George Fawcett

G. V. Brooke presented his Othello for the first time in Australia at the old Queen's Theatre in Queen-street, Melbourne, to, as a matter of course, an overflowing house. The prices were high, the lowest, if I remember rightly, being half-a-crown. There were Othellos before and after Brooke. I have seen most of them, and must still pin my faith to the ill-starred actor who went down in the London on that fateful day in January, 1866. Of course, I did not see Arabin, who opened the old—then new — Victoria Theatre in Pitt-street in 1838 in the character of the Moor; nor yet did I see Nesbitt M'Cron, whom the late Samuel Hawkes Banks considered equal to, if not excelling, Brooke. I saw the spluttering M'Kean Buchanan, the testy Bandmann, the old-school actor Creswick, and that other old-school actor James Anderson, Dampier, Carden, Clarence Holt, George Rignold, and an old Drury Lane actor who came out before Brooke went to England, but whose name has slipped my memory. I have seen minor actors play the part in stock companies, but neither major nor minor linger, so lovingly in the memory of old playgoers as Brooke. I remember one performance of 'Othello' at the old Royal, Melbourne, on a Saturday night, when the piece was so well played and staged in every detail that the hour of midnight struck as the curtain descended, and the afterpiece had to be abandoned. At one of Brooke's performances of Othello in the Melbourne Royal the Receipts reached £531 15s. I first saw Brooke in Australia as Evelyn in Bulwer Lytton's 'Money.' He had been fulfilling an engagement in Sydney, and had hurried to Melbourne on business, when advantage was taken to have one night's performance. That was in 1858. The house was crowded, and the actor apologised for having to play in his every-day costume, as his wardrobe was in Sydney. His first appearance was on the 10th of May, 1855, the play 'Othello' (in which he always opened). The Iago was Richard Younge ; the Cassio, Robert Heir ; Fanay Cathcart, Desdemona; Emilia, Mrs Guerin; the Brabantes, 'old Lambert.' But , Othello was not Brooke's only character, though it was the best of his Shakespearian. As Sir Giles Overreach, in 'A New Way to Pay Old Debts,' he was simply superb, his final scene being simply appalling. Mr. Barton told me that it equalled Edmund Kean's best effort, and Sir Giles was Kean's masterpiece outside Shakespearian drama. As Martin Walter in 'The Hunchback,' Matlow Elmore, ('Love's Sacrifice'), Virginius, and, characters of that stamp, no man has yet appeared in Australia to equal Brooke. He was the first to bring out here 'Louis XI.,' a part played by him in strong contrast to Charles Kean's rendering of the same character. It will be remembered that when Louis is plotting murder, the Angelus bell sounds, and the hoary old sinner takes off his cap ,to pray to the relics affixed to the headgear. Kean's rendering of that part caused the audience to laugh. Brooke was so solemn that the audience was hushed at the hypocrisy of the wretched monarch. But it was not alone in the heavy drama that Brooke flourished. His Irish comedy has never been excelled. The memory of his Felix O'Callaghan in 'On His Last Legs' can never fade. As Captain Murphy Maguire he kept the audience in a simmer of merriment from start to finish. The same with Pierce O'Hara in 'The Irish Attorney.' In low Irish comedy, of the John Drew and William O'Neill type, Brooke was a failure. He could act the gentleman, but not the bog-trotter.
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A good authority, Frank Brewer, in a little work published some years ago, entitled 'The Drama and Music in Australia,' says 'Brooke's reputation preceded him to Australia. His mental talents for the profession were of the highest order and his physical organisation was admirable. To a classical face of the Roman type and a well-formed majestic figure, was united a voice of exceptional volume and roundness, which he inflected with consummate skill. He was well educated, and had the manners of a polished gentleman. These natural and acquired elements to Brooke, to which a fine conceptive faculty was allied, eminently fitted him for the highest position in the realms of dramatic art. From 1848 to the time of his departure from England, he was probably one of the most popular actors in the United Kingdom yet; strange to say, the London critics and venerable playgoers were lukewarm towards him. Brooke certainly extracted from them unalloyed praise, his Master Walter was beyond the reach of cavil; but the admirers of Phelps and Charles Kean were so far prejudicial (no other word will express the exact state of feeling towards Brooke), that he was denied in London that full measure of approbation which was undoubtedly his due, without in any way detracting from the genius of Phelps, or the abilities, improved so much by study, of Kean. True; at times, Brooke was unequal to his performances. So was Edmund Kean, but in has great characters, when he rose to the top of his genius in Othello, Sir Giles, Master Walter, Matthew Elmore, Virginius, and others of his fine impersonations, he had in his best days no superior. High as was the opinion formed of Brooke in Sydney, he surpassed their expectations. The verdict was that he was the finest actor that had up to that time visited Australia. Had he devoted himself to comedy, particularly Irish comedy, he might have equalled Collins. In two characters he has not been surpassed in the colonies— Captain Murphy Maguire In “The Lerwin Family,” and O'Callaghan in “On His Last Legs.” The latter he made especially his own, and convulsed the audience with his amusing presentation of the volatile Irish gentleman reduced to the condition of living on his wits.
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In 1861, William Bede Dalley went to England as Immigration Lecturer, and in the same ship — the Great Britain— went G. V. Brooke. Dalley could appreciate talent in any man, and when the news of Brooke's death reached the colony, Dalley gave his opinion of the great actor to the world :— 'With one exception, that of Mr. Phelps, Mr. Brooke was unquestionably the first interpreter of Shakespeare upon the British stage. His physical advantages, voice, face, dignity of presence, instinctive gracefulness, were much greater than even those of Macready's great successor. But in subtle renderings, profound study and thought, Mr. Phelps was as no one more heartily acknowledged, than Mr. Brooke himself, the grander actor. I institute no comparison between him and a gentleman who recently visited this country, the bearer of a great dramatic name —Mr. Kean— and whose reputation is identified with spectacular representation in England, and my reason is simply this: that it would be a reflection upon the memory of Mr. Brooke to do so. Those who have never left this country, and whose acquaintance with the drama is exclusively derived from Mr. Brooke's acting, may be assured that in many respects nothing grander could be seen anywhere. The most fastidious critic was conquered into loving admiration by the mingled tenderness and terror of his Othello; while none could resist the melting softness of his accents in the last awful scene of fantastic sadness in which the noble Lear mingles 'matter and impertinency, reason and madness.' And then the life-like pictures of our own dear Irish humour and pathos, bringing, back to us by the magic of tone and gesture, scenes and times, and pleasures and sufferings. Where shall we ever see these again? In the Irish impersonations of Mr. Brooke one thing was very noticeable — no matter how low the character, there was always some hint of the gentleman in the performance. We have had many stage Irishmen in the colonies, notably Hudson, William O'Neill, John Drew, and John Collins, besides our local William Andrews, but none of them were ever on the same level as Brooke in portraying the Irish gentleman.
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When its good work could be of no service to the actor, then full fathom five in the Bay of Biscay, the -'London Times' pronounced a eulogy:— 'In January, 1848, Brooke appeared at the old Olympic Theatre, then under the management of Mr. Davidson. Virtually this was his first appearance in London, and not often has the approaching debut of an actor produced so large an amount of curiosity as in the case of G. V. Brooke. He had many offers from the metropolitan managers, but had refused them all, and these frequent negotiations, accompanied with news of brilliant successes in the provinces, kept his name before the Londoners, who 18 years ago were much more excitable on the subject of tragedy than they are at present. His performance of Othello, the part chosen for his first appearance, at once secured him a wide popularity. He repeated the part to creditable audiences for 30 successive nights, and for some weeks in 1848 he stood high amongst the theatrical lions of London, lively discussions as to his merits taking place in every assemblage where plays and players formed a topic of conversation. His physical advantages were very great. He had handsome and expressive features ; his figure was tall and commanding; and, above all, his voice not only rich and sonorous, but singularly capable of extremes of light and shade. It was in giving expression to violent emotions that be turned these natural gifts to the best account, and the storms of passion which distinguished his Othello and his Sir Giles Overreach were certain, in his best days, of commanding the tumultuous applause of thousands. He owed his proficiency not to crabbed art, but to fresh, healthy nature, and the 'inspired genius' is always a popular figure. A similar belief was entertained earlier in the century with respect to Edmund Kean, and among the theatrical gossips of 1848 those were not wanting who saw in G. V. Brooke the tragedian upon whom the mantle of Kean had fallen. In 1854 he took leave of the London public, and proceeded to Australia, where, as in America, his success was prodigious. He returned to London, after seven years' absence, in 1862, and again appeared as Othello at Drury Lane. When he perished in the s.s. London he was on his way to Melbourne to fulfil an engagement.'
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Just here I may be permitted to mention that Mr. and Mrs. J. B. Steele (Miss Adelaide Bowering) were engaged in London to support Brooke in his second tour in Australia. Mr. and Mrs. Steele came out in the sailing ship Western Ocean. I do not know whether the London passenger list was full, or Mr. George Coppin had on him a fit of economy, but it was fortunate for Mr. and Mrs. Steele that they came in the sailing ship. Mr. Steele informed me that the first they heard of the dreadful disaster to the London was from the pilot at Port Phillip Heads. I had the melancholy pleasure of spending an afternoon with Mr. Steele during the week. At 72 years of age he is still in good bodily health, but, alas! a cancer has attacked his tongue, and the once sweet voice of the well-graced actor is now merely a gutteral sound. Yet he bears his great misfortune with calm dignity, and is resignedly awaiting, as he says, 'the roll call.' Mrs. Steele died a few years ago in London.
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It was in the old theatre at Cork that Brooke made some of his earlier successes. In Dublin he was simply idolised. The houses he drew were packed. In Australia his countrymen rallied round him, and but for his weakness in the matter of strong drink his seven years' residence in Australia would have been a huge money success. I think, soon after the completion of his first engagement with Mr. Coppin, Mr . Brooke entered into partnership with that gentleman. They had a magnificent property to work upon. The Theatre Royal, the Olympic Theatre, and last, but not least, the splendid Cremorne Gardens, which had within its boundaries a bijou theatre, known as the Pantheon. Brooke appeared at the two first named, the Pantheon being given over to domestic drama of the drawing-room order. Cremorne Gardens were started by Mr. Coppin in 1856, little steamers plying on the Yarra conveying the patrons. They were grand times those old Cremorne days. A time came when Brooke and Coppin separated, the tragedian selecting the Theatre Royal as his share of the property, Mr. Coppin retaining the Gardens and the Olympic — the best end of the stick I have always thought. He (Brooke) engaged Robert Heir as his stage and general manager, Mrs. Heir being leading lady. Brooke was not content to sit at home at his ease, as the old song has it, but accepted engagements in all the cities and towns of the now Commonwealth. Bob Heir was not a success as a manager. I am afraid he was given to the production of plays which were calculated to 'show off' himself and his wife. Mrs. Heir was getting somewhat stale; in fact, the 'Argus' rudely told her that it was time she dropped Desdemona and took up Emelia; but what leading actress was ever known to adopt the advice of the press ? Mrs. Heir did not, though I think on one occasion she did play Emelia 'just to oblige' someone — Barry Sullivan, I think. To Bob Heir succeeded, as manager, a sterling old Sydney actor, Henry Edwards, who had joined with him in the management George Fawcett Rowe, but known only to us as George Fawcett. There were three brothers — George, Sandford, and Tom. Sandford generally looked after the front of the house, though on one occasion he played the part of Lord George Gordon in Fawcett Rowe's adaptation of Dickens' "Barnaby Rudge." The rule of Edwards and Fawcett continued some time, Brooke occasionally appearing in his best character, but unfortunately for himself, taking no interest in the working of the theatre. It was under the Edwards-Fawcett management that Brooke appeared in two original characters—in a one-act play, by Marston, I think, entitled 'Dreams of Delusion,' in which he performed the character of a mad doctor to perfection. The other original character was in a drama by R. H. Horne. 'The Death of Marlowe.' I am, however, not quite clear upon the point whether Brooke or Edwards played the leading part. The two little pieces held the stage for a week or so and then dropped out.
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While managing the Theatre Royal for G. V. Brooke, Edwards and Fawcett were also running the old Princess' in Spring-street, one of the very few theatres which escaped the ususal fate of theatres— fire— and where Marie Duret, Le Roy, Joseph Jefferson, and some other good men and women first appeared. Why and how Edwards, Fawcett, and Brooke "fell out," and George Coppin again fell in— don't misunderstand the phrase— with Gustavus Vaughan Brooke will be told another time.

