"Well, my men, are you in want of work?" asked a well-dressed elderly gentleman, who had arrived in a carriage driven by a coachman in livery, and a footman, dressed in the same garb. He appeared to own every thing that he looked at; for we had seen half a dozen men take his orders, and then proceed to obey them with alacrity.
"We thought we'd try the mines first," I replied, in answer to his question.
"Hard work—hard work," he said, with a smile. "Americans, I see—smart men in that country. Hope you'll do well here. Afraid not if you go to the mines. Want men to help get these goods under shelter. Like to employ you;" and off he bustled.
"A pretty good sort of man, I guess," remarked Fred.
"I say, stranger," I asked, turning to a person with a cartman's frock on, who was seated on a box smoking a pipe, "can you tell me who that gentleman is?"
"I didn't see any gentleman," he answered, without even taking his pipe from his mouth.
"Why, I mean the one who just spoke to us—the man with the white vest and gold buttons."
"Him—he's a ticket-of-leave man, and has more money than half of the merchants in Melbourne," replied the cartman.
"What, that man a convict?" I asked, with surprise.
"Just so—transported for fourteen years for house-breaking. Behaved himself, and so got liberty to enter into business; and now he is at the top of the heap. In two years his time will be out, and then he can stay or go where he pleases."