One morning in November, 1877, I received a report from a resident of Nairne that a larceny had been committed at his house during his absence and that he had seen a tramp coming away from there. I saddled up and went in search of the offender.

After travelling some miles over thick scrub country the complainant drew my attention to the offender going up a rise about a mile ahead of us. I immediately galloped up to him and placed my hand upon his shoulder, and arrested him. He placed his hands in his pockets to take out as I imagined, some weapon. I warned him that unless he at once took his hands out of his pocket and held them up I would shoot him.

As I was about to dismount he made a rush for my revolver, which was in the pouch of my saddle. The custom was then for the mounted police to carry a cumbersome revolver in a pouch attached to the saddle— most unwise regulation. I pointed this out later to Superintendent Hunt, and that this had nearly cost me my life. This obsolete weapon has since been done away with, and a thoroughly up-to-date automatic weapon supplied in its place, carried, as it should be, at the constable's waist.

A Life and Death Struggle.

I frustrated his designs by sharply turning my horse around. He bounded away, and tried to escape. I fired two shots from my revolver in the air, and called upon him to stop, but he crawled through a wire fence and sat down on an old brush fence. In the meantime the complainant had come up to us. I threw my horse's reins over a post of the fence and went through after him. I then heard the complainant shout out, 'Look out, he's got a knife!'

The prisoner was rushing towards me with his right arm uplifted, and a sailor's sheath knife in his, hand. Fortunately for me I tripped over a piece of wood and fell to the ground, otherwise I should have received the full force of his knife. In his mad rush he stumbled over me, and inflicted several severe wounds on my head and body before I recovered myself.

I grasped the wrist of his hand in which he held the knife, and then a life and death struggle took place for the possession of the weapon. He made several attempts while I was on top of him to stab me in the abdomen, and in his endeavour cut through my clothing in several places to the skin. I had to be constantly wiping the blood from my face and eyes with my left hand, for I was bleeding profusely.

I knew that my life depended upon retaining my hold on the knife in his hand, for had I relinquished it he would have disembowelled me. The complainant stood by for some time apparently horrified and speechless, and it was not until I called upon him that he came to my aid. With his assistance I took the knife out of the prisoner's hand and threw it away from me. I handcuffed him, and asked the resident to take my place and hold the prisoner while I got up, for I was feeling faint from the loss of blood. He replied that he did not think he was able to do it. I then told him to get the stirrup leathers from off my saddle. With these I strapped the prisoner's arms to his body, and asked my friend again to hold the prisoner while I got up.

Laid Up for Months.

I staggered nearly blinded and fainting from the loss of blood to the fence, and held on to it for some time, otherwise I should have fallen. After slightly recovering. I divested myself of my clothing so that my chest and back were bare. I asked complainant if I was much cut. He replied, 'My God. I think your are done for, Mr. Le Lievre.' A pretty Job's comforter, and poor consolation for me!

I gave him my revolver, and told him to lead my horse, for I was unable to mount him. I held on to the saddle and made the prisoner walk ahead of us. We proceeded that way until reaching a farmhouse. The occupants were well known to me, and I knocked at the door. Women s faces appeared at the window, and, telling them I had met with an accident and that I wanted the husband to drive me into Nairne, they opened the door and informed me that Mr — was not at home, but that I could have their horse and trap. They harnessed the horse to the trap, and kindly rendered me assistance.

I ordered the prisoner to get in the trap and drove on towards Nairne. My lay assistant, having got a pair of stirrup leathers, rode my horse. I drove the horse by sheer force of will power. Fortunately for me as I was about to faint from the loss of blood a farmer came along and I beckoned to him. He got in the trap and drove to the station.

When placing the prisoner in the cell he said to me, ''What for you no kill me; I'd kill you." The local doctor was promptly in attendance on me, and after having examined my wounds, ordered me to be kept in a darkened room for 10 days.

Some months elapsed before I was sufficiently recovered to be fit to resume duty. The prisoner, a foreigner was charged at the criminal sittings at Adelaide before Mr. Justice Boucaut, on two counts—one of attempted murder, and the other of inflicting grievous bodily harm. As the prisoner spoke but imperfect English an Adelaide policeaman (Mr. H. F. Segerlind), who was an accomplished linguist, was appointed interpreter.

When prisoner was asked to plead he answered in his foreign language, "I had a dream that my mission was to kill." It was surmised that the man was insane, and, therefore, not responsible for his actions. On that account Dr. Paterson (colonial surgeon) had examined him. At His Honor's suggestion a plea of not guilty was entered, and on His Honor's assignment, as eminent counsel appeared for the defence.

