The Eureka Stockade [35]
it will go milder with the Emperor Nicholas, than with the man whoever he may be, that prompted and counted on the Eureka massacre on the Sunday morning, December 3rd, 1854.
At four o'clock, the diggers crowded again towards the stockade. The divisions of Ross and Nealson had returned from their excursions and were under arms. The scene became soon animated, and the usual drilling was pushed on with more ardour than ever.
John Basson Humffray, of whom nothing was seen or heard since the previous Wednesday, now introduced, through a letter in his own handwriting; addressed 'To the Commander-in-Chief of the armed diggers, Eureka,' a Doctor Kenworthy, as surgeon, because he (Humffray) feared that a collision between the diggers and the military would soon take place.
Peters, the spy, was at the same time within the stockade.
The 'surgeon' had his Yankee face under a bell-top (French hat): he entered into conversation with me in person. I had my sword in hand, and was on watch. We began to talk about MAZZINI and Captain FORBES: this latter, a brave American officer, fought in the late struggle at Rome (1848). I perfectly recollect, that, pointing with a smile to our barricade, I told this Kenworthy, we had thrown them up for our defence against licence-hunting. There is a living witness to the above circumstance, a countryman of mine, whose name I do not remember just now, but he wore at the time a red shirt, with picks and shovels all over it.
Previous to this, Vern, whose silly vanity would by no means allow him to put up with his not having been elected Commander-in-Chief, all on a sudden cried out in his sort of bombast, "Here they are coming, boys: now I will lead you to death or victory!"--actually a band of men was tramping full speed towards the stockade.
Chapter L
Narravere Patres Nostri Et Nos Narravimus Omnes.
Was it then the long, long-looked for German Rifle Brigade? Here is it's four-horned name--I copy from a slip of paper I wrote in pencil on that very Saturday, as the name was too long and difficult for me to remember--'The Independent Californian Rangers' Revolver Brigade.'
I should say they numbered a couple of hundred, looking Californian enough, armed with a Colt's revolver of large size, and many had a Mexican knife at the hip.
Here is the very circumstance when M`Gill made his appearance for the first time within the stockade; I recollect perfectly well the circumstance when a Mr. Smith, of the American Adams's Express, was holding the bridle of the horse, from which said M`Gill dismounted.
James M`Gill is of the breed on the other side of the Pacific. He is thought to have been educated in a military academy, and certainly, he has the manners of a young gentleman of our days. He is rather short, not so much healthy-looking as wide awake. 'What's up?' is his motto. This colony will sober him down, and then he will attend more to 'what's to be done.' His complexion bears the stamp of one born of a good family, but you can read in the white of his eyes, in the colouring of his cheeks, in the paleness of his lips, that his heart is for violence. When he gets a pair of solid whiskers, he may pass for a Scotchman, for he has already a nose as if moulded in Scotland. He speaks the English language correctly, and when not prompted by the audacity of his heart, shows good sense, delicate feelings, a pleasing way of conversation. His honour was impeached by Vern, who never came up to the scratch, though; witness, Mr. John Campbell, of 'The Age' office.
When a man is dead, there and then he is himself the horrible evidence of corruption; but, as long as he lives there is hopes for fair play, and hear his evidence on the resurrection of life: hence the moral courage to assert the truth, shuts out the physical strength for blather to shampoo the lie; and an honest upright man of education and a Christian leaves 'duelering' to fools.
M`Gill is not wicked in heart, though he may not yet have settled-principles. If this world be such a puzzle even for
At four o'clock, the diggers crowded again towards the stockade. The divisions of Ross and Nealson had returned from their excursions and were under arms. The scene became soon animated, and the usual drilling was pushed on with more ardour than ever.
John Basson Humffray, of whom nothing was seen or heard since the previous Wednesday, now introduced, through a letter in his own handwriting; addressed 'To the Commander-in-Chief of the armed diggers, Eureka,' a Doctor Kenworthy, as surgeon, because he (Humffray) feared that a collision between the diggers and the military would soon take place.
Peters, the spy, was at the same time within the stockade.
The 'surgeon' had his Yankee face under a bell-top (French hat): he entered into conversation with me in person. I had my sword in hand, and was on watch. We began to talk about MAZZINI and Captain FORBES: this latter, a brave American officer, fought in the late struggle at Rome (1848). I perfectly recollect, that, pointing with a smile to our barricade, I told this Kenworthy, we had thrown them up for our defence against licence-hunting. There is a living witness to the above circumstance, a countryman of mine, whose name I do not remember just now, but he wore at the time a red shirt, with picks and shovels all over it.
Previous to this, Vern, whose silly vanity would by no means allow him to put up with his not having been elected Commander-in-Chief, all on a sudden cried out in his sort of bombast, "Here they are coming, boys: now I will lead you to death or victory!"--actually a band of men was tramping full speed towards the stockade.
Chapter L
Narravere Patres Nostri Et Nos Narravimus Omnes.
Was it then the long, long-looked for German Rifle Brigade? Here is it's four-horned name--I copy from a slip of paper I wrote in pencil on that very Saturday, as the name was too long and difficult for me to remember--'The Independent Californian Rangers' Revolver Brigade.'
I should say they numbered a couple of hundred, looking Californian enough, armed with a Colt's revolver of large size, and many had a Mexican knife at the hip.
Here is the very circumstance when M`Gill made his appearance for the first time within the stockade; I recollect perfectly well the circumstance when a Mr. Smith, of the American Adams's Express, was holding the bridle of the horse, from which said M`Gill dismounted.
James M`Gill is of the breed on the other side of the Pacific. He is thought to have been educated in a military academy, and certainly, he has the manners of a young gentleman of our days. He is rather short, not so much healthy-looking as wide awake. 'What's up?' is his motto. This colony will sober him down, and then he will attend more to 'what's to be done.' His complexion bears the stamp of one born of a good family, but you can read in the white of his eyes, in the colouring of his cheeks, in the paleness of his lips, that his heart is for violence. When he gets a pair of solid whiskers, he may pass for a Scotchman, for he has already a nose as if moulded in Scotland. He speaks the English language correctly, and when not prompted by the audacity of his heart, shows good sense, delicate feelings, a pleasing way of conversation. His honour was impeached by Vern, who never came up to the scratch, though; witness, Mr. John Campbell, of 'The Age' office.
When a man is dead, there and then he is himself the horrible evidence of corruption; but, as long as he lives there is hopes for fair play, and hear his evidence on the resurrection of life: hence the moral courage to assert the truth, shuts out the physical strength for blather to shampoo the lie; and an honest upright man of education and a Christian leaves 'duelering' to fools.
M`Gill is not wicked in heart, though he may not yet have settled-principles. If this world be such a puzzle even for