Marcus Clarke

“ Oh what sinners we are! Let me hope that now I, by God's blessing placed beyond temptation, will live safely, and that some day I even may, by the will of the Lord Jesus, find mercy for my sins. Some kind of madness has method in it, but madness of sin holds us without escape. ”

“ Death—dreadful death of soul and body—would have been my portion; but, by the mercy of Omnipotence, I have been spared to repentance—John iii. I have now come to bitterness. The chaplain, a pious gentleman, says it never really pays to steal. "Lay up for yourselves treasures in Heaven, where neither moth nor rust doth corrupt." Honesty is the best policy, I am convinced, and I would not for £1,000 repeat my evil courses—Psalm xxxviii 14. ”

“ The Bible is the only book they get hold of, and texts are the only bits of learning ever taught 'm, and being chockfull of villainy and plots and conspiracies, what other book should they make use of to aid their infernal schemes but the one that the chaplain has made a text book for 'em? ”

“ Protherick. "Poor Protherick used often to say that it seemed as if some Almighty Hand had planned the Penal Settlements round the coast, the country is so delightfully barren."
"Ay, Port Arthur couldn't have been better if it had been made on purpose," says Frere; "and all up the coast from Tenby to St. Helen's there isn't a scrap for human being to make a meal on. The West Coast is worse. By George, sir, in the old days, I remember——"
"By the way," says Meekin, "I've got something to show you. Rex's confession. I brought it down on purpose."
"Rex's confession!" ”

“ The idea of a convict's letter proving interesting! Mr. Meekin was new to the ways of the place.
Frere, turning the packet between his finger, read the address:-
John Rex, sen.,
⁠Care of Mr. Blicks,
⁠38, Bishopsgate Street Within,
⁠London.
"Why can't he write to his father direct?" said he. "Who's Blick?"
"A worthy merchant, I am told, in whose counting-house the fortunate Rex passed his younger days. He had a tolerable education, as you are aware."
"Educated prisoners are always the worst," said Vickers. "James, some more wine. ”

“ Having drunk this loyal toast with due fervour, Vickers proposed, "His Excellency Sir John Franklin", which toast was likewise duly honoured.
"Here's a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to you, sir," said Frere, with the letter still in his hand. "God bless us all."
"Amen!" says Meekin piously. "Let us hope He will; and now, leddies, the letter. I will read you the Confession afterwards." Opening the packet with the satisfaction of a Gospel vineyard labourer who sees his first vine sprouting, the good creature began to read aloud:
"'Hobart Town, "'December 27, 1838. ”