Viri Probi, Spes Mea In Vobis; Nam Fides Nostra In Deo Optimo Maximo.
To be serious. I am a Catholic, born of an old Roman family, whose honour never was questioned; I hereby assert before God and man, that previous to my being under arrest at the Camp, I never had seen the face of 1, Gore, 2, Synnot, 3, Donnelly, 4, Concritt, 5, Dogherty, 6, Badcock, 7, Hagartey, and 8, Tully.
I CHALLENGE CONTRADICTION from any ‘bona fide’ digger, who was present at the stockade during the massacre on the morning of December 3rd, 1854.
As a man of education and therefore a member of the Republic of Letters, I hereby express the hope that the Press throughout the whole of Australia will open their columns to any bona fide contradiction to my solemn assertions above. I cannot possibly say anything more on such a sad subject.
Chapter LXXXVIII.
Sunt Leges: Vis Ultima Lex: Tunc Aut Libertas Aut Servitudo; Mors Enim Benedicta.
On the reassembling of the Court, at three o’clock, Mr. Ireland rose to address the Jury for the defence.
The learned Counsel spent a heap of dry yabber-yabber on the law of high-treason, to show its absurdity and how its interpretation had ever proved a vexation even to lawyers, then he tackled with some more tangible solids. The British law, the boast of ‘urbis et orbis terrarum’, delivered a traitor to be practised upon by a sanguinary Jack Ketch:–I., to hang the beggar until he be dead, dead, dead; II., then to chop the carcase in quarters; III., never mind the stench, each piece of the treacherous flesh must remain stuck up at the top of each gate of the town, there to dry in spite of occasional pecking from crows and vultures. The whole performance to impress the young generation with the fear of God and teach them to honour the King.
I soon reconciled myself to my lot, and remembering my younger days at school, I argued thus:–
Where there are no bricks, there are no walls: but, walls are required to enclose the gates; therefore, in Ballaarat there are no gates. Corolarium–How the deuce can they hang up my hind-quarters on the gates of Ballaarat Township? Hence, Toorak must possess a craft which passes all understanding of Traitors.
The jury, however, appeared frightened at this powerful thundering from Mr. Ireland, who now began to turn the law towards a respectable and more congenial quarter, and proved, that if the prisoner at the bar had burnt down all the brothels not kept on the sly in Her Majesty’s dominions, he would be a Traitor; yet, if he had left one single brothel standing–say, in the Sandwich Islands–for the accommodation of any of Her Majesty’s well-affected subjects, then the high treason was not high–high enough and up to the mark, that is, my fore-quarter could not be legally stuck up on the imaginary gates of Ballaarat.
His Honour appeared to me, to assent to the line of argument of the Learned Counsel, who concluded a very lengthy but most able address, by calling on the jury to put an end by their verdict to the continued incarceration of the man, and to teach the government that they could not escape from the responsibilities they had incurred by their folly, by trying to obtain a verdict, which would brand the subjects of Her Majesty in this Colony with disloyalty.
The jury now appeared to me to be ready to let the high traitor go his way in bodily integrity.
Mr. ASPINALL then rose to address the jury on behalf of the prisoner. His speech was spirited, cutting, withering; but could only cover the falsehood, and NOT bring to light the truth: hence to record his speech here cannot possibly serve the purpose of this Book: hence the four documents, and my important observation on them in the following chapter.
Chapter LXXXIX.
Melior Nunc Lingua Favere.
Document I.
SUPREME COURT
(Before his Honour the Chief Justice,)
“The prisoner, Raffaello, on his trial being postponed, wished to address His Honour. He said that he was a native of Rome, and hoped that the same good feeling would be shown towards him in this colony as in old England. If his witnesses were there, he would be able to leave the dock at that moment. He hoped that His Honour would protect him by seeing that his witnesses were served with subpoenas.
“His Honour was not responsible for this. Prisoner’s attorney was the party, and he must speak to him. It is the business of your attorney to get these witnesses.”
The following advertisement appeared in ‘The Age’, February 24th, 1855, immediately above the leading article of said day:-
Document II.
State Trials.
“The trial of Raffaello has been postponed on account of the absence of Dr. Alfred Carr, Mr. Gordon, of the store of Gordon and M`Callum, and other witnesses for the defence. It is earnestly requested that they will be in attendance on Monday morning at latest.
“J. MACPHERSON GRANT,
“Solicitor for the defence.”
The following letter, and comment on it, appeared in ‘The Age’, March 16th, 1855:-
Document III.