The jury returned a verdict of guilty on the second count. On the verdict being made known to the prisoner through the interpreter he repeated the statement with reference to his dream. His Honor sentenced him to seven years' imprisonment with hard labour, and intimated that if anything were wrong with his mental capacity he would be properly looked after.

His Honor considered that Tpr. Le Lievre deserved great credit for the plucky manner in which he had acted at the risk of his life, and the witness . . . . was also deserving of praise for the assistance he had rendered.

An Official Reward.

In connection with this case Senior Inspector Hunt forwarded the following letter to the Commissioner of Police (Mr. Peterswald):—

Mounted Barracks, Adelaide, December 7, 1887.
Sir—I have the honour to bring under your notice the conduct of M.C. LeLievre, who was seriously wounded by being stabbed with a sheath knife by one Soren Neilson Thyrring, while arresting him for larceny near Nairne, on the 26th ultimo. The constable was fortunately accompanied by Mr.—— , who assisted in securing prisoner, or the probabilities are the constable would have been murdered. The injured constable, who pluckily stuck to his prisoner until he was bound, when nearly blinded and fainting from loss of blood, is so far recovered as to be fit to resume light duty, but Dr. Morier states that the nervous system will be affected for some time to come. I have therefore much pleasure in bringing the matter under your notice for some mark of your approbation of his conduct. The offender was this day at the Supreme Court, convicted of unlawfully wounding, with intent to do grievous bodily harm, and was sentenced to seven years' imprisonment with hard labour. I have the honour to be, B.P. Hunt, Senior Inspector of Police.

The Commissioner of Police thereupon wrote on December 9, 1887, the following minute:—

Forwarding to the Hon. Chief Secretary, respectfully recommending that M.C. LeLievre received a reward of £15 out of the Police Fund. Wm. Peterswald, Commissioner of Police.

This was approved by His Excellency the Governor in Executive Council two days later.

Swagman Suicide Hoax.

As the evening train from Murray Bridge on Christmas Eve was passing Scott's Creek Bridge the passengers saw what they presumed to be, a poor unfortunate swagman hanging from a tree, his swag and quart pot lying at the foot of it. They notified the stationmaster, who at once reported it to me.

As the place where the supposed suicide was hanging was not accessible by horse or trap, I communicated with the Resident Engineer at Mount Barker, and asked that I might have the assistance of the railway ganger and his men with a lorry to bring the body to Nairne. The request was granted, and the ganger instructed to have lorry and men at my disposal. I arranged with him to proceed to the scene at 4 a.m. next day.

The swagman's suicide naturally was the general topic among the men in the township, who generally assembled either at the hotel bar or saddler's shop to discuss polities, or the gossip of the place. Therefore a number were assembled at the saddler's. Among these was an old Irishman, who had not been long out from old Ireland. The old fellow was reported to be very superstitious, and a great believer in ghosts, banshees, and witches. He often entertained his hearers about a certain witch in Ballyvaughan, who was the terror of the farmers in that locality. It appears he was telling, among other things, what this witch did. This witch was in the habit of milking the farmers' cows before the owners were up.

Some one interjected, 'Well, why didn't they lay wait and catch her?' The old man replied that they had done so times out of number, but when she was hotly pressed she turned herself into a hare and cleared off. (What was done with the milk was left to conjecture).

Some one asked, 'Why not shoot her then?' but he was told that you could not shoot witches except with a silver bullet, and they were too poor to make any.

I asked the old fellow if he would like to earn a day's pay by coming and helping me to bring the swagman's corps to Nairne. He asked what time I would be leaving. I told him as to-morrow was Christmas Day I would start about 3.30 a.m., in order to be back shortly after daybreak. He said, 'Make it after 5 o'clock, Mr. 'Laver, and I'll be wid you.' I asked why he couldn't come before. He replied, 'Well, you know the Hightalian fellow that was blown up wid dynamite near there, and so was poor Maloney that was killed in the cutting.' 'Well,' I said, ''What has that to do with it?' 'Well, you see,' he said, 'its like this; their ghosts are always there until near daybreak, but as soon as the cock starts crowing all ghosts and witches clear off.' 'Oh!' I said, 'If that is the case I must chance meeting their ghost, but you will lose your chance of earning a day's pay.'

We left in the following morning early. Some little distance from Scott's Creek Bridge we saw the reported body hanging by a rope round it's neck to a limb of a tree. There was something about the way it was hanging that struck me as rather peculiar. Before had gone many yards I saw that the whole thing was a hoax, for instead of a dead body it was a stuffed effigy, well got up to represent a human body.

