Americans! your Doctor Kenworthy was not there, as he should have been,
according to Humffray's letter.
Catholics! Father Smyth was performing his sacred duty to the dying, in spite
of the troopers who threatened his life, and forced him at last to desist.
Protestants! spare us in future with your sabbath cant. Not one of your
ministers was there, helping the digger in the hour of need.
John Bull! you wilfully bend your neck to any burden for palaver and war
to protect you in your universal shop-keeping, and maintain your sacred rights
of property; but human life is to you as it was to Napoleon: for him,
fodder for the cannon; for you, tools to make money. A dead man needs
no further care, and human kind breeds fast enough everywhere after all, -
'Cetera quando rursum scribam'.
On my reaching the stockade with a pannikin of water for Teddy, I was amazed
at the apathy showed by the diggers, who now crowded from all directions
round the dead and wounded. None would stir a finger.
All on a sudden a fresh swarm of troopers cleared the stockade of all moving
things with the mere threat of their pistols.
All the diggers scampered away and entered all available tents, crouching
within the chimneys or under stretchers.