While Mr. G. V. Brooke was earning golden opinions from all sorts of people, away from his business headquarters, Melbourne, his affairs were in anything but apple-pie order. I have no doubt his managers, Robert Heir (first) and Henry Edwards and George Fawcett, did their best. But theatrical managers are born, not made, and however brilliant an actor may be, he may, as a businessman, be the veriest duffer that ever donned a stage wig. Other matters may have helped in a degree to bring Mr. Brooke's finances down. While he and Mr. Coppin were in partnership the opposition in city theatres was the old weather-beaten matchbox known as The Princess', which had a very different company, and the ancient Hippodrome in Lonsdale-street, which had a precarious existence in several names, The Lyceum, The Prince of Wales, etc. While the Royal was being run by Coppin and Brooke, the old Olympic— the 'Ironpot'—was kept carefully closed as a theatre, though it was a rent-producing establishment, with the Olympic Hotel on the corner, run by William Pitt, the scenic artist. The Olympic pit was boarded over, and each night (and morning) the light fantastic toe was tripped on the most 'Continental lines.' Cremorne, of course, was only open in the summer months, when the free end easy of Melbourne could enjoy George Coppin's gondola trips with quiet chats in cozy corners, with the girl of your heart, or with the girl who cared little for your heart if you had a soft head and a long purse.

I mentioned previously that when George Coppin separated from Brooke he took with him most members of the old company. With that company and additions, George Coppin rehabilitated the old 'Ironpot,' and commenced a dramatic season. I was there on the opening night, the first I had ever been in the 'Pot.' The play was Falconer's comedy of "Extremes," or "Men of the Day." The cast, a strong one. It is an every-day costume comedy, rich, plebeian
and poverty-stricken aristocrats, the latter with a design upon the vast wealth of the former. A wealthy coal mine owner left his fortune of over a million to two persons, on condition that they married within six months. At the reading of the will the Lancashire cousins were looked down upon by their aristocratic-beggared friends, but the aspect of affairs changed when it was found that the old Lancashire woman, Mrs. Wildbriar, was worth half a million in her own right, while her daughter Jenny had a few thousands of her own, and the clodhopping son, in the red vest, owned to a big pile irrespective of what he expected from his mother. The poverty stricken swell, Sir Lionel Norman, believing that Lucy Vavasour would inherit the dead man's wealth, paid assiduous attention to her, but he discovered the condition of the will, that she should marry Frank Hawthorne, and if each refused the other, the wealth would be devoted to building homes for the orphan children of miners. There was also a condition that if one said 'yes,' and the other said 'no,' the money was to go to the one saying 'yes.' Believing that Frank must accept Lucy Vavasour, Sir Lionel Norman devotes his attention to Miss Jenny Wildbriar, who however, has a beau in the person of Everard Digby, a barrister, to whom she had been introduced under the title of the Marquis of Banterdown, a little device she had seen through. One of the crowd of penniless swells 'makes up' to Mrs. Wildbriar, and a penniless lady with a long pedigree fastens on to Robin Wildbriar. When the six months expire, and the executors of the will assemble the interested parties, after some cogitation, Lucy accepts the condition, while Frank Hawthorne rejects it. A very fine scene follows. Lucy explains that she guessed that Frank meant to refuse, and had she refused the money would be lost. Frank, being a bit of a poet, had composed some verses which, by chance, had fallen into Lucy's hands, and she declares that she will wear the willow all her life if he a second time refused her. In the cast were Richard Younge, Fred. Younge, T. S. Bellair, G. H. Rogers, Russell, Wilson (the scenic artist, who played Robin Wildbriar), Rose Dunn, Fanny Young (sister of Charles), the sisters Allen, a Miss St. Clair, and last, but not by any meant least, Mrs. Bellair, The opening night was that of the day on which Flying Buck won the first Champion Race at Flemington, January 1, 1859. It is fixed in my memory by reason of a doggerel epilogue spoken by Fred. Younge, wherein, he spoke of—
" . . . . . the ruck.
Viewing the heels of Flying Buck."
Soon after, Mr. Coppin produced "World and Stage," in which he appeared himself. Then the usual season followed, with always good results to George Coppin.
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It would be somewhat difficult for one not within the ring to get at the actual facts of Brooke's quarrel with Edwards and Fawcett. Ambrose Kyte was up to his neck in it. E. and F. had been borrowing money from, the then supposed millionaire, and Ambrose lent them so much money that they gave him the lease of the theatre as his security. All the soiled linen was publicly washed. The 'Age' newspaper, which accepted the correspondence, fairly revelled in the disclosures. To add to the trouble, the lady we knew as Mrs. Brooke became Mrs. Edwards, and Brooke, much to the scandal of the public, had his name linked with a leading actress whom he afterwards married at Liverpool. Friends interested themselves in Brooke's affairs, mediated with Mr. Coppin, and the pair became friends. Some people said that they were never separated, that it was only one of 'Coppin's dodges ;' but I don't think there was any 'dodge.' George Coppin was too careful a man to create a 'dodge' which should lose him money. The reconciliation was made, however. Mr. Coppin undertook the management of Mr. Brooke's theatre and affairs, and promised to make them straight.
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The opening piece under the resumed management of Mr. Coppin was Tobin's comedy of "The Honeymoon," followed by "The Serious Family," a big bill which crowded the house in every part, though the night was stormy and the rain pouring down in torrents. No rain could extinguish the interest felt in the reappearance in the same pieces of the old favorites, Coppin and Brooke, I made a unit in that great audience, and I shall never forget the reception Brooke met with on his entry as Duke Aranga. The demonstration was only equalled when George Coppin appeared as the Mock Duke. Avonia Jones played the parts of Juliana in "The Honeymoon," and Mrs. Ormsby Dalmaine in "The Serious Family." There appeared also, that night, after a long absence, Mrs. Vickery, a sterling actress in such parts as Mrs. Candour and Lady Sowerby Creamly, likewise was she great in the "Roman Mother," and no matter who else was in the company, Mrs Vickery was the Lady Macbeth. The feeling of the audience throughout the evening was displayed more than once when Brooke and Coppin were alone upon the stage.
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After "The Honeymoon," Brooke appeared in front of the curtain, and addressing the audience, said that he most heartily thanked them for the recognition manifested by them of the old as sociations of the house, and of his services in their behalf. The old friend who had performed with him that night was, he believed, the only friend he had in the colony; but while congratulating Mr. Coppin and himself on what had taken place, he would allow that gentleman to speak for himself. Brooke broke down more than once during the speech, and was picked up again by the vigorous applause of the audience. Mr. Coppin then came forward, and it was some moments before he could proceed. As soon as the applause subsided he said that it was most deeply gratifying to his feelings to find himself welcomed back as he had been to the boards of that theatre. It really looked like a vote of confidence, a sentiment which was cheered to the echo. When Mr. Brooke took the theatre he had promised to do all in his power to maintain the legitimate drama, and Mr. Brooke had done so. He (Mr. Coppin) Had now, at Mr. Brooke's request, assumed the management of the theatre for six months, during which he hoped, by assiduity and industry, and with the kind assistance of the public, to retrieve his broken fortune (Brooke had made £40,000 in his six years' Australian residence; a tidy sum to make up in six months, George) and to give him a substantial recognition of his talents on his departure for Europe. He could only say that nothing should be wanting on his part to bring about so desirable a result. Before retiring, Mr. Coppin begged to congratulate the public on having a second gas company (strange to say Ambrose Kyte was the promoter of the second gas company, which had the effect of bringing down the price of gas to a reasonable figure). The public would scarcely believe that after the thousands of pounds which the Gas Company had received from the theatre, the company had that night threatened to cut off the supply, unless the amount due — a paltry £43 — were paid instanter. Mr. Coppin humorously said that as he did not usually carry that amount about with him, the gas collector had kindly accepted his personal cheque, and if that had not been forthcoming the theatre would have been in utter darkness. Mr. Coppin then announced that on Saturday night a complimentary benefit would be given to that very promising young actress, Miss Rosa Dunn. On Boxing Night a panto mime would be produced which he hoped would give them every satisfaction: and, finally, he might state that an engagement had been made with Sir William and Lady Don, who would appear in due course. He hoped that, with such elements of novelty and talent, a succession of entertainments would be provided which might justly claim the support of the public, and lead to the successful results he had ventured to anticipate.
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In the course of his speech that night Mr. Coppin further said that the reception he had met with that night seemed a vote of confidence on his former management of the Theatre Royal. He had a character for 'dodging,' but he could honestly say and unhesitatingly declare that he had never abused that confidence in his promises as a manager. He had kept faith with the public. He regretted deeply that the satisfaction he felt on these grounds should be counterbalanced by the unfortunate circumstances in which he found the theatre placed at that moment. When he brought Mr. Brooke out from England he volunteered to him a promise that he would not leave him until he had secured for him an independency for the rest of his life, and he had kept his word. Last year (said Mr. Coppin) Mr. Brooke had made choice as his share of their joint business of the Theatre Royal, which was then in a thriving condition, and bringing a rental of £400 a year, or, instead, made him an offer of £20,000, clear of the liability to the amount of £8000 which then existed upon it. Now, by misrepresentation and deceit, to use no harsher terms, for none but such could be used, he thought, if the theatre were being disposed of for a sum so radically below its real value, for, terms which a usurer would blush to look upon, the theatre was passing out of Mr. Brooke's hands, not only so, but he found that Mr Brooke's testimonial, with which he had been presented by the public, his plate, and a portion of his wardrobe were deposited in the pawnshop, and a most usurious rate of interest charged for them, which, not having been paid, the property was forfeited. Mr. Brooke was moreover, indebted to the amount of £4000. Some people, said Mr. Coppin, might ask what was all this to them; but of one thing he felt convinced, and that was that the very large portion of the public would feel deep sympathy for the position in which Mr. Brooke was placed.
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In this connection the following, copied into the Sydney 'Empire' of 50 years ago, will be read with interest :— 'An Extensive Theatrical Engagement : Mr. G. V. Brooke and Mr. Coppin.— The American Manager . — Mr. G. V. Brooke has made an engagement with Mr. Coppin, through Mr. J. H. Wilton, to proceed to the colonies and act 200 nights, Mr. Coppin securing to him £10,000, in addition to the expenses of himself and four. Miss Fanny Cathcart accompanies the tragedian. The 200 nights are to be performed in nine months. A contract has also been entered into with Messrs. Fox and Henderson for the construction of an iron theatre, 120ft by 45ft, which will go with Mr. Brooke, costing complete about £5000. Mr. Brooke will sail in the new steamer Pacific.'
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Mr. J. B. Steele, who was engaged to support Mr. Brooke on his second visit to Australia, died on Friday, in the Cancer Hospital at Liverpool (N.S.W.). He was buried with Masonic honors on Saturday. Mr. Steele was 72 years of age. In next issue will appear a sketch of the career of the deceased gentlemen.

