' The diggers
of Ballaarat sympathised with those of Bendigo in their common grievances,
and prayed the governor that the gold licence be reduced to thirty shillings
a month. There was further a great waste of yabber-yabber about the diggers
not being represented in the Legislative Council, and a deal of fustian
was spun against the squatters. I understood very little of those matters
at the time: the shoe had not pinched my toe yet.
Every one returned to his work; some perhaps not very peacefully, on account
of a nobbler or two over the usual allowance.
Chapter V.
Risum Teneatis Amici.
I recollect towards this time I followed the mob to Magpie Gully. It was
a digger's life. Hard work by day, blazing fire in the evening, and sound
sleep by night at the music of drunken quarrels all around, far and near.
I had marked my claim in accordance with the run of the ranges, and safe
as the Bank of England I bottomed on gold. No search for licence ever
took place. What's the matter? Oh, the diggers of Bendigo, by sheer
moral force, in the shape of some ten thousand in a mob, had inspired
with better sense the red-tape there and somewhere else, so I took out
my licence at the reasonable rate of two pounds for three months,
my contribution for the support of gold-lace. So far so good. I had no fault
to find with our governor Joseph Latrobe, Esquire; nor do I believe
that the diggers cared about anything else from him.
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