13
this time, a regiment of troopers, in full gallop, had besieged the whole Eureka, and the traps under their protection ventured among the holes. An attempt to give an idea of such disgusting and contemptible campaigns for the search of licences is really odious to an honest man. Some of the traps were civil enough; aye, they felt the shame of their duty; but there were among them devils at heart, who enjoyed the fun, because their cupidity could not bear the sight of the zig-zag uninterrupted muster of piles of rich-looking washing stuff, and the envy which blinded their eyes prevented them from taking into account the overwhelming number of shicers close by, round about, all along. Hence they looked upon the ragged muddy blue shirt as aa object of their contempt.
Are diggers dogs or savages, that they are to be hunted on the diggings, commanded, in Pellissier's African style, to come out of their holes, and summoned from their tents by these hounds of the executive? Is the garb of a digger a mark of inferiority? "in sudore vultus lue vesceris panem"[1] is then an infamy now-a-days!
Give us facts, and spare us your bosh, says my good reader.— Very well.
I, Carboni Raffaello, da Roma, and late of No. 4, Castle-court, Cornhill, City of London, had my rattling "Jenny Lind" (the cradle) at a water-hole down the Eureka Gully. Must stop my work to shew my licence. "All right." I had then to go a quarter of a mile up the hill to my hole, and fetch the washing stuff. There again—"Got your licence?" "All serene, governor." On crossing the holes, up to the knees in mullock, and loaded like a dromedary, "Got your licence?" was again the cheer-up from a third trooper or trap. Now, wjiat answer would you have given, sir?
I assert, as a matter of fact, that I was often compelled to produce my licence twice at each and the same licence hunt. Any one who knows me personally, will readily believe that the accursed game worried me to death.
X.
JAM NON ESTIS HOSPITES ET ADVENCE.
It is to the purpose to say a few words more on the licence-hunting, and have done with it. Light your pipe, good reader, you have to blow hard.
- ↑ "In the sweat of thy brow thou shalt eat bread."
