The Book Of The Bush by George Dunderdale (books to read to improve english .TXT) 📕

Afterwards Re-Arrested And Condemned To Three Years' Imprisonment.

Dr. Carr Was Regarded As A "Colluding Associate" With Bentley And

Dewes,  The Magistrate,  And The Official Condemnation Of Dewes

Confirmed The Popular Denunciation Of Them.  At A Dinner Given To Mr.

Tarleton,  The American Consul,  Dr. Otway,  The Chairman Said:

"While I And My Fellow-Colonists Are Thoroughly Loyal To Our

Sovereign Lady,  The Queen,  We Do Not,  And Will Not,  Respect Her Men

Servants,  Her Maid Servants,  Her Oxen,  Or Her Asses."

A Commission Was Coming To Ballarat To Report On Wrong Doings There,

And They Were Looking For Witnesses.  On Friday,  December 8th,  The

Camp Surgeon And Dr. Carr Had A Narrow Escape From Being Shot.  While

The Former Gentleman Was Entering The Hospital He Was Fired At By One

Of The Sentries.  The Ball Passed Close To The Shoulder Of Dr. Carr,

Who Was Reading Inside,  Went Through The Lid Of The Open Medicine

Chest,  And Some Splinters Struck Him On The Side.  There Were In The

Hospital At That Time Seven Diggers Seriously Wounded And Six

Soldiers,  Including The Drummer Boy.  Troubles Were Coming In Crowds,

And The Bullet,  The Splinters,  And The Commission Put The Little

Doctor To Flight.  He Left The Seven Diggers,  The Five Soldiers,  And

The Drummer Boy In The Hospital,  And Made Straight For Colac.  Fear

Dogged His Footsteps Wherever He Went,  And The Mere Sight Of Him Had

Sent The Impudent Thief Lilias To Hide Behind The Tussocks.

I Always Hate A Man Who Won't Talk To Me And Tell Me Things,  And The

Doctor Was So Silent And Unsociable,  That,  By Way Of Revenge,  I Left

Him To The Care And Curses Of Old "Specs."

After Four Days He Departed,  And He Appeared Again At Ballarat On

January 15th,  Giving Evidence At An Inquest On One Hardy,  Killed By A

Gunshot Wound.  In The Meantime A Total Change Had Taken Place Among

The Occupants Of The Government Camp.  Commissioner Rede Had Retired,

Dr. Williams,  The Coroner,  And The District Surgeons Had Received

Notice To Quit In Twenty-Four Hours,  And They Left Behind Them

Twenty-Four Patients In And Around The Camp Hospital.

Dr. Carr Left The Colony,  And The Next Report About Him Was From

Manchester,  Where He Made A Wild And Incoherent Speech To The Crowd

At The Exchange.  His Last Public Appearance Was In A Police-Court On

A Charge Of Lunacy.  He Was Taken Away By His Friends,  And What

Became Of Him Afterwards Is Not Recorded.

Doctors,  When There Is A Dearth Of Patients,  Sometimes Take To War,

And Thus Succeed In Creating A "Practice."  Occasionally They Meet

With Disaster,  Of Which We Can Easily Call To Mind Instances,  Both

Ancient And Modern.

Iii.

Diggers Do Not Often Turn Their Eyes Heavenwards; Their Treasure Does

Not Lie In That Direction.  But One Night I Saw Bez Star-Gazing.

"Do You Know The Names Of Any Of The Stars In This Part Of The Roof?"

I Asked.

"I Can't Make Out Many Of The Manchester Stars," He Replied.  "I Knew

A Few When I Was A Boy,  But There Was A Good Deal Of Fog And Smoke,

And Latterly I Have Not Looked Up That Way Much; But I Can Spot A Few

Of Them Yet,  I Think."

Bez Was A Rather Prosy Poet,  And His Eye Was Not In A Fine Frenzy Rolling.

"Let Me See," He Said; "That's The North; Charles' Wain And The North

Pole Ought To Be There,  But They Have Gone Down Somewhere.  There Are

The Seven Stars--I Never Could Make 'Em Seven; If There Ever Were

That Number One Of 'Em Has Dropped Out.  And There's Orion; He Has

Somehow Slipped Up To The North,  And Is Standing On His Head,  Heels

Uppermost.  There Are The Two Stars In His Heels,  Two On His

Shoulders,  Three In His Belt,  And Three In His Sword.  There Is The

Southern Cross; We Could Never See That In Our Part Of England,  Nor

Those Two Silvery Clouds,  Nor The Two Black Holes.  They Look

Curious,  Don't They?  I Suppose The Two Clouds Are The Gates Of

Heaven,  And The Two Black Spots The Gates Of Hell,  The Doors Of

Eternity.  Which Way Shall We Go?  That's The Question."

The Old Adage Is Still Quite True--'Coelum Non Animum Mutant Qui

Trans Mare Currunt'.  When A Young Gentleman In England Takes To

Idleness And Grog,  And Disgraces His Family,  He Is Provided With A

Passage To Australia,  In Order That He May Become A Reformed

Prodigal; But The Change Of Climate Does Not Effect A Reform; It

Requires Something Else.

Dan In Glasgow And Bez In Manchester Had Both Been Given To Drink Too

Much.  They Came To Victoria To Acquire The Virtue Of Temperance,  And

They Were Sober Enough When They Had No Money.

Dan Told Me That When He Awoke After His First Week At Sea,  He Sat

Every Day On The Topgallant Forecastle Thinking Over His Past

Wickedness,  Watching The Foam Go By,  And Continually Tempted To

Plunge Into It.

