These are thy blessings: Industry, rough power,

Whom labour still attends, and sweat, and pain.

As Rashleigh wsas returning from work one morning shortly after the memorable “bespeak”, in company with one of the pseudo-performers, he had to cross the highway road leading to Bathurst over Emu Plains. It chanced that just as they did so, a mounted traveller accosted them, who by his appointments had evidently been no long time in the Colony, and who was struck, as it would seem, with their appearance. The winter’s supply of clothing having been recently issued, each had on a frock and trousers which were nearly new. These garments were somewhat uncouth to look at, being merely the natural colour of the wool as it was cut in the fleece, put together in a truly antediluvian style which would have positively horrified the soul of a Stultz if he could have only caught a glimpse of them, and rendered much more conspicuous by the characters “P-B-E-P” each about six inches long, stamped with glaring red paint in no less than eight different places, before and behind each wearer. These letters were meant to represent “Prisoners’ Barracks Emu Plains”; but from the colour of the cloth, the utter shapelessness of the clothes, and the brilliant contrast afforded by the hue of the stamps, each person who wore this primitive garb resembled some strange monster in a state of transition, scarce half man but more than half sheep, branded, as it might appear — having been newly shorn — with the initials of its owner’s name.

So at least seemed to think the stranger, who checked his horse and sat motionless in the saddle, gazing with dilated eyes and gaping with open mouth at the long file of convicts as they passed. Ralph and his companion being last, he addressed them as if he were anxious to ascertain whether this were an unreal mockery of his vision or whether they were palpable living men possessed of the usual organs of speech.

“Halloo,” he said, “what are you?”

“We belong to the camp yonder,” was the reply.

“Oh,” returned the stranger, “and pray, what sort of dress is that you wear?”

“Our Government supply,” replied Rashleigh.

“Indeed; and now, if I may ask, what are the meanings of all those letters sprinkled over it?”

“Why sir,” answered Ralph’s companion, who was the small wit of Emu Plains, “they mean ‘Poor Beggar — Eternal Punishment’.”

“Dear me!” exclaimed the horseman. “I’m very sorry for you!” And he threw them a handful of silver, which they gathered with great goodwill. And the stranger departed.

Eighteen months had now elapsed since Ralph Rashleigh first joined the agricultural establishment at Emu Plains, during which period he had experienced full many an aching heart arid full many an empty stomach. By far the greater part of that time he had neither shirt nor shoes to wear. In fact, his only garments consisted of a tattered frock of the kind just described and scarcely three parts of a pair of unmentionables, so much patched that, like the celebrated stockings of Sir John Cutler, hardly a particle of the original material remained. The nether extremities of these scanty apologies for decency looked as if his constant nightly companions, the rats — who maintained almost an equal right to his wretched bed of corn husks with himself — had nibbled them away piecemeal, until at last they had encroached upon those regions which ought to have covered the knees.

But the worst and most trying deprivation of all, to him, was the lack of shoes. For in the fields the sharply angular masses of clay, indurated almost to the hardness of flints by the arid sky, produced painful stone bruises, while on the “burning-off” ground or in the bush the frequent fires, having consumed all the inflammable portions of the grass, left nothing behind but the short stems, stiffened by flame, and as sharp as pointed stakes, which pierced, cut and tore the soles of his feet, until it was absolutely painful to him in the least degree even to stand erect upon them. If he walked at all it was necessarily at the rate of a snail’s gallop, which procured for him a double portion of abuse from his overseers and the expressive but neither euphonious nor honourable appellation of a crawler.

In the winter time, too, the torment produced by the hoar-frost, which agonised his very soul whenever his lacerated feet came in contact with it, produced many a bitter pang. But time enabled him at last to find a remedy for even these evils. He invented a sort of sandal similar to those of the Romans of old, the bottoms of which were formed of light wood, having a complicated arrangement of buckling straps to secure them. He also fabricated a kind of stockings from old woollen rags, which served the double purpose of warmth and security against thorns and briary vines which had so cruelly mangled him before. Besides, and better than all this, he was now getting so much inured to work that he no longer dreaded it, nor had his hours of rest broken by frightful dreams of cruelties perpetrated by the tyrannical overseers, as was too frequently the case at first.

In addition to all these causes of self-gratulation afforded to our exile, the drought which had so long oppressed the Colony broke up in the ensuing spring, arid copious rains again blessed the earth with their fertilising effects, dressing the surrounding plains with nature’s gayest livery — instead of the arid appearance they had so long presented — and affording promise of an abundant harvest to gladden the long depressed hearts of the starving settlers. Besides, Rashleigh was now wealthy, his store having been increased by the unexpected liberality of the stranger to the sum of nearly two pounds — an amount which promised, with due economy, to afford him a moderate supply of extra food, sufficient to last him until the crops were ripe, when he hoped to earn a further supply.

Time now coursed rapidly on, until the month of November, when wheat reaping commenced. In compliance with an annual custom, instituted in order to afford the free settlers opportunities of acquiring additional labour to gather in their grain, which, in the then very limited population of New South Wales, would otherwise have been quite inaccessible, the superintendent of Emu Plains granted passes to such of the men under him as he thought deserving, each week upon Thursday evening; which documents entitled the holders thereof to be absent from camp and to work for themselves in the neighbourhood until the ensuing Sunday night — an indulgence which was so highly appreciated that all hands strained their nerves to the utmost to obtain it.

Ralph was among the fortunates, and having gotten his “pass”, with a merry heart and full of joyful anticipations he hied across the river in search of work to do, being accompanied by one of his hut-mates. About ten o’clock that night they reached a part of the Nepean bank which was thickly occupied by small settlers, and where he had learned the wheat was now nearly ripe. The yellow lustre of the harvest moon illumined all the surrounding scenery with its mild radiance, and the hum of many voices told that the settlers were busy.

