I was so embittered and broken-hearted at the wickedness of so many
infuriated mercenary rascals, that had made up their mind to sell the
blood of an honest man, in as much as I had repeatedly told each and all
of them, when they came to 'recognize' in our prison, that they must
mistake me for another as I was not within the stockade that Sunday
morning; that I...but it is too humiliating to say any more.
Mr. Sturt, with an odious face, whose plumpness told me at once he was no
friend to fasting, strutted to the magisterial chair, and committeed me
and the nigger-rebel, to whom I was kindly hobbled, to take our trial
for high treason!
Chapter LXIX.
Vox Populi, Vox Dei.
In the course of the day (December 7th), in spite of all the bayonets and
blunderbusses, the report reached us that the Melbourne people had had
a Monster Meeting of their own, equal to ours of November 29th, and that
Mr. Foster, the 'Jesuit,' had been dismissed from office.
The tragical act on Ballaarat was over; the scenery changed; and the
comedy now proceeded to end in the farce of the State Trials in Melbourne.
Between Wednesday and Thursday, all the 160 prisoners were liberated,
with the necessary exception of thirteen, reserved to confirm the title
of this book.
I do not wish to omit one significant circumstance. On Tuesday night,
December 5th, I was hobbled for the night to young Fergusson, an American,
and shared with him his blankets.
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