ner of Lands differed and
quarrelled, the latter having the money and the former the power of
government, and it was soon found that Mr. Stevenson could wield a
trenchant pen. He had been on the "Traveller" branch of the London
paper what would be called now a travelling correspondent. The Governor
was replaced by Col. Gawler, and Mr. Stevenson went on The Register as
editor. Mrs. Stevenson was a clever woman, and could help her husband.
She knew Charles Dickens, and still better, the family of Hogarth, into
which he married. My father and mother were surprised to find so good a
paper and so well printed in the infant city. Then there were A. H.
Davis, of the Reedbeds, and Nathaniel Hailes, who wrote under the
cognomen of "Timothy Short," who had been publisher and bookseller.
There was first Samuel Stephens, who came out in the first ship for the
South Australian Company, and married a fellow passenger, Charlotte
Hudson Beare, and died two years after, and then Edward, manager of the
South Australian Bank, and later, John Stephens who founded The Weekly
Observer, and afterwards bought The Register. These all belonged to a
literary family.

People came out on the smallest of salaries with big families--H. T. H.
Beare on 100 pounds a year as architect, for the South Australian
Company, and he had 18 children by two wives. I do not know what salary
Mr. William Giles came out on with nine children and a young second
wife, but I am sure it was less than 300 pounds. His family in all
counted 21. But things were bad in the old country before the great
lift given by railways, and freetrade, which made England the carrier
for the world; and the possibilities of the new country were shown in
that first issue of The Register in London in the highest colours. Not
too high by any means in the light of what has been accomplished in 73
years, but there was a long row to hoe first, and few of the pioneers
reaped the prizes. But, in spite of hardships and poverty and struggle,
the early colonial life was interesting, and perhaps no city of its
size at the time contained as large a population of intelligent and
educated people as Adelaide.

Mrs. Oliphant, writing in 1885 at the age of 57, says that reading the
"Life of George Eliot" made her think of an autobiography, and this was
written at the saddest crisis of her life. She survived her husband and
all her children, and had just lost the youngest, the posthumous boy.
For them and f