.
Bennett His Parish Clerk I Embark at Southampton My Voyage My Arrival at Adelaide What I Did, and How
I Got My Living I Leave Adelaide for Victoria and the Goldfields My Arrival in Melbourne, and What I
Thought of It On the Tramp to the Diggings Events on the Road I Arrive at Forest Creek, and Make
Acquaintances Depart From Forrest Creek, and Goes to Tarangower The Ball at Castlemaine, and What Took
Place There Life in the Diggings at Tarangower My Tramp Back to Melbourne My Return to Adelaide My
Military Career as a Sergeant in the Army My Discharge I Become a Bank Messenger, Public Singer, Agent,
&c. Tired of the Bank, I Turn My Attention to Swimming I Become Acquainted with the Man who Robbed
the Duke of Edinburgh Tries Boating on the River Torrens The Dam Bursts Up, And I lose My Boats I
Establish Turkish Baths the Good They Have Done to the City My Wife Dies, and I take to Drink I meet
with the Rev. Matthew Barnett The Good Results of His Doctrines I Attend His Lecture on "Yankee Bill" I
Become a Sober Man, and Write this Autobiography Dates and Particulars
* * * * *
LIST OF SUBSCRIBERS
[These are shown at the end of the ebook]
* * * * *
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THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF "COCKNEY TOM"

PART I.
I, Cockney Tom, am the son of a gun, who was so called because his father was a general in the Navy. Now
this requires a little explanation. My grandfather, you must know, was master-at-arms on board the Royal
Standard, 74 guns. It was his duty as a: warrant-officer to officiate when a man was to be flogged for getting
drunk, or any other crime. They were tied up to a grating and punished with the cat in those days. Thank
goodness it is not so now in the British Navy. It was the duty of the armorer to attend the surgeon of the ship
in full uniform, with drawn sword, to see that the prisoner received his allowance. The armorer was to count
the lashes, and the doctor's duty was to tell the boatswain to cast the man off when he saw he could bear no
more. So this is how the aforesaid son of a gun's grandfather was nicknamed the flogmaster-general. Gun was
armorer's mate, fought in three engagements, and got his discharge without pension. His brother was not so
fortunate. He rose by merit to be a second lieutenant, and one day was ordered to man the boat and go on
shore at Portsmouth with orders for the ship. When he reached the stairs the men begged so hard to be allowed
to go on shore for a short time to purchase some necessaries, that Gun's brother gave them leave, on their
engaging, on honor, to return soon. Imagine his feelings when he returned to find that all his men had
deserted. In this dilemma Gun's brother did not know what to do; to go on board he was ashamed, and
therefore he made up his mind to follow the example of the men and bolt. He did so, was caught, and was sent
to Portsmouth gaol to be identified by his brother officers. They came the next morning and took him on
board, and placed him in irons. A court-martial was called; he was reduced from lieutenant to common
seaman, and then they sentenced him to two dozen lashes, which he received on his birthday as a very
unwelcome present. Gun obtained his discharge, went to London, and got married, by which transaction he
increased and multiplied the earth to the extent of ten children, I being the wind-up of the lot, which consisted
of nine boys and one girl.
Now began some of the stirring and painful events of my wonderful life. My mother died when I was only
five months old, and my sister became my only nurse. She used to carry me round the parish to mothers who
had babies, and beg a drop of milk from one and another, so that I had many foster-mothers. Now, it so
happened that I had a rich aunt, and she made an offer to Old Gun that if he would give me up entirely to her
care, she would settle her property on me, as she had no children of her own, which offer Old Gun readily
accepted. The will was made and duly registered, and I was taken from Old Gun and placed under the care of
a good nurse. Old Gun took to chink, and when drunk visited my nurse, and listened to her complaints against
my aunt. He called and had words with her, which so disgusted the old lady that she sent for a lawyer and

altered her will, without leaving me a single penny. (So much for drink.) I remained with this nurse about five
years. About this time I was nearly burned to death, my nurse having left me to mind the house. I got playing
with the fire until my pinafore caught alight, when I ran out into the street all in a blaze. Two working men,
who happened to be passing, seized me and threw me into a ditch close by. After that they took me to a
doctor, and I was laid up in bed for twelve months. When Old Gun heard of it, he took me away from my
nurse, and when he got me home he made use of me to fetch his gin, while he was on the drink. I remember
fetching Gun as many as nineteen half quarterns of gin before dinner, and sometimes he would be on the
fuddle for a fortnight. Gun having got into debt with a publican, to the extent of two pounds, he summoned
him for the amount. As Gun refused to pay, the publican caused him to be sent to gaol for six weeks. I used to
visit father Gun in prison, and take him coffee and sugar. Now, while Gun was in trouble I was also doomed
to suffer. Gun's landlady refused to give me a night's lodging. I lived on the few coppers earned by running
about the city and holding gentlemen's horses. At last, to get rid of me the landlady took me to the workhouse,
and left me there till Gun came out of prison. When Gun did come out, it was only to have a change from gaol
to workhouse. At last the end came, and Gun died a penitent sinner.
The parish apprenticed me to a shoe-maker, a man that wanted the premium much more than he wanted the
boy. My master treated me more like a dog than a human being. I was fed badly, and clothed worse; was
allowed one suit of the commonest corderoy that could be got per year. In fact I wore one pair of trousers until
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they became kneebreeches. One pair of common boots a year, and a good sound thrashing twice a week. Not
only were my hours of labor from five o'clock in the morning until ten at night, but my fare was far worse.
Now it so happened at this period of my life that I took a fancy to swimming, and in order to gain a
knowledge of this art I used to get up very early every morning and bathe in a canal which was not far off.
This pastime nearly cost me my life. No less than three times I was brought out of the water nearly dead; but I
was determined not to be beaten, and after taking lessons of a professor I became a very fair swimmer. I soon
found that my master was a bad man, the woman that lived with him had left her husband (a respectable
farmer in Yorkshire), and both these worthies took to heavy drinking. At this time I was between 15 and 16
years of age. My master kept a fine house, but like many other worthies, he forgot to pay his rent, and was so
clever that he got into debt with everyoue. At last, being greatly troubled in his mind, he determined to shoot,
not himself, but the moon, as it was called in London, which being interpreted means that he ran away from
his house in the night time, not forgetting to take his goods with him; but in his hurry and excitement left an

old bedstead in the house. I was ordered to go early the next morning and get this bedstead out by the back
door, my master being there to help me carry it home. To accomplish this task I had to, get through the cellar
window. I succeeded in taking down the bedstead, put the screws in my pocket, and got it outside, when, alas,
I beheld that kindest of friends, the policeman, who most affectionately put his hand upon my arm and
marched me off to the lockup on a charge of house-breaking. I was taken before the magistrate and the
landlady appeared against me. I was committed for trial on the charge, and was most graciously conveyed in
His Majestys King William the IV's carriage to Horsemonger Lane Gaol. I was kept in prison eleven days
before my trial, and no one was allowed to see me but my fellow prisoners, and when at last I was tried, I
pleaded my own case, and succeeded in justifying my conduct by explaining that I was only an apprentice,
and therefore bound to obey my master's orders, and keep his secrets, according to the wording of my
indentures, and so I was honourably acquitted. While I was in gaol I had to attend chapel. Now any moral or
religious benefit I might have received from such attendance was utterly neutralized by bad management of
our prisons, in compelling comparatively innocent persons to mix with the greatest blackguards and thieves in
London. As a matter of fact there was some prisoners there at the same time that I. was obliged to associate
with who were guilty of every crime you can mention, including murder. Amongst them, however, was a Rev.
Dr. Taylor, who was imprisoned for speaking against the bible and the government. He used to lecture at the
rotunda in the Blackfriar's Road. He made my acquaintance, and taught me many good things, and although a
prisoner, he was not by any means a bad man, for he had the fear of God in his heart. He persuaded me to
attend Sunday-school and church when I got out. Altogether this Rev. gentleman's influence upon me was for
my good, and far more likely to effect my reformation than any punishment in gaol, especially when
injudiciously administered. I did not forget his good counsel, for when I got back to my master I begged to be
allowed to go to a Sunday-school, and also to church. This request was granted, and many a time I went
without my Sunday's dinner rather than be late at school. The Parish clerk found out that I had a voice, so he
sent for me and gave me lessons in hymn and psalm singing, and chanting the service. I felt very proud of this,
and although I occasionally received a good thrashing from my master for the most trifling mistakes in my
work, I bore up well till I was nearly seventeen years of age. By this time, however, my master's treatment
grew rather worse than better, so I determined to nun away and try the country, for a change of air. I had a
married brother living at Hastings, in Sussex, and to go there I began to save up for the journey out of my
pocket money, which was only threepence per week, out of which I saved two-thirds.
At length, with my savings, which amounted to tenpence, a two pound loaf, and no butter, I rose at three

o'clock on a beautiful summer's morning and crept down stairs very softly, opened the door and got outside
without being heard by any of the inmates. After walking about five miles without resting, I began to sing a
verse from an old man-a-war song, as follows:
"I wish I was at Hastings With my true love along with me, Everything that's fitting, To serve His Royal
Majesty. Where liquor there is plenty, Flowing bowls on every side, Hard fortune ne'er shall daunt me, For
I'm young and the world is wide."
After walking eight miles, I bad a rest, and refreshed the inner man with bread and water. While resting, a fish
4
van happened to pass on its way to Hastings, the very place I was bound for. I made a dart and got up behind.
When the driver stopped to change horses, I asked him if he would allow me to ride behind, for which
privilege I offered to skid the wheel, which means, in railway language, put on the brake. When the driver
learnt that my brother lived at Hastings he took an interest in me, and was very kind for the rest of the journey.
I arrived safe and sound the same night, and found out my brother's residence, but, unfortunately, my brother
was ten miles from home, working at a gentleman's seat, and did not return for a week after my arrival. My
sister-in-law was very good to me at first, but soon began to speak in terms that convinced me that she was no
friend of mine. She used to drink gin on the sly, and get drunk, and deceive her husband by making him
believe that she was ill. Fearing that I would let my brother into the secret, she became my bitter enemy. I saw
through it, and when I had managed to get work, I left my brother's house and took lodgings amongst a tribe
of gipsies who lived in the neighbourhood. My new master was a regular "out and outer" a splendid workman,
well educated, a good reciter, but too fond of company and drink, which kept him poor, and made his wife
miserable. She was very good to me, and gave me many a meal when my master was on the spree.
I left the Gipsies, and found cheap lodgings by the sad sea waves, in the fishing boats. I used to rise early and
assist the fishermen to wash and pack their fish for market, for which service I used to get a fish for breakfast.
It was at Hastings that I improved in the art of swimming; I might have been seen in the sea, three times a day;
and so the time rolled on. I improved in my trade, but, unfortunately, at the end of the season I had no work to
do. I then took it into my head that I would return to London, and find out my sister. The next question was
how to get there without money to start with? The thought struck me that I could sing my way back. I started
accordingly early one morning and walked eight miles to a place called Battle, the spot where the great battle
of Hastings took place. When I arrived, I found there was a fox hunt on, and that after the hunt there was to be
a dinner for the sportsmen, so I made up my mind to stay and offer my services as a singer, and trust to their

generosity as to what they would give me. I did so, and so pleased the company that they gave me a good
dinner and four and ninepence to boot, and the landlord gave me a night's lodging. I started next morning for
Tunbridge, in Kent; next I went to Maidstone, where I met with a harpist with whom I joined company, I to
sing, and harpy to play, and go share in the profits. We waited on the mayor of the town, and got his
permission to play and sing in the streets. We did well, lived like fighting cocks, and saved money. From
Maidstone we travelled to Sittingbourne, where we were engaged to play and sing in the Assembly Rooms,
and there made a great hit in my song, "Funking the Cobbler," sung in caricature. I now began to fancy
myself. From there I found my way to Chatham, wher? I was engaged in a low concert room, frequented by
soldiers, sailors, and bad women. I learnt no good there, but a great deal that was bad. I did not stop long there
but went on to Rochester, got work at my trade, and for a time gave up singing.
From Rochester I went to Gravesend, where I worked at my trade, singing now and then professionally.
Thence I travelled to London and found out my sister, who received me with sisterly love. I got work and
lived very happily with her for a long time. It so happened that my sister had an acquaintance who used to call
and see her occasionally. One day this friend brought her eldest, daughter with her. I was engaged at my work,
singing away as only shoemakers can sing, the following beautiful lines:
"Beware those finikin lasses, And never by beauty be led; For a girl that surpasses all others 'Tis she that
works hard for her bread."
"Who is that singing?" enquired the young woman. "It is my brother Tom," replied my sister. "I should like to
see him," she said, "You shall," said my sister, and she brought the young woman into the room where I was
working. I blushed, for I thought, I had never before seen such a good-looking young person. We all had tea,
and I had the impertinence to ask her to take a walk, and she did not refuse. From that time we became lovers,
and were four months afterwards married at St. John's Church, Waterloo-road, Lambeth. After I had brought
the ring, paid the parson, and given a dinner (which I had also paid for), I took my bride to furnished lodgings.
I got up the next morning to work with the large capital of three shillings and sixpence to start a new life. I,
however, was not going to be discouraged with such a small beginning, and as neither my wife nor I were
deficient in pluck, we both determined to work early and late, and soon got a home of our own-a small one, in
5
Walworth, where we lived as happily together, as if our house had been a mansion.
But this happy state of things was destined not to last long. When the winter came, I was thrown out of work,
and my wife was confined of a daughter, and things had now come to such a pass, that I took to singing again

