grief. I was in a boat with three others; had got alongside the s.s. Nelson, which was headed down stream, and just on the point of starting for Hokitika, when the captain, no doubt thinking all passengers were on board, gave the order “full speed ahead.” I was standing up in the boat, and had hold of the sponsons when the wheels revolved, taking the boat from under me. As soon as my legs touched the water—the tide running in at the rate of four knots an hour—I had to let go, and down I went. When I came to the surface I was some distance astern of the steamer. I was perfectly cool and collected, and headed for the shore, which I would no doubt have reached, but had not gone far when the boat came after me, and I was with difficulty dragged into it. My clothes were so heavy that I could scarcely stand up in them. I got on board without delay, had a good stiff nobbler, and changed my clothes. Borrowed a shirt from one, a pair of trousers from another, a cap from somebody else, and was such a guy that when I reached home in the afternoon my best friends did not know me.
The following incident occurred about this time:—Mr. Inspector Broham was conducting some charge which had been preferred by the police against a prisoner, when, requiring a legal work to assist him, he turned round to one of the constables and desired him to go for “Roscoe on Evidence.” The constable not hearing the precise words made use of, took it to mean that a Mr. Roscow was required in court to give evidence. There happening to be only one Roscow in Hokitika, who was the proprietor of the Manchester Hotel, the constable hastened out of court, and making up Hamilton-street with all speed, he soon reached the establishment and inquired for the landlord. “Is it Mr. Roscow you want?” asked the barman. “Yes, certainly,” was the answer, “he is wanted to give evidence at once at the police court; where is he?” “You will find him at the barber’s across the street getting shaved,” said the barman. The policeman ran over, and found Mr. Roscow a little more than half shaved. “You are wanted at once, Mr. Roscow, at the police court; I am sorry I can’t wait till you are finished; you are to come at once.” The jolly host naturally wished to know who wanted him, and what he was wanted for. “Don’t know anything about it,” said the constable; “all I was told was to bring Roscow at once; and you must go without waiting any longer, shaved or unshaved.” In obedience to the stern commands of the law, Mr. Roscow, only shaved in part, and the lather still clinging like a fringe of hoar frost along the edges of his whiskers, accompanied the policeman, and soon reached the court. Upon putting in an appearance Mr. Broham smartly demanded of the constable if he had found Roscoe? “Yes, sir, here he is,” replied the man, producing the landlord of the Manchester Arms. Mr. Broham saw the mistake at once, so did the magistrate; so did all