A gang men had been painting the various bridges along the railway line, and they had before leaving for the Christmas holidays with their cast-off clothes erected this effigy. It certainly was well got up, what with the sway and billy can lying at the foot of the tree. I had the effigy cut down and burnt, and we were all thankful that it was not a corpse we had to bring back with us to Nairne. Thus ended our early morning trip after the body of the hanging swagman.

The Woodside Ghost.

While on the subject of ghosts I am reminded of an incident which occurred at Woodside shortly after my experience with the swagman's supposed suicide. The local shoemaker, one Thomas Meddal, who was also a 'poet,' and quite a character in his way, for he was a source of great amusement to the residents in the surrounding districts, was one midnight proceeding homewards from his rambles as he was in the habit of doing on moonlight nights after communing with the 'muses.'

On his approaching the Wesleyan Cemetery he was startled by seeing a spectral figure coming out of the graveyard and making towards him, and which stopped within a few feet of him. The poet, although somewhat taken aback at this uncanny apparition, stood his ground and asked the ghost what it wanted of him. He was answered by a deep sepulchral voice:— 'Thomas Meddall, I come to claim you.'

The poet, who was carrying a good stout stick, was in no way daunted, and objected to being claimed by the ghost, for he struck at it with such force that in the scuffle which ensued, the sheet or shroud in which the spectre was enveloped was dragged off, and the ghost identified as one of the local residents, who, no doubt knowing the poet's peculiarities, had determined to play a hoax upon him. But he was subsequently made to appear at the Police Court for masquerading in a public place with a white cloth over him, found guilty, and fined. No doubt he realized by then that poets were not to be intimidated by ghosts. For although, as my friend from Ballyvaughan had told me that witches could only be shot with silver bullets, it was evident that human ghosts are not invulnerable. No doubt, my friend: Mr. Louis von Doussa, of Mount Barker, will remember this incident, as he appeared on behalf of the poet at the Police Court when the ghost was finally, well and truly laid.

A Murderous Scoundrel.

While at Nairne in 1897, and making my usual round in the township, I heard some one shouting, 'Ship ahoy!', I went up to see what was the matter, and saw a man in a drunken state near the hotel. I asked him what was the matter? He told me he was calling for his mate.

I said to him, 'You had better come with me and have a camp,' and took him to the station. When there he asked me if I would give him a feed, as he had not had anything to eat that day. I gave him a good feed and two pannicans of hot tea. He sat eating what I had given him on the sill of the cell door. After he had finished I said to him, 'You had better go in and have a camp.' He got up, and said, "What do you take me for a —— mug?" and made a violent blow at me. A scuffle took place, and I bundled him into the cell.

Shortly afterwards; several local men came to me and informed me that a man was going about the street vowing that he would 'knife the —— trooper that had caged his mate,' and that he would knife him if he attempted to arrest him; and, that whatever I did to be sure and take my revolver with me , as he appeared to be mad drunk.

I thanked them for telling me, as forewarned was forearmed. I took my staff, which I placed inside my jacket; and went in search of this man. I asked one of the men to follow me in case I needed assistance.

I had not proceeded far when I heard a man using vile and blasphemous language under the verandah of one of the hotels further down the street. As I approached him he said, 'You're the ——that caged my mate,' and so on. He kept his hand on his side and the handle of a sheath knife, which was in his belt.

Possession of the Knife.

There are various stages of drunkenness, such as helplessness and maudlin, but this man was mad drunk, and was like a perfect demon. I could see that he would not hesitate to knife me. I had to use stratagem with him, but I was determined at all costs to arrest him.

I said, 'I don't know what you' mean by caging your mate. He has just had a feed, and is now having a camp at the station.' 'Well,' he said, 'there's his —— swag, you can take that too.'

I was taking no risk in doing that, for I saw that he was waiting for an opportunity to take me off my guard, and knife me. I turned around to the landlord, who was standing by, and said to him, 'Take the swag inside, and give the owner of it a pint of beer at my expense when he calls for it.'

He said to the landlord, with an oath, 'Leave the swag alone; I'll take it to him.' I said, 'Very well, you can do that if you like.' He seemed to be nonplussed at the cool way I was acting towards him, for I remained calm and collected. He slung the swag over his shoulder, and walked with me towards the station. I kept close to him, and was determined that at the slightest attempt he made to draw his knife 1 would use my baton on him.

After proceeding a little way, I said to him, 'I hear that you are a sailor, and that you have a knife you are going to put into me. Do you call yourself an English sailor?'' He replied with an oath that he was. I said to him, 'I too have been a sailor, and I never yet knew an English sailor who would use his knife against an other. I want you to hand me that knife, let me have look at it.'

