such a writer could have made a
sufficiently striking story. But he concluded that he could make his
picture at once truer and more vivid when the surroundings of the old
settlements had become a full reality to his mind. Messrs. Clarson,
Massina and Co. readily contracted with the young novelist for the first
publication of the story in their monthly, the _Australian Journal_, and
made him an advance of money. Off he went with characteristic
confidence, and some weeks later returned ready primed and eager for the
new work. His enthusiasm soon cooled. The story commenced to appear
after the first few chapters were written, and the unbroken industry
necessary to maintain a regular supply of the parts was more than Clarke
could give.

Writing against time, he is said to have felt like a convict himself.
The irregular dribbling out of the story so injured the reputation of
the journal that for a time its circulation was reduced to one-half the
ordinary issue.

Mr. Hamilton Mackinnon, the writer of a sympathetic memoir of Clarke,
has given an entertaining account of what followed: 'The author would
be frequently interviewed by the publishers, and would as frequently
promise the copy. When moral suasion was apparently powerless to effect
the required object, payments in advance were made with somewhat better
results; but as this could not go on _ad libitum_, copy would fall into
arrears again. At last it was found that the only way to get the author
to finish his tale was to induce him into a room in the
publishing-house, where, under the benign influences of a pipe, etc.,
and a lock on the door, the necessary work would be done by the facile
pen; and in such manner was _His Natural Life_ produced.'

In a note of apology to their readers in January, 1871, the publishers
print a somewhat comical letter which they had received from the
delinquent author. Forwarding a single chapter of the story, he tells
them that they must make shift with it as best they can, and he will let
them have a larger supply during the following month. The letter
concludes nonchalantly as follows: 'This is awkward, I admit, and I
suppose some good-natured friend or other will say that I have
over-plum-puddinged or hot-whiskied myself in honour of the so-called
festive season, but I can't help it.'

The story as first published was much longer than the form in which it
appears in the English edition. At the request of the present writer,
Sir Char