henchman to his quondam, " Big Jack"; but, though they fought side by side in some Legislative struggles, Fawkner never took so kindly to him as he did to his " Edmondus." Respecting the Convent question, Finn succeeded in converting Fawkner so far to his views, that they had arranged to pay a visit together to the Convent of Mercy, in Nicholson Street, an intention which would have certainly been carried out but for Fawkner's demise. In August, 1869, Fawkner was conversing with some of his fellow-lawmakers. T h e group were soon joined by M r . O'Shanassy with w h o m Fawkner shook hands. T h e members then proceeded to the House, and in the corridor Fawkner and Finn met and "Johnny" held forth his hand, which the other jocularly refused to take, " H o , ho, m a n " was the exclamation, " W h a t has gone wrong with you, m y fine fellow." "Simply this," replied the other, " I saw you just n o w shake hands with the Irish giant outside there, and I don't mean to shake yours, you ought to be ashamed of yourself." " W h y , " asked Fawkner, "have you had a shindy with 'Big Jack?' I thought you and he were thick friends." " All right," laughingly replied the other, "Johanna Pascoevenni absolvo te. "Come," shouted "Johnny," "don't you go bothering m e with your dog-Latin. Though you are Irish, I have often known to m y cost that you can speak English well. So out with what you have to say in our mother-tongue." " All right," was the response. T h e translation is, " John Pascoe, I give you absolution, which, in the R o m a n Catholic faith, means, that when a sinner repents, and promises to sin no more, he is forgiven; but the penance on you is this, that you must not repeat the trangression." " Oh, I understand all now," replied " Johnny"; " But there's old Palmer commencing his Lord's Prayer, I must be off. Good-bye." They shook hands, Fawkner went his way, and this was the last time they ever spoke to each other. T h e next morning Fawkner was stricken down by a fatal affliction; he was never seen in public again, and he died on the 4th September, 1869. REPORTING REMINISCENCES.
The modern newspaper pen-drivers are much better remunerated than their predecessors were in the age of which I a m writing, when the highest "screw" was ,£3 per week, and occasionally not so much. Neither were the payments so punctually made as they are n o w ; for when one of the ancient journals got into what is slangily known as " Queer Street," the employes, literary and mechanical, had often to go for weeks without any "tin," and were never squared up with until the end of the quarter, when the accounts owing would come in. In some instances quarter-day failed even to bring this comfort. T h e Herald was an exception to this inconvenient, though occasionally imperative practice, for one thing Cavenagh always punctually did, i.e., pay off every farthing of salaries and wages on the Saturday. However he contrived it, the rhino was there, and so far employment on the Herald possessed the material advantage that the labourer was not only deemed worthy of, but regularly received his hire. Nor had the olden reporters the modern chance of squeezing some perquisites out of what are termed weekly expenses, for no such item was known amongst them. T h e circuit of their operations was restricted, for practically before the gold discoveries there were no suburbs except Collingwood. There were no evening papers to be rushed out, no Eastern or Western Districts to be " done," no interviewing of Ministers, nor touting about Departments. T h e Supreme Court, with its one-man machine of a Judge, Commissioner Barry's Court of Requests, " Little-Go," the T o w n Council, the Police Court, the Coroner, and occasional meetings only had to be looked after. Railways and omnibusses were entombed in futurity, and cabs were few and dear. T h e reporters, therefore, performed their duties as an infantry corps, except on rare and special occasions, when they might have to travel to Brighton, Williamstown, or some other place out of town, and then they were horsed. T h e only regular cavalry amongst them were the shipping reporters, who, when incoming vessels were signalled of an evening from the Flagstaff, were permitted to ride to the beach (whence they boarded the vessel by boat), and back again. After a few years, the newspaper proprietors started boats at Williamstown, and in emergencies, the shipping reporters used to ride up from Sandridge, though rarely they had to travel by the EEE 2