With that he drew it out of its sheath. Simultaneously as he raised his arm, I caught hold of his wrist, giving it a sharp twist, and took possession of the knife. I was then master of the situation. He was taken by surprise, and said, 'Oh, matey, you're not going to keep my knife, that is the only one I have to cut my tobacco with.' I told him I would cut what he wanted.

A Pair Sentenced.

At the station I arrested him and placed him in the cell with the other prisoner. He stamped and swore and acted like a madman. He opened the swag and drew out from it a new tomahawk, put it on the cell floor, and walked to where his mate was lying asleep. I nodded to the man who was with me to get it. He swiftly crossed the cell floor, and brought it out. I immediately bolted the cell door. Seeing what we had done he used blasphemous language.

In the morning I opened the cell door, but was prepared for any emergency, and asked them for their names. The prisoner I had taken the knife from asked 'What's the charge, sergeant; no knifing I hope, for I'm a —— when drunk?' I replied, 'Fortunately for you it is not.'

They were both sentenced to a term of imprisonment at the Nairne Police Court. The knife, an ugly looking one, was handed over to the Commissioner of Police, and he ordered it to be placed in the police museum, which contains almost all the weapons with which the murders and attempted murders and suicides recorded in the State have been committed. Each article is numbered, and a concise record kept of the circumstances surrounding the tragedy with which that exhibit, is associated. One of these knives, has been included in the collection not on account, as it says, of association with a crime, but it testifies to the bravery of a mounted constable (M.C. Le Lievre) when at one of our southern townships. Upon being told that a sailor, had threatened to use his sheath knife if he attempted to arrest him, the officer determinedly faced the man, took possession of the knife, and arrested him.

I heard no more of this man until the Stepney tragedy, which occurred a year or more after this incident.

The Stepney Tragedy.

The detectives and police were busily engaged in preparing evidence regarding a woman that had been found dead in an old house at Stepney. It appears that this poor woman was the wife of a man about whom the police at that time knew little or nothing, but he was found and recognised to be identical with the sailor man I had arrested at Nairne.

After he had served his sentence in gaol he went up north and there got acquainted with a blocker's daughter, who bore an excellent character, and was in service. Two months afterwards she left for Adelaide with him and married, no doubt believing him to be an honest working man.

For some time the couple were camping in a brush shelter in the sandhills near Glenelg. He had a dog— a ferocious animal— and no one dared to go to his shelter while it was about. He appeared to have done no work at this time, but led a lazy life. While they were camping there several houses were broken into and numerous articles stolen.

His next place of abode was at Stepney, where his wife was found dead with a bullet wound in her head and a revolver lying alongside of her right hand. No furniture but a few old bags was in the room.

An inquest was held, and the jury found that the deceased woman had probably committed suicide after having found that the man she had married was leading a dishonest life. The police on examining the place, and raising one of the boards of the floor, discovered stolen property from houses that had been entered at Glenelg and other places, and a fully loaded revolver. He was arrested and sentenced at the criminal sittings to seven and ten years for burglary and housebreaking. The police had little doubt but that he had murdered this unfortunate woman.

Nairne Justices' Testimonial.

Upon my leaving Nairne to take charge of Henley Beach, after 13½ years in the southern township, the Justices of the Peaces presented me with a testimonial, of which the following is a copy:—

Nairne, March 3, 1898.
To Charles LeLievre; Esq. (M.C.)—
Dear Sir— We, the undersigned, Justices of the Peace resident in and around Nairne, can not allow you to depart from our town-ship without giving expression to our very high appreciation of your services in the responsible position which you have occupied among us for over 13 years. We have no hesitation in bearing our testimony to the fact that in the discharge of your duties you have always conducted your self in a straightforward, fair, and impartial manner towards all parties whom your official position has brought in contact with. You nave been zealous in the suppression of anything like larrikinism. so that we have the satisfaction of knowing that compared with many towns in the State, we are free from such an undesirable element.
We tender you our thanks for the intelligent and useful assistance we have always received from you when we have been engaged in our magisterial capacities in cases brought before the Bench. As prosecutor you have always placed matters before us in a clear and impartial manner; not one case of those adjudicated upon during your tenure of office has met public disapproval.
Trusting your removal will mean promotion in the service, and with heartfelt wishes for your further usefulness in the discharge of your duties elsewhere, we have pleasure in subscribing in this token of respect for you and yours.
(Signed) John Cleazy, J.P., Thomas Hair, J.P., C. J. Drummond Morier, J.P., David Chapman, J.P., A. F. Gehrike, J.P., Edmund Dewhirst, J.P.