In 1898, I took charge of the Henley Beach police district. It was a large one, embracing the whole of the coastline from Henley to Glenelg on the south, and the Semaphore, on the north, also the Grange, Fulham, Lockleys, Findon, and the surrounding district to the east. At that time Henley had not attained the importance that it has at present.

The old double-decker trams were then in use. Many times I have heard the passengers on them extol the beauties of the ride to Henley Beach, for shortly after leaving the city they arrived at Fulham—in the country, as it were, with its magnificent gum trees, beautiful-drooping willows, and tall and stately poplars around the old homesteads of the Whites and Mellors, the lodge and gates reminding one of the old, mansions of county squires in old England. Without a doubt we ought to be deeply thankful to these old pioneers for their foresight in planting and protecting these trees.

A mile or two further on and we arrived at Henley Beach, which is now fast becoming the Ramsgate of South Australia, and one of the most popular seaside resorts.

At the time of my taking charge of Henley Beach, there was no police station. The police department rented a house on the esplanade. The growing importance of the place necessitated one being built, and I was the first police officer to occupy it. Sunday and 6 o'clock closing had not then become law, consequently a great deal of drunkenness and larrikinism took place. The police were on duty for long hours and it was only by firmness and vigilance that these evils could be suppressed.

On one occasion, during the night, the whole of the life-saving gear on the Henley and Grange jetties was thrown into the sea, and later picked up along the beach. No doubt those committing this act of vandalism thought it at the time a huge joke, and overlooked the fact that a valuable life might have been lost had this gear been required in an emergency. I am pleased to state that the offenders who had perpetrated this dastardly act were, through the untiring efforts of the police, brought before the Court. The Magistrates presiding viewed the seriousness of the offence, and to mark their disapproval of such conduct inflicted heavy fines. I cannot but express my high appreciation of the Henley Beach Magistrates—the late John Mellor and A. W. Ralph — in assisting the police in their efforts to suppress these acts of lawlessness when brought before them.

Suicides Plentiful.

I regret to say that no fewer than 11 cases of suicide of all kinds occurred at Henley Beach during my six years there. The number of drowning cases was appalling, and included sad and pathetic instances. I have refrained from going into the particulars for, fear of wounding the feelings of the surviving relatives.

Words of Comfort.

One afternoon I was informed by residents that an elderly woman on the jetty was acting in a strange and suspicious manner. She would walk to the end seat, look down into the water and attempt to get over the rail. Upon their going up quickly to her, she would get down and hurriedly walk away from them. I went down the jetty and found her sitting on one of the seats. She appeared to have been weeping.

I sat down beside her, and said, 'I can see you are in great distress.' At first she seemed to resent my speaking to her. I told her I was a police officer, and that she need not be afraid as I would befriend her. I was afraid from her actions that she intended doing something serious to herself. Tearfully she told me that she had lost by death, quite recently, her only daughter, and that she did not wish to live any longer. Although she had friends who were willing to take care of her, she did not wish to be dependent upon them, charity was so cold, she preferred the grave to it.

I said to her, 'I deeply sympathize with you in your great distress. How old are you?' She replied, 'Seventy years of age.'' I said, 'My good woman, do not take away the life God has given you, for at the longest you have but a short time to live. I am a married man with wife and daughters; come with me and they will comfort you in your great trouble.'

She came with me to the station. My wife provided her with tea and food, and spoke and sympathized with her as only one woman can to another. After she was composed, I said to her, 'Why not come with me, and I will take you to the Destitute Asylum, where you will be well cared for.' She did not like the idea of going there, for the name of Destitute Asylum was repellant to her. Thank goodness that name has been changed to the Old Folks' Home.

After my pointing out that it was not what she thought it was, she consented to go with me there. On our way there in the tram the poor old soul, with tears on her face, asked me in a most pathetic voice, 'Are you really a policeman. I assured her I was, and asked, 'Why do you doubt what I say?' She replied, 'I was always told that police men were so hard hearted.' I told her not to believe that, for why should they be so. 'Well,' she said, 'I will never believe it again, for you have been so kind to me, and I will promise you never again will I attempt to do what I contemplated doing to-day.'