in order to obtain food. The result of having to be out late at nights, was that I fell ill, and was laid up with a
fever. The doctor ordered me to St. Thomas' Hospital, where I remained for eight weeks, during which time
none of my friends, safe my good wife, came to see me. At last I found myself better, and left the Hospital;
but only for a short time, for a second attack obliged me to return for some weeks longer, until I had regained
my strength. I then made a flesh start, got work at a bespoke shop, and became the don during the two years I
worked as journeyman. I then left Lambeth, and obtained work in Chelsea, with better wages; but as food and
rent was dear, I was no better off than before I came to the west-end. My troubles seemed as if they would
never end, for my wife and four children now took the measles, and when my wife got Letter, I was again
taken bad with a cold in my eyes, which nearly blinded me. I then became an outpatient at the Opthalmic
Hospital, Charring Cross; and for many weeks I could work, and had to go to the parish for bread for my
children. After suffering great privation, I at last got better, and again worked at my trade, and in order to
make up for lost time, I again took to singing at night in low concert-rooms, receiving from three to five
shillings per night, and my beer. I followed this up for some time, when a sudden change took place in my
life. It happened while I was working one day, and at the same time rehearsing my songs for the night's
entertainment, that I was disturbed by a gentle knock at the door. "Come in!" said I, and a lady entered, with
the remark, "I beg your pardon, but was that you singing just now?" "Yes, ma'am," said I; "I have to get my
living partly by singing." "Do you sing at church?" "No, I do not," I replied. "Can you sing by music?" "No
ma'am." "Would you like to be taught?" "I should like very much, ma'am," said I. "Do you go to our church?
we have beautiful singing there, and I am sure you would like it. Will you come if I promise to be your friend?
I see you are a shoemaker. Would you object to work for yourself instead of a master?" I said that I should
very much like to be my own master, and be able to give up the concert-room business. "Well, then, to begin
with, you can take my measure for a pair of shoes, and come to my house in Grosvenor Place, and I will leave
several pair for you to repair, and if you want any money to buy material with, you can have it." "Thank you,
very much," I said; "and I will attend to it." I told my wife when she came home all about it, and she was
delighted. "I have heard of that lady," said she. "She is a very good woman, and visits the sick and relieves the
poor, and takes an interest in every thing that is good." I called on the lady, the next day, and was received
kindly. To help me in my business, she introduced me to her servants, who favored me with their orders, and
gave as much work, as would take me a week to perform. I finished the work and gave general satisfaction. I
was then persuaded to go to church and hear the singing, which was very grand. The incumbent was a good
preacher, and used to attract the nobility from the west-end of London. I was sent for by the minister, who

undertook to have me taught music, and for this purpose I was invited to attend practice, in order to meet the
organist and try my voice. I did so, and was told it was somewhat a rough one, but that if I gave my mind to
study, I would, in course of time, make a fair chorister. I attended practice twice a week for two years, and at
church twice on Sundays. About this time the Rev. W. C. Bennett conceived the idea of building a poor man's
church, as his own church being crowded with the rich, the poor were crowded out. When he announced his
intention, Earl Brownlow gave the land, and a collection was made, the proceeds of which amounted to the
large sum of £2,220, in the short space of a quarter of an hour. Money came from all parts, and £50,000 was
subscribed in less than three months. I was engaged to carry a banner at the laying of the foundation stone;
and when the ceremony was over there was a good dinner given to the poor, and I had the honor of singing at
the feast.
My business increased so much every week that I soon began to employ workmen, and at one time had fifty
ladies of title on my books; also lords, earls, dukes, and duchesses. The Countess of Cardigan was one of my
best customers, and the Duchess of Argyle was another. My ambition at last got so high that I asked a Lady of
honour to the Queen to try to get for me Her Majesty's patronage. In this I, however, failed, and was told that
the Queen never changed her trades people. I, however, succeeded in getting the work of the Duke of
Wellington's household, the University Club, Army and Navy Club, Civil Service Club, and many others. So I
continued to on prospering till the Poor Man's Church was finished. That was a great day, and the church was
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opened with much pomp and ceremony on St. Barnabas's Day, the 11th of June. It was named St. Barnabas's
Church from that circumstance. On that day, for the first time in my life, I was arrayed in a surplice, and
introduced to the singers as a member of the choir of St. Barnabas, Plimlico; and I now felt not a little proud
of myself. Besides the church, they built a parsonage for the clergyman, and a schoolhouse to accommodate
1,000 children, with sleeping rooms for twenty singing boys, who were supported out of the foundation fund,
and who, besides being educated, were fed and clothed like young gentlemen. The whole of the buildings cost
no less than £100,000 when finished. I found out that to be a chorister was no easy billet, as I had to attend
daily service at 6 a.m. on Holy Days; there were three services a day, with communion and sermons on
Sundays-early communion at 7 a.m., prayers at 8 a.m. for the poor, and breakfast at 9 a.m. All the singers
(men and boys) sang "Non nobis Domini" both before and after. At it again at 11 a.m., litany, anthem, and
sermon; after which came post-communion; then home to dinner. After which I came back again at 3 p.m. to
baptism, followed by afternoon service. After tea came evening prayer, at 7 p.m., with anthem and sermon.

After these engagements, I and the rest would adjourn to the parsonage with the clergy, and have cake, or tea,
or coffee, and then we would sing the "Benedictus," and, lastly, return home to bed.
This is the way I spent seven years of my life, most happy in my mind, and living in the fear of God, and
endeavoring to bring up my family in the same happy way. But this happiness was doomed to have an
untimely end. The newspapers declared war against Mr. Bennett, and accused him of preaching the doctrines
of the Church of Rome, asserting that the service was more like an opera than the sacred worship of God. The
Bishop sent for him, and accused him with unfaithfulness to the Church of England. The outside public were
against Mr. Bennett, and riots frequently took place on Sundays. I was sworn in as a special constable to
protect the church property, and I used to go into the choir with a policeman's staff under my surplice.
Meetings were called by the parishioners, and votes of censure were passed against the Bishop. In this trouble
the poor also had their say. I was elected chairman of the Poor Man's Committee, with power to raise
subscriptions for Mr. Bennett. A meeting was called for the rich and poor of the, parish, and I had to make a
speech, in preparation of which I had sat up till two o'clock in the morning. When it was my turn to speak,
however, I was so flurried that I could not make out my notes; and I resolved on speaking extemporaneously,
and had the satisfaction of winning a hearty round of applause. My speech was published in the Daily
Chronicle of February 8th, 1857. The unfortunate result of all this dissension was that the Rev, W. C. Bennett
had to resign his living, and went on the continent for the benefit of his health, which was very much broken
down by mental anxiety. His admirers in their sympathy presented him with a purse of £7,000, and I and
thousands of others, lost a good friend. I left the church, and transferred my singing to Westminster Abbey,
and also sang sometimes at St. Paul's Cathedral. These events made me very unhappy; and, through reading
the newspapers, I became interested about Australia. Whilst thinking of emigration I fell ill with fever; but
during my illness told my wife my thoughts on the subject. She stoutly refused to join me, and said, "Thomas,
you may go; but I shall do nothing of the kind." After considering the advantages my children would have in a
new country, I made up my mind to go. As a first step, I called on a nobleman whom I worked for, Sir
Frederick Rogers, the Emigration Commissioner, and told him that I would like to go to Australia. "How
many children have you?" asked Sir Frederick. "Six, Sir Frederick," I replied. "Then you can't go, as you have
one child too many. If you only had five I would give you your passage at once." I thanked him, and returned
home very down hearted and dissappointed. When I got home, I told my wife the result, and she was as glad
as, was sorry. Not long afterwards the new incumbent called on me, and offered an appointment as verger and
chorister at St. Barnabas's, with a decent salary and perquisites; and I accepted the offer. I forthwith got

measured for a black cassock and new surplice, and on the following Sunday I presented quite a grand
appearance. But in spite of all this Australia kept running in my mind. Now, it happened that one of my
children was taken ill, and I called in a doctor, who said the boy had water on the brain, and accordingly
treated him for it. The child, however, got no better, and I got the services of a physician who said the boy had
been wrongly treated, for, instead of water on the brain the boy had disease of the lungs. This doctor gave no
hopes of his recovery, and the child died shortly afterwards. I grieved very much over the loss of my boy; but
I was visited and condoled by many of my Friends. The clergy were very kind to me in my trouble, and even
allowed the chorister boys to go a distance of three miles to Brompton Cemetery to attend the funeral. It was
very impressive to see them dressed in their surplices, and hear them sing psalms at the grave, and also a short
7
anthem at the close of the service. All this was very consoling to me, as it showed how much I was respected,
and how deeply and truly they all sympathised with me. But in spite of all their love I was not happy;
Australia still ran in my head. Mr. Bennett returned to England improved in health, and was offered a living as
vicar of Frome, not far from Bath. It was in the gift of the Marchioness of Bath and Wells, and was worth
£700 a-year, which Mr. Bennett accepted.
Things went on at St. Barnabas as before. Private confessions to the clergy, baptismal regeneration, penance,
fasting, keeping Saint days, and the real Presence in the Sacrament was the style of the teaching which was
held and believed in by the congregation. "What has all this to do with Cockney Tom?" some people may ask.
At any rate I could descry enough to see that there was more behind the scenes between the Bishop and Mr.
Bennett than I had brains to understand. I gave notice to leave the church. I called on Sir Frederick Rogers and
told him that having lost one of my children I was then within the limit. He told me to make ready as soon as I
could, and let him know, and he would get my order made out so as to sail by the next ship. I undertook no
more work. I sold off my household goods, collected my debts, paid all I owed, and took lodgings in Salisbury
Court, Fleet Street. I received orders to be ready to go on board at Southampton on a certain day. When my
wife saw the order she nearly fainted, and had a sleepless night, but I comforted her all I could, and bought her
a new silk dress. I was busy every day preparing for the voyage, and took leave of my brothers and sister
Sarah, my original dry nurse. Many tears were wont to wet our cheeks as the subject of my departure was
discussed. I resolved to visit Frome before I left England. Accordingly I called on one of the church wardens,
a friend of mine, and told him I would like to see Mr. Bennett before I left. He said "I will go with you, I want
a trip out of town," so we fixed the time to start, and brought a perfect model of St Barnabas Church, made by

one of our members (a very clever architect). We paid him three pounds for it, and it was well worth ten. So
off we started by the morning train for Frome, and arrived at five in the evening. The vicar received us with
all love and kindness. We dined with him and his family, and after dinner the presentation took place. He was
delighted. I was given over to the parish clerk to find my lodgings. This clerk, who was born and bred in
Frome, and had been parish clerk for twenty years, was, as they would say in America, a most "curious cuss."
Nothing would suit the clerk, but he must take me to his "pub," where the choristers and himself used to
booze. The ale was very good, and in fact the town had quite got its name up for its ale. But sad to say the
clerk got drunk, and in the exuberance of his feelings would sing, thinking no doubt that he would astonish
me. This, however, he failed to do. After much persuasion they got me to sing on Sunday at the church. I rose
early on Saturday and visited the old church (where good Bishop Kenn was buried), and also the market, and
the river which runs through the town. After breakfast and morning prayer at the church I visited the schools,
and the hospital for the aged poor. In the evening I went up to their service, which was read by my friend, the
clerk; then to bed. Up early on Sunday morning, a long walk, back to refresh, and get ready for church. Sang
Jackson's "Te Deum" and "Jubilate," and was complimented by Mr. Bennett and the choir; arranged for the
start back the next morning. Breakfasted early, received from Mr B. a present of a book to remind me of my
visit to Frome, and lastly received his prayer and benediction. I got back safely, and found my wife willing to
share my fate and to emigrate to Australia. When every thing was ready I received a letter from the Countess
of Cardigan, full of good wishes for me and my family, and a cheque for £5 which I did not refuse.
I and my family started from London to Southampton, where we arrived the same night, and stopped at the
depot. Very little sleep. After breakfast took a walk over the old town of Southampton-nothing much to
astonish a Londoner. Went on board to report myself and family to the doctor, and to learn when we were to
be examined. On answering to my name on the roll being called, the doctor said humorously, "Are! you the
person whom Sir Frederick Rogers wrote to me about?" I replied that I certainly had the honor of knowing Sir
Frederick, but I knew nothing about any letter. "I will not forget you," said he, very kindly. "Tomorrow you
will be examined, and will sail on Sunday morning." Next day I passed the examination, and was sent on
board. I and my family got our berths allotted and our luggage stowed away, then the bell rang for the muster,
and as the names were called out they had to pass from one side of the ship to the other. When my name was
called out by the doctor, he bid me come forward, and calling the attention of the passengers, said that he had
the right to appoint all constables, for the proper carrying out of the ship's regulations, and the general good
order of the passengers, and it was his pleasure to appoint the said Cockney Tom first constable of the vessel

