I had a dream, a happy dream, I dreamed that we had met here together to render thanks unto our Father in heaven for a plentiful harvest, such that for the first time in this, our adopted land, we had our own food for the year; and so each of us holding in our hands a tumbler of Victorian wine, you called on me for a song. My harp was tuned and in good order: cheerfully struck up,
'Oh, let us be happy together.'
Not so, Britons, not so! We must meet as in old Europe—old style—improved by far in the south—for the redress of grievances inflicted on us, not by crowned heads, but blockheads, aristocratical incapables, who never did a day's work in their life. I hate the oppressor, let him wear a red, blue, white, or black coat.—And here certainly, I tackled in right earnest with our silver and gold lace on Ballaarat, and called on all my fellow-diggers, irrespective of nationality, religion, and colour, to salute the 'Southern Cross' as the refuge of all the oppressed from all countries on earth.—The applause was universal, and accordingly I received my full reward:
Prison and Chains! Old style.
Chapter XXX.
The Reform League, Grappling With The Right 'Stars'.
Monster Meeting continued:—
Proposed and seconded by blather reformers; of course, Vern had his go:—
"That this meeting being convinced that the obnoxious licence-fee is an imposition and an unjustifiable tax on free labour, pledges itself to take immediate steps to abolish the same by at once burning all their licences; that in the event of any party being arrested for having no licence, that the united people will, under all circumstances, defend and protect them."
"That this meeting will not feel bound to protect any man after the 15th of December who shall not be a member of the Reform League by that day."