arrival here in 1839. In a moment my mind was made up, and though, as a rule, no believer in the supposed realities of dreamland, I resolved that my promise should be redeemed to the best of my ability. I forthwith set to work with zest, and in three years I not only hunted up all the materials, but finished the work, which largely expanded as I proceeded. How I accomplished this result is a marvel, for I never permitted it to interfere in any degree with my ordinary avocations, and 11 p.m. rarely, if ever, found me with pen in hand. But it was a labour of love, and I went into it with enthusiasm and thoroughness of purpose. Mind and matter would have occasionally curious tiffs, but the grosser element was always conquered. Often of an evening, after writing a little, a cigar would draw me off from my recreation, and after the "blowing of the cloud" a disinclination to return to the inkstand would creep through me, and I would say, "I shall write no more to-night." But the resolve would be brief, for in less than a quarter of an hour I would feel a muscular twitching starting from my elbow, and slowly reticulating downward, until it culminated in a veritable fit of 'cacoethes scribendi', and so irresistible that I could only rid myself of it, as merchants deal with a bad debt—by writing it off. An esteemed medical friend to whom I mentioned those (to me) unaccountable circumstances, assured me that it was simply the unconscious action of the brain upon the nervous system.
Some years ago there lived in Melbourne four individuals reputedly recognized authorities in all matters pertaining to the early history of not only the metropolis, but of Australia generally. They were Messrs. H. F. Gurner, G. W. Rusden, John J. Shillinglaw, and David Blair. Gurner and Blair had already attracted attention in the world of Chronicles; Rusden had his since well-knowm History in an advanced state, and Shillinglaw had on the stocks the Life of Flinders. This quartette, through some whim or other, I would not consult. Gurner and I were acquainted from an early period, but somehow or other I never took kindly to him. With Rusden I was in constant official intercourse for more than twenty years, with scarcely the interchange of one unpleasant word, and though for him I always entertained a strong liking (which I hope shall never be diminished), outside the Parliament House we were almost strangers to each other, and for this and other reasons needless to mention I did not feel disposed to take him into my confidence. Of Shillinglaw I did not personally know much; and though Blair and I were on sociably talkative terms when he sat in the Legislative Assembly, friendly relations between us were strained for years through some cause of which I have not the faintest conception. By the time my sketches made their public entrée, Gurner had ceased to exist, and soon after Rusden left the colony, so any opportunity I might have of ascertaining their opinions as to how I acquitted myself was lost. Shillinglaw was the first to frankly and manfully accept my Chronicles as a sort of text book on the questions of which they treated. He conferred on them the marked distinction of preservation as they appeared, had them bound and filed in his office for reference, and, to his and my extreme regret, I have learned that some unscrupulous, though genteel rascal, had the audacity one day, when the Shillinglaw eye was not in its normal state of wide-awakeness, to abstract one of the volumes, and leave the "Jack" set in a state of incompleteness.
For some time I was undecided whether I should issue the result of my endeavours under my own name, or adopt a nom-de-plume, and personally it did not weigh with me which course I pursued, for I was certain of one thing, viz., that no unpleasant consequences would arise, for it was my fixed resolve that I should do justice to the 'dead as well as to the living. Under all the circumstances existent, the conclusion was forced on me that an assumed authorship would leave me more unfettered in dealing with a few special incidents; but it was purposely arranged that the identity of the writer was to be a very "open secret," the anonymity more apparent than real, the consequence being that without any breaches of confidence the secret was permitted to leak out, and the writer's name soon became generally known. An advantage of much importance was the consequence, for it led to direct personal and epistolary communications containing suggestions and information of no small value. In the course of The Chronicles the almost transparent mask of impersonality was removed, and the writer revealed in propria persona, the same unpretentious and unbearded personage who has been a citizen of Melbourne for the last fifty years.
