Sua Cuique Voluntas.
I was really delighted to see the old spot once more; Easter, 1854.
I do not mean any offence to my fellow-diggers elsewhere; it struck me
very forcibly, however, that our Ballaarat men look by far more decent, and
our storekeepers, or grog-sellers if you like, undoubtedly more respectable.
Of a constitution not necessarily savage, I did not fail to observe
that the fair ones had ventured now on a large scale to trust their virtue
among us vagabonds, and on a hot-wind day, I patronized of course some
refreshment room.
I met my old mate, and we determined to try the old game; but this time
on the old principle of 'labor omnia vincit'--I pitched my tent right in
the bush, and prophesied, that from my door I would see the golden hole
in the gully below.
I spoke the truth, and such is the case this very day. Feast of the
Assumption, 1855:--What sad events, however, were destined to pass exactly
before the very door of my tent! Who could have told me on that Easter Sunday,
that the unknown hill which I had chosen for my rest, would soon be called
the Massacre Hill! That next Christmas, my mate would lie in the grave,
somewhere forgotten: and I in the gaol! the rope round my neck!!
Let us keep in good spirits, good reader, we shall soon have to weep
together enough.
Gravel Pits, famous for its strong muster of golden holes, and blasting
shicers, was too deep for me.
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