Upon going nearer, the travellers soon found this to be the case in good earnest, for it was a favourite as well as beneficial practice with the Australian farmers of that day to perform the greater part of their agricultural labours either by night or early each morning, so that during the middle hours of the day, when the sun was in its greatest altitude, they slept or amused themselves in their dwellings. To do this with the greater advantage they carefully studied the phases of the moon, being rather guided in their hours of labour during the summer by that luminary than by the too ardent god of day. Thus, when Rashleigh neared their settlement, which stood upon the estate of Regentville and was named “Irish Corner” after the nation of its chief occupants, the greater part of the population were actively employed. Men and women, boys and girls, all had sickles, reaping away with the greatest energy, while ever and anon the jocund laugh, the shouted jest and the merry response told that all were engaged in an occupation they highly enjoyed.

The travellers, on reaching the first wheat field, waited at the fence until the reapers came up, when they saluted the leader with a good-night. He had not observed them, being absorbed in his work; but he now stood up and returned their salute in kind, asking them if they’d far to travel.

Rashleigh responded “that it depended on circumstances, as they were looking for work”.

“By my sowl, thin,” said the other, “you’ve come to the right place to find it! Praise be to the Vargin! But maybe, though it’s looking for work youse are, yees don’t want to do any yourselves?”

Indeed we do,” said Ralph, “if we can get anybody to employ us!”

“Employ yees? Gerrah, thin, why not?” returned the reaper. “I suppose youse are all right? Not crappies (bushrangers), I mean.”

“Oh no,” replied Rashleigh. “I and my mate here are men on pass from the Plains till Sunday. Here’s our passes if you like to look at them.”

“Is id me look at ’em?” responded the other. “Bedad thin, there ud be little good in that, anyway; be the same token that I don’t know big A from a bud’s foot!” And he laughed most heartily at this highly delightful idea. “But if id’s raally raping you want, I’ll give you a pound an acre for all you’ll cut of this saam whate. And if you’ll take that, jusht sthick in, and say no more about id.” And the old man again set to work, twisting the wheat down with surprising vigour.

Ralph remarked, however, that this was a strong heavy crop and worth more than that.

“Don’t be boddering us,” said the owner. “Sure I can cut an acre a day of id flankin’, and I’m sure hearty young min like the pair of youse ought to knock down a dale more nor that.”

Well,” rejoined Rashleigh, we’ll look about a bit among your neighbours, and if we can’t get any higher offer we’ll come and set on along with you.”

“By this and by that thin, you won’t,” said the choleric old chap. “If you go sthreeling about looking for more wages, you shan’t touch a sthraw of Jack Canavan’s whate, see that now!”

“Very well, no harm done,” returned the other, and passed on a little farther.

In the next field they reached, there were five individuals reaping, towards whom they went and found an elderly man somewhat ahead of the others. Hard-favoured, long-sided, and still unbent by age, the reaper raised himself up and said, “Good morrow, boys. Is id me you want?”

“Aye,” was the reply. “We want to know if you can give us work with you.”

“Bedad thin,” rejoined the old man, “I cud do that saam, but what ud you be axing?”

“Oh, we don’t know what’s going; but we’ll take the same as others get,” replied the travellers.

“Musha now,” said the senior. “I’ll tell you at a word what I’ll do. If you’ll work along wid us here, and work as we work, I’ll pay you a pound for every day you sthop; bekase, you see, my whate is rip’ing all in patches and I must rape wherever id’s wanted to be cut firsht and id ‘udn’t be convanient to mizzure.”

“What about our mess?” said Ralph.

“Arrah thin, I forgot that. Why, if you plaze me, I’ll not charge you a traneen for all you’ll ate of the besht of good living, such as I’ve got myself!”

On these terms a bargain was struck, and as by this time the other reapers had worked up to the foremost, they were directed to “side over” into the standing wheat, and each of the new-comers being provided with a sickle, to it they went right earnestly, the old man keeping the lead, Ralph’s mate nearest to him, then one of the others, and next Ralph himself.

The reapers on either side of Rashleigh were slim and agile in figure, the only dresses they wore apparently being shirts, made very long certainly, and hats. Neither of them — not excepting the old man — had shoes on, yet they swept along over the clods and stubble with a celerity that compelled Ralph, to use a colonial phrase, “to hit out from the muscle”, that he might not be left behind. For two hours they wrought in silence, till at length, observing a cessation among his preceding partners, the former looked up and saw the old man leaning over the fence apparently in a deep yarn with his mate. In a few minutes Ralph had also cut up to the fence, when he stood erect, to take breath and wipe the perspiration from his face.

The old man, now noticing him, said, “Bedad, my lad, you and your mate done well. We’ll soon cut all that’s ready at this rate.”

The remainder of the field (persons reaping) having now come up to the fence, the old man observed to Ralph’s amazement, “Now, gals, you and these two young men had better bind up what’s cut while the dew’s on it and lave it laying there. We’ll put it together in the daylight, and I’ll go and help the old woman get something ready for breqquest.”

Ralph now looked closely at the person who was standing next him, and though there were few feminine charms in her countenance, he could see enough to convince him that this hard-working reaper who had made him use such expedition to keep up with her was really nothing but a girl of at most thirteen, but even at that age nearly as tall as himself. The old man turned away as he spoke, and Ralph, with his companions, began to bind the sheaves where they lay, each going down the rows they had cut during the night. This, not being a very arduous task, admitted of conversation, and presently they were as intimate as if they had known each other for years.

There was no affected squeamishness or reserve among these unsophisticated children of nature. In reply to queries from their male companions, the latter discovered they were working for a man known on the river as “Big M............