rarely more than one or two chapters ahead of the printer; yet in twenty years I was only once late with my instalment, which had to go by sea from another colony. Every author has his own way of writing; this was mine. I never but once completed a story before it was published; and on that occasion it was—sad to say—declined by the editor. Not in New South Wales, however; and as it has since appeared in England, it did not greatly signify.
In this fashion Robbery Under Arms was written for the Sydney Mail after having been refused by other editors. It has been successful beyond expectation; and, though I say it, there is no country where the English language is spoken in which it has not been read.
I was satisfied with the honorarium which my stories yielded. It made a distinct addition to my income, every shilling of which, as a paterfamilias, was needed. I looked forward, however, to making a hit some day, and with the publication of Robbery Under Arms, in England, that day arrived. Other books followed, which have had a gratifying measure of acceptance by the English-speaking public, at home and abroad.
As a prophet I have not been 'without honour in mine own country.' My Australian countrymen have supported me nobly, which I take as an especial compliment, and an expression of confidence, to the effect that, as to colonial matters, I knew what I was writing about.
In my relations with editors, I am free to confess that I have always been treated honourably. I have had few discouragements to complain of, or disappointments, though not without occasional rubs and remonstrances from reviewers for carelessness, to which, to a certain extent, I plead guilty. In extenuation, I may state that I have rarely had the opportunity of correcting proofs. As to the attainment of literary success, as to which I often receive inquiries, as also how to secure a publisher, I have always given one answer: Try the Australian weekly papers, if you have any gift of expression, till one of them takes you up. After that the path is more easy. Perseverance and practice will ordinarily discover the method which leads to success.
A natural turn for writing is necessary, perhaps indispensable. Practice does much, but the novelist, like the poet, is chiefly 'born, not made.' Even in the case of hunters and