8
"William Stuart." We were all very jolly on board the ship on Saturday night, some singing, "I'm afloat, I'm
afloat," others, "a life on the ocean wave, a home on the rolling deep." I felt rather dull. In the performance of
my duty I had to walk the decks till all the single women were locked up for the night, and to protect them
against all intruders, which I afterwards found to be so difficult a. task, as to be almost more than I could
manage. The tug came alongside next morning and took us on our way, not rejoicing, but feeling rather
"dicky" as we got out to sea. Sea-sickness is a general complaint, and caused the passengers to turn up their
noses even at the sight of a roast beef and plum pudding dinner. Singular to say, but nevertheless quite true,
nobody found fault with the food for the first week, but after that, when the appetite returned, there was a
great deal of grumpling at finding the supplies insufficient to satisfy their ravenous hunger although there
were many on board who had never lived so well in their lives before. Some of them got as fat as pigs, others
ate very little, on account of being almost always sick. I was one of the latter. A few days sailing brought the
ship into the Bay of Biscay. It was a grand thing for bilious people, for it was as good as physic to most. At
length we got out of the "troubled waters," and arrived at Maderia, and could see the land and houses looking
very beautiful. The weather was fine, and dancing and concerts of an evening, and fishing in the day time,
made all very comfortable. Crossed the line; weather very hot. Could not sleep below, so laid on deck,
crowded together like sardines in a box. After being becalmed nearly a week we got a start with the trade
winds, and bore away down south into the cold regions. Now I will tell you something that happened to my
wife. It was then very stormy weather, and the sea ran mountains high, when she was confined and gave birth
to a son, which they partially named after the ship, Stuart; the name of my brother Philip, being placed first. A
great rejoicing took place on board, and all the sailors got extra grog. I was appointed nurse, and had no
objection to the billet at night, except the difficulty of carrying in the dark the necessaries required in such
cases. For instance, when the ship was rolling heavily my foot slipped and I fell down and nearly my arm, at
which mishap the sailors indulged in a hearty laugh. One night when I was doing duty as nurse, a knock came
to the hospital door. "Who's there," cried Tom. "It is Jones, Mr. Constable," said the visitor, "there is a smell
of fire in the ship." I was out in a jiffey, and soon discovered that the second mate's cabin was on fire. We bust
the door open, and there he was fast asleep, and part of his clothes burning. There was a cask of rum in his
cabin and other spirits. We roused him out, got help, and soon put the fire out. Had the wind blown in the
opposite direction the ship would have been burned to the water's edge, and every soul have gone to "Davy
Jones' locker," How thankful I felt for this delivery of all from the very jaws or death. Soon after this I got into

a little trouble. I had warned the sailors to keep away from the single women, and threatened to complain to
the doctor. The sailors discussed the subject, and one of them was sent to inform me to look out, or I would
never reach Adelaide alive, but would be sent to feed the fishes instead, which I did not believe in. The
voyage, however, was nearly at an end, and I kept my eyes open; thought much, but said nothing, At length
we anchored off the Semaphore after a voyage of seventy-eight days, ill nearly all the time. Next morning I
went on shore, having arranged with my wife that I would go up to Adelaide in search of a house and work. In
closing the first part of my narrative, I feel constrained to record my sense of the Providence of God that had
preserved me amid so many vicissitudes and privations, and although it has been said it is good to bear the
yolk in our youth, I cannot help thinking that had my earlier history been spent under the advantages of good
education I might have developed a much better character and nobler career. The young, especially, should
learn to value the privileges and seize the opportunities for good which in these days are so freely offered to
them, but which were very sparingly bestowed in my time. I, however, do not repine, but refer the kind reader
to the more hopeful passages, and altogether brighter aspects which marked my later history, and which will
appear in the second and third parts of this autobiography.
PART II.
I was rather surprised to find Adelaide such a miserable looking place; but that was in 1853. It is very
different now. I failed at first in getting work, and found that house rent was high and food dear. I thought I
would dine at a pub, for there were no restaurants were one could get a good "feed" for one shilling in those
days. I had to pay 2s. 6d. for my meal, which rather astonished my weak nerves. Almost in despair I took up
the daily paper, and saw the following advertisement, 'Wanted a conductor for the Star Concert Hall.' "I think
I understand that business," said I to myself, so I called to see what it was like. The landlord told me I might
9
come that night, and let him hear what sort of a singer I was. I next waited on the Dean, and presented a letter
to him from the Bishop's brother in England to Bishop Short of Adelaide. The Dean read the letter and told me
it was simply asking him to find employment for me, and that I might call on him again, as the Bishop had
gone to England, and he would see what could be done for me and my family; but he never asked me to sit
down, or whether I wanted any assistance, although he was told that I had a wife and six children on board the
ship "William Stuart." I left the Dean with a broken spirit, for I had expected to have been received kindly by
the clergy of the church that I had endeavoured to serve with all sincerity in the old country. As night came on
I found my way into a shoemaker's shop, and asking for employment I was told that there was scarcely any

work to be done, as nearly all the men were at the diggings in Victoria, and that Adelaide was like a deserted
village. The shoemaker kindly advanced me five shillings, and told me to repay it when I got work. I did so,
and afterwards the same man became bankrupt, and was so reduced in circumstances that he had to go to the
Destitute Asylum, where he died; but I never forgot the old shoemaker and his five shillings. My first song
was sung at the Concert Hall. It was a long room, and would hold about 100 people. A big chair at the end for
the conductor, who, with piano and violin players, made up the company of artists engaged; amateurs did the
rest. When I entered the room I found it full of smoke, and lots of drink going on; and the landlord was acting
as chairman. He possessed a fine baritone voice, and sang several of Russell's songs in good style; and,
subsequently, played the flute and comet with good taste, which told me that I had no bad judge to sing to.
After a time the chairman rose and said, "Gentlemen, we have here to-night a gentleman from London, who
will oblige us with a little harmony." Cries of "Bravo!" came from all sides of the room. I went up to the
piano, and asked the player if he knew such airs; but to which he replied in broken English that he had never
heard them. He was a German, and a very bad accompanist; so I sang without music one of my favorite songs,
"Give me a Cot in the Valley I Love," and as I sang I thought of my dear wife on board, and broke down. I Sat
down and felt thoroughly ashamed of myself. I had nothing to drink, and altogether felt quite ill. Presently a
gold digger came in and sat down by my side. "What are you drinking?" he asked. "I am not drinking at all,"
said I. "Then I'm going to shout," he replied. "Have a glass of hot brandy with me; it will set you all right." I
consented, and the digger narrated some strange stories about the diggings. I was listening at the same time to
some comic songs that seemed to please the company better than the sentimental ones. A very good violinist
then showed up, and I called to him to have a chat with me. I told him that I was also a professional, and
asked him to accompany me in a comic song, "With pleasure," said he. "Do you know the first figure in the
Irish Quadrilles?" "Yes," said he. "Can you play in the key of D?" "Yes," said he. "All right." I replied, and
began to feel quite a new man. The brandy began to operate, and when I felt its stimulating effects, I rose to
my feet. The chairman called to order, and I said, "Mr. Conductor and gentlemen I find that I made a great
mistake in my first effort, and if you will give me another trial I will endeavor to make amends, and will sing
you a song of my own composing." "All attention!" said the conductor. The fiddler and the pianist played an
introduction, and I commenced to sing, and the company began to laugh. Every one was delighted, and I had
to sing it over three times. The landlord then sent for me and said. "What will you take to drink? Come and
take the chair, and consider yourself engaged. You shall stay here to-night, and breakfast with me in the
morning, and then we will settle about salary and other matters." I went to bed that night in better Spirits than

I had expected, and the next morning, being Sunday, I prepared for church, to return thanks to my maker for
my safe voyage. I had dinner with my new master, and agreed to sing every night, Sundays excepted, for three
months at one pound ten shillings per week, with board and lodging. I signed an agreement to that effect, and
was sorry afterwards that I had done so. The next day I went to the Port to see if the ship was in, and was
informed that she would not be in for some time, on account of low tide. I was very much disappointed at this,
especially as it cost me twenty shillings to be taken from the shore to the ship and back again, which I could
ill afford. I returned to town, and wrote a letter to my wife, telling her all the news, and promising to be at the
Port when the ship came into harbor. After this I took my nightly seat as conductor, and the place was always
crowded. I now began to feel myself at home again, and I made all sorts of acquaintances, some of whom I
did not care for, I was next offered an engagement at a concert room, at salary of £l per night, which, owing to
my engagement, I was obliged to refuse.
I next took a house, not far from the hall, at a rent of 25s. per week, so as to have a home to take my wife and
children to when they got on shore. I brought some furniture, a load of wood, and such other things that were
10
necessary for a commencement new home. The days seemed like months to me til the ship was in Port. The
next day I was up early and, being anxious, went down to the Port in first cart, for there were no railways in
those days, nor was it anything unusual for the Port cart to be upset, and for all the passengers to be pitched
out on the road, and in those primitive days colonists thought very little of such adventures, which only served
to produce a little excitement and interest in the otherwise monotonous round of their everyday life. The
vessel got into port in the afternoon, and I went on board and bid the captain and doctor good-bye; took my
wife, children, and luggage on shore, engaged a drayman, loaded up the dray, placed my wife and children on
top, and started for town, which we reached at dark. There was then no gas, only dismal oil lamps, and every
thing looked wretched at night. I took them home, and left my wife crying when I had to go to my
engagement, but promised to be home as soon as possible, and did so. Got up the next morning and chopped
wood; a job I was not good at, and went to market, and found everything very dear. After a time I got a little
work to do mending old boots; a thing I had not done for years. My wife did her best to get on; she took a
family's washing, and we used to fetch it four miles and a half, and take it home again when it was done. So
time went on. The wife, however, did not like the neighborhood we lived in, so to please her I took a house in
North Adelaide with a shop front, and worked in the shop as I called it; but had no stock except, my wife and
children, shoemaker's tools, and some leather I had brought with me. It so happened one day while I was at