Coming back to Joseph Jefferson for a while. The American comedian sailed from San Francisco for Sydney on September 10, 1861. In those days there were no fine steamers to make the voyage a pleasure trip, but Mr. Jefferson possessed the happy knack of making himself comfortable anywhere; and though the good ship Nimrod took 64 days to do the trip between the Golden Gate and Port Jackson Heads, the comedian had a very fine time of it. His chief occupation, besides reading and sketching, was a humorous attempt, he tells us, to divert a cheerful, pleasant Roman Catholic priest Father O'Grady, from celibacy: "I told him he was altogether too good a fellow for a single man, and assured that he would never know what true happiness was until he had a wife by his side and half a dozen children by his knee. Our theological arguments on the quarter-deck were a source of great amusement to ourselves and the passengers. Father O'Grady, when he got excited, would walk up and down the deck, tossing his long arms wildly about, as if he were making signals of distress." Nothing in their theological arguments, however, disturbed the friendship of the pair. Jefferson was (and is still, I hope) too mild and gentle to disturb the peace of anyone. I verily believe that the American comedian is "pigeon-livered and lacks gall." (This is meant to be complimentary.)

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Mr. Jefferson gives an amusing description, in an article published some years ago in the 'Century Magazine,' of his first encounter with Australian theatrical managers. Old Sydneyites will remember the individual, whose portrait is not drawn in colors too flattering: “He was an undersized, round-shouldered little Cockney Rolamo. Where he got that remarkably Italian appellation I cannot say; but if his ancestors belonged to the 'land of song' they must have strayed into the very heart of Whitechapel just previous to the birth of their son and heir, as his dialect was strongly impregnated with the drawling twang of that locality. It was recorded of him that he was never known to put an 'h' in the right place, and his talent for reversing the 'w' and 'v' amounted almost to genius. He had originally been lamplighter in the theatre, but by his industry and intelligence he rose to be its manager, and he was in the zenith of his fame when I arrived in Australia. After my introduction by my agent to Mr. Rolamo as the coming man, who was to make his (the manager's) fortune, that worthy cast a patronising eye over me, but did not seem at all overwhelmed, taking my arrival with provoking coolness. This chilling atmosphere pervaded the office until my agent unrolled some highly inflammable printed matter, the novel character of which seemed to attract the great man's attention, and condescending to address me, he said: 'You see, Mr. Jeffries - oh, I beg pardon, Jimmison I mean— with all due respect to you, there 'as been so many blawsted Yankee comics over 'ere that we are kind o' sick on 'em. You may a hextra good lot for all I know, but lately the queerest mummers we've 'ad 'ave come from Amerikee. This printed stuff you've got looks spicy— in fact I don't know as I ever see spicier - but it don't prove nothink, does it?' " Jefferson's agent broke in with the assurance that the comedian was quite legitimate and not a mummer. “ 'Legitimate!' exclaimed the manager. 'Well, that's the worst rot of all. The legitimate would wentilate my theatre on the first night; and as for that dismal old guy, 'Amlet, I wouldn't 'ave 'im at no price.' “

Jefferson assured the big man that Hamlet was not in his list of characters, and that as far as he was concerned the reputation of Mr. Rolamo's 'theatre' would not suffer through his productions of Shakespeare's plays). “I admitted his perfect right to protect himself against fraud, and that as I was a stranger, I proposed first to show him what my material consisted of, and wound up by offering to rent his theatre and company, paying him a good bonus to relinquish the management into our hands for a month, and that if we could agree upon terms his money should be paid in advance. At this proposal the hard features of Mr. Rolamo softened into an oily sweetness that was lovely to behold. He gently put out both hands to grasp mine; his eyes fairly beamed on me with affection, and his heart seemed so touched that it quite choked his utterance. 'My dear lad' said he, 'that's the way I like to hear a cove talk, for I always believes in a cove wot believes in hisself.' ”

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Mr. Jefferson explains that he found the acting much better than he expected, “in fact, throughout the colonies, I was invariably impressed by this dramatic excellence.” Mr. Jefferson's explanation of this is that actors who had originally come from England to 'star,' remained to make their homes in the colonies, and settled down into the different stock companies. He, however, had no cause to complain of the support given him; on the contrary, he felt that he had his work cut out for him if he were to stand out prominently amidst such surroundings.

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Of his first appearance in Sydney, Mr. Jefferson says: - “I found the company obliging, and, as I expected, thoroughly competent. Matters progressed favorably, the pieces for the first week were rehearsed, and all things were duly prepared for the opening. The house was quite good on that night, and the audience generous and sympathetic. They seemed to appreciate what a thorough stranger I was, and as a stranger, gave me welcome.” When the curtain fell, Jefferson was congratulated by the company and Mr. Rolamo, who, the comedian fancied, was a little annoyed that he had not made better terms with the star, as he said, " ‘I say, do you know I took you for a green 'un when I first meet you, as you had a kind of innocent look about you that took me in; but you're sharp, do you know that ?’ “

Jefferson didn't think that he was particularly sharp, but thanked the manager for the delicacy of the compliment, and hoped that he might live to deserve it. From Jefferson's own story, he does not consider himself to have been "a frost" in Sydney, though many old memories amongst us say that he was. Perhaps Mr. Jefferson does not care to admit it right off. I personally know that he was not a frost in Melbourne, where he “ran” for 164 consecutive nights at the old Princess.