…”I was, Mr. Editor, present at Ballaarat on the memorable morning of the 3rd December, and in the pursuit of my usual avocation, happened to meet Raffaello, now one of the state prisoners, on the Redhill, he being then in search of Dr. Carr’s hospital… We were directed the hospital, and soon returned to the Eureka, Raffaello bringing Dr. Carr’s surgical instruments. We entered the stockade, and saw many lying almost dead for want of assistance and from loss of blood, caused by gun-shot and bayonet wounds. I did not remain long in the stockade, fearing if found there at that time I would be arrested. I made my escape; but poor Raffaello, who remained rendering an act of mercy to the dying, would not leave. He might, during that time, have easily made his escape, if he wished to do so; and I am sure, ran no inconsiderable risk of being shot, through the constant explosion of fire-arms left in the stockade by the diggers in their retreat.
“J.B.”
“Melbourne, 15th March, 1854.
“The writer of the above states, in a private note, that he wishes his name kept secret; but we trust that his intimacy with the Camp officials will not prevent him from coming forward to save the life of a fellow creature, when the blood-hounds of the government are yelling with anxiety to fasten their fangs upon their victims.”–Ed. A.
‘The Age’ who certainly never got drunk yet on Toorak small-beer, had an able leading article, headed, ‘The State Trials’–see January 15th– concluding, “If they be found guilty, then Heaven help the poor State Prisoners.” Now turn the medal, and ‘The Age’ of March 26th–always the same year, 1855–that is, the day after my acquittal, gives copy of a Bill of the ‘LAST PERFORMANCE; or, the Plotters Outwitted.’
Document IV.
“To-day, the familiar farce of ‘STATE PROSECUTIONS; or, the Plotters Outwitted,’ will be again performed, and positively for the last time; on which occasion that first-rate performer, Mr. W. F. Stawell, will (by special desire of a distinguished personage) repeat his well-known impersonation of Tartuffe, with all the speeches, the mock gravity, etc., which have given such immense satisfaction to the public on former occasions. This eminent low comedian will be ably supported by Messrs. Goodenough and Peters, so famous for their successful impersonations of gold-diggers; and it is expected that they will both appear in full diggers’ costume, such as they wore on the day when they knelt before the ‘Southern Cross,’ and swore to protect their rights and liberties. The whole will be under the direction of that capital stage manager, Mr. R. Barry, who will take occasion to repeat his celebrated epilogue, in which he will–if the audience demand it–introduce again his finely melodramatic apostrophe to the thunder.
“With such a programme, what but an exceedingly successful farce can be anticipated? A little overdone by excessive repetition, it may be said; but still an admirable farce; and, as we have said, this is positively the last performance. Therefore, let it go on; or as Jack Falstaff says, ‘play out the play.'”
Of course, I leave it to my good reader to guess, whether after four long months in gaol, which ruined my health for ever, I did laugh or curse on reading the above.
Concerning the four documents above, so far so good for the present; and the Farce will be produced on the stage of ‘Teatro’ Argentina, Roma, by Great-works. The importance of the following observation, however, is obvious to any reader who took the proper trouble to understand the text of the first chapter of this book.
Why Dr. A. Carr, Sub-inspector Carter, Messrs. Gordon and Binney were not present as witnesses on my trial, was, and is still, a MYSTERY to me.
‘Sunt tempora nostra! nam perdidi spem: Melior nunc lingua favere.’
Chapter XC.
Peccator Videbit Et Irascetur; Dentibus Suis Fremet Et Tabescet: Desiderium Peccatorum Peribit.
AT the end of Mr. Aspinall’s able oration, the jury appeared to me, to be decidedly willing to let me go, with an admonition to sin no more: because Mr. Aspinall took the same line of defence as Mr. Michie, the counsel in the trial of John Manning; that is, he confessed to the riot, but laughed at the treason. However rashly the diggers had acted in taking up arms, however higgledy-piggledy had been the management of the stockade, yet they were justified in resisting unconstitutional force by force.
His Honour tried the patience of the jury; well knowing by experience, that twelve true-born Britons can always afford to put up with a good long yarn.
The jury retired at nine o’clock. My first thought was directed to the Lord my God and my Redeemer. Then naturally enough, to sustain my courage, I was among my dear friends at Rome and London.
To remain in the felon’s dock whilst your JURY consult on your fate, is a sensation very peculiar in its kind. To be or not to be; that is the actual matter-of-fact question. Three letters making up the most important monosyllable in the language, which if pronounced is life, if omitted is death: an awkward position for an innocent man especially.