work that two men passing stopped, and looked in, "How do you do, shopmate?" said one of them, whom we
will call Mr. Sweetwilliam; a gentleman from whom, in after days, I .received many favors, which I take this
opportunity of acknowledging, and bearing testimony to his kindliness of heart and superiority of intellect.
His claim to mental ability, however, does not require any confirmation of mine, as he has, unaided, by his
own talents, worked himself up commercially to one of the leading positions of our city; and, politicly, to the
high honor of being a Minister of the Crown. As a public speaker, few can surpass him, and in kindly
sympathy he has few equals in Adelaide. The profits of his great literary success, "lights and Shadows of
London Life," have been entirely devoted to charitable purposes, and the widow and orphan have had good
cause to bless this exercise of his mental activity; also his exertions in aid of the Blind, Deaf, and Dumb
Institution, at Brighton, and many other charitable institutions, bear better proof than anything I can say to his
benevolent disposition. Last, but not least, the assistance he kindly lent me in establishing the Turkish Baths
in Adelaide-an undoubted blessing to our citizens, as supplying a neccesity and a luxury for their use-which I
now gratefully acknowledge. The other was a Mr. Johns. "How long have you been out?" said Mr. Johns.
"Nearly two months," said I. "How do you like the climate?" said Mr. Sweetwilliam. "Rather hot, at times,"
said I. "We have only been out a week," said he, "we live at the corner up the street. You come from London,
I'll swear." "I came from Bermondsey," said Mr. Johns, "call in and see us when you are passing. We brought
out a stock of boots and shoes, perhaps we may be able to do some business together," said they. I agreed to
do so when passing. "Where do you go in the evening?" asked they. "I sing at the Star Hall," said I, "I am a
professional singer, you must know." "We will come and hear you," said they, "we like a good song." "All
right! Good morning!" I called accordingly, and had a look over the stock. They advised me to take a shop
and put up my name as shoemaker, from London. "Can't we do some business together?" said Mr. Johns, "I'll
give you credit if you have no money." "I'll think over it," said I. They attended the concert and were very
much pleased at my singing. Mr. Sweetwilliam sang several very funny comic songs. Mr. Johns made himself
quite at home, and told me that he would call in next morning. I consulted my wife about getting into debt.
She wisely suggested to take fifty pounds worth on sale or return, and I did so. Mr Johns stipulated that I was
to settle up once a month. I selected my stock, made a show of goods, and sold two pairs the first day, and felt
that I had stuck a lode, as the diggers would say. All went on smoothly enough for some time. I increased my
stock till it amounted to two hundred pounds, and kept up my payments too. Everybody had confidence in me.
My engagement was then up, and the landlord wanted me to renew it, but I said "No, I have been offered a
pound a night to sing, and it won't pay me to do it for two pounds a week." "I'll give you more," said he, but I

declined, having something else in my head, and that was to try my luck at gold-digging on the Melbourne
side. I consulted my wife about it. "Go by all means, Thomas," said she, "If you think you will be lucky." This
being settled, before starting I called on my friends, including Mr. Sweetwilliam and Mr. Johns, who gave me
advice as to what I should do when I got there: which advice turned out to be all bunkum, for they had not
been there themselves, and, as a matter of course, they knew nothing about it. I had two neighbours who had
also the gold fever. They had a little money, and asked me to make one of their party. Seeing no objection to
11
this, I agreed to take them us mates, and accordingly we all got ready, went to the Port, and took our berths on
board the steamboat "Havilah," bound for Melbourne. The passage money then for the steerage was seven
pounds each; now you can go for two. My eldest son, Jack, and many friends, so-called, that could drink
nobblers at my expense, went down to the Port to see us off. The captain was a friend of mine, and had been
the chief mate of the "William Stuart" that brought me out from England, so we wanted for nothing during the
trip round, which was a very pleasant one. We arrived safely in Melbourne on a Saturday night at dark. There
was a great rush to the wharf by the sailors, as they wanted to get rid of their cargo, and I nearly lost the best
of my things by a mistake. We first went down Collins-street, and saw the City Coffee House, with board and
lodgings for travellers. We went in and took tea at one shilling and sixpence each, made arrangements to
lodge there, put our things away, and then took a stroll about Melbourne and found the buildings, there were
superior to those in Adelaide. Got home early and went to bed, but not to sleep, the mosquitoes were too
numerous, for there could not (as some lodger remarked) have been a single one in the house; they must have
been all married and with large families. Up early next morning and took a walk to the Chinamen's camping
grounds, and tried in vain to converse with them. Returned to our cafe, had breakfast, went to church, but did
not .think much of the singing there. In the afternoon took a long walk, returned, had tea, and then to bed
early, thinking to have a good night's rest, but I suppose we must have been very wicked, as there was no rest
for us that night. The mosquitoes mustered in full force and laid siege to our faces, so that in the morning we
hardly knew each other. So much for the City Coffee House. Got up and went in search of fresh lodgings, and
got them in Little Bourke-street. Found a singing room, and got an engagement to sing two or three songs a
night at a salary of two pound a week, from seven till nine o'clock. There was dancing afterwards till two and
three o'clock in the morning, but I had nothing to do with that part, of the business. I got work as a shopman in
a large boot and shoe warehouse at a salary of four pounds per week, and might have saved money in
Melbourne, but I was determined to go further and try my luck at the diggings. I had a letter of introduction to

a very respectable man and his family in Melbourne, from a dear friend of theirs in Adelaide. They received
me as if I had been a brother, invited me to supper, and asked me to bring my mates also, as they intended to
give a party. I accepted the invitation, and made myself up for the occasion, and introduced my friend, Jim the
Fiddler, as I will call him in the future; he was a good player. There was a good supper provided. After supper
a little music was proposed, and everybody said, "Hear! hear!" Fiddler Jim played Scotch tunes with
variations, which gave immense pleasure. After that nothing would do but that I must sing, with violin
accompaniment, the following song that had gained me much applause in London:
I miss thee, my mother, thine image is still The deepest impressed on my heart; Thy tablet so faithful, I in
death must be chilled, 'Ere a line of that vision depart.
Thou wert torn from my side when I treasured thee most. When my reason could measure thy worth, And I
know but too well that the idol I lost Could ne'er be replaced upon earth.
A Yankee gentleman present began to cry. He had left home when a boy, and had not heard from his mother
since. I also sang some comic songs, which, by the aid of a little grog, made them all merry. My new friends
were very strict Ronan Catholics, and they persuaded me to attend the Cathedral with them to hear the grand
music and their imposing ceremonies, which at once put me in mind of St. Barnabas's. They afterwards
introduced me to their priest, who was greatly affected with my account of St. Barnabas's, and remarked that I
was as good a Catholic as himself. After a short time they persuaded me to be conditionally received into their
Church. My kind friends put themselves about to witness the ceremony, and wanted me to stop in Melbourne,
and not to go to the diggings at all, and offered to lend me £300 to go into business with, to be paid back by
instalments with small interest. This I declined with thanks, and made up my mind to go in search of the
precious metal. So I and my mates gave notice to leave to our employers the following week. Fiddler Jim was
a painter, and George was a plumber and gas-fitter, and henceforth he will be called "Plumber George."
Before starting from Melbourne for Forest Creek diggings, we went into committee to see what money we had
After fitting ourselves out as diggers, with blue guernseys, knee-hoots, pistols, tin pannikins, &c., we started
on our journey, walked a few miles out of Melbourne, and got hungry. We stopped and took breakfast, paying
for it three shillings each, and believing that a nobbler would not hurt us, we called for three, for which we
12
paid very reluctantly one shilling each. We called a council of ways and means, for it was plain at that rate of
charges we should not have sufficient money to take us half-way to Forest Creek. It was agreed, therefore, to
reduce ourselves down to two meals per day, instead of three; two drinks, ditto, instead of three; and push on

as fast as we could. We reached Keilor Plains, a wild-looking country; not a tree to be seen, while the sun was
so hot that it burnt the skin off our faces. It was getting dark when we arrived at the township of Keilor, which
consisted in the year 1854, of two stores, butcher's shop, and restaurant, where we put up for the night. It was
dreadful what we had to pass through that night, for it rained so hard that it came in and ran down our
mattresses, which were on the ground. I got such a cold that I thought I had quite lost my voice. My mates
were also very ill. We started early for the next town, Gisbourne, at the foot of Mount Macedon, near the
entrance to the Black Forest, and arrived there about dinner time very hungry, but afraid to have anything, as
our funds were getting very low. We sat in committee outside the Forest Inn. Fiddler Jim said he wished that
we were back in Adelaide. "So do I," said Plumber George. "I'll see what the diggings are like first," said I.
"How are we to get there?" asked they. "Fear not, but trust in Providence," I replied; and just at that the
moment a gentleman rode up on horseback. I went up to him, and said, "shall I hold your horse, sir?" "My
good man," he said, "it is the first time that I have been asked such a question since I have been in Victoria."
"The fact is, sir," said I, "my mates and I are rather hard up, and are on our way to the diggings, and have but
very little money." He dismounted, and handed me the reins. "I will not be long," said he; and he was not
many minutes settling his business, and then he came to me and slipped five shillings into my hand. I thanked
the gentleman, and ran to my mates. Fiddler Jim said he would starve before he would do such n thing;
Plumber George thought different. "Well, we will have a drink out of the five shillings," said I. "Most,
willingly," said Fiddler Jim; for he was not too proud for that. We entered the inn, and called for beer. The
landlord was playing an accordion. "Are you fond of music?" said I. "Very much," replied the landlord. "We
can give you a treat in that line if you have a large room," said I, "for one of my mates is a first-class violinist
from Julien's Band, London, and I, myself, am a London concert-singer, comic and sentimental." "Well," said
he, "It would not pay me to engage you. There are so few people living about here." "Well," said I, "If you
will give us our board and lodging for two days we will not charge you anything further." "Have you got any
bills printed?" he asked. "No," I replied; "but we will write free orders, and take them round to the stores and
tents, and when we get the people here, we will make it pay you and ourselves too." "All right," said he; "I'll
light the room by eight o'clock; and now what will you take to drink?" and we tried three nobblers of brandy.
"Now boys to work," said I. "Get out writing paper and write out one hundred orders to 'Admit bearer. Notice
to the inhabitants of Gisbourne! At the Forest Inn a grand concert will take place this evening! Admittance
free. Cockney Tom, manager.'" These we distributed ourselves at every tent within two miles round. Our
programme was a very simple one, and our stage was made of brandy cases, with carpet over them. There was

a chair for Jim the Fiddler, and one for me, and Plummer George had to keep order as conductor. I
commenced with a sentimental song, which was followed by a violin solo. Then came the landlord on the
concertina; after which I sang "Billy Nutts, the Poet," and had to repeat it; then came a selection of Scotch
airs, by Fiddler Jim, which was encored; and that ended the first part. Refreshments all followed, for the
benefit of the landlord. Part the second-comic song, in caricature, by myself, entitled "Timothy Black," proved
quite a sensation. Sang two more songs, then announced that after an interval of ten minutes the dancing
would commence. The company began to get so numerous that we wondered where all the people came from
in that lonely part of the world. I spoke to the landlord about passing round the plate. He entered into the idea
with pleasure, going round with it himself, and collected over four pounds, and was requested to have the
entertainment repeated the next night, which was agreed to; and we went to bed very tired. Next day found a
spring of beautiful water, had a bathe, and returned to dinner. After a rest, we had a look around the place, and
saw in the afternoon what we had never seen before. A young man had been to Melbourne and was returning
to the diggings with a bullock-dray loaded with provisions. He stopped at the Forest Inn, and you may easily
imagine he was drunk, for he began to boast of the amount of money he was making. The landlord told him,
as he had so much money, he had better shout £10 worth of champagne. "All right," said he. "Where is the
money?" asked the publican. "You think I haven't got it," said he. "I will show you." And then down went a
£10-note, which the landlord put in his pocket. Up came ten bottles of fiz. Everybody drank some; the
bullock-driver got beastly drunk, and the landlord took him by the nape of his neck and kicked him into the
road. Next morning I fancied I heard him sing the following lines:
13
"It was the cussed liquor that fired up my soul, And caused me from my duty to depart; So onward now my
journey I'll pursue But, golly! how my head begins to smart! So, 'gee up Strawberry!'"
The second night the room was crowded. The same programme was gone through as on the previous
occasion, and nearly everybody got the worse for drink. They were very generous, however, and the
subscription amounted to £11, and we all had a good "booze" at the close. The following morning, after
breakfast, we prepared to start for the next township, Kyneton, about 20 miles distant. The road lay through
the Black Forest. How it got the name of Black Forest was on account of the many black deeds that had been
done in it. Numerous murders were committed, travellers were plundered, and the gold escort stuck up. It was
twelve miles through, and had only one inn and a store passing the distance. There is another reason why it is
called Black Forest, viz., that there was a Black Thursday in those days, which is recorded in the "History of

