"LADY STARVESEMPSTRESS, Great-Grand-Niece Of His Grace The
Duke Of CURRY-POWDER, Begs To Introduce To FORTYSHILLING TAKEHIMAWAY, Esquire,
Of Toorak, see address, her brother-in-law, POLLIPUSS, WATERLOOBOLTER,
tenth son of the venerable Prebendary of North and South
Palaver, Canon of
St. Sebastopol in the east, and Rector of Allblessedfools, West End - URGENT."
In justice, however, to Master Waterloobolter, candidate for gold-lace,
it must not be omitted that he is a Piccadilly young sprat, and so at Julien's
giant 'bal-masque', was ever gracious to the lady of his love.
"Miss Smartdeuce, may I beg the honour of your hand for the next waltz? surely
after a round or two you will relish your champagne."
"Yes," with a smothered "dear," was the sigh-drawn reply.
Who has the power to roar the command, "Thus far shalt thou go, and no
further," to the flood of tears from forlorn Smartdeuce, when her soft
Waterloobolter bolted for the gold-fields of Australia Felix.
To be serious. How could any candid mind otherwise explain the honest
boldness of eight out of nine members of the first Local Court, Ballaarat,
who, one and all, I do not say dared, but I say called upon their fellow miners
to come forward to a public meeting on the old spot, Bakery-hill. September,
Saturday, 30th, 1855. Said members had already settled at that time
201 disputes, and given their judgement, involving some half a million sterling
altogether, for all what they knew, and yet not one miner rose one finger
against them, when they imperatively desired to know whether they had done
their duty and still possessed the confidence of their fellow diggers!
They (said members) are practical men, of our own adopted class,
elected by ourselves from among ourselves, to sit as arbitrators of our
disputes, and our representatives at the Local Court. That's the key, for any
future Brougham, for the history of the Local Courts on the gold-fields.
It has fallen to my lot, however, to put the Eureka Stockade on record;
and, from the following 'Joe' chapter must begin any proper history
of that disgracefully memorable event.
Chapter IX.
Abyssus, Abyssum Invocat.
"Joe, Joe!" No one in the world can properly understand and describe this
shouting of "Joe," unless he were on this El Dorado of Ballaarat at the time.
It was a horrible day, plagued by the hot winds. A blast of the hurricane
winding through gravel pits whirled towards the Eureka this shouting of "Joe."
It was the howl of a wolf for the shepherds, who bolted at once towards
the bush: it was the yell of bull-dogs for the fossikers who floundered
among the deep holes, and thus dodged the hounds: it was a scarecrow
for the miners, who now scrambled down to the deep, and left a licensed mate
or two at the windlass. By this time, a regiment of troopers, in full gallop,
had besieged the whole Eureka, and the traps under their protection ventured
among the holes.
Enter page number
PreviousNext
Page 10 of 100
Words from 4706 to 5211
of 51645