The jury, after twenty minutes past nine, were again in the jury-box. I was satisfied by their countenances that ‘the People’ were victorious.
The Clerk of the Court: “Gentlemen of the Jury, have you considered your verdict?”
Foreman: “We have.”
The Clerk: “Do you find the prisoner at the bar Guilty or Not Guilty?”
Foreman, with a firm voice: “NOT GUILTY!”
‘Magna opera Domini’–(God save the People)–thus my chains sprang asunder. The people inside telegraphed the good news to the crowd outside, and “Hurrah!” rent the air in the old British style.
Chapter XCI.
Accidenti Alle Spie.
I WAS soon at the portal of the Supreme Court, a free man. I thought the people would have smothered me in their demonstrations of joy. Requesting silence, I stretched forth my right hand towards heaven, and with the earnestness of a Christian did pray as follows:–I hereby transcribe the prayer as written in pencil on paper whilst in gaol in the lower cell, No. 33.
“LORD GOD OF ISRAEL, our Father in Heaven! we acknowledge our transgressions since we came into this our adopted land. Intemperance, greediness, the pampering of many bad passions, have provoked Thee against us; yet, Oh, Lord our God, if in thy justice, Thou are called upon to chastise us, in Thy mercy save this land of Victoria from the curse of the ‘spy system.'”
Timothy Hayes answered, “Amen,” and so did all the people, present, and so will my good reader answer, Amen.
Chapter XCII. & XCIII.
TO LET, No. 33, LOWER CRIBS, IN WINTLE’S HOTEL, NORTH MELBOURNE.
See ‘Geelong Advertiser’, November 18th. MACKAY v. HARRISON.
‘Merci bien, je sors d’en prendre.’
The pair of chapters will see darkness ‘SINE DIE’; that is, if under another flag, also in another language.
GREAT-WORKS.
‘Hesperia! Quando Ego te Auspiciam? Quandoque Licebit Nunc Veterum Libris, Nunc Somno Et Inertibus Horis, Ducere Solicitae Licunda Oblivia Vitae.’
Chapter XCIV.
EXPLANATION,
TO BE SUBMITTED TO
HER MOST GRACIOUS MAJESTY
QUEEN VICTORIA, LONDON,
AND TO
HIS HOLINESS PIUS IX., PONTIFEX MAXIMUS, ROME. by MY BROTHER DON ANTONIO CARBONI, D.D., Head-master of the Grammar School, Coriano, Romagna.
—–
‘Homo Sum, Nil Humani a me Alienum Puto.’
How do I explain, that I allowed one full year to pass away before publishing my story, whilst many, soon after my acquittal, heard me in person, corroborate, not indeed boastingly, the impression that I was the identical brave fellow before whose pike a British soldier was coward enough to run away.
I have one excuse, and ‘it is an excuse.’
The cast of mind which Providence was pleased to assign me was terribly shaken during four long, long months suffering in gaol, especially, considering the company I was in, which was my misery. The excitement during my trial, my glorious acquittal by a British jury, the hearty acclamations of joy from the people, made me put up with the ignominy and the impotent teeth-gnashing of silver and gold lace; and for the cause of the diggers to which I was sincerely attached, I was not sorry at the Toorak spiders having lent me the wings of an hero–the principal foreign hero of the Eureka stockade. My credit consists now in having the moral courage to assert the truth among living witnesses.
“And I proposed in my mind to seek and search out wisely concerning all things that are done under the sun. This painful occupation hath God given to the children of men to be exercised therein. I have seen all things that are done under the sun, and behold all is vanity and vexation of spirit.”–The Preacher, chap. 1st, v. 13, 14.
Chapter XCV.
Qui Potest Capere Capiat.
ELECTION.
OLD SPOT, BAKERY-HILL, BALLAARAT.
According to notice, a Public Meeting was held on Saturday, July 14th, 1855, for the election of nine fit and proper men to act as Members of the Local Court–the offspring of the Eureka Stockade.
The Resident Warden in the Chair. Names of the Members elected for the FIRST LOCAL COURT, Ballaarat:-
I. JAMES RYCE, elected Unanimously.
II. ROBERT DONALD, elected Unanimously. III. CARBONI RAFFAELLO, elected Unanimously. IV. JOHN YATES, elected Unanimously.
V. WILLIAM GREEN, elected Unanimously. VI. EDWARD MILLIGAN, elected by a majority of 287 votes. VII. JOHN WALL, elected by a majority of 240 votes. VIII. THOMAS CHIDLOW, elected by a majority of 187 votes. IX. H. R. NICHOLLS, elected by a majority of 163 votes.