Victoria" as the hottest day ever known there. On that day the forest took fire, and burnt for weeks, being one
great fire furnace for many miles, and when it died out every tree was as black as charcoal. From that day to
the present it has been called the Black Forest.
We left Gisbonrne, with our treasury much increased, and we felt grateful thereat. Walked on about five miles
into the forest, when we saw a house in the distance, which turned out to be a public house; and, as it was very
hot travelling, Fiddler Jim proposed to have a drink. "If you like," said Plumber George. "I don't care about
it," said I; "so I'll stay outside and mind the swags." I saw a flower-garden close by the house, and being fond
of flowers, I thought I would have a look at them, and did so; but was surprised to see a black board there, on
which was written "Here lies the body of William Brown, who was murdered by his mate whilst coming
down from the diggings. He afterwards confessed, and was hung in Melbourne in 1842." I wanted a nobbler
after reading that inscription, and had one. On calling my mates attention to the board, it made them shudder.
Further on we met the gold escort, consisting of about thirty horsemen with drawn swords, carbines, and
pistols, coming from the diggings. Some were guarding each side of the gold carts, and others acting as
scouts, riding through the bush near the road. They all wore red jumpers and helmets, The next thing that we
noticed was a poor bullock, knocked on the head, merely because he was worn out. We got through the forest
at last, and it seemed a long twelve miles. It was then getting late, so we pushed on as well as we could, but
we couldn't walk fast, as our swags were too heavy, and Fiddler Jim began to complain that he could not go
much further. As darkness came on we lost our way, but found it again and arrived in Kyneton about 9 o'clock
at night, completely knocked up.
Got up late the next morning, and took a walk through Kyneton, which was the best-looking town we had
seen out of Melbourne. There were three good hotels, several stores, drapers, watchmaker, tailors,
shoemakers, and butchers, and bakers. Lots of diggers were returning who had made their pile, and others
going to try to make theirs; of course we were amongst the latter. After sundry refreshments we went into
committee to consider what was to be done next. We all agreed that a day's spell would do us a deal of good,
and that we should be all the better prepared for gold-digging afterwards. We were then only twelve or
fourteen miles from Forest Creek, and I proposed looking for fresh lodgings, as the house we were staying at
was anything but respectable. This was agreed to, and we searched and were successful in finding good beds,
food and liquors, and plenty of company. "This will do," said I; "we must make some money here." "How?"
said fiddler Jim. "The same as at the Forest Inn," replied I. "At any rate we can but try," said Plumber George;
"I am good to keep the door and repair their beer engine, if through being overworked it should happen to get

out of order." "Well, I'll see what's best to be done," said I; "in the meantime you have a rest till I come back."
I went into the kitchen and saw the girls. "I beg your pardon," said I to one of them; "but will you inform me
if you have a room large enough for a dance." "Oh! yes; we use the lodge room when we have a ball, and Mrs.
Halliday is very fond of a dance; she will be so pleased, so by all means go and see her at once, and let us
know when it is to take place. Plenty of people will be glad to come I am sure," said the girl, and so off I went
to see Mrs. Halliday. "Are you musicians?" asked she. "My mate plays and I am a London concert singer, will
you give us an engagement?" said I. '''No,'' said she, "I will not do that, but you can have the use of our club
room for nothing, and you can charge what you like for admission." I told her that at the Forest Inn the
landlord found us in board and lodging. "Very well, then," said she, "I will do the same. When do you propose
14
to commence?" "To-night," said I. "Then," said she, "I'll tell the ostler to light up the room and get your stage
ready." I had a nobbler and returned to my mates and found them asleep. "Wake up," said I, "there's business
to be done." "What's up?" said Fiddler Jim. "Anything fresh?" asked Plumber George. "Yes," said I, telling
them all about my arrangements. "What's to be done first?" said I, "we must get a large piece of Cardboard
and write on it in large letters, 'A grand ball and concert will take place here to-night. Admission 2s.; to
commence at 8 sharp. Cockney Torn, Manager.'" The remainder of the day was spent going about informing
the inhabitants what a treat was in store for them. You must know that Fiddler Jim and myself had brought
with us an old dress coat each, and black trousers and white waistcoat, all the worse for wear. These, and my
coats and other rags for caricature business, and the fiddle, comprised our professional stock-in-trade. Eight
o'clock came and the folks began to muster. Plumber George was at the door taking the two shillings, which I
thought was little less than a robbery, but I had agreed to do it. They commenced the same programme as at
the Forest Inn, and all went off well. The interval as before, and drinks all round. Everybody was eager for the
dance; off they went. Mrs. Halliday came in; she was a Scotch lassie, and couldn't keep her feet quiet while
the "Reel of Tullegoram" was being played; she rushed into the room and began to twist and twirl about like
an eel till she nearly fainted. They kept it up late, and we promised to repeat the entertainment the next night
with a slight change in the programme. We thanked the company, and retired to our room, counted the cash,
and found we had taken eight pounds. "It's not bad," said Fiddler Jim. "Let's have another nobbler before we
go to bed," said Plumber George. "All right," rejoined I. The next day we took a long walk; and found good
farming country around Kyneton. Home to dinner, everything going right. Rested in the afternoon, and then
got ready for concert and ball No. 2. The place was not rushed the second night, but we nevertheless added

four pounds more to our treasury. After a good night's rest we got up and prepared to start, and bid goodbye to
the landlady, the servants, and the town of Kyneton. We had about twelve or fourteen miles to walk to the
great forest diggings that had given me the fever in London. We Stopped at Sawpit Gully and had a rest and
beer, six miles more and then we saw what is not easily forgotten. We arrived safely at the creek, and were
astonished to see the number of tents, the thousands at work, men, women, girls, and boys of all ages, and the
deep holes nearly frightened me. When the diggers saw us they they began to shout, "Joe! .Joe!" which was
responded to all round the diggings. It was a saying or cry they had. When the police went round to examine
their licenses, I and my party walked on, taking observations, when all at once some one called out, "Is that
you, Plumber George?" "Yes," said he, "all that remains of me since I left London." "What do you think of the
diggings?" said Mr. Postman. We had better call him by that name, for after he left the diggings he came back
to Adelaide and got an appointment as mail guard, which he held for twenty years. He is alive now and has
retired, or is about to retire from the service an independent man. Once he was a poor tailor in London. "How
long have you been here?" said Postman. "Just arrived," said we. "Have you had any dinner?" "What did you
say?" "Have you had any dinner?" "No," said I, "we have only just arrived. "You shall dine with me in my
tent, and I'll give you a shakedown to-night," said he. "Thanks," said I. "My mates," said Postman, "are out
prospecting, and I don't, expect them back for a day or two. In the meantime I will tell you a thing or two
about the goldfields. Come with me to my butcher's." The butcher's shop was a tent, with two or three sheep
hanging up, also some sausages. "A quarter of mutton," said Postman. "All right," said butcher, "we expect to
have half of a bullock next week." "These are some friends of mine from Adelaide; you may safely trust them
if they get hard up," said Postman. "They can have what they like on your recommendation." We arrived at his
tent, and soon made a fire. "How are you going to cook?" asked Fiddler Jim. "You shall soon see", said
Postman. Whereupon he got a tin bucket, washed it out, put water in, slung it over the fire, cut off the leg of
mutton, and in that went, after that flour was made into hard dumplings, potatoes, onions, and oatmeal all
went in the same bucket that was used for getting out the gold dirt from the holes. Then Mr. Postman
proposed that we should go with him to Johnny Allsort's store and get some beer, while the dinner was
cooking, to which we all agreed. Mr. Postman gave us a hint that we had better look out for the holes, or we
might find ourselves in a bath. As we walked along Mr. Postman endeavored to enlighten us by explaining the
names, &c., of the various claims within view. Where we then were was called Pennyweight Flat. "On our
right is Moonlight Flat; then over there is Long Gully; that hill on the left is called Adelaide Hill; and the next
is Friar's Creek; then further on is Campbell's Creek; and then comes Murder Creek, which takes you on to

Tarangower." We arrived at Johnny Allsorts, and had two bottles of beer, for which we paid 8s. We were
introduced to Johnny as new arrivals. He had made his fortune by selling to new chums such articles as tents,
15
cradles, buckets, tubs, and frying-pans; in fact he could supply anything except gold dust, which he bought, or
exchanged for tea, sugar, or grog. We arranged to call next morning and do business with him. Got back
safely, and enjoyed our dinner, after which we had a long yarn about digging, followed by a song. Some
neighbours came in, and Jim turned out his fiddle, and played a bit, after which we had some grog, fired off
our pistols, reloaded them, made up the fire, and then turned into our blankets, with our firearms under our
pillows. I slept well till daylight, when I got up and made a fire, put on the billy, and had breakfast. We then
gave .Johnny Allsorts another call, all of us going together. Mr. Postman accompanied us to see that we were
not imposed upon. Johnny greeted us with, "How are you this morning? Will you take a nobbler?" "After
business," said I. "Good," said Mr. Postman. "Now, then," said Allsorts, "what is the first thing?" "A good,
warm tent," said Fiddler .Tim. "I can accommodate you to a T. I have one not far off that I bought off three
diggers who went to the new rush. Come with me and you shall see it, and then judge for yourself." We all
went to look at it, and found it to be a good second-hand tent. "It's dirt cheap at £5," said Johnny Allsorts.
"Too much," said Mr. Postman, "if it was offered to you to-morrow you would not give any more than £2 for
it." "Well, we will not quarrel about a pound," said he. "It is yours for four." "All right," said the lot of us. Mr.
Postman selected what we should want to begin with, such as a cradle, buckets, rope picks, shovels, dishes, a
camp-oven, flour, potatoes, onions, matches, &c. When the account was made up we had not enough to pay it;
so Johnny said, "Never mind the balance now. If you are lucky, come and pay; and, in the meantime, give me
your names for the account, so that if you have to leave I may have a claim on the tent." We consulted
together, and agreed to his terms. We then bad nobblers all round, took possession of our goods, and moved
into our new tent. We arranged that Plumber George was to be cook for the first week, and the first thing that
he had to do was to chop a tree down, but Fiddler Jim, however, had to help him. I went off to the butcher's
shop, and got credit for a quarter of mutton; and when I got back they had lighted a fire, so I fried some
mutton, boiled some potatoes, and had dinner; after which we went into committee. "What's the first thing to
be done?" asked George. "We must take out our license before we begin to dig." said .Jim. "Ah!" said I; "I
forgot that! We shell have to pay three pound for it." "And I should like to know where the money is to came
from," said Fiddler Jim. "I'll try my friend, Mr. Postman," said George. He did so, and got it. We then took a
walk to the Commissioner's tent, and got our licences, after which we had a good look over the township,

which was called Castlemaine, and is so called to this day. It's original name, however, was Mount Alexander.
We returned, and marked out our claim near a spot were we were told lots of gold had been found. As it
rained heavily, we agreed not to start work until the next day, so we returned to our tent and wrote letters,
informing the folks at home of our safe arrival. Got to work next day, and took it in turns, one to use the pick,
and the other the shovel. We got down about four feet the first day, and were very tired, our hands, not being
used to pick and shovel work, were very sore. The next day we expected to bottom the hole. The diggers told
us that we should strike the pipe-clay at about seven feet. The deeper we went the labor of getting the stuff to
the surface was increased, as every bit had to be drawn up in buckets. The third day we got to the pipe-clay,
under which was found a small deposit of gravel. We hauled it up very carefully for fear of losing any, and we
put it through the cradle, as we had seen the others do, after which we washed it in a tin dish, and then at the
bottom of it we found some very fine specks of gold, about two pennyweights, valued at about seven shillings,
and this was the glorious result of three days at the digging's-a splendid sum to divide among three men. It is
needless too say that we were disheartened, and Jim the Fiddler was affected almost to tears. As it was a
moonlight night, I suggested a walk into town, and we went; and it was not altogether unprofitable, for I fell
in with a man of the name of Ashton, whom I had known in Adelaide, where he had been Crown Lands'
Ranger. His father was proprietor of a large establishment known as "Ashton's Hotel," and he had many
acquaintances, but I only had the pleasure of his son's friendship. "Ah! my boy," said he, "how do you get on?
Come to try your luck?" "Yes," said Jim, "but it has only been bad luck as yet." "You must not despair." said
Ashton. "Come and take a nobbler with me." Not one of us refused, we all went to the Albert Hotel, and had
two nobblers each. The landlord could see that we were new chums, as he had come from London himself, so
he told us, and had made money by digging, and had invested it in the Albert Hotel. "What trade are you?" he
asked. "My mates are both tradesmen-one is a plumber, and the other is a painter," I replied. "And what are
you?" said he. "Why, I am a professional singer from London." "You'd do well, if you had some music with
you," said he. "Why, one of my mates is a first-class fiddler," said I. "Humph!" said he; "come clown to-night,
and we will see what we can do for you; at any rate, I will give you something to start with." We bade our
16
friend good-bye, and promised him that if we made a change we would go to his place at Tarangower. We
returned to our tent and had tea. Then we took the fiddle and went to our first engagement on Forest Creek,
for which we received about seventeen shillings and a bottle of brandy. We were to play and sing every night
there, unless we had other engagements. We were next told that we should do much better if we worked in the