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At the expiration of the Sydney engagement Mr. Jefferson voyaged to Melbourne — no rail then. George Faucett who afterwards added Rowe to his name, had the old Princess Theatre all to himself and a ''shocking bad hat" sort of concern it was. If I am not mistaken George Faucett got the 'old barn' on a long lease at a low rent, but he pegged away at it, and eventually won. Jefferson made the same terms with Faucett as he had with the gentleman whom he names Rolamo. He admits that his success in Melbourne was more flattering than it had been in Sydney. "The audiences were numerous and fashionable, and the articles in the daily papers referring to our plays and acting were of the highest literary character." A just tribute to the critics' acumen and literary ability of Messrs. James Smith, James Edward Neild, and William M. Akhurst, the two former being still with us.

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At the conclusion of his Melbourne engagement Jefferson went into the mining and provincial towns, where his success was as genuine as it had been in the metropolis. He tells an amusing story of his experiences in one of the mining townships, where the bill-poster and bell-ringer were generally one and the same individual. On the way from his hotel to the theatre Jefferson came across a knot of people, in the midst being a little fat man in a seedy suit of black, swinging and ringing a big brass bell, gesticulating violently, pausing in his swings and calling out in stentorian tones : "Oh, yes! Oh, yes! Ladies and gentlemen, now or never is your only chance to see the greatest living wonder of the age— Joseph Jefferson, the great hactor from America. His powers of producing tears and smiles at vun and the same time is so great that he caused the Hemperer of Roushia to weep on his weddin' night, and made her Gracious Majesty the Queen bust out laughin' at the funeral of Prince Albert. He is the bosom friend of the President of Amerikee, and the hidol of 'is 'Ighness the Prince of

Wales. "

*************

Jefferson said that he always had a horror of orators, but the orator on the barrel top in the mining township added horror to his previous experience. The actor rushed to the theatre and demanded of the manager, the meaning of the exhibition. The manager explained that it was the usual thing in mining towns, that G. V. Brooke and other great men had been so 'belled' and 'tolled,' and that he, the said manager, thought that Mr. Jefferson would have liked it. “Like it!” said Jeff, “If it is not stopped at once I will not act to-night.” So the little fat man was ordered to cease his harangue and come down from the barrel. But the bellringer wouldn't budge; he wasn't half through, and it would injure his business and ruin his reputation to be cut off “in the heye of the public,” and "he'd be blowed" if he'd stir until he had finished. The manager appealed to Jefferson to let him go on. “Now, mark me,” said Jeff, “If he rings that bell again or opens his mouth, I don't act.” That settled it. The little fat man stood with his arms folded, a la Napoleon, glaring defiance at the manager and his satellites; but they seized him, and a desperate struggle ensued. The tall white hat of the ''town bell" was completely smashed over his eyes, and in stamping violently in his rage the head of the barrel burst in, letting him through until only the fat head appeared at the top. They tipped the barrel over and rolled him off inside, to the great amusement of the bystanders, who had been roaring with laughter all the time.

In Tasmania Jefferson tells of a singular incident. He acted the 'Ticket of Leave Man' for the first time in Hobart Town, and there was much excitement in the city when it was announced. "At least 100 ticket of leave men were in the pit on the first night of its production. Before the curtain rose I looked through at this terrible audience; the faces in the pit were a study. Men with low foreheads and small, peering, ferret-looking eyes, some with flat noses, and square, cruel jaws and sinister expressions — leering, low and cunning — all wearing a sullen, dogged look, as though they would tear the benches from the pit and gut the theatre of its scenery if one of their kind was hold up to public scorn upon the stage. This shows the power of the drama. An author might write an article abusing them, or an artist paint a picture showing up the hideous deformity of their features — all this they could bear and even laugh at. But put one of their ilk on the stage in human form, surrounded by the sympathetic story of a play, and they would no more submit to an ill-usage of him than they would to a personal attack upon themselves.”

***********

“The first act of the play produced but little excitement. These men seemed to enjoy the humorous and pathetic side of the story with great relish, but when I came upon the stage in the second act, revealing the emaciated features of a returned convict, with sunken eyes and closely shaved head, there was a painful stillness in the house. The whole pit seemed to lean forward and strain their eyes upon the scene; and as Bob Brierley revealed to his sweetheart 'the secrets of the prison house,' there were little murmurs of recognition and shakings of the head, as though they fully recognised the local allusions that they so well remembered; deep drawn sighs for the sufferings that Bob had gone through, and little smothered laughs at some of the old, well remembered inconveniences of prison life; but then, Bob was a hero, and their sympathies were caught by the nobleness of his character and innocence of crime, as though each of these villains recognised how persecuted he and Bob had been.”

*************

As the play proceeded their enthusiasm increased. Wherever Bob was hounded by a detective, or ill-treated by the old Jew, they would howl their indignation at the actors; and when he came out unscathed at the end of the play, a monument of persecuted innocence, they cheered to the echo. This performance rendered Jefferson very popular with a certain section of Hobart Town society 40 years ago, and he was often accosted in the streets by "old hands," who told him the woes and sufferings they had undergone. In fact, they looked upon him quite as an "old pal." Jefferson admits that these courtesies were very flattering, but the inconvenience of being poked in the ribs, and being told that they knew him, as much as to say, “Ohl pal, all right, we know — you've been there,” became somewhat frequent and irksome. The life that Jefferson retreated to on his retirement from the stage was that of a country gentleman, his favorite amusements being hunting, fishing, and sketching from nature.

***************

In the days when Jefferson was delighting Australian audiences with 'Bob Brierley,' when Mrs. Woolridge was the Mrs. Willoughby, when Julia Mathews was the Sam, H. R. Redwood or Lachlan M'Gowan the Melter Moss, Ned Holloway the Jim Dalton, Annie Lockhart the May, Marcus Clark had not produced his story of Van Demonian and Norfolk Island convictism— 'His Natural Life'— and the 'Ticket of Leave Man' was about the only item of the sort presented upon the stage. Yet I remember the late Mr. J. J. Welsh telling me that when a company with which he was connected, playing at Launceston, billed ''Margaret Catchpole," a lady, representing a certain family, waited upon the management, and, as a favour, asked that the play be withdrawn, and the manager obligingly complied with the request. To-day, of course, in Hobart the play-going public does not get its writers wrung by the performances of the 'Ticket of Leave Man' or 'His Natural Life,' or any personally objectionable play.

*************

Apropos “Ned” Holloway ("Jim Dalton"). This old identity goes back so far in theatrical annals that one wonders where and when he commenced. Fifty years ago he was a noteworthy actor, and with his wife travelled every inch of Australia where an actor or a company could show. As far back as 1862 Mr. “Ned” Holloway (no relative of the other Holloways) and his wife played in the Prince of Wales Theatre, Bathurst. Not many remember that little theatre. It stood close to the old Club House Hotel, and in it were given some excellent dramatic representations. In those days there was an excellent travelling population, which made Bathurst its head centre for a time. You had to “go round by Bathurst” to reach Hill End, Tambaroora, etc., and hotels and theatres flourished. There was another and a larger theatre round in Durham-street, which a few years ago stood as it did — stage, galleries, etc.— in the days of G. V. Brooke, though the building was used as a hay and corn store. The railway killed the glory of old Bathurst, though a brilliant effort was recently made to regild the city through the Federal Capital. As to Ned Holloway, he travelled to the Lachlan diggings, and had with him the late Shiel Barry, an Irish comedian of merit, who afterwards became famous in London and Dublin. Long before that, however, Mr. Holloway had come to the point in his profession, having performed in Victoria in the early fifties. Mr. Holloway is an ancient, but by no means played out. The old man's vitality is amazing, and that voice — well, I don't know another like it. The Holloways made money, and Ned's ambition, years ago, was a farm on the Hawkesbury (Mrs. Holloway was a native of that neighbourhood, I think), where he and his wife could settle down and end their days in peace after life's fitful fever. But the wife died, to Ned's great regret and loss, and the old man kept battling on. He formed for years one of Alfred Dampier's company, but I have lost sight of him for some time. Like the late Clarence Holt, Ned Holloway in his early days aspired to be the T. P. Cooke of the colonies, his favourite sailor character being William, in 'Black-eyed Susan.' There is a yarn in the profession that after Clarence Holt returned to Victoria in the early sixties he gave glowing accounts of his success at Drury Lane, accounts which fired the ambition of Ned Holloway, who expressed the intention of taking a trip to the "big smoke." "I would," gently insinuated Holt, ''and," he added kindly, "I'll give you a note to the management. Everything Australian goes down in London. You'll get a show! Open at Drury Lane in 'Black-eyed Susan.' It's a popular favourite. The house will be crammed. You speak outside; it's a good 'take.' Bound on the stage, the applause will be immense, and when you open your mouth you'll be so bally well hissed that you'll wish yourself back in Australia." But then Clarence Holt was not esteemed a generous man to brother professionals.

(To be continued.)

At Spiers and Pond's 'Hall by the Sea’, at Margate, when the 'Special Bohemian' of the 'Orchestra' arrived at his destination ('Sportsman,' September 28, 1904), he found 'A crowd, a Tricon playing, surrounded with gas jets, looking as if Spiers and Pond were practising hard to set the Thames on fire, more gas devices and jets over the facade (for which word I am indebted to the 'Standard'), and a large poster, which informed me that Claribel's Ballads were to be sung every night.