I left the poor old soul happier and brighter in the care of one of the female attendants at the asylum. Before my leaving her, she clasped my hands, and said, 'Good-bye, good-bye, and may God bless you.' I am thankful to this day to think that I was instrumental in doing what little I did for this poor old lady.

Raids on a Hen Roost.

Residents of Henley and district were greatly perturbed by a night prowler visiting their fowlhouses and stealing poultry of all kinds. As this was becoming a serious loss to the owners, the matter was reported to me. Hardly a week would pass but what I would receive another report of fowls having been stolen in some part of the district. On the morning cars and trains, the poultry thief was the chief topic of conversation, and the question asked, 'Has he paid you a visit yet!' Reply, 'Not yet. Tm watching for him, but I hear he carried off all 'Mr. So and So's ducks a few nights ago.' And so the conversation went on. All were agreed that they would give him a warm time if they caught him.

This poultry stealing caused me considerable anxiety, for, although I spent night after night in the sandhills watching until daybreak, not the slightest clue could I get as to who the thief was, or whence he came. Often after returning from a night's watching I would receive a report during the day from another part of the district of a number of fowls having been stolen.

This continued for some months, until one morning I received a report from two maiden ladies residing at the Grange that the whole of their prize Plymouth rock fowls, 15 in number, had been stolen during the night. I proceeded to their house and examined the fowlhouse, which was close to their back door. The yard and fowlhouse were enclosed by a 6-ft. paling fence. I found a man's tracks from the house leading over the sandhills to Military road. The impression made by the left boot pointed inward, and apparently had been made by a man who is described as 'pigeon-toed.'

On further conversation with these ladies I ascertained that only a week prior a shoemaker, who resided at the Grange, and who went around to the various houses in the district collecting boots and shoes for repairs, had, on seeing that there was no lock on their fowlhouse gate, kindly suggested and advised them, in consequence of the amount of poultry being stolen, to put a lock on the gate, and that he had procured one for them and had fixed it on the gate, but that it had been broken off by the person who had stolen their fowls.

I obtained the assistance of the blacktracker from the police barracks. On examining the fowlhouse he pointed out to me that the man who had stolen the fowls had put them in a bag, and that the imprint of his left boot pointed inwards — as I had previously observed. He followed the tracks into the Hindmarsh road, but beyond that could get no further trace of them on account of the amount of traffic that had taken place.

About a week after this had occurred the shoe maker called at my quarters and returned boots he had repaired for my family. He talked to me about the fowl stealer. This man was a Cornishman, commonly known as Cousin Jack. He told me he kept a few fowls, and that he was keeping watch at night with a double-barrel gun, and that if the fowl stealer "came near 'un" he would "shoot 'un." While he was talking to me I observed that he stood with his left foot pointing inwards, and when he walked away he was was pigeon-toed. I thought at the time this was most remarkable. Here I was in search of a poultry thief who was pigeon-toed, and here was this shoemaker also that way. Surely this was a remarkable coincidence, but it could not be anything else, for this shoemaker appeared to be an honest, decent fellow. Still, I could not get put of my mind the similarity.

As I knew little of this man, I thought I would make, some cautious enquiries about him. I ascertained that he had a smart pony and a light dog cart, and that he was in the habit of going to Adelaide once a week with the back of the dray carefully covered up. Continuing my enquiries, I also ascertained that he sold fowls to various persons in the city and suburbs, and, from information received, that he had an order to execute on a certain day to a resident in one of the suburbs.

I therefore made my plans, and arranged for the use of a police trap. On being informed that the shoemaker had left for the city I proceeded in pursuit of him, and went to the place where I was told he was to deliver poultry. I was in plain clothes, and informed Mr. A. that I was a police officer and that I waited to see the poultry he had been supplied with by Mr. B.

I was then shown two Plymouth rock hens which answered the description of those stolen from the ladies at the Grange. I was surprised to think that this shoemaker was the poultry thief, but was pleased to think that I had run him to the end of his tether, and that it would be but a short time before I had him under arrest. I took possession of the fowls, and informed him that they were stolen property, but Mr. A. assured me that Mr. B. could not have stolen them, for he was a most honest man, and had supplied him with poultry for the past six months from his poultry farm. He also gave me the names of several people in that locality that were supplied with poultry by Mr. B. and added, 'I am sure, officer, that you are labouring under a great mistake, and doing Mr. B. an injustice.'

