The Gold Hunter's Adventures Or, Life In Australia Volume 2 ( Of 2 ) by William H. Thomes (books to read in your 30s TXT) 📕

Direction Of Ballarat.

Her Paramour Sat Upon His Animal Sullen, And Undecided What To Do; And

Without Stopping To Exchange Words With Him, We Commenced Our Journey

Homeward.

Even After We Were Miles Distant, We Could See Him Still Motionless,

Standing Upon The Broad Prairie, As Though He Had Not Determined Upon

What Course He Should Pursue. But He Never Renewed His Attempts On The

Virtue Of Mrs. Herrets, And When Next We Heard Of Him He Was In The

Mines Of Bathney, Where He Was Killed By The Caving In Of A Shaft.

As For Herrets And His Wife, They Took Our Advice, And Moved To

Melbourne, Where There Was Society And Enjoyment. The Husband Went Into

Business There, And Became Quite Wealthy; And Mrs. Herrets Was Noted For

Her Lively Disposition And Fondness Of Company. She Became A Patron Of

The Theatre Royal, And Gave Many A Hungry Actor A Good Dinner; And Once,

When I Had Run Down To Melbourne From The Mines, To Transact A Little

Business, She Sent Me A Pressing Invitation To Visit The Theatre, And

Witness Her _Début_ In The "Honeymoon," She Playing "Juliana," For The

Benefit Of Some Actor Who Wished To Insure A Good House, And Took That

Method To Accomplish It.

I Accepted The Invitation, But Did Not Consider Her Acting As Likely To

Redound To The Credit Of The Profession; And That Is The End Of The

History, So Far As My Knowledge Extends, Of Mrs. Herrets And Husband.

About A Week After The Inspector Had Received His Injuries, He Was

Enabled To Get Out, And One Afternoon He Sent Word That If We Were

Desirous Of Accompanying Him On His Tax Collecting Expedition He Should

Be Happy Of Our Company, And That If We Were Disposed To Go We Had

Better Meet Him At His Office, On Horseback, At Two O'clock.

As It Was Near The Hour When We Received The Invitation, We Lost No Time

In Getting Ready, And We Were On The Spot Promptly.

About, Thirty Policemen Were Drawn Up In Front Of The Office, Awaiting

The Appearance Of The Inspector, Who Was Examining The Books In Which

Were Recorded The Names Of The Tax-Paying Miners, Checking Those Who Had

Refused To Pay At The End Of The Previous Month, And Placing A Cross

Against The Names Of Miners Who Had Worked Out Their Taxes On The Road,

On The Ground That They Had Not Made Enough Out Of Their Claims To Allow

Government The Large Sum Of Thirty-Four Shillings Per Month.

The Tax Applied To All, And There Was No Chance To Evade It. The

Fortunate And Unfortunate Were Alike Liable To The Officers Of The

Crown, Knowing No Distinction, So They Said; But I Found Before The

Close Of The Day That That Assertion Was A Fallacy, And That There Was A

Favorite Class At Ballarat, And That They Were Rarely Troubled By The

Inspector's Visits, And If Short Of Money Were Seldom Required To Pay

Taxes.

"I Am Glad That You Have Come," Mr. Brown Said, Hastily Glancing From

The Large Books Before Him To Welcome Us; "We Are Going Through With Our

Monthly Ceremony, And I Thought You Would Like To Witness It. It Is Not

An Agreeable One, I Confess, But Duty Compels Me To Do Many Things That

I Disapprove Of."

"In What Quarter Will Your Honor Go First?" Asked The Sergeant Of The

Police Squad, Addressing The Inspector.

"The Irish District," Returned Mr. Brown. "We Can Then," He Continued,

"Strike Into The Chinamen's Quarters, And Visit Our Folks On Our Way

Home."

As We Rode Up, A Number Of Irishmen Were Smoking Their Pipes At The

Entrance Of Their Tents Or Huts, Evidently Expecting Us, For It Was

Tax-Collecting Day, And They Knew Very Well That Government Would Not

Let The Opportunity Pass Of Adding To Its Wealth. No Surprise Was

Manifested, Therefore, When Our Force Halted, And Those Within Hearing

Were Requested To Bring Out Their Gold.

"Is It There Ye Are, Mr. Brown?" Cried An Old Fellow, Who Was Called Pat

Regan. "It's Wishing To See Yer Face This Many A Day I've Desired, Long

Life To Ye, And It's Dead I Feared Ye Was."

"Is Your Tax Ready?" Asked The Inspector, Shortly, Being Accustomed To

The Blarney Of The Man.

"Whist! What Blackguard Would Be After Thinking Of Money, Or Taxes, Or

Any Thing Else When Yer Honor Is Near? Will Yer Enter Me Tent And

Partake Of Me Hospitalities?" Demanded Pat, With A Serious Face, And A

Show Of Politeness That Was Refreshing, Knowing As I Did That It Was

Intended As Burlesque.

"Don't Stand There Chattering, But Hand Over Your Month's Taxes,"

Replied Mr. Brown, Sternly, Not Liking The Smiles That He Saw On The

Faces Of Pat's Friends, Who Were Clustered Around Enjoying The

Conversation.

"Ah, Glory To God, But It's Lucky Men We Are To Have So Kind-Hearted An

Inspector, So That When We Is Unfortunate He Knows How To Have

Compassion On Us. Lads," Pat Continued, Turning To The Crowd, "Don't

Forget To Mention Mr. Brown In Your Prayers, 'Cos He's Overlooked The

Trifling Sum That I Owe Him."