After The Rum,  The Dray,  And The Four Horses Were Seized By The

Police.  Dan And Bez Grew Sober,  And Went To Reid's Creek,  Passing Me

At Work On Spring Creek.  They Came Back As Separate Items.  Dan

Called At My Tent,  And I Gave Him A Meal Of Damper,  Tea,  And Jam.  He

Ate The Whole Of The Jam,  Which Cost Me 2s. 6d. Per Pound.   He Then

Humped His Swag And Started For Melbourne.  On His Way Through The

Township,  Since Named Beechworth,  He Took A Drink Of Liquor Which

Disabled Him,  And He Lay Down By The Roadside Using An Ant-Hill For A

Pillow.  He Awoke At Daylight Covered With Ants,  Which Were Stinging

And Eating Him Alive.

Some Days Later Bez Came Along,  Passed My Tent For A Mile,  And Then

Came Back.  He Said He Was Ashamed Of Himself.  I Gave Him Also A

Feed Of Damper,  Tea,  And Jam Limited.  Dan Had Made Me Cautious In

The Matter Of Lavish Hospitality.  The Earl Of Lonsdale Lately Spent

Fifty Thousand Pounds In Entertaining The Emperor Of Germany,  But It

Was Money Thrown Away.  The Next Time The Kaiser Comes To

Westmoreland He Will Have To Pay For His Board And Buy His Preserves.

Bez Made A Start For Melbourne,  Met An Old Convict,  And With Him Took

A Job At Foot-Rotting Sheep On A Station Owned By A Widow Lady.  Here

He Passed As An Engraver In Reduced Circumstances.  He Told Lies So

Well,  That The Convict Was Filled With Admiration,  And Said,  "I'm

Sure,  Mate,  You're A Flash Covey Wot's Done His Time In The Island."

The Two Chums Foot-Rotted Until They Had Earned Thirty Shillings

Each,  Then They Went Away And Got Drunk At A Roadside Shanty; At

Least,  Bez Did,  And When The Convict Picked His Pockets,  He Kindly

Put Back Three Shillings And Sixpence,  Saying,  "That Will Give Him

Another Start On The Wallaby Track."

Bez At Last Arrived At Flagstaff Hill,  Which Was Then Bare,  With A

Sand-Hole On One Side Of It.  He Had Had Nothing To Eat For

Twenty-Four Hours,  And Had Only One Shilling And Sixpence In His

Pocket,  Which He Was Loath To Spend For Fear Of Arriving In Melbourne

A Complete Beggar.  He Lay Down Famishing And Weary On The Top Of The

Hill Near Flagstaff,  And Surveyed The City,  The Bay,  And The

Shipping.  He Had  Hoped By This Time To Have Been Ready To Take A

Passage In One Of Those Ships To Liverpool,  And To Return Home A

Lucky Digger.  But He Had Only Eighteen Pence,  So He Said,  "I Am

Afraid,  Bez,  You Will Never See Manchester Again."

There Was At That Time A Small Frame Building At The West End Of

Flinders Street,  With A Hill Behind It,  On Which Goats Were Browsing;

The Railway Viaduct Runs Now Over The Exact Spot.  Many Parties Of

Hopeful Diggers From England And California Had Slept There On The

Floor The Night Before They Started For Ballarat,  Mount Alexander,  Or

Bendigo.  We Called It A House Of Refuge,  And Bez Now Looked For

Refuge In It.  There He Met Dan And Moran,  Who Had Both Found

Employment In The City,  And They Fed The Hungry Bez.  Dan Was

Labouring At His Trade In The Building Business,  And He Set Bez To

Work Roofing Houses With Corrugated Iron.  They Soon Earned More

Money Than They Had Ever Earned By Digging For Gold,  But On Saturday

Nights And Sundays They Took Their Pleasure In The Old Style,  And So

They Went To The Dogs.  I Don't Know How Dan's Life Ended (His Real

Name Was Donald Fraser),  But Bez Died Suddenly In The Bar Of A

Public-House,  And He Was Honoured With An Inquest And A Short

Paragraph In The Papers.

Moran Had Saved A Hundred Pounds By Digging In Picaninny Gully,  And

He Was Soon Afterwards Admitted To Serve Her Majesty Again In The

Police Department.  On The Sunday After Price Was Murdered By The

Convicts At Williamstown I Met Moran After Mass In The Middle Of

Lonsdale Street.  I Reproached Him For His Baseness In Deserting To

The Enemy--Her Majesty,  No Less--And In Self-Defence He Nearly

Argued My Head Off.  At Last I Threatened To Denounce Him As A "Joey"

--He Was In Plain Clothes--And Have Him Killed By The Crowd In The

Street.  Nothing But Death Could Silence Moran.  The Rest Of His

History Is Engraved On A Monument In The Melbourne Cemetery; He,  His

Wife,  And All His Children Died Many Years Ago.--R.I.P.  He Was

Really A Good Man,  With Only One Defect--Most Of Us Have Many--He

Was Always Trying To Divide A Hair 'Twixt West And South-West Side.

I Met Santley After Thirty Years,  Sitting On A Bench In Front Of The

"Travellers' Rest" At Alberton,  In Gippsland.  He Had A Wrinkled Old

Face,  And Did Not Recognise My Beautiful Countenance Until He Heard

My Name.  He Had Half-A-Dozen Little Boys And Girls Around Him--His

Grandchildren,  I Believe--And Was As Happy As A King Teaching Them

To Sing Hymns.  I Don't Think Santley Had Grown Rich,  But He Always

Carried A Fortune About With Him Wherever He Went,  Viz.,  A Kind Heart

And A Cheerful Disposition.  Nobody Could Ever Think Of Quarrelling

With Santlay Any More Than With George Coppin,  Or With That

Benevolent Bandmaster,  Herr Plock.  He Told Me That He Was Now

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