creek, as many were doing very well there, so we gave that a trial, and found it much easier, and much more
profitable than sinking holes. We got several nice nuggets of gold there; and what with gold digging, fiddling,
and singing, we soon paid Johnny Allsorts and Mr. Postman what we owed them; and more than that, for we
soon got our names up as Jim the Fiddler and Tom the Singer; and were engaged to play at a grand cricketing
dinner, to celebrate a match between eleven Castlemaine players and eleven from Bendigo. There I sang the
Gold Digger's Song, the chorus of which was as follows:
"Merely ply the pick and spade, And rock the cradle fast; Here we pursue no idle trade, For we may be rich at
last."
which was greatly appreciated much to the satisfaction of myself and Fiddler Jim. We stopped there that
night, but there was no sleep as they all got drunk. Champagne was the order, not of the day, but of the night,
and a general scrimmage with pillows and bolsters flying about, and such like, was carried on till daylight in
the morning.
Things went on with us pretty well for several weeks. Our gold-digging averaged about half an ounce per day,
which was not so bad had it lasted; but bad weather set in, and a lot of rain falling the creek was flooded, so
we had to work up to our hips in water, and Plumber George was soon taken bad and could not work. When
the mail came in I and Jim went to the Post Office to see if there were any letters for us. After waiting about
two hours we got our letters; one for George, one for Jim, one for Mr. Postman, and one for me also. We
returned to our tent and then went over to Mr. Postman, who read his letters to us, which was to the effect that
his only child was dying, and that if he wanted to see it before it died he must return at once. He was not long
in making up his mind. "I'm off," said he "to Adelaide to-morrow morning, and leave everything to my mates
to settle. I have made a little gold, and if all goes well I'll come back and make some more." When we told
George the Plumber that Mr. Postman was off to Adelaide, he said, "I'll be off with him, for I am sick of
gold-digging; this kind of life may suit you who can make money by singing and playing, but it don't suit me
at all, and another thing, I want to get home to my wife, as I am quite sure this life don't agree with me." We
gave him a fair share of what we possessed, and the next morning saw Mr Postman and Plumber George off to
Adelaide. Of course we gave them several commissions, which they faithfully executed. We only remained a
short time on Forest Creek after our mates had gone. Truly we lived a fiddling kind of life for the violin and
singing was now our principle support, and strange were the scenes we were obliged to witness. One night
after playing and singing at the Albert Hotel, we were just about to leave when we saw one of the "traps" as
they were called on the diggings, and which means no more nor less than "policeman in plain clothes," I saw

that he had his eyes one some one, so we thought we would watch and see what was up, and we had not long
to wait. A poor drunken digger, who had been shouting to everybody, came out of the Albert Hotel, and
strange to say the very man who ought to have taken him in charge for being drunk, and have protected him
from robbery, knocked him down with his staff, knelt on him, and robbed him of all he possessed, and then
left him on the ground to die if he liked, and what is worse to relate, it was more than your life was worth to
utter a word against this shameful proceeding. Such was the state of society in those days on the gold fields.
Not far from us there lived two men given out to be diggers. We thought that they were, but we soon found
out our mistake. They wormed themselves into our company at every opportunity, and were uncommonly
civil. I could see that these men were no good, and found out that they got their living by sly-grog selling,
cheating at cards, or any other little game. As we could not get rid of them, our only course was to leave
Forest Creek as quietly as possible. We did so, and meeting with some new chums who had come to try their
fortune, we sold them our tent, furniture, and stock-in-trade at a loss; but which was better after all than
selling them to Johnny Allsorts, and off we started next morning for Tarangower, a distance of only fifteen
miles. We had to go through Campbell's and Fryar's Creeks, Deadman's Gully, Murder Flat, and at all these
17
places the gold fever was raging. We passed through without much chaff; now and then-there goes Fiddler
Jim and Singing Tom would be called after us from the creek, but we took no heed and went on our way as
fast as we could.
After walking about ten miles we came to a small township called Mucklesford which lay in a beautiful
valley, and reminded me of my song, "Give me a. cot in the valley I love," the cottages were all built of wood,
with neat little gardens around them, and a creek of beautiful water ran through the township, which contained
two stores, one public house, and a smith's and shoemaker's shops. I had a chat with the disciple of St.
Crispian, and found him to be an old hand from the other side. We enquired how they got their living, and he
informed us that most of them grew vegetables, and supplied the diggers. We asked him to have a drink with
us which he did not refuse; when to our surprise the two men we were in dread of confronted and upbraided
us for not telling them that we were going to Tarangower. They knew where the new rush was, and would like
to chum in with us they said. We told them that we had a friend there where we intended to stay; but they
would not be put off, and determined to keep us company, to protect us in case of our meeting bushrangers.
They asked us many questions such as "You must have made a lot of money at the Creek with your playing
and singing." I told them we had made very little in deed, and what we had got we had sent home to our wives

in Adelaide. We were very civil to these strangers for it was no use being otherwise, as they were well armed
and not particular.
After a long walk we arrived at Tarangower at dark, completely knocked up. Fiddler Jim said he had never
walked such a long fifteen miles in his life; it seemed to him more like thirty. I soon found out my friend
Ashton, who was glad to see us. We shouted to the men who had kept us company, and bade them good night.
"All right," said they, "we will see you in the morning." I told Ashton about these men. "Oh! I know them,"
said he, "they are the biggest rogues and thieves on the diggings, and one has been tried for murder; keep out
of their company." We thanked Ashton for his advice. As he could not furnish us with lodgings, he took us to
a friend who kept a large saloon. He undertook to give us a shakedown for three shillings each. About thirty of
us slept in one large tent on boards, with just a mattress laid on them, every man finding his own blankets. We
slept pretty well, and got up early, took a walk round the township, which was called Maulden, on account of
a man of that name owning a lot of land in that district. It had formerly been known as Bryant's Ranges. This
Bryant was a sheep farmer, and had made a large fortune when the diggings were first started by supplying the
diggers with mutton. We had breakfast and called on Ashton, who said, "I am glad you have turned up, as I
have got you an engagement with my neighbour that keeps the National Hall, he wants some one that is likely
to draw well, so I will go and introduce you to him; he is a black man, but not a bad sort." We found his words
true. Jim requested me to make the engagements, as I was a better general at that sort of thing than he was
himself, so to oblige him I engaged myself and Fiddler Jim to a black man for three months, at a salary of
three pounds per week each, and what money we could collect, with board and lodging, and with the full right
to dig in the day time. The agreement being duly signed and witnessed, we cracked a bottle of wine over
it-which, by the way, was not very good. Our first night was not such a great success as we had anticipated it
to be. We got our bills out; but the people did not show up at first, which was to be accounted for by the fact
that a week before we arrived there had been a company of minstrels known as Rainer's New York Niggers
playing there, who had done well, and then gone on to Bendigo. We had a miserable attendance to begin with,
but as the evening advanced the company increased, and at the end of the first part I made a speech to the
effect that there would be a change of programme every evening, and dancing would commence at nine
o'clock and close at eleven; also that there was to be no charge for admission, but that they were to give what
they liked to the "musicians. Now," said I, "take your places for the first dance." "Let's have a Scotch reel,"
said one digger. "Good," said another; and off they started. Presently more company arrived, and in came
Ashton and his friends, and they all began to dance. Fiddler Jim kept them dose at it. Ashton went round with

his hat and collected three pounds the first time; he repeated it again and got nearly as much more. At the
finish we all went to Ashton's tent and every one of us got more or less the worse for drink. We found out
afterwards that Ashton and our master, the black man, were working together in more ways than one.
Next day we had a look round the diggings, and it was a grand sight to see so many hills and gullies covered
18
with tents of all sorts, and occupied by people of all nations. We now purchased a new set of digger's tools,
hearing that a new rush had taken place at Long Gully, a place about two miles from Maryborough. We did a
fair business at the hall on our second night, for the ladies put in an appearance in good force, and we felt
certain the men would soon follow. The next morning we were off to the new rush. We had to pass through a
lot of bush country, and as there were no tracks we lost our way, but after a long time fell in with a digger who
set us right again, and got to our destination about the middle of the day. We marked out our claim close to
the spot where we were told they had struck gold, and as we had to get back to the hall in time for dinner, we
had no time to try our luck that day. We still heard reports that lots of gold had been found near our claim, so
next morning early off we went, and got to work. We sank about four feet and got no gold; our neighbours in
the next claim got down to the pipe clay, and struck a small patch of gold, about two pennyweights, which
gave them courage to persevere, and the next day we bottomed, scraped up the wash-dirt, and carried it home
to wash, there being no water nearer than three miles, and of course we were very anxious to see what gold we
had got, and so washed it very carefully, and found we had about half an onnce, and a few grains of nuggety
gold; which we considered not so bad a result.
The next day Jim was unwell, and could not work; so I went to the claim alone. Imagine my surprise when I
found the man I wanted most to avoid coolly working our claim, and getting gold. "Hilloa!" said he; "I heard
this was your claim, and that you were going to give it up as a duffer. I'll go in with you; my tent is close by,
and I shall be on the spot to see that no one jumps the claim." I said that I would speak to my mate and give
him an answer the next day; so he went to work, and I shared the gold with him, which we sold at a store for
two pounds. When I got home I found Jim much better, and I told him about our Forest Creek friend, which
rather frightened him. "You will have to watch him pretty closely," said he. "I don't know what else you could
do than keep in with him; so keep on digging, and I will be about and keep my eyes open, for you know I
myself am not much good at digging." Fiddler .Jim was right; he did not like the pick and spade. Things went
on very well, as we though; but an old man who worked in the same hole to us, quietly said to me: "Where did
you pick up with your mate?" I told him in confidence all I knew about him. "I know him," said he. "I came

from Sydney; that's were I met him. There has been a lot of tents robbed, and a store down in the Gully was
stuck-up last night, and this cove is one of the mob suspected. Be careful, my boy," continued the old Sydney
man; "I have been on the diggings four years, and have made very little gold; but what little I do get I send to
my poor daughter, who is in Sydney." After that I began to like the old man-very much.
In the afternoon of that day I heard a great noise, and a voice shouting, "A fight! a fight!" I got out of the hole
to see what was up, and sure enough there were two men stripped, and a mob of blackguards backing them up.
I thought I would go and have a look on, but the crime carried the punishment, for I tumbled down a hole and
nearly broke my arm. I afterwards ascertained that the men had quarrelled about a claim, and to settle the
dispute they determined upon a fight, and the best man was to have it. The fight lasted nearly two hours, when
they both were taken to their tents-the losing man could not work for a week after, and the winning man was
more than a fortnight getting round. So much for fighting. This took place on a Friday, and the next day my
new acquaintance came to my hole while I was at work, and said in a whisper: "Are you by yourself?" "Yes,"
said I; "my mate has gone to a store to get a nobbler." "Then come up," said he. I did so, and after the old man
had a look round to make sure he was not being watched, he unrolled a dirty, old, colored handkerchief.
"Look at that, my boy. I have been looking after this for four years, and now I am off to my dear child in
Sydney, and I shall never see you again. Don't tell anyone about my luck," and as he spoke he showed me a
lump of gold and quartz as big us a pint-pot. It must have weighed eight or ten pounds. He had just struck it
with his pick in a corner of his claim. He wet away very quietly, and I never saw him afterwards. We worked
hard there for some time after that, but there were no great nuggets for us.
It so happened one day that a man, whom I knew by sight, called to me: "I say, Tom, I can lay you on to a real
good thing, and it's not to every one I would do so, but as I know you I give you the first chance. It is this: I
have received a letter from my sister, stating that my mother is dangerously ill, and that I must go down to
Melbourne as quickly as I can. Now, this claim of mine is very rich, and if you like to give me a five-pound
note you can take my claim and work it out. You will get gold enough to pay you back in one day. To
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convince you," said he, "just come down and judge for yourself." I went with him, and he began to pick away,
and to examine the stuff. I looked on with astonishment, as there was no mistake about it-there was gold in
every shovel full of dirt taken up. I said: "I'll tell you what I will do; I'll give you four pounds, and chance it."
"Well, as I want to get away," said he, "I will take it." When I told my mates what a bargain I had struck, my
Forest Creek mate remarked, "You have been nicely got at! That fellow gets his living that way. You bet, the