I immediately left in search of Mr. B., and as good luck would have it, caught him as he was in the act of delivering other fowls to his customers. I arrested him, and took possession of more than a dozen fowls he had sold, and that were in his cart. I brought him to Henley Beach, and locked him up in the cell. The trooper that was with me drove the pony and cart to the station.

Six Months Hard.

On the following day I proceeded to the detective office to see my old friend ex-Superintendent Priest, who was a veritable encyclopedia as regards records of convicted persons After my describing my prisoner to him, he said, "Why, that is 'So-and-So' up to his old games again. He has previous convictions against him for fowl stealing and store breaking. Here (producing the police album) have a look at his 'phiz'." Sure enough, there was my prisoner's photo and record. He also kindly let me have the loan of the album, as he said I might require it to establish his identity.

The prisoner was brought before the Court, which was held in the Henley Assembly Room, lent for the occasion by Mr. E. W. Kelsey. The Court was crowded with spectators and witnesses. Counsel appeared for the accused, who pleaded not guilty. After the case for the prosecution was closed, the prisoner gave evidence on oath that the poultry in Court produced and found in his possession by the police were those of his own rearing. On being cross-examined by me, and asked if he had been previously convicted for fowl stealing, or any other offence, he replied most emphatically that he never had, and that this was the first time he had ever been charged of any offence in a Court. I produced the police album, and asked him to have a look at it, and see if he recognised his photo. He did so, and almost collapsed. The Court sentenced him to six months' imprisonment with hard labour.

Tram Drivers— and "Larry's Mixture."

Who of us old-timers has forgotten old 'Larry,' the crack tramcar driver, and his quaint sayings and ways. There was no fear then of being hauled up for exceeding the speed limit for there were no police following with their speedometers to check the pace we travelled at. Neither were there any specific stopping places for passengers to board the car — one would sometimes see an old lady in the middle of the tramline waving her umbrella for the car to stop, and as Larry would pull up for her to get on board, she would say to him, 'You dare, Larry, go with-out me.' He would rep]y, 'Sure, Mam, I would not be after doing the likes of that.'

In the meantime he would have tied the reins to the brake, or handed them to a passenger riding alongside of him, and would take out his pipe. And who of us has forgotten the size of the bowl of that pipe—about three times that of the ordinary one. He would start cutting some black tobacco to fill it. A passenger would then say, 'Here, Larry, try a pipeful out of my pouch.' Which he would willingly accept, and after having cleaned out his pipe, refill it by cramming as much of the proffered tobacco in it as it would hold. After several at tempts to light up, finding that it would not draw, he would say, 'Sure, I'll be after lighting it when we get at the tram sheds.' He would take half of it out, and put it in a tin box, in which he carried his surplus tobacco.

By then, he was ready to start, after having seen that the old lady was comfortably seated, and with a ''Gee hup" to his horses, away we would go at a rattling pace at about four to five miles an hour. A passenger would then exclaim, 'Be careful, Larry, your team are a bit skittish to-day; take care that they don't bolt.' 'Sure,' he would reply,' 'It's the oats that does it, but I've got them well in hand.'

On arriving at the terminus at Henley, Larry would be invited to partake of some refreshments at the Ramsgate Hotel, for it was well known that he was not a prohibitionist. He would reply as an excuse, 'Sure, I can't go in wid you, for the boss has given orders that we're not to go in the hotel to call the passengers. If they don't come out when the car bell rings we must go without 'em.' He would, then pull out of his pocket an 8-oz. medicine bottle, and say, 'Well, if yez don't mind, I'll have a sixpennyworth.' On being asked sixpennyworth of what, he would reply, 'Just ask for Larry s mixture, and they will know what to give you.'

Dear old Larry was well liked by the children, and all those who travelled by the trams, for he was most obliging, and a fine typical son of Old Erin!