Their Glory
To Stand Oceans Of Grog, Joined To Their Benevolence Of 'shouting'
For All Hands, And Their Boast Of
Black-eye giving, nose-smashing,
knocking in of teeth, are the three marks of their aristocracy.
Naturally cowards, they have
Learned the secret that 'Pluck,' does just as well
for their foul jobs. Grog is pluck, and the more grog they swallow,
the more they count on success. Hence their frame, however robust by nature,
wears out through hard drink, and goes the way of all flesh, rarely with
grey hairs. It is dangerous to approach them; they know the dodge
how to pick up a quarrel for the sake of gratifying their appetite
for fighting. You cannot avoid them in this colony; they are too numerous.
I saw hundreds of these Vandemonians, during my four months in gaol.
Their heart must be of the same stuff as that of vultures, because they are
of the same trade. In a word, they are the living witnesses among us,
of the terrible saying of Isaiah, 'The heart of man is desperately wicked.'
Through such did Satan plant his standard to rule this southern land,
before Christ could show his Cross; hence, before famous Ballaarat could point
at a barn, and call it a church, on the township, old Satan had three palaces
to boast of, the first of which - a match for any in the world - has made
the landlord as wealthy and proud as a merchant-prince of the City of London.
'Non ex illis Mecoenates,' - that's the secret how this land has produced
so many first-rate bullock-drivers.
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