hole was prepared." "What's that?" said I, "Why, he planted the gold there himself to deceive you." I could
hardly believe it; but, alas! it turned out to be too true. I now began to have a very bad opinion of myself as
not being so smart a man as I had thought.
A day or two afterwards, while a poor fellow was working in his hole, which was not very far from my claim,
and where, by the bye, I was getting nothing, a cry arose that the earth had given way and buried him.
Everybody was ready to lend a hand to dig him out; but when they recovered him he was quite dead. This sad
event put a stop to work that day, and I and Fiddler Jim resolved to leave the Long Gully, and work nearer the
Hall. So a day or two afterwards we told our Forest Creek mate what we were going to do, and, to our
surprise, he was quite agreeable, remarking that he wanted a change himself. "But," said he, "we may meet
again. I didn't like you chaps at first, but I don't know how it is, I have taking a great liking to you all at once,
so we will have a drink together before we part;" which we did, and felt relieved of a companion who had
kept us both in fear. We next went to work in German Gully, but got very little gold. We left there and went to
work at Chinaman's Flat, and there did nothing at all. Then we tried our luck at Sailor's Gully, and Spearmint
Hill, and got a little gold, but not enough to pay, as it cost us ten shillings a load for water to wash the stuff,
we dug up. The professional business at the Hall now began to flag, and we found out that the black man was
very much in debt, and, consequently, we could not get our salary. We went into council with Ashton, and he
advised us to stay and work up a benefit. He informed us that a digger's ball was to take place, and that we
might get the job to work it up.
A day or two later I was destined to witness a painful sight, which depressed my spirits for several days
afterwards. As I was going home to my tent I saw a crowd of diggers walking three abreast, and carrying in
front what seem a sailor's chest. It looked very much like a rollicking party of drunken fellows bent on some
bachanalian festival. Some were smoking, while others were indulging in coarse jokes and loose conversation,
and it was quite evident to me that most of them were very much under the influence of drink. When I came
up to the party I naturally inquired what was the matter. "Oh, nothing particular-it's only a digger that has
been found dead in his tent. He was bad for some time, and his mates have got permission from the police to
bury him." "Has he no relations with him?" I enquired. "None that are known. Nobody even knows his real
name; he is called Bill the Sailor." I followed them to a place leading up to the mount, where they stopped, let
down the box by the side of a hole about three feet deep, and tried to get the box in; but the hole was not big
enough, and they had to set to work digging until it was the proper size. At last they managed to get the box
down, and when fairly in the hole it was about two feet below the surface. They shovelled in the earth over the

poor fellow, who was buried like a dog, without a word of prayer; but not without n certain amount of jesting
and rude remarks, which nearly made me commit myself. My feelings were harrowed up to such a pitch at
this exhibition of the demoralizing influence of gold digging, that I felt almost ready to exhort them to think
of their own latter end; but on thinking the matter over I decided that it would be better not to do so, but
offered a prayer to God in silence instead.
When I got back to the hall, Fiddler Jim and a man whom we had better call Mr. Fiddler No. 2, who knew Jim
in London, were waiting to see me on business. "What is it to be?" I asked. "Well," said Mr. Fiddler No. 2, "I
am sent by Mr. Hitchcock, of Castlemaine to offer you an engagement for a day and a night-you to sing, and
Mr. Fiddler Jim to play the fiddle, with me and a pianist. We don't want much rehearsal, as you understand
each other's business. You will have to sing at the opening dinner, for which there are two hundred tickets
issued, at two guineas each, and there is to be a ball and concert. It is to celebrate the opening of a large
restaurant to dine three hundred a-day, and they are sparing no expense to get the thing up in Al style. Now,
what do you think would pay you to come down the day before, and go back the next afternoon?" "Well," said
I, "I don't think we can do it for less than five pounds each and expenses. What do you think, Jim?" "I should
20
say that is little enough; but mind, we are not going down in a bullock-dray. He must send us up a decent trap
and a pair of horses." "All right," said Fiddler No. 2. "write out the agreement, and if you are agreeable to the
terms you shall sign it. I will witness it, and I will send it up to you with particulars when you are to come."
"All right," I said; "we will come, and now let us have a liquor. Had you not better stop to our show to-night,
and go down to-morrow." "All right," said he; "but I only wish I had brought my fiddle with me." "Never
mind that," said I; "we can borrow one for you." We had a very jolly night of it; for bottled ale, porter, and
sherry being the order of the band. It was proposed that we should have the Huntsman's Chorus, which we all
sang in union with the black man, Ashton, and several others, I arranging the words as follows:
"We will chase the kangaroo, We will chase the kangaroo Thro' the wild woods we will follow, And will
chase the kangaroo."
No less than twenty times was this repeated, till everybody thought we were mad, and they were not far out in
their judgment. The next day we saw our friend Fiddler No. 2 off, but not before we had arranged with him
about, our benefit. From that time we did very little gold digging.
I made the acquaintance of a somewhat intelligent Chinaman, who was cook at the police camp. He was well
dressed, and had his hair closely cropped. He drank no beer or spirits, but indulged freely in tobacco smoke;

but no opium for him. He used to relate droll stories about his country and their clever tricks, and, said for
plundering, no nation could beat his at that sort of thing, as their depredations were simply wonderful. They
could vie with all creation, and they could live cheaper than any other people; also, that they were more
numerous than any other people, excelled in gambling and cheating, and were the oldest-fashioned people on
record. In fact, everybody was just simply nobody when compared with the Celestials. John Chinaman
completely shut me up.
On the following Sunday Fiddler Jim and I received an invitation to dine on Mount Tarangower. Mrs. Ashton
gave out the invites, and the party consisted of Mr. Blackman and wife, Mr. New York and his sweetheart, a
neighbouring digger and wife, two young ladies, one of whom was a dressmaker, and the other took in
washing, and Mr. and Mrs. Ashton, with two kangaroo dogs for hunting. We started at 10 a.m. from the camp
on a very hot day, and consequently had to rest and refresh very often, and by the time we reached the top of
the mount it was past one o'clock; but the magnificent sight rewarded us for all our trouble in getting there.
The view is altogether beyond my power to describe. The scenery about Mount Lofty and Adelaide are grand,
but Mount Tarangower eclipses both. We had dinner, prepared by the ladies, and then took a walk. Meet a
native with boomerangs under his arm, and the dogs would have bitten him had not Ashton called them off.
We asked the native to show us how they used the boomerang, and he did so very cleverly. The next thing to
be done was, under orders from the ladies, to get some dry wood and make a camp-fire. As a matter of course
we instantly obeyed, and on went a billy, which they had brought with them. "Now, you can have a smoke,"
said Miss Dressmaker. "Yes, till tea, is ready," said Miss Washerwoman. "And a nobbler," said Fiddler Jim. "I
second that," said Ashton, and it was carried unanimously. After a short stroll we returned to tea, everything
being first-class, consisting of boiled fowls, ducks, pickles, cakes, etc. After tea we had nobblers all round, the
ladies joining in, and then made a start for home, which we reached in half the time it took us to ascend. We
were all very tired, and soon got to bed, some to dream, and others to think over the wonderful works of the
great Creator. I could not sleep, my thoughts wondering from the mount to Adelaide, and my wife and
children who were waiting to receive me; but eventually .I dozed oft. I slept until roused for breakfast, after
which I went to the post-office to see if there were any letters for me. Sure enough there was one addressed to
"Cockney Tom and Fiddler Jim, esqrs., National Hotel Tarangower." It read as follows: "Dear Sirs-Consider
yourselves engaged at Castlemaine for Wednesday next. Your terms are accepted, and I shall be there to meet
you with carriage and pair. Get everything ready to start, and on our way back we can see the races at
Mucklesford. Trusting you are all jolly, believe me, my dear brothers, yours sincerely, Fiddler No 2." "All

right," said .Jim; "we must get everything ready-clean white vests, white shirts, neckties, and dress-coats."
"By George!" said I, "our boots are very bad, and we will have to see what we can borrow. We must not look
shabby in our carriage." "I believe," said Fiddler Jim, "that I shall be the first of my family who ever rode in a
21
carriage to a five-pound engagement." "I can say ditto to that," replied I. We had got everything ready when
Wednesday morning arrived, and the carriage and pair, with our friend, Fiddler No. 2, looked mighty big in it.
"Give the horses a spell, and let's have a nobbler before we start," said I. "I am quite agreeable," said Fiddler
No. 2. "By-the-bye," said he, "do you think I could do any thing in the photographic line up here." "I think
you would do well," said I, "as there is a lot of women about, and they are fond of that sort of thing." "I'll
think it over," said he. By this time we had got all out luggage in the carriage, ourselves seated, we waved our
hands to our friends, and started. Nothing particular occurred on the road. We arrived at Mucklesford and
repaired to the race course, about a mile off. What a sight it was to see so many people there. "Where did they
all come from?" was the general enquiry. "Some from one diggings and some from another," was the reply.
Gambling and drinking were all the rage. We saw but one race, they called it a steeplechase, and in that race a
jockey, a poor little boy, fell from his horse, broke his arm, and was carried off for dead. We did not stop to
see any more races, but drove on and arrived safely at Castlemaine, refreshed ourselves, and got ready for
business. We were introduced to lots of people, including our host, Mr. Barnes, who treated us as gentlemen.
We then made out our programme, which he approved of. The dinner was to be on the table at 5 p.m., concert
and ball to begin at 9 p.m., and to wind up we set down Sir Roger de Coverley for 4 a.m.; I acting as
toast-master, singer, manager, &c. At five o'clock the first act commenced with eating and drinking, and corks
were soon flying about in all directions. In course of time they got tired of that; then the chairman rose (he
was the Commissioner of Police stationed there) amid thunders of applause. "Gentlemen," said he, "Dr.
Brown will preside at the piano, and a gentleman from London will lead the singing. First I'll give you 'The
Queen." I then sang the solos and the company joined in the choruses, after which several grand speeches
were made, and songs were sung. I sung several songs and was encored, and then occupied myself in getting
others to sing, and so kept them alive. At 9 o'clock sharp the ladies began to arrive for the ball, and the old
adage that it is not all "Gold that glitters," had its truth amply proved on this occasion. There were many at
that ball who had no proper notion of ball-room etiquette. They had evidently come to see and be seen, just as
some people go to places of worship, and in all such cases we must carefully draw the line. There were some
present who could not dance at all, and others who attempted and failed. The most amusing part was the

women laying their heads together and taking stock of each other's dresses; and the vanity they
displayed-some with gold rings on every finger, others with necklaces composed of nuggets of gold, with
holes pierced through them, and strung together on a piece of narrow ribbon, the same with their bracelets,
and their dresses simply baffled description. Some, however, were there dressed neat, and not gaudy, which
showed at least that they had been respectably brought up, and consequently knew how to behave themselves
in company. When the dancing first commenced very few ladies stood up. We had a walk-round, and then a
polka, and, more ladies arriving, things began to brighten up a bit. I dressed up for my caricature song, and
appeared on the stage, which was composed of old cases from a draper's store, one of which not being very
firm gave way and let me fall, to the great amusement of everybody. I, however, not being hurt, soon got on
my feet again, and as the music began to play, I commenced signing, and the audience laughed tight heartily. I
had to come on three times, and I was all the go with the company for the remainder of the night. We had
supper at 1 a.m., and there was any quantity of champagne, all seeming bent on enjoying themselves. Those
who could not dance were indulging in a little gambling freak in a back tent, got up for the purpose. The affair
was kept up till four o'clock in the morning, when a fight was about to take place, but the police interfered,
and all made tracts for their tents, not quite sober. I and my mates had coffee royal, and then went to bed at 5
a.m. I slept till past 11, got up refreshed and had bottled ale and porter, after which we received our pay, and
ordered our carriage for 2 o'clock. Fiddler No. 2 resolved to go with us, and try his fortune as photographic
artist at Tarangower. We walked round the town, and saw many faces we recognised from the Creek. Some of
them were doing well, whilst others had not earned their salt. We got back to Mr. Barnes, the landlord of the
restaurant, and lunched with him. He was very sanguine of making his fortune, and told us he had a good
friend in Mr. Hitchcock, as the restaurant and half the town belonged to him. About ten years afterwards I met
Mr. Barnes in Adelaide. "How do you do?" said he; "you've forgot me." "I think I have seen your face
before," said I; "but I don't remember your name." "Don't you recollect me paying you five pounds for singing
five songs." "What! is it Mr. Barnes?" "Yes, Tom; it is I. I was a rich man then, and worth twenty thousand
pounds, and now I am a poor draper's assistant at Mr. 's, in Rundle street." "Is it possible?" said Tom;
"What has become of Hitchcock?" "Ah, poor fellow; he went to law, lost all his property, and now he is as
22
badly off as I am." "You astonish me," cried I; "come and let us have a drink." "I will, with pleasure," and we
did so. Since that time we have frequently met, and talked over our experience at the diggings.
But to return to Castlemaine. We started at about 3 p.m., stopped once only at Mucklesford, and got back to

