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16 Gracious Majesty, the QUEEN! "Never, (writes the Melbourne historian of that day) never in the history of public ovations, was welcome more hearty; never did stranger meet with warmer welcome, on the threshold of a new home:

VICTORIA WELCOMES VICTORIA'S CHOICE,

was the Melbourne proclamation.

The following is transcribed from my diary: —

Saturday, August 26th, 1854: His Excellency dashed in among us "vagabonds" on a sudden, at about five o'clock p.m., and inspected a shaft immediately behind the Ballaarat Dining Rooms, Gravel-pits. A mob soon collected round the hole; we were respectful, and there was no "joeing." On His Excellency's return to the camp, the miners busily employed themselves in laying down slabs to facilitate his progress. I was among the zealous ones who improvised this shabby foot-path. What a lack! we were all of us as cheerful as fighting-cocks.—A crab-hole being in the way, our Big-Larry actually pounced on Lady Hotham, and lifting her up in his arms, eloped with her ladyship safely across, amid hearty peals of laughter, however colonial they may have been.—Now, Big Larry kept the crowd from annoying the couple, by properly laying about him with a switch all along the road.

His Excellency was hailed with three-times-three, and was proclaimed on the Camp, now invaded by some five hundred blue shirts, the "Diggers' Charley."

His Excellency addressed us miners as follows:—"Diggers I feel delighted with your reception—I shall not neglect your interests and welfare—again I thank you."

It was a short but smart speech we had heard elsewhere, he was not fond of "twaddle," which I suppose meant "bosh." After giving three hearty cheers, old Briton's style to "Charley," the crowd dispersed to drink a nobbler to his health and success. I do so this very moment. Eureka, under my snug tent on the hill, August 26, 1854. C. R."

Within six short months, five thousand citizens of Melbourne, receive the name of this applauded ruler with a loud and prolonged outburst of indignation!

Some twenty Ballaarat miners lie in the grave, weltering in their gore! double that number are bleeding from bayonet wounds; thirteen more have the rope round their necks, and two more of their leading men are priced four hundred pounds for their body or carcase.

Tour cela, n'est pas precisement comme chez nous, pas vrai?

Please, give me a dozen puffs at my black-stump, and then I will proceed to the next chapter.