***

'On being restored to consciousness'—he does not say how he became unconscious, I have my suspicions — 'I found the concert had commenced. M. Jullian was the conductor; and the programme included the names of Madame Parepa, Mdlle. Liebhart, Miss Eyles, Miss Rose Herssee, Mr. Farquharson, Mr. Weiss, and Mr. Perron (vocalists), Miss Kathleen Ryan, Miss Kate Gordon, and Herr Strauss. Herr Meyer Lutz was the accompanist, The hall was crammed, and the concert went off like one of Spiers and Pond's champagne corks. The orchestra is first-rate, and Jullian conducts with all the chic of his father before him. I never heard popular music more popularly played than the lighter selections on Saturday. As for the singing, we had the pompous Parepa, who was not half so much to my Bohemian taste as the graceful and unpretending Rose Hersee, who sang 'Where the Bee Sucks' in a way that electrified Margate right through the hall and out and across the road, right down to the bathing machines. Then there was Fraulein Liebhardt, who was vociferously recalled for her 'Lover and the Bird' (especially the 'Bird'), and the chivalrous-looking Weiss, who kept his 'Watch at the Fore’, although it was long past that hour, and, of course, his watch must have been awfully slow, although the song wasn't; and there was the terrific basso from the colonies called Farquharson, who accompanied capitally on the piano and sang the 'Wolf' with the most hilarious hilarity. (At this point I had an interview with Spiers and Pond in the refreshment room.) George Perren was then on with Mr. Weiss, and, as by this time the place had been formally opened, the duet was appropriately 'Hall's Well,' after which Miss Kathleen Ryan played a lot of Weber on the piano, and a flutter went through many a manly Margate heart to behold that clever and fascinating young lady, with the large dark eyes, and the power of the wrist, not to mention— (Spiers and Pond have just sent for me). To resume, Miss Kate Gordon also gave us a touch of her very excellent quality on a somewhat obdurate Broadwood, and Miss Eyles having contributed 'The Lady of the Lea,' which the programme informed us was composed by 'Claribel' (Ha! ha! I now see how her songs are to be done every night!), and Spiers and Pond having executed a most successful duet together in the shape of a bow from the orchestra, exhausted nature could do no more, and I rushed off to sup with a noble and intimate friend at No. 4 Royal Crescent. When I emerged from the hall a very beautiful experiment in lights was going on under the direction of my talented and affable friend, Mr. George Dolby. It appeared that whenever the transparencies at the hall were lit up, all the Margate lights, including the pier lights, went down. It had an indescribably beautiful effect, and, as such, reflects great credit on Spiers and Pond. Our old friend Dolby did not seem to see it in the same light, and made severe remarks upon the Gas Company. Mr. Thorne (local assistant of Mr. Hingston, the manager), having been despatched to sit on the gasometer, peace and harmony were restored, and your old Bohemian speedily found his weary form reposing elegantly on a sofa, at No. 4, above distantly referred to. There was hock, much hock, a beautiful balcony, and cigars; also fair women, and a murmurous sea in front. I like the lot, my noble friend , ———.

'Come! (said your own Bohemian to the company generally) unto these yellow Margate sands, with yellow Margate boots on at 4s 6d, and there take hands. Where the wild waves tumble o'er— and in which I shall bathe to-morrow, probably in the afternoon, drinking in the meantime a cup of kindness yet (with a slice of lemon in it) to Spier's and Pond, than whom I——'

(Here our correspondent's letter becomes luckily illegible. We are, however, enabled from other and more trustworthy sources to state that the Margate Hall-by-the-Sea is likely to prove a well-merited success.— Ed.)

***

The old Melbourne Royal and the historic cafe are doomed. After a life of half a century, with a fire midway, the old building, I believe, goes. The history of the Melbourne Theatre Royal will include the history of the best days of the Victorian stage, when the acting was acknowledged to be at his best, and without the adjunct of pretty scenery and elaborate properties. The theatre was built by John Black, a name unknown in theatricals until then, but well known on the road between Melbourne and Sandhurst as a carrier in the early fifties, at a time when carriage meant £100 per ton. Out of his pile Mr. Black built the Royal, and lost his pile. It was opened in 1855 with the 'School for Scandal.' The old Queen's was then open, and doing well, G. V. Brooke being the attraction. The Queen-street house was good enough for the prehistoric days of Melbourne, but with the discovery of gold and the advent of thousands of gold-seekers, and the success of thousands of these in gold finding, the 'playhouse' erected by John Thomas Smith in the forties was found to be inadequate to the public wants.

When George Coppin (whom God preserve) went to England in search of talent, and found G. V. Brooke, he also bethought him that, being such an expensive star-— £300 a week— and he dependent upon one small theatre, was not, in colonial parlance, good enough. Accordingly he made his way to Birmingham, and entered into a contract with Messrs Bellhouse and Co. to build him in sections an iron theatre, capable of holding £300. Mr. Coppin's first agreement with G. V. Brooke was, I believe, for 200 nights at £50, or a total of £10,000. The theatre was named the Olympic, out of compliment to the theatre so named in which, in 1847, G. V. Brooke made his first London appearance. The Melbournites, however, dubbed it the 'Iron Pot,' though it was as pretty and cozy a theatre as anyone could wish. Brooke, however, did not open it; that honor was bestowed on the Wizard Jacobs, as Brooke was playing elsewhere. In 1856 George Coppin became possessed of the Royal. In that year Brooke and Coppin entered into partnership, before, I think, the original engagement was concluded. They separated in 1858, Brooke retaining the Royal, Coppin taking as his share of the assets the 'Iron Pot' and Cremorne Gardens, at which latter place he did a roaring business. It was then, I think, that Brooke commenced to lose money. As I have pointed out before he was not a business man and relied upon others to look after his interests. At first Richard Younge managed for him, then Robert Heir. Henry Edwards, from Sydney, was engaged in the stock company, and George Fawcett was running the old Princess'. On the failure of Heir as manager, Edwards and Fawcett were appointed. Their management ended in disaster. Ambrose Kyte was owner of the building, and had been called upon on many occasions for accommodation cheques to keep the ghost walking. The failure of Edwards and Fawcett, as managers, was the means of healing a breach that had occurred between Coppin and Brooke, and the former returned to the Royal as manager. Its position at this time was not satisfactory. After giving Burton's circus a show, Wilton had it for a while, and under his auspices, in 1862, Barry Sullivan appeared. In 1863 Sullivan showed what he could do in management, and in 1865 William Hoskins and Clarence Holt joined hands, holding together until 1867, when the theatre came under the joint management of six very worthy stage men — J. Chambert, Charles Vincent, H. R. Harwood, Richard Stewart, T. S. Bellard, and John Hennings, the scenic artist. The six held together, and did well for some time. Each man had his allotted duty in management, and did it. The first break in the six was the death of Charles Vincent, occasioned by an accident, deemed of small moment at the time. He had purchased a horse, and was about mounting to go for a ride when the animal became restive and threw the rider; in the fall one of his hands was injured, lockjaw set in, and the popular husband of Miss Cleveland went the way of all flesh. Mr. Lambert went England and ended his days in the village in which he first saw the light. Tom Bellair went into hotel management. He kept the Rainbow at Ballarat for some years, and died in the principal hotel at Wagga Wagga. Harwood retired, and went on a tour to to India and China, I think. The partnership then became Coppin, Greville and Hennings, and Harwood again joined later on. The old Royal Theatre was burned in March, 1872. The piece being performed on the fatal night was the 'Streets of New York,' the hero of which was played by a very capable actor of those days, James Carden, Miss Eloise Juno also being in the company. Mr. G. R. Ireland and all the members of the company suffered losses in wardrobes, etc. The historic cafe was then in the occupation of the renowned scenic artist, William Pitt, father of the architect of today. Mr. Pitt had for many years kept the Garrick's Head Hotel, opposite the Eastern Market, where his right-hand Hebe was the now Mrs. Roberts, of the Criterion Theatre Hotel, Sydney, but then well known to us youngsters as Miss Polly Smith. The first to discover the fire was Jack Conway, the well-known cricketer, who was smoking a midnight cigar at the window of Sayers' Prince of Wales Hotel, Bourke-street. Six months previously the Haymarket Theatre was burned down, and but a few weeks before the Prince of Wales Opera House, in Castlereagh-street, went under to the same agency. In the seventeen years life of the old Royal there were memories both pleasant and painful. In the seventeen years there were, it might be said, three periods, the Brooke, the Sullivan, and the Montgomery. Mark the distinction between the two pieces, that at the opening 'The School for Scandal,' and that at the close, 'The Streets of New York!' A decadence truly.

As the actors were homeless through the fire, and out of work, and many out of cash, something had to be done for their relief. Among the most attractive efforts to gather in coin was a cricket match on the principal Melbourne ground, the cricketers in costume, and to some extent supporting the characters they sustained. George Coppin appeared as Paul Pry, J. R. Greville as 'A party by the name of Johnstone,' Mr. Hennings as Claude Melnotte, Mr. Carden as Enoch Arden, Richard Stewart as Lord Dundreary, Ireland as Cassio, John Dunn as 'That Rascal Jack,' Appleton as Ronaldo, Roberts as Asa Trenchard, old Jimmy Milne as Mike Feeney, and minor men in various guises. At the time of the fire the Princess' was empty, and the lessee, William Saurin Lyster, offered it to Mr. Coppin and his friends for a short season. Mr. Coppin made a speech — he was always great on speeches — in which he detailed his sorrows. Six years previously he had started life afresh without a sixpence; he had succeeded, but the fire had swept away most of the provision which he had made for old age and a large family. Yet Mr. Coppin re-built the Royal and opened the new venture on Cup night (Cup winner, John Tait's The Quack), 1872, with an address written by Dr. Neild and spoken by Mrs. Collins, then (later on Mrs. H. R. Harwood) nee Docy Stewart. Then followed 'To Oblige Benson' and 'Milky White,' in both of which Mr. Coppin appeared. The company proper was at Adelaide, but Coppin did not wish to miss a bumper house such as always eventuates on Cup night. Since then the fortunes of the theatre have been varied. Many new theatrical ventures have sprung into existence, the most formidable being the gorgeous Princess'.

