 Preface of the Autobiography of Cockney Tom The Autobiography of Cockney Tom, showing his struggles through life and proving this truth of the old saying that honesty is the best policy. Published under the patronage of his Excellency Sir W. F. D. Gerbois, G. C. M. G., Adelaide, McClory and Masterman, Printers, Brentville Street, 1881. Preface It has been said that where there is no sense of danger, there no danger need be feared. So the writer of this autobiography ventures, despite any array of critics, to present the sketch of his life to a public whose indulgence he craves. He claims no merit for literary workmanship, but solely for truth and candour, and in those respects his book cannot be excelled. As understood by the writer of this preface, the aim of the work has been twofold—namely, to leave a large circle of cherished friends, acquaintances, and relatives the exact memorials of a life marked by more than ordinary vicissitudes, and also of the manner in which it is intended to illustrate how possible is the growth of evil habit upon a genial, sociable disposition and how equally possible an absolute reformation. If the work should prove pleasant, the author would be pleased. If profitable, he will be paid by coin, but he would not exchange for the best mintage of the world. This work is respectfully dedicated to Mr. Matthew Burnett, the great temperance advocate, as a slight token of esteem by his admiring friend, the author. I am apprentice, my master, and what he was like. I get into prison, and make many acquaintances. I get out again, and return to my master. I run away, and travel to gain knowledge. I commence singing for a living, and return to London. My courtship, marriage, and many hardships. A change in my life much for the better. Join the choristers at St Barnabas, Pimlico. Become a tradesman, and have many good customers. I catch the gold fever, and make up my mind to go to Australia. My visit to the Reverend W. E. Bennett, his parish clerk. I embark at Southampton. My voyage. Part 2. My Arrival at Adelaide. What I did, and how I got my living. I leave Adelaide for Victoria, and the gold fields. My arrival in Melbourne, and what I thought of it. On the tramp to the diggings, events on the road. I arrive at Forest Creek, and make acquaintances. Depart from Forest Creek, and goes to Tarangawa. The ball at Castle Main, and what took place there. Life in the diggings at Tarangawa. My tramp back to Melbourne. Part 3. My return to Adelaide. My military career as a sergeant in the army. My discharge. I become a bank messenger, public singer, agent, etc. Tired of the bank, I turn my attention to swimming. I become acquainted with the man who robbed the Duke of Edinburgh. Tries boating on the River Torrens. The dam bursts up, and I lose my boats. I establish Turkish baths, the good they have done to the city. My wife dies, and I take to drink. I meet with the Reverend Matthew Barnett. The good results of his doctrines. I attend his lecture on Yankee Bill. I become a sober man, and write this autobiography. Dates and particulars. End of preface. Recording by Richard Skipper, Melbourne, Australia. Part 1, Section 1 of the Autobiography of Cockney Tom. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.com. Recording by Len Nicholson. The Autobiography of Cockney Tom by Thomas Bastard, Part 1, Section 1. I, Cockney Tom, am the son of a gun, who is so-called because his father was a general in a navy. Now this requires a little explanation. My grandfather, you must know, was master at arms and board the Royal Standard, 74 guns. It was his duty, as a warrant officer, to officiate when a man was to be flogged for getting drunk or any other crime. They were tied up to a grating and punished with the cat in those days. Thank goodness it is not so now in the British Navy. It was the duty of the armourer to attend a surgeon of the ship in full uniform, with drawn sword, to see that the prisoner received his allowance. The armourer was to count the lashes, and the doctor's duty was to tell the bosson to cast the man off when he saw he could bear no more. So this is how the aforesaid son of a gun's grandfather was nicknamed the Flogmaster General. Gun was armourer's mate, fought in three engagements, and got his discharge without pension. His brother was not so fortunate. He rose by merit to be a second lieutenant, and one day was ordered to man the boat and go on shore at Portsmouth with orders for the ship. When he reached the stairs, the men begged so hard to be allowed to go on shore for a short time to purchase some necessaries, that Gun's brother gave them leave on their engaging on honour to return soon. Imagine his feelings when he returned to find that all his men had deserted. In this dilemma, Gun's brother did not know what to do. To go on board he was ashamed, and therefore he made up his mind to follow the example of the men and bolt. He did so, was caught, and was sent to Portsmouth Jail to be identified by his brother officers. They came the next morning and took him on board and placed him in Irons. A court-martial was called. He was reduced from lieutenant to common seamen, and then they sentenced him to two dozen lashes, which he received on his birthday as a very unwelcome present. Gun obtained his discharge, went to London, and got married, by which transaction he increased and multiplied the earth to the extent of ten children, I being the wind-up of the lot, which consisted of nine boys and one girl. Now began some of the stirring and painful events of my wonderful life. My mother died when I was only five months old, and my sister became my only nurse. She used to carry me round the parish to mothers who had babies, and beg a drop of milk from one another so that I had many foster mothers. Now it so happened that I had a rich aunt, and she made an offer to old Gun that if he would give me up entirely to her care, she would settle her property on me as she had no children of her own, which off her old Gun readily accepted. The will was made and Julie registered, and I was taken from old Gun and placed under the care of a good nurse. Old Gun took to drink, and when drunk visited my nurse and listened to her complaints against my aunt. He called and had words with her, which so disgusted the old lady that she sent for a lawyer and altered her will without leaving me a single penny. So much for drink. I remained with this nurse about five years. About this time I was nearly burned to death. My nurse having left me to mine the house. I got playing with the fire until my pinafore caught a light when I ran out into the street all in a blaze. Two working men who happened to be passing seized me and threw me into a ditch close by. After that they took me to a doctor, and I was laid up in bed for 12 months. When old Gun heard of it, he took me away from my nurse, and when he got me home, he made use of me to fetch his gin while he was on the drink. I remember fetching Gun as many as 19 half-quartons of gin before dinner, and sometimes he would be on the throttle for a fortnight. Gun having got into debt with the publican to the extent of two pounds, he summoned him for the amount. As Gun refused to pay, the publican caused him to be sent to jail for six weeks. I used to visit Father Gun in prison and take him coffee and sugar. Now, while Gun was in trouble, I was also doomed to suffer. Gun's landlady refused to give me a night's lodging. I lived in the few coppers earned by running about the city and holding gentlemen's horses. At last to get rid of me, the landlady took me to the workhouse and left me there till Gun came out of prison. When Gun did come out, it was only to have a change from jail to workhouse. At last the end came and Gun died a penitent sinner. The parish apprenticed me to a shoemaker, a man that wanted the premium much more than he wanted the boy. My master treated me more like a dog than a human being. I was fed badly and clothed worse, was allowed one suit of the commonest corduroy that could be got per year. In fact, I wore one pair of trousers until they became knee breeches, one pair of common boots a year and a good sound thrashing twice a week. Not only were my hours of labour from five o'clock in the morning until ten at night, but my fare was far worse. Now it so happened at this period of my life that I took a fancy to swimming and in order to gain a knowledge of this art, I used to get up very early every morning and bathe in a canal which was not far off. This past time nearly cost me my life. No less than three times I was brought out of the water nearly dead, but I was determined not to be beaten and after taking lessons of a professor I became a very fair swimmer. I soon found that my master was a bad man, the woman that lived with him had left her husband, a respectable farmer in Yorkshire, and both these worthies took to heavy drinking. At this time I was between 15 and 16 years of age. My master kept a fine house, but like many other worthies he forgot to pay his rent and was so clever that he got into debt with everyone. At last being greatly troubled in his mind he determined to shoot not himself but the moon as it was called in London which being interpreted means that he ran away from his house in the night time not forgetting to take his goods with him. But in his hurry and excitement left an old bedstead in the house. I was ordered to go early the next morning and get this bedstead out by the back door, my master being there to help me carry it home. To accomplish this task I had to get through the cellar window. I succeeded in taking down the bedstead, put the screws in my pocket and got it outside. When alas, I beheld that kindest of friend's the policeman who most affectionately put his hand upon my arm and marched me off to the lock-up on a charge of house-breaking. I was taken before the magistrate and the landlady appeared against me. I was committed for trial in the charge and was most graciously conveyed in his majesty's King William IV's carriage to Horsemonger Lane jail. I was kept in prison the eleven days before my trial and no one was allowed to see me but my fellow prisoners. And when at last I was tried, I pleaded my own case and succeeded in justifying my conduct by explaining that I was only an apprentice and therefore bound to obey my master's orders and keep his secrets, according to the wording of my indentures. And so I was honourably acquitted. While I was in jail, I had to attend chapel. Now, any moral or religious benefit I might have received from such attendance was utterly neutralised by bad management of our prisons in compelling comparatively innocent persons to mix with the greatest blackars and thieves in London. As a matter of fact, there are some prisoners there at the same time that I was obliged to associate with who were guilty of every crime you could mention, including murder. Amongst them, however, was a reverent Dr. Taylor who was imprisoned for speaking against the Bible and the government. He used to lecture at the rotunda in the Black Friars Road. He made my acquaintance and taught me many good things. And although a prisoner, he was not by any means a bad man, for he had the fear of God in his heart. He persuaded me to attend Sunday school and church when I got out. Altogether, this reverent gentleman's influence upon me was for my good and far more likely to affect my reformation than any punishment in jail, especially when injugiously administered. I did not forget his good counsel, for when I got back to my master, I begged to be allowed to go to a Sunday school and also to church. This request was granted, and many a time I went without my Sunday's dinner rather than be late at school. The parish clerk found out as I had a voice, so he sent