his digging outfit was a huge pick; it was a two-man pick, and
he carried it on his shoulder to suggest his enormous strength. He
threw tailordom to the winds; when a rent appeared in his trousers he
closed it with pins, disdaining the use of the needle, until he
became so ragged that I ordered him into dock for repairs.

One day in passing Philip's school I peeped in at the flap of the
tent. He had already acquired the awe-inspiring look of the
schoolmaster. He was teaching a class of little boys, whose
wandering eyes were soon fixed on my face, and then Philip saw me.
He smiled and blushed, and came outside. He said he was getting
along capitally, and did not want to try digging any more. He had
obtained a small treatise called "The Twelve Virtues of a Good
Master," and he was studying it daily in order to qualify himself for
his new calling. He had undertaken to demonstrate one of Euclid's
propositions every night by way of exercising his reasoning
faculties. He was also making new acquaintances amongst men who were
not diggers--doctors, storekeepers, and the useful blacksmiths who
pointed our picks with steel. He had also two or three friends at
the Governmnt camp, and I felt inclined to look upon him as a traitor
to the diggers' cause but although he had been a member of the party
of Young Irelanders, he was the most innocent traitor and the poorest
conspirator I ever heard of. He could keep nothing from me. If he
had been a member of some secret society, he would have burst up the
secret, or the secret would have burst him.

He had some friends among the diggers. The big gum tree in front of
the church tent soon became a kind of trysting place on Sundays, at
which men could meet with old acquaintances and shipmates, and
convicts could find old pals. Amongst the crowd one Sunday were five
men belonging to a party of six from Nyalong; the sixth man was at
home guarding the tent. Four of the six were Irish Catholics, and
they came regularly to Mass every Sunday; the other two were
Englishmen, both convicts, of no particular religion, but they had
married Catholic immigrants, and sometimes went to church, but more
out of pastime than piety. One of these men, known as John Barton--
he had another name in the indents--stood under the gum tree, but
not praying; I don't think he ever thought of praying except the need
of it was extreme. He was of medium height, had a broad face, snub
nose, stood erect lik