as a financial investment and
something more. It is to be a literary battery to galvanise Grey Town
into energy. I really don't care a hang for 'The Observer.' That organ
is dying rapidly; in a few weeks it will be dead. But I am prepared to
pay for a more speedy ending to a useless life," replied Denis Quirk.

"How would a limited proprietary suit you?" asked the lawyer.

"With Ebenezer as a shareholder? Impossible! 'The Mercury' intends to
shoot at old Eb. and his sort. These are the men who are holding back
the wheels of progress. He is a landlord who keeps his premises in a
shocking state, charges big rents, refuses to make repairs, refuses to
build, opposes reasonable rates, and holds one half of the council under
his domination. Ebenezer Brown represents stagnation and corruption, the
last things I intend to countenance."

"Shall I tell him your objection?" laughed the lawyer.

"If it will encourage him to prosecute for libel, I say yes; but you may
use your own discretion. Tell him I will buy 'The Observer' right out
for a sum to be settled by arbitration--buy it out or destroy it."

Thus did it come to pass that "The Observer" disappeared into oblivion,
and in its place came that fiery paper, "The Mercury," respecter of
neither person nor position.

It was "The Mercury" that first breathed on the smouldering ashes of
municipal discontent, and roused the ratepayers of Grey Town to organise
for protection and advancement. Thus was accomplished the first act in a
drama, and thus was fought the initial battle of a long and fierce
campaign.

CHAPTER VIII.

JOHN GERARD.

Cairns and Denis Quirk were working post haste in "The Mercury" office.
"We must make 'The Mercury' a go-ahead, up-to-date paper," said Cairns.

"That's it, my man," replied Denis Quirk.

"We want to consider our readers' amusements," said Cairns.

"Tickle them, and make them laugh, and they will put their arms round
the old 'Mercury's' neck and love her," cried Denis.

"Racing is the first and most important amusement in Australia. You need
a sporting editor."

"Good old Cairns! With you and Tim O'Neill I have the finest stuff in
Victoria. A sporting editor you shall have, sonny. What about Desmond
O'Connor?"

Cairns shook his head doubtfully.

"Couldn't stand it," he answered. "He's too fond of Dame Chance already,
and inclined to be one of the good-natured 'have-a-drink-with-me' crowd.
Desmond needs watching."

"I'll