We beg to subscribe ourselves,
Sir
Your obedient servants.
[Here follow the names.]
——-
Sheriff CLAUDE FARIE, Inspector PRICE, Turnkey HACKETT, they will praise your names in hell!
Chapter LXXXI.
Quem Patronem Rogaturus.
The brave people of Melbourne remembered the state prisoners, forgotten by the Ballaarat diggers, who now that the storm was over, considered themselves luckily cunning to have got off safe; and therefore could afford to 'joe' again; the red-streak near Golden-point, having put every one in the good old spirits of the good old times.
Yourself devoting to the public cause,
You ask the people if they be 'there' to die:
Yes, yes hurrah the thund'ring applause,
Too soon, alas! you find out the lie!
Cast in a gaol, at best you are thought a fool,
Red hot grows your foe; your friend too cool.
An angel, however, was sent to the undefended state prisoners. Hayes and myself were the first, who since our being in trouble, did grasp the hand of a gentleman, volunteering to be our friend.
JAMES MACPHERSON GRANT, solicitor, is a Scotchman of middle-size, middle-height; and the whole makes the man, an active man of business, a shrewd lawyer, and up to all the dodges of his profession. His forehead announces that all is sound within; his benevolent countenance assures that his heart is for man or woman in trouble. He hates oppression; so say his eyes. He scorns humbug; so says his nose. His manners declare that he was born a gentleman.
I very soon gave him hints for my defence, quite in accordance with what
I have been stating above, and his clerk took the whole down in short-hand.
He encouraged me to be of good cheer, "You need not fear," said he,
"you will soon be out, all of you."