Tarangower in time for supper and concert. We spent a very pleasant evening, and got to bed early, tired out,
and almost done up. We went out the next morning with Fiddler No 2 to get a tent for him to start business in,
and we got it for 10s. per week. Walked down the town, and called in at the saloon, where we saw the
proprietor. "When did you get back?" said he. "Last night," said Jim. "I heard that everything went off in
first-clas style. Our ball comes off next week; it will take the shine out of the Castlemaine people. We have a
committee of gentlemen to act as stewards, and no one can get a ticket except through them. No diggers will
allowed in except they wear a silk jumper or dress coat. You bet, they will be very particular as to what ladies
they admit. I have been authorised to entrust you with the job of working up the band. Ashton spoke to me
about you. He says you understand all about it. Will you undertake to provide the band and superintend the
dancing, and then I shall have nothing to do but to look after the eating and drinking department" "What he
says I'll agree to," said Jim. "How many in the band?" asked I. "Five;" said he; "two fiddlers, piano, cornet,
and trombone; but we cannot get them up here" "I'll tell you what we will do," said I. "I'll engage to provide
you with as good a band as we can get, five in number, for fifty pounds, cash down on the night of the ball."
"Too much," said he. "All right," replied I; "there is no harm done; it will cost nearly £20 to get a piano and
player over from Bendigo." We then had a drink, and left. "We might have done it for forty," said Fiddler Jim.
"He will give you fifty," said Fiddler No. 2. He was right, for in the afternoon I was sent for, and the bargain
was struck. We set to work to make the best arrangements we could. There was a pianist at Bendigo who
owned a piano, and we wrote to him, offering him £18 to bring his piano and play at the ball. He accepted,
and we retained Fiddler No. 2 for £5, with a promise to play for our benefit for nothing. We got a clarionet
and cornet player, with triangle, to come for nothing, just to see the fun, and have a good booze.
The night of the ball arrived, and with it a great number of people. The band played "God save the Queen;"
but no dance music. "'When are you going to begin?" asked the proprietor. "When you pay me £50," I replied.
"That be blowed," said he; "but I'll tell the committee." "All right; we don't play till we get the money, and
mind, no cheques." He went away, and soon returned with the cash, and paid it down with a bad grace. I gave
him a receipt, and ordered the band to play up. Nothing happened to mar the pleasure of the evening until after
supper, when a digger ran up against the clerk of the police, who for some offence had got him fined a day or
two before. "I'll have that fine out of you," said he, and struck him such a violent blow that I thought he was
killed. The digger was arrested, and the man was taken into a small tent, where the camp doctor mesmerised
him, and got him round, and then sent him to the camp to be taken of, and the next day the digger was fined
£15 for assault. The ball was kept up til 5 o'clock in the morning, and then, by way of a change, they indulged

in skittles and champague, and how they got to their homes is a mystery. We found our way home, and that is
all we knew, except that the Castlemaine ball was the best.
Next morning we paid the band people, after which we took a rest, and wished ourselves away from
Tarangower. After thinking the matter over, we decided to stay for our benefit, and take away as much money
as we could, and then no more digging or fiddling till we got back to Adelaide. So it was settled to get out our
bills at once, and the benefit was arranged to come off on the following Monday. We had a fair house, and
everybody seemed sorry we were going. Ashton drove us part of the way to Castlemaine, where we arrived
that night, and put up at friend Barnes', where we met several gentlemen, who invited us to the police barracks
to play at whist, and they proved very kind to both of us. We left Castlemaine the next morning after
breakfast, and met nothing worth recording till we arrived at Sawpit Gully, where we met with some troopers
whom we knew at Maryborough. "What! Fiddler Jim, is that you? where are you bound for?" asked one of the
policemen. "For Adelaide to our wives and children. We have had enough of the diggings," said I. "If it is not
a rude question," said Fiddler Jim, "where are you going to?" "Melbourne," he replied; "we are taking down a
man to be hanged for murder. He was tried a few weeks back; but you must have heard of it. He nearly killed
a poor woman with a stick, and then completed the job by putting her on the fire and burning her to death."
"What a beast," said I. "Where have you locked him up?" "No where," said the policeman; "he is sitting there,
23
eating his dinner." "What!" said Jim, "that old man? why, he must be 70 years old, at least." "You are not far
out, according to his own account. He doesn't think much about it. We let him have what he likes to eat and
drink, and we are not to hurry him on the road. He will be there soon enough. We are going to stay here
to-night, and you had better stay and keep us company over a hand of cards." "No thanks; we must get to
Kyneton to-night, as the landlady expects us, and we must keep our engagement." "Well, if you must go, let
us have a liquor first." 'We did not refuse the drink, and glad we were to get away. Jim remarked that he could
not have stopped in the house with a man who had committed a crime like that. I also said that when the
policeman spoke of murder I thought of our two Forest Creek friends, and it would not have surprised me if
he had been one of our late mates from Tarangower.
We reached Mrs. Halliday's in time for supper, had a refresher, and. enjoyed our meal; and after a little chat
went to bed, and slept soundly and dreamed, not of murders, but of "Home, sweet home." We were up next
morning early, and made arrangements with the driver of a conveyance to pick us up on the road. We had to
pass through some bad country for horses, but pushed on, were taken up by the coach, and arrived safely at

Gisborne. We stopped there that night, and next day got into Melbourne, where all our old friends were glad
to see us. We put up at our lodgings, and my Catholic friends begged me to stop in Melbourne; but I could not
be so persuaded. As the steamer did not leave for several days, I went to work for a warehouseman in a large
firm. The principal of the house was a Mr. Montefiore, the original owner of property situated on a hill known
by that name in North Adelaide; and I might have stopped there, but preferred going on to Adelaide. While I
was there, however, I met with a gentleman from Adelaide, who had heard of my church singing. This
gentleman was a churchwarden, and held a responsible position under Government. I was introduced to him,
and found him to be a kind-hearted man. He made me promise to call on him when I got back to Adelaide;
and fortunately I did not forget, as he turned out to be a good friend to me afterwards. As the time arrived for
the steamer to leave we bade Melbourne and our friends good-bye, took our swags on board, and had a
pleasant passage back. There was plenty of fun, as a great many diggers were returning home with lots of
gold; but alas! neither I nor Fiddler Jim belonged to that class, so could not join in their merriment with
anything like zest. Our pleasure was confined to the knowledge that we were going home to those whom we
loved, and who were anxiously awaiting our return; and although we were returning not much better off than
when we started, yet we had seen something of the world beyond the ordinary horizon, and hoped at least that
we had grown wiser.
"What do you advise me to do when I get to Adelaide?" said Jim. "Get a place, and turn dancing-master," said
I. And he did so, made a lot of money, left Adelaide and went to Melbourne again, where he did nothing
worth mentioning, and died only a poor fiddler. We arrived at last, safe and sound, after being away five
months. We had acquired much more knowledge than gold, it is true; but in spite of all defeats and failures,
there were two at least who were thankful for all things, and they were my wife and I. In this short period of
five months, that completes the second stage of my history, I experienced many adventures and vicissitudes,
and had much experience, which, though perhaps not very interesting to the general public, contained many
lessons highly interesting to me, and which I have reason to believe acted beneficially upon my subsequent
career, and which, also, I cannot but think tended to give a better tone to the third and last stage of my history,
which I am spending in South Australia, where, in spite of all my faults and failings, the Almighty Ruler of
events has been pleased to bless me with a much greater measure of prosperity than I am conscious of having
ever deserved.
PART III.
In those days there were no telegraphs or railways, so that when I arrived at Port Adelaide I had no means of

making my arrival known to my wife and family, and was unable to make a quick journey to the city, but had
to be jolted along a rough road in a very modest spring cart, I was not even favored with a public
demonstration, but "Never mind," thought I, "stop till I get home, for there I know I shall meet a warm and
loving reception from my dear wife and children, perhaps more so than if I had been the Governor of the
Province," and as it happened I was not far wrong. After a great deal of pulling and hauling by the children,
24
and kissing and hugging by my wife, there was a pause, and then came questions and answers too numerous
to mention, and amongst others there was, "Have you been lucky, Tom?" "Yes!" replied I, "lucky to get home
safely." "That is not what I mean," said my wife, "have you got any gold?" "Very little, I am sorry to say,"
was my reply. The news of my return, however, soon spread, and the neighbors flocked in to see a returned
digger, but, alas, with very little gold.
The next day I employed myself in taking stock, and it proved anything but satisfactory; but it was no use to
grumble at finding myself in debt, as it proved, to the tune of two hundred pounds, and with only about one to
pay it, such, however, was the case. The first thing to be done was to call on all my creditors, report myself,
and say, "Have patience and I will pay thee all," and I did so, and was kindly received. Mr. Johns had taken a
shop in Rundle-street, and Mr. Sweetwilliam was engaged as his shopman. "What luck?" said Mr, Johns when
I saw him. "Very little," I replied. "Did you get any gold?" asked he. "Yes!" said I, "and I have brought you a
nugget for your kindness to my wife while I have been away." "I won't take it as a gift," said he, "I shall give
you full value for it and you can pay me what you owe in instalments as soon as you can, as I believe you are
honest," said he. "Well," said I, "I am as honest as most men, and time will prove that." I gave Mr. Johns the
nugget, it weighed an ounce, and was a very pretty specimen of pure native gold. Mr. Johns was much pleased
with it, and said, "I will send this home to my dear sister in London,". which decision pleased me very much.
Whilst Mr Johns was showing the nugget to his wife, Mr. Sweetwilliam called me aside and said, "Keep in
with Johns, he is a good sort of fellow, at least I have found him so, and he is going to start me in business on
my own account, so he will want a shopman, and you will just suit him." I thanked Mr. Sweetwilliam, and
told him I intended to go in for singing if I could get well paid for it. "I won't lose sight of you, however," said
Mr. Sweetwilliam, "I do a little preaching and singing myself on Sundays." "I don't intend to stick to
shoemaking myself either if I can help it," said I. We then all adjourned to tho York Hotel and had a nohbler
each.
On my way home shortly afterwards I met a postman named Chapman. "What are you back again," said he,

"Have you no engagement?" "No!" answered I. "I know of one," said he, "where a man like you is wanted-a
fellow that can please everybody." "What is the salary?" I asked. "You had better call and make your own
terms," he replied, "you can mention my name if you like. Thanks!" said I, "but where is it." "At the Black
Horse Assembly Rooms, not far from the Black Bull, Hindley-street," said he. I accordingly called there, saw
the proprietor, and took the engagement at three pounds per week, and a bottle of wine to treat my friends
with on Saturday nights. "Not so bad," thought I, "and much better than doing nothing," so I went home to tell
my wife of my good luck. I had just got home when a clergyman came in and enquired for me. "I am the
party," said I; "what is your pleasure, sir?" "I have been informed," said he, "that you understand church
singing, and your neighbor, Mr. Lillywhite has recommended you to me." "'What are the duties?" asked I,
"and what church?" "The duties," he replied, "are to teach the children to chant and sing a few hymns, practice
on Fridays, and morning and afternoon service on Sundays. We are holding service in the schoolroom until
we get our church built. It is situated at Glen Osmond, about four miles from Adelaide." "What is the salary?"
asked I. "Thirty pounds a year to begin with, and refreshments on Sundays, and when the Church is finished I
will increase the salary." I accepted the offer and things went on smoothly for some time.
I afterwards called on my friend, Mr. Hawkesgood, at the Treasury, who inquired into all the particulars of my
family, and what they were doing. "I'll take your eldest boy," said he, "and see what I can do with him." "I'll
consult my wife," said I, "and let you know in a day or two." "Very good," said he; "I will not forget my
promise. If you want a friend let me know." "I will," said I, and wishing him good morning, with many
thanks, I departed. I thought a great deal about my new friend, and told my wife all about his offer. She
consented, provided the boy was allowed to come home once a week and go to church, which was agreed to.
About this time the Crimean war broke out. France joined England, and all the world seemed up in arms and
eager for the fray. Everybody said we should have privateers paying us a visit some fine day, who would burn
our houses, and send our wives and children adrift. Meetings were called, and it was decided to form a
volunteer force, and every man was called upon to join, and, for myself, I thought the matter over seriously.
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