While I was Keeper of the Renmark Gaol all sorts and conditions of men came under my notice daring the two years and a half that I had charge. Most of the prisoners were for drunkenness and idle and disorderly conduct, for all who were sentenced a month or under were imprisoned there. Most of these old 'Mur-\ray whalers' were honest and good workers, but hard drinkers, and had their periodical sprees.

One of these had been locked up, as he was bordering upon delirium tremens. The Magistrates sentenced him to 14 days' imprisonment. That was the most charitable way to deal with him, as he would thereby be cared for, and would by then be able to get over the drink, and get a thorough clean up. Some were in an awful state. All prisoners were ordered to have a bath every day, and I saw that this was strictly carried out.

One poor unfortunate could hardly hold a pannikin of tea to his lips without spilling most of the contents, for he would tremble so. On the following morning of his arrest he came to me and said, 'Sergeant, for the love of God will you give me a drop of whisky; I feel so bad and sick.'

'What,' I said, 'do you think that you are at an hotel? This is a gaol, not an hotel.' He pleaded so hard, and I could see— as I had seen many others like him before — that he was in a dreadful state.

'Well,' I said, 'I cannot give you any whisky, tor the prison regulations do not provide that, but I will give you a dose of quinine.' 'And, what's that, sergeant?' 'Medicine,' I said, 'that will steady your nerves.' I gave him a good dose of the sort of ''quinine" in his pannikin that I knew he was craving for. He sipped it first, cautiously, then stared hard at me, and then swallowed the whole dose without further hesitation. After having done so he said, 'Sergeant, that quin-nine is dam good stuff.'

The next day he asked me for another dose, for he said it had done him a lot of good, but he still felt very bad, which I have no doubt he did. 'What,' I said, 'you blackguard, do you think that nobody else comes here but you, who is ill and will require quinine.' He pleaded so pathetically for another dose that I am rather inclined to think, although my memory does not serve me — that I acquiesced to his pleadings, and gave him another. By the time his fortnight's imprisonment had expired, he was thoroughly recovered, and went on his way rejoicing, and once more to work, for he had got over his spree. This is only one instance of many of the offerings that these men go through after a spree.

A Masonic Farewell.

Upon my leaving Renmark for Adelaide to take up my duties as Inspector at the Mounted Barracks, I received the following eulogistic letter of appreciation from the Brethren of the Renmark Masonic Lodge:—

August 1, 1917.
Dear Bro. Le Lievre—
In behalf of the Brethren of the Renmark Lodge I wish to tender you our sincere regret that we are losing you from our midst and wish to thank you for the great interest you have been to the various Masters during your term of sojourn in Renmark, especially in the matter of the Chaplain's work, which you have always carried out in that solemn and impressive manner, that is so characteristic of you. We wish also to thank you for your regular attendance and your great interest in all things appertaining to the welfare of the craft. We take this opportunity of congratulating you upon your promotion to the Inspectorship, and wish Mrs. Le Lievre, your family, and yourself every happiness in your future sphere of action.
— With fraternal greetings, believe me, dear brother.
Yours fraternally,
(sgd.) F. Cole, secretary.

I think I may claim to be one of the oldest Freemasons in the State, if not the oldest, having been admitted to membership on December 29, 1873, in the Island of Jersey.

At the Mounted Barracks.

What vast changes had Father Time wrought from the time when I entered the old Police Barracks at North terrace on February 5, 1877, as a recruit, to my now entering the new building, erected at Mile End on July 20, 1917, as inspector. The two years that I was there were anxious and stirring times, for the great World War was raging. Recruiting was going on all over the Commonwealth.

My time was fully occupied, for I had the inspection of the morning parades of the men and their quarters, also mounted parades and escorts, end was often on mounted duty day and night. Sundays were not excepted, for meetings were held in the Botanic Park, loyalist and anti-loyalist holding forth, necessitating the presence of mounted and foot police, as otherwise great disturbances would have taken place. In addition to these duties, I conducted the prosecutions under the Licensed Victuallers Act in the country Courts, and inspected the various police stations in the central division.

Shall I ever forget the glorious news of November 12, 1918 that the wireless had flashed to all Australia, announcing the grand tidings that the world war was at an end, that the Germans had surrendered, and signed the armistice, and that hostilities had ceased on all fronts. What rejoicing in Adelaide! The large mass of excited crowds of people parading the streets, enthusiastically cheering, singing the National Anthem, the Marseillaise, the Song of Australia, and other patriotic songs. I mention this because they were most important events which occurred during the time that I was inspector at Adelaide.

After this nothing further worth of recording in these reminiscences took place until the morning of June 30, 1919, when I bade goodbye at the police barracks, to the officers and men of the Central Division, as I was then retiring from the service under the pro-visions of the Septuagenarian Act, after having served the State for mote than 42 years.

On my retirement I was exceedingly pleased of the reports given to me by the press. The Register published the following on June 30, 1919: —

Inspector Charles Le Lievre, of the mounted police, will retire to-day after a long and honourable career, having served the State for nearly 43 years, He joined the police force on February 5, 1877. He has seen many humourous and pathetic scenes, both on land and sea, and is an entertaining raconteur.
A Conscientious Officer.
The inspector has rendered good service to the State, He has aimed at carrying out his duties with that thoroughness and efficiency so characteristic of him. During the past two years, part of his work consisted in inspecting police stations and conducting prosecutions under the Licencing Act in the various country Courts. He was regarded as an able and fair minded prosecutor. He is very popular in the service, and his genial countenance and kind disposition have inspired confidence from young constables, to whom he was always approachable, and they sought and obtained his kindly advice when required. Many policemen now in charge of stations are greatly thankful for the help they received while doing duty under him. Although a disciplinarian, he was always strictly just and fair. Wherever he was stationed he left behind him hosts of friends and holds a magnificent record in public testimonials, for the fearless and impartial manner in which he carried out his duties. In his younger days he was a crack rifle and revolver shot, and a great supporter of rifle clubs.
The inspector enjoys the best of health, and is residing at Henley Beach with his wife. He is looking for ward to spending his remaining days in peace and contentment of mind, free from the turmoil and worries which are to a great extent the lot of a police officer.

Farewell to the Service.

And so terminated my career in the mounted police of South Australia. On July 31, 1919, the Government of which Sir Henry Barwell was then Premier and Attorney-General, did me the honour of appointing me one of His Majesty's Justices of the Peace for the State.

I do not know whether I ought to offer an apology to my readers, for great changes have taken place on land and sea since the times I have written of. However, I can assure my readers that these reminiscences are nothing more than records of bare fact and remind them that "truth is often stronger than fiction. "