And dig deep trenches in thy winter's field."
--Shakespeare, Sonnet 2.

The corporation arose towards the end of 1842, and then the anti-stump
warfare began. My friend Henry Condell, like so many other early birds a
Tasmanian (a Vandemonian was the ill-omened name at that time), was the
first mayor. The times were bad, and the shilling rating caused a growl,
but the new body held its way. John Charles King, an Ulster man, and of
good abilities, was the first town clerk. His successor, William Kerr,
had greater abilities, but not equal method and activity. Both were
strong Orangemen--a feeling, however, for which this colonial ground was
not favourable.

The bane and bottomless deep for the corporation's narrow budget was
Elizabeth-street, where a little "casual" called "The Williams," of a
mile's length, from the hardly perceptible hollows of the present Royal
Park, played sad havoc at times with the unmade street. It had scooped
out a course throughout, almost warranting the title of a gully, and at
Townend's corner we needed a good long plank by way of a bridge. At the
upper end of the street was a nest of deep channels which damaged daily
for years the springs and vehicles of the citizens. The more knowing of
us who lived northwards dodged these evils by a particular roundabout
via Swanston-street. Up almost to gold diggings and Victorian
Parliaments did the great Sydney-road begin thus inauspiciously, and
hardly less pertinaciously disconcerting was the Brunswick swamp, three
miles further on. Melbourne missed a great chance in filling up with a
street this troublesome, and, as a street, unhealthy hollow. Dr. Howitt
used to tell me he never could cure a patient, resident there, who had
become seriously unwell. A reservation of the natural grass and
gum-trees between Queen and Swanston streets would have redeemed