The first time I went to our Court, I naturally stopped under the gum-tree–before the Local Court Building–at the identical spot where Father P. Smyth, George Black, and myself delivered to the Camp authorities our message of peace, for preventing bloodshed, on the night of Thursday, November 30th, 1854, by moonlight. We were then not successful.
Now, I made a covenant with the Lord God of Israel that if I comparatively regained my former health and good spirits, I would speak out the truth; and further, during my six months’ sitting in the Court, I would give right to whom right was due, and smother the knaves, irrespective of nationality, religion, or colour.
I kept my word–that is, my bond is now at an end.
I hereby resign into the hands of my fellow-diggers the trust reposed in me as one of their arbitrators: after Christmas, 1855, I shall not sit in the Local Court. With clean hands I came in, with clean hands I go out: that is the testimony of my conscience. I look for no other reward.
(Signed) CARBONI RAFFAELLO.
Dec. 1st, 1855.
Chapter XCVI.
Est Modus In Rebus: Sunt Certi Denique Fines, Quos Ultrae, Citraque Nequit Consistere Rectum.
Have I anything more to say? Oh! yes, mate; a string of the realities of the things of this world.
Some one who had been spouting, stumping, and blathering–known as moral-force ‘starring’–in ‘urbe et argo’, for the benefit of the state prisoners, had for myself personally not humanity enough to attend to a simple request. He could afford to ride ‘on coachey,’ I had to tramp my way to Ballaarat. I wished him to call at my tent on the Eureka, and see that my stretcher was ready for my weary limbs.
Full stop. My right hand shakes like a reed in a storm; my eyes swell from a flood of tears. I can control the bitterness of my heart, and say, “So far shalt thou go;” but I cannot control its ebb and flow: just now is springtide.
If I must again name a noble-hearted German, Carl Wiesenhavern, of the Prince Albert Hotel, who was my good Samaritan, I must also annex the following three documents, because my friends in Rome and Turin may take my wrongs too much to heart!
Chapter XCVII.
The End Of Men Whose Word Is Their Bond.
(Per favour of ‘The Times’.)
“On the disgraced Sunday morning, December 3rd, whilst attending the wounded diggers at the London Hotel, I was arrested by seven troopers, handcuffed, and dragged to the Camp. On my arrival there, I was commanded to strip to the bare shirt; whilst so doing I was kicked, knocked about, and at last thrown into the lock-up by half-drunken troopers and soldiers. My money, clothes, and watertight boots, which were quite new, could nowhere be found at the Camp. Gaoler Nixon had bolted.
“From the confusion and excitement of that morning, I cannot say with certainty the whole extent of my loss; but I can conscientiously declare that it amounted to 30 pounds. The only thing which I saved was a little bag, containing some Eureka dust, and my ‘Gold-licence’, which Inspector Foster, who knew me, took charge of previous to my ill-treatment, and has subsequently handed over to Father P. Smyth for me.
“Awaiting my trial in the Melbourne gaol, I made my ‘complaint’ to the visiting justice, for the recovery of my property; but as I had not even a dog to visit me in prison, so my complaint remained unnoticed. After all, said worshipful the visiting justice (who was ushered into our yard with ‘Fall in, hats off!’), needs more power to him, as Joseph, the nigger-rebel, for the 8 pounds, which had been robbed from him in due form at the Camp, had the consolation to be informed by his worshipful that gaoler Nixon had bolted.
“The glorious ‘Not Guilty’ from a British jury having restored me to my former position in society, I embodied my ‘claim’ for restitution in a constitutional form, and had it presented by a gentleman to the Colonial Secretary, to be submitted for his Excellency’s KIND Consideration. His Excellency, soon after my trial, on being assured of my testimonials to character and education, condescended to say, ‘He was glad to hear I was so respectable;’ but His Excellency has not yet been pleased to command the restitution of my property.
“Disappointed, in bad health, and worse spirits, I tramped for Ballaarat, where I found that my tent, on the Eureka, had been robbed of everything that was worth literally a sixpence–cradle, two tubs, digging tools, cooking utensils, all gone, even my very blankets! and, of course, all my little gold in specimens and dust, as well as my belt with money in it.
“From my account-book I can positively say, that on the fatal morning I was arrested, the money I had on my possession, and what I had in my tent in real cash, was 49 pounds. ALL OF WHICH I had earned by the sweat of my brow, honestly, through downright hard work.