At the time of the opening of the Theatre Royal (No. 2), the Princess' was in full swing with a strong company under Stuart O'Brien and Miss Jones, heavy tragedy being the order of the night. During the same Cup week a dramatic benefit was given Mr. John Whiteman, who had filled as many parts in life as did the late George Adams. Mr. Whiteman was a blacksmith by trade, and a poet by instinct, his little volume, 'Sparks from the Anvil,' being readable. He had been a publican, and in that, as in other trades, had his ups and downs. On the benefit night Coppin and Stewart appeared; Marcus Clarke wrote an address, which was spoken by John Edwards the younger. Looking over those old bills, one comes across many names now absolutely forgotten, of the seniors George Coppin being about the only one of a long list now remaining; and about this time— 1872 — there arose a controversy regarding 'deadheads,' in which Mr. George Coppin, Morton Tavares, and others took part. The germ of the controversy was as to whether Vice-Regal patrons should not pay for seats occupied in the theatre even on 'command nights.' The Vice Regal delinquent at whom George Coppin was hitting, and hitting mighty hard, was Viscount Canterbury, who in his earlier days was known as John Henry Thomas Manners-Sutton. The correspondence was carried on with some vigor, the theatrical critics, strange to say, siding with the deadheads, from a fellow-feeling perhaps. There was a dramatic association in existence in Melbourne at the time, and the matter was thoroughly threshed out at its meetings. Viscount Canterbury, who appears, from the correspondence, to have been a persistent deadhead, asked Mr. Coppin to send in an account of the 'items,' but this Mr. Coppin declined to do, on the ground that his profession never gave credit. Of this interesting dispute more anon.

(To be continued.)

I have made frequent mention in recent issues of the 'Sportsman' of Messrs. Spiers and Pond, those old-time lessees of the Cafe de Paris attached to the Theatre Royal, Melbourne, and other ventures of a like character. I enjoyed the personal friendship of Mr. Christopher Pond for some years, and have sweet memories of his 'kindly disposition and good-heartedness. he was the active man in the business, Mr. Spiers being the calculating head. The partners commenced in the 'roaring fifties' in a very small way, exceedingly small when compared with the gigantic proportions their business in England assumed in later years. In the early and mid-fifties in Melbourne there was a number of political agitators, who professed everything political, from placing the entire population upon the land, by means of driving all the squatters across the Murray, to creating fortunes for everybody by means only known to themselves, and to be disclosed only when they got into Parliament.

Amongst the most enthusiastic of those agitators was one named Mooney, who kept the National Hotel at the top of Bourke-street, on the northern side, near Spring-street. There was a music hall attached, which was much frequented by diggers— lucky and unlucky— down for a spree. Mr. Mooney had been to California in 1849, and came to Melbourne in the 'roaring days.' Though keeping a public-house, he was a great advocate for farm life and settling the people upon the land. 'A farm, a vote, and a rifle' was Mr. Mooney's motto, and when the 'roaring' began to cease in the late fifties, Mr. Mooney returned to California, which country he was always careful to say was better suited for agriculture than was Australia. This Mooney (of the National) must not be confounded by old colonists with 'Long Mooney,' a wild Irishman whom long residence in Port Phillip had not tamed.

'Long Mooney' owned and the City Arms at the corner of Lonsdale and Elizabeth streets, and held some adjoining properties, acquired before the fifties began to roar. Mr. Mooney, of the City Arms, was an ancient colonist as years then went, having arrived at the Yarra Yarra before Melbourne was out of long clothes. He got, however, into the clutches of the Colonial Bank, and that Institution held all Mooney's property at his death.

Underneath the National Hotel, when kept by Mooney of 'the farm, the vote, and the rifle,' was a large dining-room which was run by Spiers and Pond. If I remember rightly, it was named the ''Shakespeare Grill,' and had a portrait of the great dramatist as a sign. The bill of fare at the Shakespeare was simple in the extreme; oysters ad lib (if you paid for them) chop or steak with a boiled spud and a half a pint of British beer, the latter brought from Mooney's tap upstairs, and all for the (then) surprisingly low charge of one shilling. Spiers and Pond succeeded well in the cellar, and looked about to extend their usefulness. The cafe attached to the Theatre Royal was then in a most deplorable condition. I think Jimmy Ellis, of the Cremorne Gardens, had something to do with it, but the management was anything but good. Spiers and Pond got a lease of the premises, and transferred their 'grill' there. They did a good business, but it was not until E. P. Hingston ('Sportsman,' Sept. 7) suggested the 'Vestibule' and certain arrangements connected there with that the Cafe de Paris and 'parts adjacent' commenced to disclose improvements. The firm then turned their attention to creature comforts at the old Princess' in Spring-street. A more disreputable-looking structure it would be hard to find. The lessee, George Fawcett, was struggling, with an indifferent company, to make ends meet; the bars, which jutted on the pavement, were as unkempt as the lowest pub on Collingwood Flat, and few of the twitter class of people frequented them. Spiers and Pond got a lease of the bars, and with paint and putty soon put a new face on the place, naming it 'The Piazza.' As at the Vestibule, the Hebes were all attired in black, the attraction at the Piazza being three sisters named Kiley, pretty girls, well educated, of good family and highly respectable and respected. With such attendants the Piazza became an attraction, and with that attraction the fortunes of the theatre became assured. The first big rise the firm made was in 1862. In the previous year they determined to import a team of English cricketers, and for the purpose of making a selection they despatched their book-keeper, Mr. Mallam, with carte-blanche to do the needful. The Spiers and Pond envoy succeeded in getting together twelve good men under the leadership of H. H. Stephenson, the other members of the team, being Bennett, Caffyn, Griffith, Hearne, Mudie, Iddison, Charlie Lawrence, Mortlock, Sewell, E. Stephenson, and George Wells. Caffyn came again in 1864 and remained for some years, commencing a hairdressing business in Hunter-street, subsequently removing to George-street, where, in 187I, he sold out to Mr. John Campbell (Mr. Amory Sullivan's 'young assistant 'barber'). Mr. Charles Lawrence is still in Australia, enjoying a pension from the New South Wales Government Railways, and keeping his hand in by coaching School cricket in Victoria.

The Spiers and Pond XI. played their first match against Eighteen of Victoria on New Year's Day, 1862, on the Melbourne Cricket Ground. The attendance was enormous, and the speculation paid from the jump. I was given to understand that Spiers and Pond cleared something like £16,000 out of their venture. Messrs. Spiers and Pond 'went for' another speculation, but it did not come off, unfortunately for the Australian people. The firm offered Charles Dickens the sum of £10,000 clear, over and above all his travelling expenses and maintenance, for a twelve months' reading tour through the Australian colonies. The gentleman through whom the offer was made pressed upon Dickens the advantages which would accrue to his overwrought system from a perfect rest of six or eight weeks' voyage; and pointed out what a rich and unworked field for the observation and study of character Australia would present to him ; but Dickens could not be induced to accept the engagement ; and while thanking Spiers end Pond for their offer, dwelt up on the large sums he was making by his readings in England, incidentally mentioning that, by announcing one night's reading at St. George's Hall, Liverpool, he was sure of netting at least £300. Mr. Spiers, at a later date, waited upon Dickens In London and renewed the offer, but without success.

Having made 'a pile' in Melbourne, the partners, still devoted to each other, resolved to try their luck in England. Accordingly they sold-out their Melbourne interests to their late bookkeeper, Mr. W. P. Mallam, and Mr. Achilles King, who, however, cannot be said to have emulated Spiers and Pond in money making. At any rate they had not the luck or their predecessors. Spiers and Pond returned to England, where in a few years they revolutionised the system of supplying the London public with refreshments. At the Criterion Theatre and Restaurant, in Piccadilly; built by Spiers and Pond in 1878, at a cost of £80,000; at the Holborn Restaurant, near Southhampton Row; at the refreshment rooms of several railway stations, and at the International Exhibition at Paris, the names of Spiers and Pond became household. The immense strain of the business told upon the health of both partners, principally, however, upon Mr. Pond. This gentleman, whom I knew better than I did Mr. Spiers, had no special advantages of education, and no special training for the business which he had embarked in. He and his partner catered for the great encampment on the Werribee, in 1862, and from their success on that occasion, there could be little doubt but that they could successfully cater for any army. A writer —who knew him well— said of him, on his death in August, 1881, that he was 'sanguine, impulsive and imaginative, his busy mind was continually revolving enterprises on a large scale, some of which he subsequently carried out, in London, while his partner, with a cooler judgment, a more phlegmatic temperament and considerable financial , ability, supplied the necessary restraint to his ardour, and took a severely practical view of Mr. Pond's projects.' Personally, Mr. Pond was popular with all who knew him, and I can recall his tall figure as he stood at the money desk in the cafe, with a pleasant word and smile, and an impressive 'thank you,' for each guest as he departed. 1 can also recall his first and last, and only, appearance upon the stage as an actor when he appeared at the Theatre Royal in the little afterpiece written for the occasion by James Smith, and entitled, 'A Broil at the Cafe.' It was upon the night when a benefit, more as a compliment than for the coin it produced, was tendered the partners upon the eve of their departure for England. Few men, not being themselves given to literature or the fine arts, had a higher appreciation of, or a greater respect for, the manifestation of literary and artistic culture in others than Mr. Pond. 'To gather around him a group of actors and actresses, operatic performers, and men of letters, and to call forth their conversational powers, around a table which bore ample evidence of his lavish hospitality, was one of the delights of his life during the last years of his residence in Melbourne.' Some there are still left who remember some such gatherings at the old Cafe de Paris and in the snug room at the Piazza. Mr. Pond was about 62 years of age at his death.