for me and gave me lessons in hymn and psalm singing, chanting the service. I felt very proud of this, and although I occasionally received a good thrashing from my master for the most trifling mistakes in my work, I bore up well till I was nearly 17 years of age. By this time, however, my master's treatment grew rather worse than better, so I determined to run away and try the country for a change of air. I had a married brother living at Hastings in Sussex, and to go there I began to save up for the journey out of my pocket money, which was only thruppence per week, out of which I saved two thirds. At length with my savings, which amounted to tenpence, a two-pound loaf and no butter, I rose at three o'clock on a beautiful summer's morning and crept downstairs very softly, opened the door, and got outside without being heard by any of the inmates. After walking about five miles without resting, I began to sing a verse from an old manna-war song as follows. I wish I was at Hastings with my true love along with me, everything that's fitting to serve his royal majesty, where liquor there is plenty, flowing bowls on every side, hard fortune there shall dawn to me, for I'm young and the world is wide. After walking eight miles, I had a rest and refreshed the inner man with bread and water. While resting, a fish-van happened to pass on its way to Hastings, the very place I was bound for. I made a dart and got up behind. When the driver stopped to change horses, I asked him if he would allow me to ride behind, for which privilege I offered to skid the wheel, which means, in railway language, put on the brake. When the driver learned that my brother lived at Hastings, he took an interest in me and was very kind for the rest of the journey. I arrived safe and sound the same night and found out my brother's residence, but unfortunately my brother was ten miles from home, working at a gentleman's seat, and did not return for a week after my arrival. My sister-in-law was very good to me at first, but soon began to speak in terms that convinced me that she was no friend of mine. She used to drink gin on the sly and get drunk, and deceive her husband by making him believe that she was ill. Fearing that I would let my brother into the secret, she became my bitter enemy. I saw through it, and when I had managed to get work, I left my brother's house and took lodgings amongst a tribe of gypsies who lived in a neighbourhood. My new master was a regular out-and-outer, a splendid workman, well educated, a good reciter, but too fond of company and drink, which kept him poor and made his wife miserable. She was very good to me and gave me many a meal when my master was on the spree. I left the gypsies and found cheap lodgings by the sad sea waves in the fishing boats. I used to rise early and assist the fishermen to wash and pack their fish for market, for which service I used to get a fish for breakfast. It was at Hastings that I improved in the art of swimming. I might have been seen on the sea three times a day, and so the time rolled on. I improved in my trade, but unfortunately at the end of the season I had no work to do. I then took it into my head that I would return to London and find out my sister. The next question was how to get there without money to start with. The thought struck me that I could sing my way back. I started accordingly early one morning and walked eight miles to a place called Battle, the spot where the great battle of Hastings took place. When I arrived, I found there was a fox hunt on and that after the hunt there was to be a dinner for the sportsmen. So I made up my mind to stay and offer my services as a singer and trust to their generosity as to what they would give me. I did so and so pleased the company that they gave me a good dinner and four and nine pints to boot and the landlord gave me a night's lodging. I started next morning for Tunbridge and Kent. Next I went to Maidstone where I met with a harpist with whom I joined company. I to sing and harpy to play and go share in the profits. We waited on the mayor of the town and got his permission to play and sing in the streets. We did well, lived like fighting cocks and saved money. From Maidstone we traveled to Sittingbourne where we were engaged to play and sing in the assembly rooms and there made a great hit in my song Funking the Cobbler, song in caricature. I now began to fancy myself. From there I find my way to Chatham where I was engaged in a low concert room frequented by soldiers, sailors and bad women. I learned no good there but a great deal that was bad. I did not stop long there but went on to Rochester, got work at my trade and for a time gave up singing. End of part one, section one. Part one, section two of the autobiography of Cockney Tom. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.com. Recording by Len Nicholson. The autobiography of Cockney Tom by Thomas Bastard, part one, section two. From Rochester I went to Gravesend where I worked at my trade singing now and then professionally. Thence I travelled to London and found out my sister who received me with sisterly love. I got work and lived very happily with her for a long time. It so happened that my sister had an acquaintance who used to call and see her occasionally. One day this friend brought her eldest daughter with her. I was engaged at my work singing away as only shoemakers can sing the following beautiful lines. Beware those finnican lassies and never by beauty be led for a girl that surpasses all others to is she that works hard for her bread. Who is that singing? inquired a young woman. It is my brother Tom, replied my sister. I should like to see him, she said. You shall, said my sister, and she brought the young woman into the room where I was working. I blushed for I thought I had never before seen such a good-looking young person. We all had tea and I had the impertinence to ask her to take a walk and she did not refuse. From that time we became lovers and were four months afterwards married at St John's Church, Waterloo Road, Lambeth. After I had brought the ring, paid the parson and given a dinner, which I had also paid for, I took my bride to furnish lodgings. I got up the next morning to work with the large capital of three shillings and six pints to start a new life. I, however, was not going to be discouraged with such a small beginning, and as neither my wife nor I were deficient in plug, we both determined to work early and late and soon got a home of our own, a small one, in Wallworth, where we lived as happily together as if our house had been a mansion. But this happy state of things was destined not to last long. When the winter came, I was thrown out of work and my wife was confined of a daughter and things had now come to such a pass that I took to singing again in order to obtain food. The result of having to be out late at night was that I fell ill and was laid up with a fever. The doctor ordered me to St Thomas Hospital, where I remained for eight weeks, during which time none of my friends, safe my good wife, came to see me. At last I found myself better and left the hospital, but only for a short time, for a second attack, obliged me to return for some weeks longer until I had regained my strength. I then made a fresh start, got work at a bespoke shop and became the don during the two years I worked as journeyman. I then left Lambeth and obtained work in Chelsea with better wages. But as food and rent was dear, I was no better off than before I came to the West End. My troubles seemed as if they would never end, for my wife and four children now took the measles, and when my wife got better, I was again taken bad with the cold in my eyes, which nearly blinded me. I then became an outpatient at the Ophthalmic Hospital, Charing Cross, and for many weeks I could not work and had to go to the parish for bread for my children. After suffering great privation, I at last got better and again worked at my trade, and in order to make up for lost time, I again took to singing at night in low concert rooms, receiving from three to five shillings per night and my beer. I followed this up for some time when a sudden change took place in my life. It happened while I was working one day and at the same time rehearsing my songs for the night's entertainment, that I was disturbed by a gentle knock at the door. Come in, said I, and a lady entered with a remark. I beg your pardon, but was that you singing just now? Yes, ma'am, said I. I have to get my living partly by singing. Do you sing at church? No, I do not, I replied. Can you sing by music? No, ma'am. Would you like to be taught? I should like very much, ma'am, said I. Do you go to our church? We have beautiful singing there, and I am sure you would like it. Will you come, if I promise to be your friend? I see you're a shoemaker. Would you object to work for yourself instead of a master? I said that I should very much like to be my own master and be able to give up the concert room business. Well, then, to begin with, you can take my measure for a pair of shoes and come to my house and grove in her place and I will leave several pair for you to repair, and if you want any money to buy material with, you can have it. Thank you very much, I said, and I will attend to it. I told my wife when she came home all about it, and she was delighted. I have heard of that, lady, said she. She is a very good woman and visits the sick and relieves the poor and takes an interest in everything that is good. I called on the lady the next day and was received kindly. To help me in my business, she introduced me to her servants who favoured me with their orders and gave as much work as would take me a week to perform. I finished the work and gave general satisfaction. I was then persuaded to go to church and hear the singing, which is very grand. The incumbent was a good preacher and used to attract the nobility from the west end of London. I was sent for by the minister who undertook to have me taught music, and for this purpose I was invited to attend practice in order to meet the organist and try my voice. I did so and was told it was somewhat a rough one, but that if I gave my mind to study, I would in course of time make a fair chorister. I attended practice twice a week for two years and at church twice on Sundays. About this time, the referent W. C. Bennett conceived the idea of building a poor man's church as his own church being crowded with the rich, the poor were crowded out. When he announced his intention, Earl Brownlow gave the land and a collection was made, the proceeds of which amounted to the large sum of 2,220 pounds in the short space of a quarter of an hour. Money came from all parts and 50,000 pounds was subscribed in less than three months. I was engaged to carry a banner at the laying of the foundation stone and when the ceremony was over, there was a good dinner given to the poor and I had the honour of singing at the feast. My business increased so much every week that I soon began to employ workmen and at one time had 50 ladies of title on my books, also lords, earls, dukes and duchesses. The Countess of Cardigan was one of my best customers and the Duchess of Argyle was another. My ambition at last got so high that I asked a lady of honour to the Queen to try to get for me her Majesty's patronage. In this I however failed and was told that the Queen never changed her tradespeople. I however succeeded in getting the work of the Duke of Wellington's household, the University Club, Army and Navy Club, Civil Service Club and many others. So I continued to go on prospering until the poor man's church was finished. That was a great day and the church was opened with much pomp and ceremony on St Barnabas's day, the 11th of June. It