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We are however still in chokey at Ballaarat. We were put under the officious care of Sergeant Harris, who condescended to show some affection for Joseph, to prove that his Christian love could extend even to niggers; but the red-coat wanted to draw worms from the black rebel. We were nigh bursting for laughter, when Joseph during his two days' trial came into our yard for his meals, and related to us with such eye-twinklings, widening of nostrils, trumping up the lips, scratching all the while his black wool so desperately, and the doodle music of his unearthly whistle! "how old chappyman and a tother smar'un of spin-all did fix that there mob of traps: 'specially that godammed hirpocrit of a sergeant, I guess."
John Joseph, a native of New York, under a dark skin possessed a warm, good, honest, kind, cheerful heart; a sober, plain-matter-of-fact contended mind; and that is more than what can be said of some half-a-dozen grumbling, shirking, snarling, dog-natured state prisoners.
Sergeant Harris took it into his head to humble Hayes——humility is also a Christian virtue——and so honoured him with the perfumery job of clearing the tub at the corner, full of urine and solids. Hayes, for the lark did it once, but found it against his principles to practise on said tub again, and thus got into disgrace with our over-kind sergeant.
To be serious: Timothy Hayes, our chairman at the monster meeting, aristocratically dressed among us, had like the rest his plump body literally bloated with lice from the lock-up. Poor Manning was the worst. Myself, I was plagued with that disgusting vermin, all through those ignominious four months in gaol.
It were odious to say many, many other things.
LXXII.
IS THERE A MORTAL EYE THAT NEVER WEPT?
On Sunday afternoon, we witnessed a solemn scene, which must be recorded with a tear wherever this book may find a reader.
The sun was far towards the west. All had felt severely the heat of the day. The red-coats themselves, that were of the watch, felt their ardour flagging. Of twelve prisoners, some gazed as in "a fix," and were stationary; others, "a-cursing," swept up and down the prison; the rest, cast down, desponding, doing violence to themselves, to dam their flooded eyes. I was among the broken-hearted.