I have before me a picture of the old Royal in Bourke-street, which is of much interest just now in connection with Spiers and Pond. On the one side— the western— is the Royal Hotel, in the centre 'the vestibule,' and on the right hand, or eastern side, the Cafe de Paris; and adjoining the latter is visible a portion of the establishment of Mr. Bennett, the wig maker, whose manager Mr. John Campbell was. The whole of the frontage of the theatre was leased to Messrs. Spiers and Pond. In the picture, against the columns of the vestibule, are the poster boards with the announcements 'G. V. Brooke and Avonia Jones' distinctly visible. Another poster board bears the announcement of a benefit to the then stage manager, Mr. Richard Younge, the piece chosen being the 'Hunchback.' On the pavement is a group of actors and actresses, and not a few idlers, attracted, no doubt, by the fact that Mr. Davis, the neighboring photographer, had his camera in position, and was about to 'take' the lot. In this group is G. V. Brooke, having on his left hand the lady who had come from England with him as his chief support, Fanny Cathcart, afterwards Mrs. Robert Heir, and subsequently Mrs. George Darrell. On his right stands Mrs. Lambert, wife of one of the best 'old men' Australia has ever seen. In the group also are Lambert, Heir, Dick, Stewart, and many others. Seated in a basket phaeton, is Christopher Pond, then, I remember, slowly recovering from the effects of a broken leg.

One of the English ventures— and a successful one— was 'The Hall by the Sea,' at Margate, under the management of E. P. Hingston, and where for some months — or was it years ? — the attraction was our old Australian friend, Farquharson. One of the best advertisements 'The Hall by the Sea' had was contributed by 'A Special Bohemian', to 'The Orchestra,' in July, 1866. It was dated from 'Margate,' at 'midnight':—

'I am here, Mr. Editor, at Margate.' I came hither on the saloon steamer the Albert Victor, as a guest of the renowned Australians, Spiers and Pond, whose delectable drinks no doubt are familiar to you. I think it was last Saturday I came, but I am not sure. But I am perfectly sure about the Albert Victor, and Spiers and Pond, and the drinks. Pond is the taller of the two, in order to distinguish him from Spiers, for as they are always to be seen together, any less obvious distinction, such as baptism, would be perfectly aimless and ridiculous. They are very jolly to look at, and are the most charming conversationalists in the world. Like the fairies in the nursery story, they only open their mouths to let fall rubies, and pearls, and diamonds for you to gather up. In fact, their speech is always ravishing, like this (murmured gently going down the after-saloon stairs), 'What'll you take to drink?' Or again, 'I think you will like this hock.' Or again, 'What do you say to a little pineapple,' and gems of that nature. On the whole, the voyage to Margate on board the Albert Victor was of the most pleasant description. I did not see much of the scenery on the way down, common politeness keeping me near Spiers and Pond in the lower saloon for the better part of the day; but I am told the look-out was particularly beautiful to those who like that sort of thing. My description, therefore, must be necessarily brief. After we left London Bridge we sailed majestically past Billingsgate. Chelsea, the Tower Hamlets; Kew, and the Eddystone Light (a fine structure, sir, hut I did not see it, being just then particularly engaged with Spiers and Pond in the lower saloon). Scarborough, Hungerford, and Rosherville Gardens; had a chat with the Man-at-the-Nore. and eventually arrived at Margate late in the afternoon.

''We in the lower saloon had known for some time that we were approaching the jetty, from the strong bouquet of Hebrews, wafted on the evening air, and it was with feelings of reluctance that we ascended the wooden stairway and made our way through the lanes of Israel towards shore. Margate, as you know, my dear editor, is a royal burgh, situated opposite Gravesend, and not far from Yarmouth, on the Isle of Thanet. It is one big lodging-house, the people live on shrimps, and wear yellow boots without heels, and machines are 9d, including towels. This is Margate, which, having seen, and having secured a humble apartment, I found it nearly time to rejoin my fast friends, Spiers and Pond at their new 'Hall-by-the-Sea' at the inaugural ceremony incidental to the opening of which we had been invited to assist. The 'Hall-by-the-Sea,' you see is meant to be— well, eh ! a hall by the sea. That is, you can eat and drink as you can only eat and drink chez Spiers and Pond; and in the evening there is a concert, and afterwards a ball and the charge is one shilling. That's a hall by the sea. The hall itself is very pretty, and large and comfortable, though tolerably bad for vocalists. I don't know much about architecture myself, else I would give a long and elaborate description of the hall, but luckily the 'Standard' reporter does, and as he is a friend of mine I make free to borrow his account. 'The hall (he writes) is a longish square, with triangular roof and level walls, divided into compartments.' There you have the whole place lucidly before you, and I need only add that the orchestra is erected about the middle, much in Covent Garden style, with passages at the sides ; that the 'salle' is hung with stuff, festooned with flowers ; that tolerably decent statues are arranged along the walls at intervals, and that the chairs are cleared away after the concert for dancing, to give you the 'tout ensemble' in a sentence. It is bounded on the north by the sea, on the east by the Marine Parade, on the south-west by the railway station, and on the south by nothing in particular.'

(To be continued.)

The rejoicings over the success of the New South Wales horses in the intercolonial matches in October, 1857 at Flemington took a form agreeable to at least two of the parties concerned. Old Sydneyites who had taken up their abode in Victoria were determined that the horseman who had upheld the honor of the mother colony on a 'foreign field,' as it were, should not go unrewarded. Accordingly, some active spirits set about getting up a testimonial to Mr. John Higgerson, who had successfully steered Veno to Victory on the memorable October 3. Subscriptions were had for the asking, the result being that a very handsome gold-mounted whip was purchased for presentation to the successful jockey. The presentation was made on the stage of the Theatre Royal, at a performance given under the patronage of the Victoria Jockey Club 'and the Sydney sporting visitors.' The piece staged was an old-time melodrama, 'Fraud and its Victims,' a play we never hear of nowadays. The chief performer on the male side was an actor then new to Melbourne, Mr. W. H. Stephens, who earned for himself the nickname of 'Jockey' Stephens, through his capital performance of a jockey in some racing drama. In thosegood old racing days a 'laughable farce,' as the playbills had it, wound up the evening's performance. Between the play and the farce, Mr. Hamilton, of 'Bell's Life,' appeared on the stage, accompanied by Mr. Johnny Higgerson. Mr. Hamilton, in a neat and appropriate speech, made the presentation. The whip mountings were exquisite, and the gold band bore the inscription : —

'Presented to Mr. Johnny Higgerson,

Trainer and Rider

of G T. Rowe, Esquire's c g

Veno,

as a Memento of the Challenge Match.

October 3rd, 1857.'

Though it was Mr. Higgerson's first appearance on the boards of a theatre, his 'stage' being usually a four-wheeler, Mr. Higgerson was not amiss in his speech of thanks. The newspapers of the day did not report the speech, but I know that Mr. Higgerson said that Wellington did not feel prouder at Waterloo than he (Johnny Higgerson) did on Veno in the champion match. The owner of Veno, Mr. G. T. Rowe, who was in the dress circle, had to bow his acknowledgments of the applause which greeted him when recognised. The Sydney sportsmen and the Sydney press admitted that the Victorians took their defeat in a manly fashion, asserting that they would have better luck next time. The gold-mounted whip, the subscribers explained, was not presented as an acknowledgment of Veno's victory, but as a mark of esteem to Mr. Higgerson as a man of whom they were all proud, who did his best in the interests of his employer. Mr. W. H. Stephens, the 'other star' of the night, after a couple of years tearing the colonies, went to London, and became a most successful actor and manager, and was, I think, the first of a long list who having made a name in Australia, made fame and fortune in England.

As Tomboy, ridden by Sam Holmes, had conquered Veno, ridden by Higgerson, in one race at the meeting held immediately after the intercolonial matches, it was thought only right and proper that 'old Sam,' as he was known in after years when he kept the Horse and Jockey Inn, at Enfield on the Liverpool-road, N.S.W., should also have a presentation. This took the shape of a gold watch and chain and a purse of sovereigns. Anthony Greene was the spokesman, and Sam Holmes made a very neat speech. Tomboy was also to have 'shown' on the stage, but Mr. Greene had to apologise for the equine hero, stage fright, or something akin to it, having prevented Tomboy making his bow to the crowded audience at the Princess', for it was at that theatre that Mr. Holmes had his presentation. 'Fraud and its Victims' at the Royal had given way to 'Sardanapulus,' with Mr. G. V, Brooke in the leading part. It was announced as one of a series of performances prior to G. V. B.'s return to England. These announcements were frequently made, and an announcement of a final appearance by Mr G. V. Brooke, became a by-word as one of 'Coppins dodges.' On the night when the presentation was made to Mr Sam Holmes, the sisters Gougenheim—Joey and Adelaide— were playing in 'Court and Stage' supported by George Fawcett, who subsequently went to London and achieved success as an actor and playwright, under the name of George Fawcett Rowe, the latter being his real name.