was named St Barnabas's church from that circumstance. On that day, for the first time in my life, I was arrayed in a surplus and introduced to the singers as a member of the choir of St Barnabas, Pimlico and I now felt not a little proud of myself. Besides the church, they built a parsonage for the clergyman and a schoolhouse to accommodate 1,000 children with sleeping rooms for 20 singing boys who were supported out of the foundation fund and who, besides being educated, were fed and clothed like young gentlemen. The whole of the buildings cost no less than £100,000 when finished. I found out that to be a chorister was no easy billet as I had to attend a daily service at 6 a.m. on holy days. There were three services a day with communion and sermons on Sundays, early communion at 7 a.m., prayers at 8 a.m. for the poor, and breakfast at 9 a.m. All the singers, men and boys, sang non-nobus domini, both before and after, at it again at 11 a.m., litany, anthem and sermon, after which came post-communion, then home to dinner, after which I came back again at 3 p.m. to baptism, followed by afternoon service. After tea came evening prayer at 7 p.m., with anthem and sermon. After these engagements, I and the rest would adjourn to the parsonage with the clergy and have cake or tea or coffee, and then we would sing the Benedictus and, lastly, return home to bed. This is the way I spent seven years of my life, most happy in my mind, and living in the fear of God and endeavouring to bring up my family in the same happy way. But this happiness was doomed to have an untimely end. The newspaper has declared war against Mr. Bennet and accused him of preaching the doctrines of the Church of Rome, asserting that the service was more like an opera than the sacred worship of God. The bishop sent for him and accused him with unfaithfulness to the Church of England. The outside public were against Mr. Bennet and riots frequently took place on Sundays. I was sworn in as a special constable to protect the church property, and I used to go into the choir with a policeman's staff under my surplus. Meetings were called by the parishioners and votes of censure were passed against the bishop. In this trouble, the poor also had their say. I was elected chairman of the poor man's committee with power to raise subscriptions for Mr. Bennet. A meeting was called for the rich and poor of the parish, and I had to make a speech in preparation of which I had sat up till two o'clock in the morning. When it was my turn to speak, however, I was so flurried that I could not make out my notes and I resolved in speaking extemporaneously and had the satisfaction of winning a hearty round of applause. My speech was published in the Daily Chronicle of February the 8th, 1857. The unfortunate result of all this dissension was that the reverent W. C. Bennet had to resign his living and went on the continent for the benefit of his health, which was very much broken down by mental anxiety. His admirers and their sympathy presented him with a purse of 7,000 pounds, and I and thousands of others lost a good friend. I left the church and transferred my singing to Westminster Abbey and also sang sometimes at St. Paul's Cathedral. These events made me very unhappy, and through reading the newspapers, I became interested about Australia. Whilst thinking of emigration, I fell ill with fever, but during my illness told my wife my thoughts on the subject. She stoutly refused to join me and said, Thomas, you may go, but I shall do nothing of the kind. After considering the advantages my children would have in a new country, I made up my mind to go. As a first step, I called in a nobleman whom I worked for, Sir Frederick Rogers, the emigration commissioner, and told him that I would like to go to Australia. How many children have you, has Sir Frederick? Six, Sir Frederick, I replied. Then you can't go, as you have one child too many. If you only had five, I would give you your passage at once. I thanked him and returned home very downhearted and disappointed. When I got home, I told my wife the result, and she was as glad as I was sorry. Not long afterwards, the new incumbent called in me, and offered an appointment as verger and chorister at St Barnabas's, with a decent salary and perquisites, and I accepted the offer. I forthwith got measured for a black cassock and new surplus, and on the following Sunday, I presented quite a grand appearance. But in spite of all this, Australia kept running in my mind. Now, it happened that one of my children was taken ill, and I called in a doctor who said the boy had water in the brain and accordingly treated him for it. The child, however, got no better, and I got the services of a physician who said the boy had been wrongly treated. For, instead of water on the brain, the boy had disease of the lungs. This doctor gave no hopes of his recovery, and the child died shortly afterwards. I grieved very much over the loss of my boy, but I was visited and condoled by many of my friends. The clarity were very kind to me in my trouble and even allowed the chorister boys to go a distance of three miles to Brompton Cemetery to attend a funeral. It was very impressive to see them dressed in their surpluses and hear them sing psalms at the grave and also a short anthem at the close of the service. All this was very consoling to me as it showed how much I was respected and how deeply and truly they all sympathised with me. But in spite of all their love, I was not happy. Australia still ran in my head. Mr. Bennett returned to England and proved in health and was offered a living as vicar of Frome, not far from Bath. It was in the gift of the Marchioness of Bath and Wells and was worth £700 a year, which Mr. Bennett accepted. Things went on at St Barnabas as before. Private confessions to the clarity, baptismal regeneration, penance, fasting, keeping saint days, and the real presence in the sacrament was the style of the teaching which was held and believed in by the congregation. What is all this to do with cockney tom, some people may ask? At any rate, I could describe enough to see that there was more behind the scenes between the Bishop and Mr. Bennett than I had brains to understand. I gave notice to leave the church. I called in Sir Frederick Rogers and told him that having lost one of my children, I was then within the limit. He told me to make ready as soon as I could and let him know and he would get my order made out so as to sail by the next ship. I undertook no more work. I sold off my household goods, collected my debts, paid all I owed and took lodgings in Salisbury Court, Fleet Street. I received orders to be ready to go and board at Southampton on a certain day. When my wife saw the order, she newly fainted and had a sleepless night. But I comforted her all I could and bought her a new silk dress. I was busy every day preparing for the voyage and took leave of my brothers and sister Sarah, my original dry nurse. Many tears were want to wet her cheeks as the subject of my departure was discussed. I resolved to visit Frome before I left England. Accordingly, I called in one of the church wardens, a friend of mine and told him I would like to see Mr. Bennett before I left. He said, I will go with you, I want a trip out of town. So we fixed the time to start and brought a perfect model of St Barnabas Church, made by one of our members, a very clever architect. We paid him three pounds for it and it was well worth 10. So off we started by the morning train for Frome and arrived at five in the evening. The vicar received us with all love and kindness. We dined with him and his family and after dinner, the presentation took place. He was delighted. I was given over to the parish clerk to find my lodgings. This clerk, who was born and bred in Frome and had been parish clerk for 20 years, was, as they would say in America, a most curious cuss. Nothing would suit the clerk, but he must take me to his pub where the choristers and himself used to booze. The ale was very good and in fact the town had quite got its name up for its ale, but sad to say the clerk got drunk and in the exuberance of his feelings would sing, thinking no doubt that he would astonish me. This, however, he failed to do. After much persuasion, they got me to sing on Sunday at the church. I rose early on Saturday and visited the old church where Good Bishop Ken was buried and also the market and the river which runs through the town. After breakfast and morning prayer at the church, I visited the schools and the hospital for the aged poor. In the evening, I went up to their service which was read by my friend, the clerk, then to bed. Up early on Sunday morning, a long walk back to refresh and get ready for church, sang Jackson's Tadeum and Jubilati and was complimented by Mr. Bennett and the choir, arranged for the start back the next morning. Breakfasted early, received from Mr. B. a present of a book to remind me of my visit to Frome and lastly received his prayer and benediction. I got back safely and found my wife willing to share my fate and emigrate to Australia. When everything was ready, I received a letter from the Countess of Cardigan full of good wishes for me and my family and a cheque for five pounds which I did not refuse. I and my family started from London to Southampton where we arrived the same night and stopped at the depot. Very little sleep. After breakfast, took a walk over the old town of Southampton, nothing much to astonish a Londoner. I went on board to report myself and family to the doctor and to learn when we were to be examined. On answering to my name and the role being called, the doctor said humorously, are you the person whom Sir Frederick Rogers wrote to me about? I replied that I certainly had the honour of knowing Sir Frederick, but I knew nothing about any letter. I will not forget you, said he very kindly. Tomorrow you will be examined and will sail on Sunday morning. The next day I passed the examination and was sent on board. I and my family got our births allotted and our luggage stood away. Then the bell rang for the muster and as the names were called out, they had to pass from one side of the ship to the other. When my name was called out by the doctor, he bid me come forward and calling the attention of the passengers said that he had the right to appoint all constables for the proper carrying out of the ship's regulations and the general good order of the passengers and it was his pleasure to appoint the said Cockney Tom, first constable of the vessel, William Stewart. We were all very jolly on board the ship on Saturday night. Some singing, I'm a float, I'm a float. Others, a life in the ocean wave, a home on the rolling deep. I felt rather dull. In the performance of my duty, I had to walk the decks till all the single women were locked up for the night and to protect them against all intruders, which I afterwards found to be so difficult a task as to be almost more than I could manage. The tug came alongside next morning and took us on our way, not rejoicing, but feeling rather dicky as we got out to sea. Sea sickness is a general complaint and caused the passengers to turn up their noses even at the sight of a roast beef and plum pudding dinner. Singler to say, but nevertheless quite true, nobody found fault with the food for the first week. But after that, when the appetite returned, there was a great deal of grumpling at finding that supplies insufficient to satisfy their ravenous hunger, although there were many on board who had never lived so well in our lives before. Some of them got as fat as pigs. Others ate very little, an account of being almost always sick. I was one of the latter. A few days sailing brought the ship into the Bay of Biscay. It was a