A TRUE STORY.

Otago Witness, Issue 2085, 8 February 1894, Page 49

A TRUE STORY.

BY boUTHLANDEU.

It was in the winter of '53 that I became acquainted with Jack and Peter Carlton, two young fellows from Oarlow, Ireland, and my introduction was perhaps slightly irregular.

Peter was on horseback, going at a walking pacs down wbat used to be known as Gisborne Hill — 36 miles from Melbourne by road, and a horrid pinch for teamsters in •winter, rising oat of the flat between the Bush Inn s and tbe high table land of the Black Forest — when another young fellow and I were making our way out of the forest towards the flat for the night. Some spirit of mischief seized me, and under its impulse I left my mate's Bide with the exclamation of " Here goes 1 " and with a few quick running strides I placed my hands lightly on the horse, and bounded right up behind Peter. A word of explanation by way of apology, snd away we all went to his tent and took tapper at his expense.

The two brothers were iriends fast and firm, although ia disposition very nnlike. Peter was quiet, kind, and thoughtful ; but Jack, though younger, had more to say, and waß ever ready for either fun or a fight ; yet at bottom he was as true a man as Peter. Taey worked hand and heart together — the one with their two-horse team for 50a per day in carting stone from the quarry on the right hand of tbe hillside to the stonenappers, who broke it at 8s per yard, the other at day wagee in tbe quarry; and although oats at that time and place were 30s per bushel, they caved money fast. Carriage to the diggings then was £70 and £ 80 per ton, and had been as high as £100 per ton; but the so-called roads in winter were awful—a mere chain of bogs — so that breakdowns and mishaps of every kind were commoD, and teamsters would ofcen be a week or 10 days, or more, in making the 80 miles to Forest Creek. Still the game paid well, as everything else did in those {golden days, and Peter and Jack Carlton, who had lert Ireland 18 months before with nothing, and landed in Melbourne with less, found themselves at this,time with more money in hand than they had ever dreamed of when trotting half naked about their native bogs.

Peter would have been content to remain at his labour with his two rickety horses for £2 per day, the price having fallen to that, but Jack did not like the reduction, and was for investing their money in a good team and starting to cart to Forest Creek or Bendigo; and Jack won the day — as he usually did.

I saw the brothers only rarely after this, bnt th6y were always radiant with their good luck whenever we did meet. They had a bank account, and the figures were fast mounting up from three to four abreast, according to their own statement, when we parted for the last time. A year passed away, during which I was on various diggings, before I again beard anything of my two friends, and then I almost wished I had remained in ignorance. Peter and Jack, ever shoulder to shoulder, had being doing very well, and had each owned a threehorse team. They had loaded up in Elizabeth street for the diggings, and got as far as Keilor Plains for the night. The usual feeder was spread out along the shafts of the drays, the usual amount of fodder placed therein for the horses, the fire was lighted, the supper cooked and eaten, the loading' covered over, and the rngs and blankets spread under one of the drays for the two men for the night; but one simple thing was forgotten ar neglected. However, the two brothers lay down side by side, listening awhile to the tinkliog bells of their horses as they grazsd around on tbe rich sward of native grass which clothed the plains in early spring in those days, and then they fell asleep ; but they never woke again.

Next day, and for nearly a fortnight after, travellers saw two loaded drays a mile away from the track, the one apparently all right, and the other with both shafts up in the air.

" Merely a breakdown, and the drivers away for repairs," would be the general thought. Then other evidences which could not be mistaken drew the attention of some passing mounted troopers to the spot. And what a sight 1 There lay all that was left of Peter and Jack Carl ton, stretched oat and crushed to death under the back of the heavy dray righi across them. They had neglected to put down the back propstick, and the horses during the night had come poking about the shafts, as horses used to the road will do, and tipped tip the load on to the sleepers. Death must bave been instantaneous, but the sun and the iiies, and birds and beasts bad assisted in the horror. Removal was impossible. The few remains were shovelled into a shallow bole aljngside the dray, and there the two good-bearted Irish lads found their laßt rest.

The troopers took the horses and drays, and, I suppose, the bank kept the unclaimed money — at least, I could never learn wbat became of it.

Poor Peter 1 Poor Jack J Crops of grain have waved over their heads for many a season since, but the owners never dream of whose bones lie t^o feet below ; yet they sleep as well as though all the dirges and requiems of a cathedral choir bad been sung over them. But in some cottage in County Carlow a mother's heart and eyes must long have yearned for another letter from Australia which never came. Their grave holds its own secret.

— No man is as good as he requires the young man to bo who asks for his daughter.

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