consequences might result. The communication was forwarded for my perusal, and my reply was such as to remove all apprehension that I would wantonly abuse the trust I had assumed. The Editor, however, very properly took the precaution to tear off the guaranteeing namee confidentially given; yet I was well acquainted with the correspondent's handwriting, and consequently his identity. The reason for his attempted embargo was that more than thirty years previously he was the occupant of a small squatting station, and one day in a quarrel with a shepherd, a pistol he held went off, slightly wounding his antagonist. For this he was indicted at the Criminal Sessions, where I was present, and reported the case for the Herald, and so thoroughly did the prosecution break down that myself and two fellow-reporters, in anticipation, noted a verdict of acquittal. The Judge's charge to the Jury plainly pointed to the same result, yet the twelve wiseacres found the accused guilty, whereupon the Judge, to emphatically mark his sense of the issue, sentenced the prisoner to a fine of sixpence, with imprisonment until such sum was paid. This was a case which I never thought of noticing. The sixpence was, of course, immediately forthcoming, and the marksman, whose firearm was accidentally discharged in the tussle, went his way rejoicing. He was then residing in a Melbourne suburb, in "the sere and yellow leaf," and when he perused my notice he knew for the first time that the absence of his case from the string of "Remarkable Trials," was not owing to his blustrous, threatening letter, but to m y sense of what was worth recording, and what was not.
Another case, not in some respects dissimilar, was tried in Melbourne some forty years ago. A well-to-do colonist was accused of having forged and uttered the name of his brother-in-law to a bill of exchange with intent to defraud, &c., but there was no evidence forthcoming as to the counterfeit signature, and the charge fell through. For my omission of this I was warmly thanked by surviving relatives, though deserving nothing of the sort. The fact was that in both instances no bill ought to have been filed; but "Old Jemmy" Croke, the Crown Prosecutor, though at all times fairly conscientious, was occasionally wanting in the useful faculty of discretion.
The late Sir John O'Shanassy took a keen interest in m y scribblings. Arrived here in 1839, and always a shrewd observer of men and manners, no one was more conversant with the shoals and shallows, the rocks, reefs, and quicksands through which I had to steer. But he estimated the dangers of the trip as much more risky than I did, for I held myself to be cool and cautious at the helm in all weathers; and with my long local experience to act both as chart and compass, and my journalistic knowledge as a self-acting buoy, to warn me at all points of danger, I never doubted my capacity to weather the storm, and return to port with the ensign of success fluttering from the mast-head. After I had sailed out of harbour without any mishap, O'Shanassy seemed really delighted with the exit; but when I met in open sea the cluster of islets, on each of which one of the primitive churches of Melbourne—figuratively speaking—was erected, proclaiming themselves as so many "salvation lighthouses," he grew nervous at the intricacy of the sailing, and warned me to keep a sharp look out for danger signals. Subsequently, up to his death, he gave me an occasional warning, but I entertained not the slightest apprehension on my own account. At length he resigned the unthanked office of Mentor in disgust, with a semi-prophetic intimation that, before the last of my sketches saw the light of publicity, I should see myself on the inside of a gaol, for it was humanly impossible for me to escape entanglement in the meshes of the law. Need I say now that Sir John's well-meant prognostications remain unrealized?
But though I contrived to elude the gaoler, I was not so fortunate in escaping threatened violence in two instances, though in both it eventuated in a brutum fulmen. The first explosion was something of a surprise, and wrapped up in the subjoined epistle:—
Melbourne, 14th January, 1885.
Edmund Finn, Esq.,— Sir,— I have heard (but it is well for you the report is not corroborated by ocular demonstration) that you have referred to my father in your Chronicles of Early Melbourne. If you have done so, and you intend to publish your Chronicles in book form, I warn you to omit his name from the latter; otherwise you may have reason to regret not having taken this warning. If my father's Colonial career should ever be referred to, I want it done by an honest, fearless, truthful, out-spoken manly historian. Without seeming to criticise your performance, I may remark that I believe Mr. John O'Shanassy was right when, according to your own account, he informed you that