grand thing for bilious people, for it was as good as physics to most. At length we got out of the troubled waters and arrived at Madeira and could see the land and houses looking very beautiful. The weather was fine and dancing and concerts of an evening and fishing in the daytime made all very comfortable. Crossed the line, weather very hot, could not sleep below so laid on deck, crowded together like sardines in a box. After being becalmed nearly a week, we got a start with the trade winds and bore away down south into the cold regions. Now I will tell you something that happened to my wife. It was then very stormy weather and the sea ran mountains high when she was confined and gave birth to a son, which they partially named after the ship, Stuart, the name of my brother Philip being placed first. A great rejoicing took place on board and all the sailors got extra grog. I was appointed nurse and had no objection to the billet at night, except the difficulty of carrying in the dark the necessaries required in such cases. For instance, when the ship was rolling heavily, my foot slipped and I fell down and nearly broke my arm, at which mishap the sailors indulged in a hearty laugh. One night when I was doing duty as nurse, a knock came to the hospital door. Who's there? cried Tom. It is Jones, Mr. Constable, said the visitor. There is a smell of fire in the ship. I was out in a jiffy and soon discovered that the second mate's cabin was in fire. We bust the door open and there he was fast asleep and part of his clothes burning. There was a cask of rum in his cabin and other spirits. We roused him out, got help and soon put the fire out. Had the wind blown in the opposite direction, the ship would have been burned to the water's edge and every soul have gone to Davy Jones' locker. How thankful I felt for this delivery of all from the very jaws of death. Soon after this, I got into a little trouble. I had warned the sailors to keep away from the single women and threatened to complain to the doctor. The sailors discussed the subject and one of them was sent to inform me to look out or I would never reach Adelaide alive but would be sent to feed the fishes instead which I did not believe in. The voyage, however, was nearly at an end and I kept my eyes open, thought much but said nothing. At length we anchored off the semaphore after a voyage of 78 days, ill nearly all the time. Next morning I went unsure, having arranged with my wife that I would go up to Adelaide and search for house and work. In closing the first part of my narrative, I feel constrained to record my sense of the providence of God that had preserved me amid so many vicissitudes and privations and although it has been said it is good to bear the yoke in our youth, I cannot help thinking that had my earlier history been spent under the advantages of good education I might have developed a much better character and nobler career. The young especially should learn to value the privileges and seize the opportunities for good which in these days are so freely offered to them but which were very sparingly bestowed in my time. I, however, do not repine but refer the kind reader to the more hopeful passages and altogether brighter aspects which mark my later history and which will appear in the second and third parts of this autobiography. End of part one, section two. Part two, section one of the autobiography of Cockney Tom. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Len Nicholson. The autobiography of Cockney Tom by Thomas Bastard, part two, section one. I was rather surprised to find Adelaide such a miserable looking place but that was in 1853. It is very different now. I failed at first in getting work and found that house rent was high and food dear. I thought I would dine at a pub for there were no restaurants where one could get a good feed for one shilling in those days. I had to pay two and sixpence for my meal which rather astonished my weak nerves. Almost in despair, I took up the daily paper and saw the following advertisement. Wanted a conductor for the Star Concert Hall. I think I understand that business, said I to myself. So I called to see what it was like. The landlord told me I might come that night and let him hear what sort of singer I was. I next waited on the dean and presented a letter to him from the bishop's brother in England to bishop's short of Adelaide. The dean read the letter and told me it was simply asking him to find employment for me and that I might call on him again as the bishop had gone to England and he would see what could be done for me and my family. But he never asked me to sit down or whether I wanted any assistance. Although he was told that I had a wife and six children on board the ship, William Stewart. I left the dean with a broken spirit for I had expected to have been received kindly by the clergy of the church that I had endeavored to serve with all sincerity in the old country. As night came on, I found my way into a shoemaker's shop and asking for employment, I was told that there was scarcely any work to be done as nearly all the men were at the diggings in Victoria and that Adelaide was like a deserted village. The shoemaker kindly advanced me five shillings and told me to repay it when I got work. I did so and afterwards the same man became bankrupt and was so reduced in circumstances that he had to go to the destitute asylum where he died. But I never forgot the old shoemaker and his five shillings. My first song was sung at the concert hall. It was a long room and would hold about 100 people. A big chair at the end for the conductor who with piano and violin players made up the company of artists engaged. Amateurs did the rest. When I entered the room, I found it full of smoke and lots of drink going on and the landlord was acting as chairman. He possessed a fine baritone voice and sang several of Russell's songs in good style and subsequently played the flute and cornet with good taste which told me that I had no bad judge to sing to. After a time, the chairman rose and said, gentlemen, we have here tonight a gentleman from London who will oblige us with a little harmony. Cries of Bravo came from all sides of the room. I went up to the piano and asked the player if he knew such ears but to which he replied in broken English that he had never heard them. He was a German and a very bad accompanist so I sang without music one of my favorite songs. Give me a cot in the valley I love and as I sang I thought of my dear wife on board and broke down. I sat down and felt thoroughly ashamed of myself. I had nothing to drink and altogether felt quite ill. Presently a gold digger came in and sat down by my side. What are you drinking? he asked. I'm not drinking at all, said I. Then I'm going to shout, he replied. Have a glass of hot brandy with me. It will set you all right. I consented and the digger narrated some strange stories about the diggings. I was listening at the same time to some comic songs that seemed to please the company better than the sentimental ones. A very good violinist then showed up and I called to him to have a chat with me. I told him that I was also a professional and asked him to accompany me in a comic song. With pleasure, said he. Do you know the first figure in the Irish quadrills? Yes, said he. Can you play in the key of D? Yes, said he. All right, I replied and began to feel quite a new man. The brandy began to operate and when I felt its stimulating effects I rose to my feet. The chairman called to order and I said, Mr. Conductor and gentlemen, I find that I made a great mistake in my first effort and if you will give me another trial I will endeavour to make amends and will sing you a song of my own composing. All attention, said the conductor. The fiddler and the pianist played an introduction and I commenced to sing and the company began to laugh. Everyone was delighted and I had to sing it over three times. The landlord then sent for me and said, what will you take to drink? Come and take the chair and consider yourself engaged. You shall stay here tonight and breakfast with me in the morning and then we will settle about salary and other matters. I went to bed that night in better spirits than I had expected and the next morning being Sunday I prepared for church to return thanks to my maker for my safe voyage. I had dinner with my new master and agreed to sing every night Sundays accepted for three months at £1.10 shillings per week with board and lodging. I signed an agreement to that effect and was sorry afterwards that I had done so. The next day I went to the port to see if the ship was in and was informed that she would not be in for some time on a count of low tide. I was very much disappointed at this especially as it cost me 20 shillings to be taken from the shore to the ship and back again which I could ill afford. I returned to town and wrote a letter to my wife telling her all the news and promising to be at the port when the ship came into harbour. After this I took my nightly seat as conductor and the place was always crowded. I now began to feel myself at home again and I made all sorts of acquaintances some of whom I did not care for. I was next offered an engagement at a concert room at salary of £1 per night but showing to my engagement I was obliged to refuse. I next took a house not far from the hall at a rent of 25 shillings per week so as to have a home to take my wife and children to when they got on shore. I brought some furniture, a load of wood and such other things that were necessary for a commencement new home. The days seemed like months to me till the ship was in port. The next day I was up early and being anxious went down to the port in first cart for there were no railways in those days nor was it anything unusual for the port cart to be upset and for all the passengers to be pitched out in the road and in those primitive days colonists thought very little of such adventures which only served to produce a little excitement and interest in the otherwise monotonous round of their everyday life. The vessel got into port in the afternoon and I went on board and bid the captain and doctor goodbye. Took my wife, children and luggage on shore engaged a Dre man, loaded up the Dre placed my wife and children on top and started for town which we reached at dark. There was then no gas, only dismal oil lamps and everything looked wretched at night. I took them home and left my wife crying when I had to go to my engagement but promised to be home as soon as possible and did so. Got up the next morning and chopped wood, a job I was not good at and went to market and found everything very dear. After a time I got a little work to do mending old boots, a thing I had not done for years. My wife did her best to get on. She took a family's washing and we used to fetch it four miles and a half and take it home again when it was done. So time went on. The wife however did not like the neighborhood we lived in so to please her I took a house in North Adelaide with a shop front and worked in the shop as I called it but had no stock except my wife and children, shoemaker's tools and some leather I had brought with me. It so happened one day while I was at work that two men passing stopped and looked in. How do you do shop mates at one of them? Whom we will call Mr. Sweet William, a gentleman from whom in after days I received many favours which I take this opportunity of acknowledging and bearing testimony to his kindliness of heart and superiority of intellect. His claim to mental ability however does not require any confirmation of mine as he has unaided by his own talents worked himself up commercially to one of the leading positions of our city and politically to the high honor of being