John Bull, rather of a doggish nature,
will growl to himself if left alone picking his bone: the passport system
is a bone that he will not pick; no, no ways and under no shape whatever -
I know it by experience.
2. A memorial to his Excellency for the release of the three prisoners
under sentence for burning the Eureka Hotel, is, through Humffray,
in course of signature. It is our earnest desire that his Excellency
may show mercy; though it may appear, that he would do thus an act of justice
to the diggers, considering how rightly they guessed the Bentley affair.
3. The whole pack, commissioners, troopers and traps on the Ballaarat Camp,
with the exception of magistrate Hackett, are detested by the diggers:
there will be eternal discontent as long as Rede and fraternity are
lodging over that way. The whole Camp had better be changed at once,
and entrusted to good experienced hands and honest men. Perhaps Sir Charles
may turn into a Diogenes in vain - 'nil desperandum.' There are now and then
honest men to be found even in this colony.
Good reader, listen to me: I shall tell you no lie: do not lose sight
of the above letter: I intend to give the end in the next chapter:
meanwhile, fill the pipe, let's have a 'blow' together.
Chapter XXXIII.
Mistero! S'Apre Mendacia, Violente
Strada Maestra In Citta E Campagna:
La Verita, Se Docile, Quadagna
A Passo Lo Stradello Lentamente.
(Translated in the text of my first chapter.)
On Thursday morning, November 30th, at sunrise, I was at my work, as usual.
I assert, as an eye-witness, that most of the hands on the Eureka came
to their work, and worked as usual.
Whilst having a 'blow,' we would talk over again about the monster meeting
of yesterday, thus spinning a yarn in the usual colonial style.
The general impression was, that as soon as government knew in Melbourne
the real state of the excited feelings of the diggers, the licence-hunt
would be put a stop to.
Towards ten o'clock was my hour for a working-man's breakfast.
I used to retire to my tent from the heat of the mid-day, and on that same
Thursday I set about, at once, to end my letter to Mr. Archer,
because I was anxious to forward it immediately to Melbourne.
Good reader, I copy now, word for word, the scrawl then penned,
in great haste and excitement.
Thursday, November 30th, 1854.
Just on my preparing to go and post this letter, we are worried by the usual
Irish cry, to run to Gravel-pits. The traps are out for licences,
and playing hell with the diggers. If that be the case, I am not inclined
to give half-a-crown for the whole fixtures at the Camp.
I must go and see 'what's up.