“During the whole of last season, on the Eureka, who was the first every morning, between four and five to sing out ‘Great works?’ Who was the last dilly-dallying at the cradle after sunset? I appeal to my fellow-diggers, and with confidence.
“Brooding over the strange ups and down of life, I found some consolation in the hearty cheers with which I was saluted at the Adelphi Theatre for my song–
‘When Ballaarat unfurled the Southern Cross;’
and I had the peculiar sensation on that particular night to lie down on my stretcher very hungry!
“‘Heu mihi! pingui quam macer est mihi taurus in arvo!’ and it must be acknowledged that it would have been paying an honest and educated man a better compliment if my neighbours on the Eureka had found less edification in witnessing my nice snug tent converted into a gambling house by day, and a brothel by night. A sad reflection! however merry some scoundrels may have made in getting drunk with my private brandy in the tent.
“Never mind! the diggers have now a legion of friends. So I prevailed on myself to tell, half-a-dozen times over to most of the ‘well-disposed and independent’ yabber-yabber leaders on Ballaarat, how I had been robbed at the Camp, how for my sorrows every mortal thing had been stolen from my tent, and concluded with the remark, ‘that in each case the thieves were neither Vandemonians nor Chinese.’
“I met with grand sympathy in ‘words,’ superlatively impotent even to move for the restitution of my watertight boots!
“Hurrah! glorious things will be told of thee, Victoria!
“These waterhole skippers, who afford buzzing and bamboozling when the rainbow dazzles their dull eyes, bask in their ‘well-affected’ brains, the flaring presumption that ‘shortly’ there will be a demand for sheeps’ heads! (Great works!) and pointing at several of us, it is given unto them to behold with glory ‘the end of men whose word is their bond!’
“(Great works!)
“Let us sing with Horace–
TUNE–Old Style.
Quando prosperus et jucundus,
Amicorum es fecundus,
Si fortuna perit,
Nullus amicus erit.
Chorus–Cives! Cives!
Querenda pecunia primum,
Post nummos virtus.
“Which in English may mean this–
‘A friend in need is a friend indeed,’ that’s true, But love now-a-days is left on the shelf, The best of friends, by G—- in serving you Takes precious care first to help himself. Ancestors, learning, talent, what we call Virtue, religion–MONEY beats them all.
“I must now try the power of my old quill, perhaps it has not lost the spell–
“In Rome, by my position in society, and thorough knowledge of the English language, I was now and then of service to Englishmen THERE; in my adversity is there a generous-hearted Englishman HERE who would give me the hand and see that the government enjoins the restitution of the property I was robbed of at the Camp. Let the restitution come from a Board of Inquiry, a Poor-law Board, a Court-Martial, or any Board except a Board (full) of Petitions. The eternal petitioning looks so ‘Italian’ to me! And, especially, let the restitution of my new water-tight boots be done this winter!
“As for the ignominy I was subjected to, my immense sufferings during four long, long months in gaol, the prospects of my life smothered for a while, we had better leave that alone for the present.
“Were I owned by the stars and stripes, I should not require assistance, of course not; unhappily for the sins of my parents, I was born under the keys which verily open the gates of heaven and hell; but Great Britain changed the padlocks long ago! hence the dreaded ‘Civis Romanus sum’ has dwindled into ‘bottomed on mullock.’
“CARBONI RAFFAELLO,
“By the grace of spy Goodenough Captain of Foreign Anarchist. “Prince Albert Hotel, Ballaarat,
“Corpus Christi, 1855.”
—–
No one did condescend to notice the above letter. I do not wonder at it, and why?
I read in the Saturday’s issue of ‘The Star’, Ballaarat, October 6th, 1855, how a well-known digger and now a J.P., did, in a ‘Ballaarat smasher,’ toast the good exit of a successful money-maker–an active, wide-awake man of business certainly, but nothing else to the diggers of Ballaarat–‘Cela n’est pas tout-a-fait comme chez nous.’
Chapter XCVIII.
Sunt Tempora Nostra!
That Is The Following From Toorak.
Colonial Secretary’s Office, Melbourne, October 8th, 1855.
Sir,–Advertising to your correspondence (September 30th), in reply to my letter of the 20th ultimo, I am directed by His Excellency to state that government are compelled to adhere to fixed rules–THEY BY NO MEANS DOUBT THE VERACITY OF YOUR STATEMENT, but they have a duty to the public to perform, which imposes the necessity of never granting money in compensation, except when the clearest evidence of the loss is given, and that a personal statement no matter by whom given, is never accepted as sufficient testimony.