a minister of the crown. As a public speaker, few can surpass him and in kindly sympathy he has few equals in Adelaide. The profits of his great literary success, lights and shadows of London life have been entirely devoted to charitable purposes and the widow and orphan have had good cause to bless this exercise of his mental activity. Also his exertions and aid of the blind, deaf and dumb institution at Brighton and many other charitable institutions bear better proof than anything I can say to his benevolent disposition. Last but not least the assistance he kindly lent me in establishing the Turkish baths in Adelaide an undoubted blessing to our citizens is supplying a necessity and a luxury for their use which I now gratefully acknowledge. The other was a Mr. Johns. How long have you been out, said Mr. Johns? Nearly two months, said I. How do you like the climate? said Mr. Sweet William. Rather hot at times, said I. We have only been out a week, said he. We live at the corner up the street. You come from London, I'll swear. I came from Bermansy, said Mr. Johns. Call in and see us when you are passing. We brought out a stock of boots and shoes. Perhaps we may be able to do some business together, said they. I agreed to do so when passing. Where do you go in the evening, asked they. I sing at the star halls, said I. I am a professional singer, you must know. We will come and hear you, said they. We like a good song. All right, good morning. I called accordingly and had a look over the stock. They advised me to take a shop and to put up my name as Shoemaker from London. Can't we do some business together, said Mr. Johns? I'll give you credit if you have no money. I'll think over it, said I. They attended the concert and were very much pleased at my singing. Mr. Sweet William sang several very funny comic songs. Mr. Johns made himself quite at home and told me that he would call in next morning. I consulted my wife about getting into debt. She wisely suggested to take £50 worth on sale or return and I did so. Mr. Johns stipulated that I was to settle up once a month. I selected my stock, made a show of goods and sold two pairs the first day and felt that I had struck a load, as the diggers would say. All went on smoothly enough for some time. I increased my stock till it amounted to £200 and kept up my payments too. Everybody had confidence in me. My engagement was then up and the landlord wanted me to renew it, but I said, no, I've been offered a pound a night to sing and it won't pay me to do it for £2 a week. I'll give you more as a tea, but I declined having something else in my head and that was to try my luck at gold digging on the Melbourne side. I consulted my wife about it. Go by all means, Thomas, said she, if you think you will be lucky. This being settled, before starting, I called on my friends, including Mr. Sweet William and Mr. Johns, who gave me advice as to what I should do when I got there, which advice turned out to be all bunkum, for they had not been there themselves and as a matter of course, they knew nothing about it. I had two neighbours who had also the gold fever. They had a little money and asked me to make one of their party. Seeing no objection to this, I agreed to take them as maize and accordingly we all got ready, went to the port and took our berths on board the steamboat Havela bound for Melbourne. The passage money then for the steerage was £7 each. Now you can go for two. My eldest son Jack and many friends, so-called, that could drink noblers at my expense, went down to the port to see us off. The captain was a friend of mine and had been the chief mate of the William Stewart who had brought me out from England, so he wanted for nothing during the trip round, which was a very pleasant one. We arrived safely in Melbourne on a Saturday night at dark. There was a great rush to the wharf by the sailors as they wanted to get rid of their cargo and I nearly lost the best of my things by a mistake. We first went down Collins Street and saw the city coffee house with board and lodgings for travellers. We went in and took tea at one shilling and sixpence each, made arrangements to lodge there, moved our things away and then took a stroll about Melbourne and found the buildings there were superior to those in Adelaide. Got home early and went to bed, but not to sleep. The mosquitoes were too numerous, for they could not, as some lodger remarked, have been a single one in the house. They must have been all married and with large families. Up early next morning and took a walk to the Chinaman's camping grounds and tried in vain to converse with them. Returned to our café, had breakfast, went to church, and did not think much of the singing there. In the afternoon took a long walk, returned, had tea, and then to bed early, thinking to have a good night's rest. But I suppose we must have been very wicked as there was no rest for us that night. The mosquitoes mustered in full force and laid siege to our faces so that in the morning we hardly knew each other. So much for the city coffee house. Got up and went in search of fresh lodgings and got them in Little Burke Street, found a singing room and got an engagement to sing two or three songs a night at a salary of £2 a week, from seven till nine o'clock. I was dancing afterwards till two and three o'clock in the morning, but I had nothing to do with that part of the business. I got work as a shopman in a large boot and shoe warehouse at a salary of £4 per week. It might have saved money in Melbourne, but I was determined to go further and try my luck at the diggings. I had a letter of introduction to a very respectable man and his family in Melbourne from a dear friend of theirs in Adelaide. They received me as if I had been a brother, invited me to supper, and asked me to bring my mates also as they intended to give a party. I accepted the invitation and made myself up for the occasion and introduced my friend, Jim the Fiddler, as I will call him in the future. He was a good player. There was a good supper provided. After supper, a little music was proposed and everybody said, Here, here! Fiddler Jim played scotch tunes with variations, which gave immense pleasure. After that, nothing would do but that I must sing with violin accompaniment, the following song that had gained me much applause in London. I miss thee, my mother, thine images still, the deepest impressed on my heart. Thy tablet so faithful, I in death must be chilled, ere a line of that vision depart. Thou art torn from my sight when I treasured thee most, when my reason could measure thy worth, and I know but too well that the idol I lost could never be replaced upon earth. A Yankee gentleman present began to cry. He had left home when a boy and had not heard from his mother since. I also sang some comic songs, which by the aid of a little grog made them all merry. My new friends were very strict Roman Catholics and they persuaded me to attend the cathedral with them to hear the grand music and their imposing ceremonies, which at once put me in mind of St Barnabas's. They afterwards introduced me to their priest, who was greatly affected with my account of St Barnabas's, and remarked that I was as good a Catholic as himself. After a short time, they persuaded me to be conditionally received into their church. My kind friends put themselves about to witness the ceremony and wanted me to stop in Melbourne and not to go to the Diggings at all, and offered to lend me 300 pounds to go into business with to be paid back by instalments with small interest. This I declined with thanks and made up my mind to go in search of the precious metal. So I and my mates gave notice to leave to our employers the following week. Fiddler Jim was a painter and George was a plumber and gas fitter, and henceforth he will be called Plumber George. Before starting from Melbourne for Forest Creek Diggings, we went into committee to see what money we had. After fitting ourselves out as diggers with blue Guernsey's, knee boots, pistols, tin panikins, et cetera, we started on our journey, walked a few miles out of Melbourne and got hungry. We stopped and took breakfast, paying for it three shillings each, and believing that a nobler would not hurt us, we called for three, for which we paid very reluctantly one shilling each. We called a council of ways and means, for it was plain that that rate of charges we should not have sufficient money to take us half way to Forest Creek. It was agreed therefore to reduce ourselves down to two meals per day instead of three, two drinks ditto instead of three, and push on as fast as we could. We reached Keeler Plains, a wild looking country, not a tree to be seen, while the sun was so hot that it burnt the skin off our faces. It was getting dark when we arrived at the township of Keeler, which consisted in the year 1854 of two stores, butcher's shop and restaurant, where we put up for the night. It was dreadful what we had to pass through that night, for it rained so hard that it came in and ran down our mattresses, which were on the ground. I got such a cold that I thought I had quite lost my voice. My mates were also very ill. We started early for the next town, Gisborne, at the foot of Mount Macedon, near the entrance to the Black Forest, and arrived there about dinner time very hungry, but afraid to have anything as our funds were getting very low. We sat in committee outside the forest inn. Fiddler Jim said he wished that we were back in Adelaide. So do I, said Plumber George. I'll see what the dickings are like, first said I. How are we to get there, asked they. Fear not, but trust in providence, I replied. And just at that moment, a gentleman rode up in horseback. I went up to him and said, shall I hold your horse, sir? My good man, he said, it is the first time that I have been asked such a question since I have been in Victoria. The fact is, sir, said I, my mates and I are rather hard up, and are on our way to the dickings and have but very little money. He dismounted and handed me the reins. I will not be long, said he. And he was not many minutes settling his business, and then he came to me and slipped five shillings into my hand. I thanked a gentleman and ran to my mates. Fiddler Jim said he would starve before he would do such a thing. Plummer George thought different. Well, we will have a drink out of the five shillings, said I. Most willingly, said Fiddler Jim, for he was not too proud for that. We entered the inn and called for beer. The landlord was playing an accordion. Are you fond of music, said I? Very much, replied the landlord. We can give you a treat in that line if you have a large room, said I, for one of my mates is a first-class violinist from Julian's Band London, and I myself am a London concert singer, comic and sentimental. Well, said he, it would not pay me to engage you. There are so few people living about here. Well, said I, if you will give us our board and lodging for two days, we will not charge you anything further. Have you got any bills printed, he asked? No, I replied, but we will write free orders and take them round to the stores and tents. And when we get the people here, we will make it pay you and ourselves too. All right, said he, I like the room by eight o'clock, and now what will you take to drink? And we tried three noblers of brandy. Now, boys, to work, said I, get out writing paper and write out 100 orders to admit bearer, notice to the inhabitants of Gisborne. At the Forest Inn, a grand concert will take place this evening. Admittance free, Cockney Tom manager. These we distributed ourselves at every tent within two miles round. Our program was a very simple one and our stage was made of brandy cases with carpet over them. There was a chair for Jim the