If not actually on the night of the presentation to Mr. Holmes, it was on the night previous, that Joey, who was the more energetic of the sisters, made a bitter complaint that they, as 'stars,' had great difficulty in getting an opening in Melbourne, unless they accepted undignified terms. As Mr. George Coppin was absent from Melbourne, Mr. G. V. Brooke wrote the newspapers explaining the position. The agent of the sisters had written Mr. Coppin from Hobart Town offering their services at the Royal on certain terms, which we may suppose, from the tone of Mr. Coppin's reply, to have been, perhaps, exorbitant. Brooke gave a copy of Coppin's letter. There it was stated that the expenses were £600 a week! but that he would give the sisters £100 a week and two half-benefits, the engagement to be for a fortnight or a month. These terms, the sisters indignantly rejected, and gave themselves to the old wooden structure known as The Princess', in Spring-street. This old wooden 'Matchbox,' as it was named, had pit, stalls, and bores, and might hold £100 a night on a pinch. What terms they made with George Fawcett we know not, possibly share and share, after deducting a sum for expenses. Strange to say, the 'Old' Queen's' in Melbourne, the Princess' just mentioned, and an old theatre still standing in Durham-street, Bathurst, a relic of the roaring days of the Turon Diggings, and in which G. V. Brooke played, are the only ones, I am creditably informed, which have escaped destruction by fire.

Mr. Holmes, in acknowledging the gift of a watch and chain and a purse of sovereigns, was not to be outdone by Mr. Higgerson in similes; Mr. Holmes said that he was prouder of his position that night than Nelson at Trafalgar! Some little unpleasantness was hinted at over the race won by Tomboy. It was a sweep of 25 sovereigns with 100 sovs added. There were several starters, the principals being Van Tromp, Veno, and Mr. Purcell's Tomboy. Higgerson was on Veno, Waldock on Van Tromp, and Holmes on Tomboy, three as upright jockeys as ever threw leg over saddle. It was said that Holmes rode light, having got rid of some of his weight; and what pained the Victorians more than anything else was the fact that Messrs. Rowe and Atkinson believed it; and Sam Holmes was a Sydney man, too. Those who knew Sam Holmes will, I know, say that such a charge was simply ridiculous. The jockey weighed out and weighed in the same weight, and there was no opportunity, even if he wished it, to play hanky-panky with the weights between times. It may be mentioned that in this race Van Tromp was nowhere but in the race run half an hour afterwards he got second place.

Within the week in which the great Intercolonial Matches were run, the Victoria Jockey Club held, I think, its first meeting. This was the club of which Mr. J. M. Tarlton (U. S. Consul), Henry Phillips, George ???????, Edward Row were stewards, with Mr. W. P. Symons as secretary, and Mr. Richard Goldsbrough as honorary clerk of the course.

Just think of 'John Bull' Goldsbrough, 20 stone if an ounce, in starlet, and breeches, as clerk of the course! It was late in the season, and the horses were not in the best of condition, and the meeting was remarkable for the defeat of all the favorites.

The Intercolonial Matches seem to have given a zest to racing in Melbourne, the V.J.C. meeting on October 7, 8 and 9 being very largely patronised. Tattersall's newly founded rooms attracted a crowd, the regulations framed and the admission fee proving a barrier to a large number of noisy 'bummers,' who did no business and whose chatter, clatter and bounce had been intolerable. This 'push' had to content itself with the kerbstone when Tatt's was established. In the rooms the Sydney people were well represented, foremost amongst them being Mr. G. F. Pickering, editor and part proprietor of 'Bell's Life in Sydney.' It was noticeable that the Sydney contingent wagered only on Sydneyside horses.

The first race of the meeting was a Maiden Plate. Nine came to the post, amongst them a horse called Yankee, entered as a five-year-old, made first favorite, and backed heavily all through. This horse Yankee had done all his galloping as one of a team in Cobb and Co.'s coaches! The coaching crowd believed that they had found a wonder, but the result proved that Yankee was great at a mile, but no further. Though Joe Smith, a well-known rider of the time had the mount, he found his horse beaten at the mile. A horse with the Hibernian name Bathershins proved the winner, while Lady of the Lake, a sister of Alice Hawthorne, ran into third place.

Under the auspices of this club the Victorian Derby of 1857 was run. The entries were Mr. William Greene's Tricolor, Dr. Bathe's Vain Hope, Mr. Dawes' Union Jack, Mr. H. Phillips' Cavalier, Mr. E. Row's Melbourne, Mr. Payne's Skylark, and Mr. Davis' Marco. The added money was £150, the race being won by Tricolor, bred at Woodlands, the old home of Pomeroy Greene and his sons Rawdon and Molesworth. The winner had only been in Anthony Greene's hands for six weeks prior to the race. The Jockey Club Cup, £150 added money, brought a number of well known horses to the post, and was the cause of a special match being made between two of the runners. There were five entries: Mr. Warby's Cardinal Wiseman, Mr. A. Chirnside's Alice Hawthorne, Mr. John Sevoir's Sir Robert, Mr. B. D. Clarke's Camel, and Mr. Payne's Sinbad; welter weights, members of the Jockey Club up. Alice Hawthorne was the favorite against the field. The race was a two-miler, the winner turning up in Cardinal Wiseman, ridden by Mr. Rutland; Alice, with Mr. John Orr up, being second. That night at Tattersall's it was stated that Cardinal Wiseman's victory was only a fluke, and a match between 'The Churchman' and Alice was spoken of. On the following evening the match was made, the owners of Alice laying £1000 to £500, 2½ miles, welter weights, 12st 41b the horse, 12st 1lb the mare, to be run on the afternoon of the next day. Next afternoon the betting was 6 to 4 on Alice Hawthorne, which became firmer when it was known that Johnny Higgerson had the mount on the mare, and the 'gentleman jock,' Mr. Rutland, was to steer 'The Cardinal.' The start was a dead level one. Almost immediately the mare forged ahead, the Cardinal made an effort and passed the mare, the latter, however, got in front again, but Higgerson hauled off at the boggy ground under the hill, where the grandstand is now. Turning into the straight the pair were stride for stride, fighting for every foot; the mare was beaten by three lengths, in 3min 22sec. The horse Cardinal Wiseman surprised everyone. Mr. Warby had purchased him a few weeks before for 200 guineas, for stud purposes, but proving what horse masters call 'too playful,' he was given to one Bentley to train and make what he could out of him. It was now decided that Alice Hawthorne had seen 'her day.' In the first ten days of October, 1857, she had been tried four times, having as riders Steve Mahon, Mitchell, Johnny Higgerson and Mr. John Orr, and she failed to score a win with either up. All four riders gave the verdict 'out of form.'

The Victoria Jockey Club had a 'Great Metropolitan' as part of the programme. It was run on the second day, the added money being a modest 200 sovs. with a sweep of 15 sovs. The starters were: Veno (Higgerson up), Mr. Jenkins' Voltaire, Alice Hawthorne (with Mitchell up), Van Tromp, and five others, Veno and Alice went stride for stride from the start, when Veno went to the front, leaving Alice to fight for second place with Voltaire, who beat the mare by a head. The third day was wet, the entries being second and third rate, and the interest deadened by the absence of the 'big game.' At Tattersall's, at the settling up, everything passed off in first-class fashion. There were no complaints, because there were no defaulters. The bookmakers proper had not as yet become an institution, the betting being done between friends and by well-known sportsmen. Cash betting had not been thought of. Joe Thompson was but 20 years of age, and still in obscurity. The late Sammy Isaacs had not started 'pencilling' at Kirk's Bazaar. I think little Sammy, who 'pattered' for the fighting men at their booth at Flemington on race meetings, was the first recognised layer of the odds per book and pencil.

At the 'settling,' when the champagne had gone round, and everyone was satisfied with himself, his neighbor, and owner of Van Tromp, issued a challenge the world generally, Mr. William Frazer, to Victorian sportsmen, two challenges, in fact. The first was that he (Mr. Frazer) would find a horse in the Geelong district, which he would match against any other Victorian horse for 250 sovereigns, in six weeks' time, two miles, over the Geelong course. The second challenge was somewhat similar, the distance being 1½ mile, Mr. Frazer explained that both horses were strangers to the Flemington and Geelong racecourses. Nothing came of the challenges at the time. But while challenges were flying about Melbourne, new ground had been broken in Sydney. In 'Bell's Life in Sydney' appeared an advertisement worded after this fashion :— A gentleman from Ipswich, Moreton Bay (there was no Queensland then), will back his horse, Newbolt, against the champion of Australia or any horse in the colony (New South Wales, which included everything north of Gabo lighthouse), for nothing less than 500 to 1000 sovereigns, £250 allowed either party removing his horse to either turf. Stakes ready at the Willow Tree Inn, Pitt-street. No deposit but cash down. Match to be made in four weeks, the race run in three months from this date. October 17, 1857. An answer expected by Saturday, as the gentleman is about to leave the colony. No race within 22 days of the horse landing at either post. I don't think the Sydney sportsmen paid much heed to the gentleman from Ipswich, who had such a high opinion of his horse Newbolt.

A coincidence, surely! While I was writing about the Edouin family ('Sportsman,' 27/4/'04) and Cremorne one of the family, Mrs. G. B. W. Lewis nee Rose Edouin, was on her way to pay a professional visit to Sydney, and the lady is now in our midst.

The Mr. Warby mentioned above belonged to an old— very old— Campbelltown (New South Wales) family, which had a big interest in certain valuable Sydney properties. The old Yorkshire Stingo Hotel, at the corner of Castlereagh and Goulburn streets, was an heirloom of the family. Likewise the old Liverpool Arms, at the corner of King and Pitt streets, a house dating back to the old 'lag days' of the colony, but which, when rebuilt, had its name changed to 'Warby's.' I believe it has now passed out of the Warby family.