I have the honour to be,
SIR,
J. MOORE, A.C.S.”
(To) Mr. CARBONI RAFFAELLO,
Gravel-pits, Ballaarat-flat.
—–
A ‘Cheer-up’ written for the MAGPIE of BALLAARAT, perched on the Southern Cross Hotel, Magpie-gully.
No more from MOORE;
Too dear! his store.
Hang the ‘Compensation:’
Speak of ‘RESTITUTION!’
‘Do not steal!’
‘Restiuere?’
‘s an old Institution,
Popish innovation.
CHORUS.
COO-HEE! Great works at Toorak!
COO-HEE! Keep clear of th’ WOOL-pack.
WATERLOOBOLTER CHIMES.
SIP sop stir-up Toorak small beer do si la sol fa me re do
Nip nap wash down chops nacks oh! dear.
Chapter XCIX.
Suppose I give now the kind (!) answer from Police-inspector HENRY FOSTER! it will give general satisfaction, I think:-
Police Department,
Ballaarat, Nov. 2, 1854.
Sir,–In reply to your communication, dated 26th ultimo, on the subject of your having been deprived of your clothing during your arrest at this Camp, in December, 1855 [I think, Mr. Foster, it was in 1854] I have the honour to inform you, that to the best of my recollection, the clothing you wore when you were brought to the Camp consisted of a wide-awake hat, or cap, a red shirt, corduroy or moleskin trousers, and a pair of boots.
Of these articles, the cap, shirt, and boots were put amongst the surplus clothing taken from the other prisoners, and I am not aware how they were disposed of afterwards.
I must add, that the shirt alluded to was made of wool, under which you wore a cotton one, the latter of which you retained during your confinement.
I have the honour to be, Sir,
Your obedient servant,
HENRY FOSTER,
Inspector of Police.
(To) SIGNOR CARBONI RAFFAELLO.
Ballaarat.
—–
My money is not mentioned though! Very clever: and yet I know it was not Foster who did rob me.
However, good reader, if you believe that a Ballaarat miner, of sober habits and hard at work, has not got about his person, say a couple of one pound rags, well…there let’s shut up the book at once, and here is the
END
P.S. If John Bull, cross-breed or pure blood, had been robbed in Italy, half less wantonly, and twice less cruelly, than myself, the whole British press and palaver ‘in urbe or orbe terrarum’ would have rung the chimes against Popish gendarmes and the holy (!) inquisition of the scarlet city. So far so good.
A friendless Italian is ROBBED under arrest on British ground, close by the British flag, by British troopers and traps: oh! that alters the case.
What business have these foreign beggars to come and dig for gold on British Crown lands?
BASTA COSI; ‘that is’, Great works!
Chapter C.
WANTED–Stuff, Anyhow, For The Last Chapter.
If ‘The Age’, always foremost in the cause of the digger, never mind his language or colour; if ‘The Argus’ would drop the appending ‘a foreigner’ to my name, and extend even unto me the old motto ‘fair-play;’ if ‘The Herald’ would set up the pedestal for me whom it has erected as a ‘MONUMENT OF GRATITUDE;’ I say, if the gentlemen Editors of the Melbourne Press, on the score of my being an old Collaborateur of the European Press, would for once give a pull, a strong pull, and a pull altogether, to drag out of the Toorak small-beer jug, the correspondence on the above matter between
1. SIR CHARLES HOTHAM, K.C.B.
2. W. C. HAINES, C.S.
3. W. FOSTER STAWELL, A.G.
4. Mr. STURT, Police Magistrate.
5. W. H. ARCHER, A.R.G.
6. CAPTAIN M`MAHON.
7. POLICE-INSPECTOR H. FOSTER.
8. Another whom I detest to name, and 9. SIGNOR CARBONI RAFFAELLO, M.L.C. of Ballaarat,
it would astonish the natives, teach what emigration is, and I believe the colony at large would be benefited by it.
There are scores of cases similar to mine, and more important by far, because widows and orphans are concerned in them. ‘Sunt tempora nostra!’
Master Punch, do join the chorus; spirited little dear! won’t you give a lift to Great-works? Spare not, young chip, or else, the jackasses in the Australian bush will breed as numerous as the locusts in the African desert.
It is not FEAR that makes me shake at chapters XCII and XCIII. Good reader, to the last line of this book, my quill shall stick to my word as given in the first chapter. Hence, for the present, this is the LAST. Put by carefully the pipe, we may want it again: meanwhile, FAREWELL.