Fiddler and one for me and plumber George had to keep order as conductor. I commenced with a sentimental song which was followed by a violin solo. Then came the landlord on the concertina after which I sang, Billy nuts the poet and had to repeat it. Then came a selection of Scotch airs by Fiddler Jim, which is on chord and that ended the first part. Refreshments all followed for the benefit of the landlord. Part the second comic song in caricature by myself entitled Timothy Black proved quite a sensation. Sang two more songs, then announced that after an interval of 10 minutes the dancing would commence. The company began to get so numerous that we wondered where all the people came from in that lonely part of the world. I spoke to the landlord about passing round the plate. He entered into the idea with pleasure going round with it himself and collected over four pounds and was requested to have the entertainment repeated the next night, which was agreed to and we went to bed very tired. Next day found a spring of beautiful water had a bath and returned to dinner. After a rest we had a look around the place and saw in the afternoon what we had never seen before. A young man had been to Melbourne and was returning to the diggings with a bullock tray loaded with provisions. He stopped at the forest inn and you may easily imagine he was drunk for he began to boast of the amount of money he was making. The landlord told him as he had so much money he had better shout 10 pounds worth of champagne. All right, said he. Where is the money, asked the publican. You think I haven't got it, said he. I will show you. And then down went a 10 pound note which the landlord put in his pocket. Up came 10 bottles of fizz. Everybody drank some. The bullock driver got beastly drunk and the landlord took him by the nape of his neck and kicked him into the road. Next morning I fancied I heard him sing the following lines. It was the cussed liquor that fired up my soul and caused me for my duty to depart. So onward now my journey on pursue but golly how my head begins to smart. So gee up strawberry. The second night the room was crowded. The same program was gone through as in the previous occasion and nearly everybody got the worse for drink. They were very generous, however, and the subscription amounted to 11 pounds and we all had a good booze at the close. The following morning after breakfast we prepared to start for the next township, Kindton, about 20 miles distant. The road lay through the black forest. How it got the name of black forest was an account of the many black deeds that had been done in it. Numerous murders were committed, travellers were plundered and the gold escort stuck up. It was 12 miles through and had only one in and a store passing the distance. There is another reason why it is called black forest. Vis that there was a black Thursday in those days which is recorded in the history of Victoria as the hottest day ever known there. On that day the forest took fire and burnt for weeks being one great fire furnace for many miles and when it died out every tree was as black as charcoal. From that day to the present it has been called the black forest. We left Gisborne with our treasury much increased and we felt grateful there at. Walked on about five miles into the forest when we saw a house in the distance which turned out to be a public house and as it was very hot travelling Fiddler Jim proposed to have a drink. If you like said plumber George. I don't care about it said I so I'll stay outside and mind the swags. I saw a flower garden close by the house and being fond of flowers I thought I would have a look at them and did so but was surprised to see a blackboard there on which was written here lies the body of William Brown who was murdered by his mate whilst coming down from the Dickings. He afterwards confessed and was hung in Melbourne in 1842. I wanted a nobler after reading that inscription and had one. On calling my mates attention to the board it made them shudder. Further on we met the gold escort consisting of about 30 horsemen with drawn swords, carbines and pistols coming from the Dickings. Some were guarding each side of the gold cards and others acting as scouts riding through the bush near the road. They all wore red jumpers and helmets. The next thing that we noticed was a poor bullock knocked on the head merely because he was worn out. We got through the forest at last and it seemed along 12 miles. It was then getting late so we pushed on as well as we could but we couldn't walk fast as our swags were too heavy and Fiddler Jim began to complain that he could not go much further. As darkness came on we lost our way but found it again and arrived in Cancun about nine o'clock at night completely knocked up. End of part two section one. Part two section two of the autobiography of Cockney Tom. This is a library box recording. All library box recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer please visit librarybox.org. Recording by Jennifer Dion. The autobiography of Cockney Tom by Thomas Bastard. Part two section two. Got up late the next morning and took a walk through Kyneton which was the best looking town we had seen out of Melbourne. There were three good hotels several stores, drapers, watchmaker, tailors, shoemakers and butchers and bakers. Lots of diggers were returning who had made their pile and others going to try to make theirs. Of course we were amongst the latter. After sundry refreshments we went into committee to consider what was to be done next. We all agreed that a day's spell would do us a deal of good and that we should be all the better prepared for gold digging afterwards. We were then only 12 or 14 miles from Forest Creek and I proposed looking for fresh lodgings as the house we were staying at was anything but respectable. This was agreed to and we searched and were successful in finding good beds, food and liquors and plenty of company. This will do, said I. We must make some money here. How, said Fiddler Jim. The same as at the Forest Inn, replied I. At any rate we can but try, said Plumber George. I am good to keep the door and repair their beer engine if through being overworked it should happen to get out of order. Well, I'll see what's best to be done, said I. In the meantime you have a rest till I come back. I went into the kitchen and saw the girls. I beg your pardon, said I, to one of them. But will you inform me if you have a room large enough for a dance? Oh yes, we use the lodge room when we have a ball and Mrs. Halliday is very fond of a dance. She will be so pleased so by all means go and see her at once and let us know when it is to take place. Plenty of people will be glad to come, I am sure, said the girl. And so off I went to see Mrs. Halliday. Are you musicians, asked she. My mate plays and I am a London concert singer. Will you give us an engagement, said I. No, said she, I will not do that. But you can have the use of our club room for nothing and you can charge what you like for admission. I told her that at the Forest Inn the landlord found us in boredom lodging. Very well then, said she, I will do the same. When do you propose to commence? Tonight, said I. Then, said she, I'll tell the Osler to light up the room and get your stage ready. I had a nobler and returned to my mates and found them asleep. Wake up, said I, there's business to be done. What's up, said Fiddler Jim. Anything fresh, asked Plumber George. Yes, said I, telling them all about my arrangements. What's to be done first, said I. We must get a large piece of cardboard and write on it in large letters. A grand ball and concert will take place here tonight. Admission, two shillings, to commence at eight sharp. Cockney Tom, manager. The remainder of the day was spent going about informing the inhabitants what a treat was in store for them. You must know that Fiddler Jim and myself had brought with us an old dress coat each and black trousers and white waistcoat, all the worse for wear. These and my coats and other rags for caricature business and the fiddle comprised our professional stock in trade. Eight o'clock came and the folks began to muster. Plumber George was at the door, taking the two shillings, which I thought was little less than a robbery, but I had agreed to do it. They commenced the same program as at the Forest Inn and all went off well. The interval as before and drinks all round. Everybody was eager for the dance. Off they went. Mrs. Halliday came in. She was a Scotch lassie and couldn't keep her feet quiet while the reel of telegram was being played. She rushed into the room and began to twist and twirl about like an eel till she nearly fainted. They kept it up late and we promised to repeat the entertainment the next night with a slight change in the program. We thanked the company and retired to our room, counted the cash and found we had taken eight pounds. It's not bad, said Fiddler Jim. Let's have another nobler before we go to bed, said Plumber George. All right, rejoined I. The next day we took a long walk and found good farming country around Kyneton. Home to dinner, everything going right. Rested in the afternoon and then got ready for concert and ball number two. The place was not rushed the second night, but we nevertheless added four pounds more to our treasury. After a good night's rest, we got up and prepared to start and bid goodbye to the landlady, the servants and the town of Kyneton. We had about 12 or 14 miles to walk to the great forest diggings that had given me the fever in London. We stopped at Sawpick Gully and had a rest and beer, six miles more and then we saw what is not easily forgotten. We arrived safely at the creek and were astonished to see the number of tents, the thousands at work, men, women, girls and boys of all ages and the deep holes nearly frightened me. When the diggers saw us, they began to shout, Joe, Joe, which was responded to all around the diggings. It was a saying or cry they had. When the police went round to examine their licenses, I and my party walked on, taking observations when all at once someone called out, is that you plumber, George? Yes, said he, all that remains of me since I left London. What do you think of the diggings, said Mr. Postman. We had better call him by that name for after he left the diggings, he came back to Adelaide and got an appointment as mail guard, which he held for 20 years. He is alive now and has retired or is about to retire from the service and independent man. Once he was a poor tailor in London. How long have you been here, said Postman? Just arrived, said we. Have you had any dinner? What did you say? Have you had any dinner? No, said I, we have only just arrived. You shall dine with me in my tent and I'll give you a shake down tonight, said he. Thanks, said I. My mates, said Mr. Postman, are out prospecting and I don't expect them back for a day or two. In the meantime, I will tell you a thing or two about the gold fields. Come with me to my butchers. The butcher's shop was a tent with two or three sheep hanging up, also some sausages. A quarter of mutton, said Postman. All right, said Butcher. We expect to have half of a bullock next week. These are some friends of mine from Adelaide. You may safely trust them if they get hard up, said Postman. They can have what they like on your recommendation. We arrived at his tent and soon made a fire. How are you going to cook, asked Fiddler Jim? You shall soon cease, said Postman. Whereupon he got a tin bucket, washed it out, put water in, slung it over the fire, cut off the leg of mutton and in that went. After that, flour was made into hard dumplings, potatoes, onions, and oatmeal all went in the same bucket that was used for getting out the gold dirt from the