SULLIVAN'S ACCOUNT OF HIS TRAVELS.

Globe, Volume II, Issue 175, 30 December 1874, Page 3

SULLIVAN'S ACCOUNT OF HIS TRAVELS.

{From the Bcndigo Advertiser, Deo 15.) Sullivan arrived in Sandhurst about halfpast nine yesterday, handcuffed and guarded by two policemen. His destination was Melbourne, and it was considered necessary as much as possible, to keep him from public observation. The news of the arrest of the criminal, and his lodgment in the lock-up onty got wind about half an hour before the time for his departure for Melbourne, and then our reporter, by the courtesy of Sergeant Drought, was allowed an interview with the prisoner. As far as he was concerneil (the prisoner is meant), it appeared as if he rather liked it. The conversation which ensued was a rather promiscuous one. Sullivan was as full of talk as could be wished. In fact, he boileel over with talk. Being a prisoner, he desired to be a elistinguisheel prisoner. He had been a elistinguished prisoner before, poor wretch, anel had paid the penalty of the honour. New Zealand kael cr.st him off from her shores, and he had gone to England. From there, for what ? To be branded before he crossed the line as a murderer. '' It was very simple," said he, " the way they found me oiit. I was a passenger of the ship (the name of which he would not give) so-and-so to London, and just as we were crossing the line a woman identifieel me. Somehow or the other, women have always been at the bottom of my mishaps. It Avas a woman who drew me to New Zealand, and it was a woman I came back for, I tell you the truth," he saiel to our reporter, " I coidel not rest away from my wife. I could not rest away from my children. You see, I had property at Wedderburn, and I knew it had been sold for a song without my consent, so I came back to reclaim it—only for the sake of my children, I can assure you; only for the sake of my children." At this stage, the prisoner was on the very verge of tears, but he was gruffly reminded that he was not expected to talk gammon, and proceeded to relate his adventures in London, "I wanted to laud at Falmouth." he said very piteously, "but the passengers some first-class ones, who were going ashore in a boat, objected to me as a Jonah. You see the captain had got my history by this time, and was very stern with me. I asked him why I coulel not be allowed to land, anel he tolel me that he had agreed to take me to London, anel that take me there he would. Well, I got to London all right, anel with a lot of the passengers was landed at the West Inelia Docks all right. But when I laneleel I saw a man who lookeel at me suspiciously, as I thought, and followed me. I took a cut and when down to a coffee shop in the Mile-end-road, where I had tea, but when I came out another man I elid not know was waiting outsiele, anel he, too, followeel me. I went about London for a week. I went to the theatres, to the music halls, and to places open only in the small hours of the night, and wherever I went there was someone at my elbow. I went away into the country, down to Shropshire, to see some people I knew there, or who had known me when I was young, and there I founel that I was followed. Then, thinking to distract the attention of my trackers, I went back to Lonelon. On passing Scotland-yard I saw a man watching me intently. Keeping an eye on him, I crossed, and passed within a few feet of him. He, however, took no notice of me, as far as I coulel see, but a few minutes afterwards I found that I was again followed. I travelled the city that night, south, north, east, and west. I crossed Lonelon bridge with its crowd, Waterloo bridge, with its comparative solitude ; but everywhere I went the footfall of the man who was told off to watch me fell on my ear. 1 don't want to tell you that I was frightened, because, to tell you the truth, I never was frightened in my life but once, and how that was I am not going to divulge, but somehow the pitpat of the feet I knew were echoing mine in those busy London streets nearly sent me mad, "You want to know," saiel he, after a pause, '' how I came back to Australia. By what means, anel by which vessel, I will not tell you. Enough for you that I did not come by the Northumberland, nor did I come by way of Sydney. I ots of people have wanted to know that, but they will never know it. I came an I I am here. I came to see my wife, and above all my children, and it is nothing to do with you

"i* anyone else how I came. All 1 can tell yon is that I am here, and that being here, I dont think anyone can send me away from here if I like to stay.' Hero our reporter mildly suggested that he might bo sent back to New Zealand, where it was well known, if once let free, he had no chance of escape. 'As to that,'he replied, 'I am prepared to take my chance.' Here, several persons entered the cell in which he was confined, and the conversation ceased. In appearance the man differed very little from what the writer saw of him some seven years since in Dnnedin gaol, except that he had grown a moustache which had been dyed. He wore spectacles during the greater part of his conversation, but kept removing them at times, as if they were irksome to him. When the constable came to him to remove him to the cab waiting at the door, the handcuffs were placed on his wrists, and he laughingly remarked that they were old friends. Placing his coat over his wrists so as to disguise the bracelets, he passed out to the cab in waiting, to be met by a torrent of groans, to which he mildly replied by remarking audibly that he wished he had the in the bush. At the station a crowd was assembled to meet him, and here also he was received with a perfect delirium of groans, to which he bowed his acknowledgments. He was placed in a room for safety, and on his advent thence again again received the compliments of the crowd, passing along with a smile for all, and a bow for those nearest him. The wretch was placed in no new position. He merely enacted the part lie had played before on many stages. Ho was the hero of the hour, and that seemed to satisfy his vanity, as it had done many a time before, when hungry hands sought for his throat, and cried to Heaven for vengeance in vain.