This Long Harangue Was Received With Shouts Of Laughter, During The

Continuance Of Which Mr. Pat Kegan Stood Before The Inspector, With Hat

In Hand, And A Face As Demure As Though No Deviltry Was At Work Within

His Heart.

Mr. Brown Did Not Reply, But Made An Almost Imperceptible Motion To The

Sergeant Of The Force. The Latter, And A Private, Quietly Dismounted,

Produced A Pair Of Handcuffs, And Before Mr. Regan Had Recovered From

His Surprise, A Sharp Click Was Heard, And He Was A Prisoner, Both

Wrists Being Confined By A Pair Of Stout Steel Bracelets.

"What Is The Meaning Of This?" Demanded Mr. Regan, With A Show Of

Indignation. "I'm A Subject Of The Queen, And A Free-Born Irishman, And

It's Kings Me Ancestors Were Six Hundred Years Ago. It's Little They

Thought That One Of The Blood Of The Regans Would Be Used In This Way."

The Inspector Paid No Attention To His Words, But Occupied Himself With

Receiving Money From A Number Of Miners Who Were Disposed To Pay Their

Taxes Without A Murmur, And Didn't Wish The Bother Of A Dispute.

"Move On," Said Mr. Brown, At Length, And The Cavalcade Started With Pat

Regan In The Centre.

"Mr. Brown--Inspector Dear--O Darling, Listen To Me For A Moment," Cried

Out Our Irish Friend.

"Well, What Is Wanting?" Inquired Our Chief, Halting.

"And What Is Ye Taking Me Off For?" Asked Regan, Indignantly.

"For Non-Payment Of Taxes."

"And Who Refused To Pay Taxes?--Tell Me That, Mr. Brown."

"You Declined Paying; So Of Course You Will Have To Devote The Next

Three Days To Work On The Road. Move On."

"Hold A Minute, Mr. Brown, For Here's The Money; But It's Little Good It

Will Do Ye, Mind What I Say, For To-Night I Shall Write To My Friend The

Governor-General, And Relate The Circumstance Of This Arrest, And Me

Money Will Be Sent Back With Many An Apology, Let Me Tell Ye. It's A

Relation I Am Of The Governor's, His Wife Being A Regan On The Side Of

Me Grandfather; And It's Many A Time I've Talked With Her Ladyship When

We Went To School Together In The County Of Cork."

This Speech Was Also Received With Shouts Of Laughter By Those

Assembled, And Even While Pat Was Paying Over His Dust He Continued To

Grumble And Threaten; And When We Got Clear Of Him He Bade Us Adieu With

A Mocking Smile, Perfectly Satisfied To Think That He Had Delayed Us All

That He Was Able To, And That If He Did Ultimately Have To Pay Over The

Money, He Afforded Sport Enough For His Companions To Last A Week.

"Is That A Sample Of The Difficulties That You Have To Encounter?" I

Asked Of The Inspector, As We Left A Portion Of The Irish District

Behind Us, And Approached Another Quarter, Where The Inhabitants Did Not

Appear To Be Doing So Well In Their Operations.

"If We Never Encountered Worse Cases Than That I Should Be Contented,"

Mr. Brown Replied. "I Knew That Pat Had The Money, For He Had Served Me

In That Manner Half A Dozen Times; But I Also Knew That He Had A Great

Reluctance Against Working On The Road, And That To Save Himself He

Would Even Sell A Portion Of His Claim, If That Was Necessary. He Has

Made Money Since He Has Worked In The Mines, And I Will Do Pat The

Justice Of Saying That, With The Exception Of Celebrating St. Patrick's

Day, He Knows How To Save It."

As He Ceased Speaking, We Drew Up Before A Ragged Hut, At The Entrance

Of Which Stood A Stout Irishwoman, With A Terrible Dirty-Faced Child In

Her Arms.

"It's Little Ye'll Get Here," She Shouted, Shaking Her Huge Fists At

The Inspector, And Spanking The Child, Who Set Up A Roar Of Fright. "Go

On, An' The Divil Be Wid Ye, For Not A Ha'penny Do Ye Get."

"Now We Shall Hear Lying," Muttered The Inspector, When He Saw A Grin

Upon Our Faces. "Of All The She Devils In The Mines, She Is The Worst."

"Tell Mike That We Want His License Fee," Mr. Brown Said, Addressing The

Huge Female, Who Varied Her Time In Spanking Her Child And Making Faces

At The Police Force.

"To The Divil Wid Ye And Yer Fees, Ye Lazy Spalpeens. There's No Money

In The House, And If There Was Ye Shouldn't Have It. Do Ye Think That I

Can Pick Up Goold Like Dirt? Or What Do Ye Think?"

"Come, Come, Judy," The Inspector Said, "We Have Heard Your Complaints

So Often That We Don't Believe Them. Let Me Have The Thirty-Four

Shillings Without Delay."

"Who Do You Call Judy? I'm Mrs. Michael O'flaherty, And A Bitter Husband

And One More Honest Don't Exist; And That's More Than I Can Say Of Some

Women Who's Got Husbands Tied To 'Em. It's Little Ye Think I Know Of Ye;

So Don't, If Ye Valey Yer Reputations, Stand There Chattering, But Pass

On To Thim That Gets The Money."