holes. Then Mr. Postman proposed that we should go with him to Johnny Allsort's store and get some beer while the dinner was cooking, to which we all agreed. Mr. Postman gave us a hint that we had better look out for the holes or we might find ourselves in a bath. As we walked along, Mr. Postman endeavored to enlighten us by explaining the names, et cetera, of the various claims within view. Where we then were was called Pennyweight Flat. On our right is Moonlit Flat. Then over there is Longully. That hill on the left is called Adelaide Hill. And the next is Friar's Creek. Then further on is Campbell's Creek. And then comes Murder Creek, which takes you on to Terondour. We arrived at Johnny Allsort's and had two bottles of beer for which we paid eight shillings. We were introduced to Johnny as new arrivals. He had made his fortune by selling to new chums such articles as tents, cradles, buckets, tubs, and frying pans. In fact, he could supply anything except gold dust, which he bought, or exchanged for tea, sugar, or grog. We arranged to call the next morning and do business with him. Got back safely and enjoyed our dinner, after which we had a long yarn about digging, followed by a song. Some neighbors came in and Jim tuned out his fiddle and played a bit, after which we had some grog, fired off our pistols, reloaded them, made up the fire, and then turned into our blankets with our firearms under our pillows. I slept well till daylight when I got up and made a fire, put on the billy, and had breakfast. We then gave Johnny Allsort another call, all of us going together. Mr. Postman accompanied us to see that we were not imposed upon. Johnny greeted us with, how are you this morning, while you take a nobler? After business said I. Good, said Mr. Postman. Now then, said Allsort's, what is the first thing? A good warm tent, said Fiddler Jim. I can accommodate you to a tea. I have one not far off, that I bought off three diggers who went to the new rush. Come with me and you shall see it and then judge for yourself. We all went to look at it and found it to be a good secondhand tent. It's dirt cheap at five pounds, said Johnny Allsort's. Too much, said Mr. Postman. If it was offered to you tomorrow, you would not give any more than two pounds for it. Well, we will not quarrel about a pound, said he. It is yours for four. All right, said a lot of us. Mr. Postman selected what we should want to begin with, such as a cradle, buckets, rope picks, shovels, dishes, a camp oven, flour, potatoes, onions, matches, et cetera. When the account was made up, we had not enough to pay it, so Johnny said, never mind the balance now. If you are lucky, come and pay. And in the meantime, give me your names for the account so that if you have to leave, I may have a claim on the tent. We consulted together and agreed to his terms. We then had noblers all round, took possession of our goods and moved into our new tent. We arranged that Plummer George was to be cooked for the first week, and the first thing that he had to do was to chop a tree down, but Fiddler Jim, however, had to help him. I went off to the butcher's shop and got credit for a quarter of mutton. And when I got back, they had lighted a fire, so I fried some mutton, boiled some potatoes, and had dinner, after which we went into committee. What's the first thing to be done, asked George. We must take out our license before we begin to dig, said Jim. Ah, said I, I forgot that. We shall have to pay three pound for it. And I should like to know where the money is to come from, said Fiddler Jim. I'll try my friend Mr. Postman, said George. He did so and got it. We then took a walk to the commissioner's tent and got our licenses, after which we had a good look over the township, which was called Castle Main, and is so called to this day. Its original name, however, was Mount Alexander. We returned and marked out our claim near a spot where we were told lots of gold had been found. As it rained heavily, we agreed not to start work until the next day, so we returned to our tent and wrote letters, informing the folks at home of our safe arrival. Got to work next day and took it in turns, one to use the pick and the other the shovel. We got down about four feet the first day and were very tired. Our hands, not being used to pick and shovel work, were very sore. The next day we expected the bottom the hole. The diggers told us that we should strike the pipe clay at about seven feet. The deeper we went, the labor of getting the stuff to the surface was increased, as every bit had to be drawn up in buckets. The third day we got to the pipe clay, under which was found a small deposit of gravel. We hauled it up very carefully for fear of losing any and we put it through the cradle as we had seen the others do. After which we washed it in a tin dish and then at the bottom of it we found some very fine specks of gold. About two penny weights, valued at about seven shillings and this was the glorious result of three days at the diggings a splendid sum to divide among three men. It is needless to say that we were disheartened and Jim the Fiddler was affected almost to tears. As it was the moonlight night, I suggested a walk into town and we went and it was not altogether unprofitable for I fell in with a man of the name of Ashton, whom I had known in Adelaide where he had been Crown Lands Ranger. His father was proprietor of a large establishment known as Ashton's Hotel and he had many acquaintances but I only had the pleasure of a son's friendship. Off my boy said he. How do you get on, come to try your luck? Yes, said Jim, but it has only been bad luck as yet. You must not despair, said Ashton. Come and take a nobler with me. Not one of us refused. We all went to the Albert Hotel and had two nobbers each. The landlord could see that we were new chans as he had come from London himself. So he told us and had made money by digging and had invested it in the Albert Hotel. What trade are you, he asked? My mates are both tradesmen. One is a plumber and the other is a painter, I replied. And what are you, said he. Why, I am a professional singer from London. You'd do well if you had some music with you, said he. Why, one of my mates is a first-class fiddler, said I. Huh, said he. Come down to night and we will see what we can do for you. At any rate, I will give you something to start with. We bade our friend goodbye and promised him that if we made a change, we would go to his place at Terengauer. We returned to our tent and had tea. Then we took the fiddle and went to our first engagement on Forest Creek for which we received about 17 shillings and a bottle of brandy. We were to play and sing every night there unless we had other engagements. We were next told that we should do much better if we worked in the creek, as many were doing very well there. So we gave that a trial and found it much easier and much more profitable than sinking holes. We got several nice nuggets of gold there. And what with gold digging, fiddling and singing, we soon paid Johnny all sorts and Mr. Postman what we owed them. And more than that, for we soon got up our names as Jim the Fiddler and Tom the Singer. And we were engaged to play at a grand cricketing dinner to celebrate a match between 11 Castleman players and 11 from Bendigo. There I sang the gold digger song, the chorus of which was as follows. Merely ply the pick and spade and rock the cradle fast. Here we pursue no idle trade for we may be rich at last. Which was greatly appreciated much to the satisfaction of myself and Fiddler, Jim. We stopped there that night, but there was no sleep as they all got drunk. Champagne was the order not of the day but of the night and a general scrimmage with pillars and bolsters flying about and such like was carried on till daylight in the morning. Things went on with us pretty well for several weeks. Our gold digging averaged about half an ounce per day which was not so bad had it lasted, but bad weather set in and a lot of rain falling the creek was flooded. So we had to work up to our hips and water and plumber George was soon taken bad and could not work. When the mail came in, I and Jim went to the post office to see if there were any letters for us. After waiting about two hours we got our letters. One for George, one for Jim, one for Mr. Postman and one for me also. We returned to our tent and then went over to Mr. Postman who read his letters to us which was to the effect that his only child was dying and that if he wanted to see it before it died he must return it once. He was not long in making up his mind. I'm off, he said, to Adelaide tomorrow morning and leave everything to my mates to settle. I have made a little gold and if all goes well I'll come back and make some more. When we told George the plumber that Mr. Postman was off to Adelaide he said, I'll be off with him for I am sick of gold digging. This kind of life may suit you who can make money by singing and playing but it don't suit me at all. And another thing I wanna get home to my wife as I'm quite sure this life don't agree with me. We gave him a fair share of what we possessed and the next morning saw Mr. Postman and plumber George off to Adelaide. Of course we gave them several commissions which they faithfully executed. We only remained a short time on Forest Creek after our mates had gone. Truly we lived a fiddling kind of life where the violin and singing was now our principle support and strange were the scenes we were obliged to witness. One night after playing and singing at the Albert Hotel we were just about to leave when we saw one of the traps as they were called on the diggings and which means no more nor less than policemen in plain clothes. I saw that he had his eyes on someone so we thought we would watch and see what was up and we had not long to wait. A poor drunken digger who had been shouting to everybody came out of the Albert Hotel and strange to say the very man who ought to have taken him in charge for being drunk and have protected him from robbery knocked him down with a staff, knelt on him and robbed him of all he possessed and then left him on the ground to die if he liked. And what is worse to relate it was more than your life was worth to utter a word against this shameful proceeding. Such was the state of society in those days on the gold fields. Not far from us there lived two men given out to be diggers. We thought that they were but we soon found out our mistake. They warmed themselves into our company at every opportunity and were uncommonly civil. I could see that these men were no good and found out that they got their living by sly grog selling, cheating at cards or any other little game. As we could not get rid of them our only course was to leave Forest Creek as quietly as possible. We did so and meeting with some new chums who had come to try their fortune. We sold them our tent, furniture and stock and trade at a loss but which was better after all than selling them to Johnny all sorts. And off we started next morning for Terengauer a distance of only 15 miles. We had to go through Campbell's and Fryer's creeks dead man's gully, murder flat and at all these places the gold fever was raging. We passed through without much chaff. Now and then there goes Fiddler Jim and singing Tom would be called after us from the creek but we took no heed and went on our way as fast as we could. After walking about 10 miles we came to a small township called Mucklesford which lay in a beautiful valley and reminded me of my song give me a cot in the valley I love. The cottages were all built of wood with neat little gardens around them and a creek of beautiful water ran through the township which contained two stores, one public house and a Smith's and Shoemaker's shops. I had a chat with the disciple of St. Crispian and found him to be an old hand from the other side. We inquired about how they got their living and he informed us that most of them grew vegetables and supplied the diggers. We asked him to have a drink with us which he did not refuse when to our surprise the two men we were in dread of confronted and abraded us for not telling them that we were going to Terengauer. They knew where the new rush was and would like to chum in with us, they said. We told them that we had a friend there where we intended to stay but they would not be put off and determined to keep us company to protect us in case of our meeting bush rangers. They asked us many questions such as you must have made a lot of money at the creek with your playing and singing. I told them we had made very little indeed and what we had got we had sent home to our wives in Adelaide. We were very civil to these strangers for it was no use being otherwise as they were well armed and not particular. After a long walk we arrived at Terengauer at dark completely knocked up. Fiddler Jim said he had never walked such a long 15 miles in his life. It seemed to him more like 30. I soon found out my friend Ashton who was glad to see us. We shouted to the men who had kept his company and bade them good night. All right, said they, we will see you in the morning. I told Ashton about these men. Oh, I know them, he said he. They are the biggest rogues and thieves on the diggings and one has been tried for murder. Keep out of their company. We thanked Ashton for his advice. As he could not furnish us with lodgings he took us to a friend who kept a large saloon. He undertook to give us a shakedown for three shillings each. About 30 of us slept in one large tent on boards with just a mattress laid on them. Every man finding his own blankets. We slept pretty well and got up early, took a walk around the township which was called Maldon on account of a man of that name owning a lot of land in that district. It had formerly been known as Bryant's Ranges. This Bryant was a sheep farmer and had made a large fortune when the diggings were first started by supplying the diggers with mutton. We had breakfast and called on Ashton who said, I'm glad you have turned up as I've got you an engagement with my neighbor that keeps the national hall. He wants someone that is likely to draw well so I will go and introduce you to him. He is a black man but not a bad sort. We found his words true. Jim requested me to make the engagements as I was a better general at that sort of thing than he was himself. So to oblige him I engaged myself and fiddled Jim to a black man for three months at a salary of three pounds per week each and what money we could collect with board and lodging and with the full right to dig in the daytime. The agreement being duly signed and witnessed we cracked a bottle of wine over it which by the way was not very good. Our first night was not such a great success as we had anticipated it to be. We got our bills out but the people did not show up at first which was to be accounted for by the fact that a week before we arrived there had been a company of minstrels known as Reiner's New York niggers playing there who had done well and then got on to Bendigo. We had a miserable attendance to begin with but as the evening advanced the company increased and at the end of the first part I made a speech to the effect that there would be a change of program every evening and dancing would commence at nine o'clock and close at 11. Also that there was to be no charge for admission but that they were to give what they liked to the musicians. Now said I take your places for the first dance. Let's have a Scotch reel said one digger. Good said another and off they started. Presently more company arrived and in came Ashton and his friends and they all began to dance. Fiddler Jim kept them close at it. Ashton went round with his hat and collected three pounds the first time. He repeated it again and got nearly as much more. At the finish we all went to Ashton's tent and every one of us got more or less the worse for drunk. We found out afterwards that Ashton and our master the black man were working together in more ways than one. Next day we had a look round the diggings and it was a grand sight to see so many hills and gullies covered with tents of all sorts and occupied by people of all nations. We now purchased a new set of diggers tools hearing that a new rush had taken place at Longully a place about two miles from Maryborough. We did a fair business at the hall on our second night for the ladies put in an appearance and good force and we felt certain the men would soon follow. The next morning we were off to the new rush. We had to pass through a lot of bush country and as there were no tracks we lost our way but after a long time fell in with the digger who set us right again and got to our destination about the middle of the day. We marked out our claim close to the spot where we were told they had struck gold and as we had to get back to the hall in time for dinner we had no time to try our luck that day. We still heard reports that lots of gold had been found near our claim so next morning early off we went and got to work. We sank about four feet and got no gold. Our neighbors in the next claim got down to the pipe clay and struck a small patch of gold about two penny weights which gave them courage to persevere and the next day we bought them just scraped up the wash dirt and carried it home to wash. There being no water nearer than three miles and of course we were very anxious to see what gold we had got and so washed it very carefully and found we had about half an ounce and a few grains of nuggety gold which we considered not so bad a result. The next day Jim was unwell and could not work so I went to the claim alone. Imagine my surprise when I find the man I most wanted to avoid coolly working our claim and getting gold. Hello, said he. I heard this was your claim and that you were going to give it up as a duffer. I'll go in with you, my tent is close by and I shall be on the spot to see that no one jumps the claim. I said that I would speak to my mate and give him an answer the next day so he went to work and I shared the gold with him which we sold at a store for two pounds. When I got home I found Jim much better and I told him about our forest creek friend which rather frightened him. You will have to watch him pretty closely, said he. I don't know what else you could do then keep in with him so keep on digging and I will be about and keep my eyes open for you know I myself and not much get at digging. Fiddler Jim was right. He did not like the pick and spade. Things went on very well as we thought but an old man who worked in the same hole to us quietly said to me, where did you pick up with your mate? I told him in confidence all I knew about him. I know him, said he. I came from Sydney, that's where I met him. There has been a lot of tents robbed and a store down in the gully was stuck up last night and this cove is one of the mods suspected. Be careful my boy, continued the old Sydney man. I have been on the diggings for four years and have made very little gold but what little I do get I send to my poor daughter who is in Sydney. After that I began to like the old man very much. In the afternoon of that day I heard a great noise and a voice shouting, a fight, a fight. I got out of the hole to see what was up and sure enough there were two men stripped and a mob of black guards backing them up. I thought I would go and have a look on but the crime carried the punishment for I tumbled down a hole and nearly broke my arm. I afterwards ascertained that the men had quarreled about a claim and to settle the dispute they determined upon a fight and the best man was to have it. The fight lasted nearly two hours when they both were taken to their tents. The losing man could not work for a week after and the winning man was more than a fortnight getting round. So much for fighting. This took place on a Friday and the next day my new acquaintance came to my hole while I was at work and said in a whisper, are you by yourself? Yes said I, my mate has gone to a store to get a nobler. Then come up said he. I did so and after the old man had a look round to make sure he was not being watched he enrolled a dirty old colored handkerchief. Look at that my boy. I had been looking after this for four years and now I am off to my dear child in Sydney and I shall never see you again. Don't tell anyone about my luck. And as he spoke he showed me a lump of gold and quartz as big as a pint pot. It must have weighed eight or 10 pounds. He had just struck it with his pick in a corner of his claim. He went away very quietly and I never saw him afterwards. We worked hard there for some time after that but there were no great nuggets for us. It so happened one day that a man whom I knew by sight called to me. I say Tom, I can lay you on to a real good thing and it's not to everyone I would do so but as I know you I give you the first chance. It is this, I have received a letter from my sister stating that my mother is dangerously ill and that I must go to Melbourne as quickly as I can. Now this claim of mine is very rich and if you like to give me a five pound note you can take my claim and work it out. You will get gold enough to pay you back in one day. To convince you said he, just come down and judge for yourself. I went with him and he began to pick away and to examine the stuff. I looked on with astonishment as there was no mistake about it. There was gold in every shovel full of dirt taken up. I said, I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll give you four pounds and chance it. Well as I want to get away said he, I will take it. When I told my mates what a bargain I had struck my forest creek mate remarked, you have been nicely got at. That fellow gets his living that way. You bet the hole was prepared. What's that said I? Why he planted the gold there himself to deceive you. I could hardly believe it but alas it turned out to be too true. I now began to have a very bad opinion of myself as not being so smart a man as I had thought. A day or two afterwards while a poor fellow was working in his hole which was not very far from my claim and where by the by I was getting nothing. A cry arose that the earth had given way and buried him. Everybody was ready to lend a hand to dig him out but when they recovered him he was quite dead. This sad event put a stop to work that day and I and Fiddler Jim resolved to leave the Longully and work nearer the hall. So a day or two afterwards we told our forest creek mate what we were going to do and to our surprise he was quite agreeable for marking that he wanted to change himself. But said he, we may meet again. I didn't like he chaps at first but I don't know how it is. I have taken a great liking to you all at once so we will have a drink together before we part which we did and felt relieved of a companion who had kept us both in fear. We next went to work in German gully but got very little gold. We left there and went to work at Chinaman's flat and there did nothing at all. Then we tried our luck at Sailor's gully and Spearmint Hill and got a little gold but not enough to pay as it cost us 10 shillings for a load of water to wash the stuff we dug up. The professional business at the hall now began to flag and we found out that the black man was very much in debt and consequently we could not get our salary. We went into council with Ashton and he advised us to stay and work up a benefit. He informed us that a digger's ball was to take place and that we might get the job to work it up. End of part two, section two.