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.dt The Project Gutenberg eBook of Notes of a Gold Digger, and Gold Diggers’ Guide, by James Bonwick
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<xxl>Notes of a Gold Digger, and Gold Diggers’ Guide</xxl>

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Transcriber’s Note:

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<xxl><B>NOTES OF A GOLD DIGGER,</B></xxl>

<s><B>AND</B></s>

<xxl><B>GOLD DIGGERS’ GUIDE,</B></xxl>

<s><B>By</B></s>

<xxl><B>JAMES BONWICK,</B></xxl>

<i>Author of “Geography for Australian Youth,” &c., &c.</i>

MELBOURNE:
R. CONNEBEE, 174, ELIZABETH STREET,
AND SOLD BY ALL BOOKSELLERS.

1852.
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.il fn=map.png w=60% alt=“Routes to the Victoria Diggings”
.ca Routes to the Victoria Diggings

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THE ROAD TO THE DIGGINGS.
.sp 2
Gold Fields have a most bewitching influence
upon fallen humanity. The very name begets a
spasmodic affection of the limbs, which want to be
off. Then man, as a mere lover of beauty, cannot
help wishing to look upon the pretty mineral in its
virgin home of seclusion, and his acquisitiveness
pants for possession of the loveliest darlings ever
rocked in a cradle. But the Australian Gold Fields
put to the blush the very fairy tales of old. The
Genii of the “Arabian Nights” would have stared,
had they winged their flight over the ocean,
and taken a quiet evening’s stroll under our
ranges and gullies. Need we wonder that the dull
eyes of the sons of earth twinkle with delight at the
chamber of treasure.

“They come—they come.” Well, let them come;
and I for one will be glad to see them as lucky as
their hearts can wish. In order to give the embryo
digger a little insight into the wonders of this
wonderful region, I have noted down a few facts, the
result of my own experience as a Gold Digger.

Some simple hints before you start, my friend. Do
not encumber yourself with too much luggage. The
drays will not carry it for “<i>thank ye</i>.” There is
no necessity for laying in a stock of everything, as
storekeepers at the mines do not now desire a thousand
per cent upon every article. This may arise
from a principle of benevolence, or, as some ill-natured
people say, from competition. If you lay in
a stock in town you are likely to buy too much, as
you are surrounded by good things, and the difficulties
of the journey are unknown to you. Should
you reserve the purchase of most of your requirements,
till you arrive at the ground, you will have
no trouble in carriage, you will <i>know</i> what you really
want, and, from the high price, you will only <i>buy</i>
what you want. By all means, however, provide
yourself with good stout clothes and boots, a coat
and trousers of oil-skin cloth, a roll of canvass for
your future home, not forgetting a decent shooting
jacket for Sundays, when you ought to appear
civilized. Tools are dearer up than in town. A cradle
may be carried in parts without much trouble.

Take up a few choice books, (not on Metaphysics
or Mathematics,) because you should be prepared in
some degree to keep up your intellectual position.
A packhorse will ease the toil of a party, or a bundle
might rest on the top of a passing dray. Unless
positively obliged, spare yourself the anxiety of
having your own conveyance. Otherwise a solemn
warning—<i>beware of a gibber</i>, as that genus is not an
uncommon one on the road. There are few things
in life more undesirable than pushing behind a cart
at every foot of rising ground, extricating a load
from a chasm, or watching a vehicle approaching a
precipice, impelled by an animal that will persist in
going crabwise.

Now, I will suppose you are fairly started. You
are rather nervous, yet sanguine. Sundry brave
stories keep up your spirits. By one you are told
of a fellow benighted in the bush, who could not sleep
by reason of the hardness of his bed, but who ascertained
by morning-light that he chanced to throw
himself down upon a nest of big golden nuggets.
Another tells you of a bullock driver in want of a
stick, who pulled up a young wattle, and found
hanging at the root, a whole family of nuggets like
a brotherhood of potatoes; but that he was in too
great a hurry to stop to pick them up. On the way
you are passed by lots of returning diggers, some of
whom carry down bags of treasure, and a few are
carrying aches and pains to the hospital. There is
some difference between your smooth chin, and their
rough beards—your prim appearance and their soiled
garb. You may possibly reach the Deep Creek,
twenty miles from Melbourne, on the first day. Of
course you camp. A fire is lighted, the meal is
taken, and the romance of your first night out is
enjoyed. You are wrapped in a 'possum rug or
blanket beside your fire, or, if you are wise, beneath
a canvass thrown over the shafts of a cart. Never
start without a good breakfast. The dreary, crab-hole,
five-mile plains are to be crossed. I had the
satisfaction, when coming down, to be lost in this
quarter, wandering about hungry and tired nearly all
night, because my geological curiosity allowed the
cart and my mates to get some hours a-head of me.
It is to be hoped that you have a dry season in which
to pass over Jackson’s Creek. On the other side an
excellent dinner may be provided for you by Mr.
Rainy at the Coffee House. The hills now rise on
each side of you, and through one of the loveliest
countries in the world you gain the Bush Inn at
Gisborne, thirty-six miles from town. There are
two inns there. Charges are no object to the successful
digger, but usually a consideration to the up-going.
A baker’s shop and store will there supply
you with necessaries. I paid 2s 6d for a good loaf,
2s 6d for a pound of butter, and 7d for a pound of
sugar. Prices vary according to the state of the
roads. Near the Bush in winter you have to wade
through a “slough of despond.” Going some miles
hence, round the foot of Mount Macedon, a pretty
watering place is obtained. You may, however,
pass at once into the mysterious Black Forest, fourteen
miles in extent. Being no alarmist, I shall
give you no legend of powder and ball pertaining to
those realms.

In the Black Forest are many rises, no surface
stone, a great number of stringy bark trees, some
fine cherry trees, and the modest cup of the beautiful
epacris. At Five Mile Creek, at which are two
inns, you pass over a wooden bridge. Soon after you
come to sweet Carlshrue. Here are a Police station,
a blacksmith, and houses of accommodation. On
my way to town, early one morning, I beheld an icy
forest on the plains. The arborescent icicles were
about half-an-inch high and a twelfth diameter. Each
top gently curved over. A vast number of these
beautiful crystals standing together reminded one of
a miniature giants’ causeway, or stalagmites from
some sparry cave. Going up, our party spent a
pleasant Sunday near a water-hole at Carlshrue.

You now approach the important township of
Kyneton, fifty-six miles from town.  Here are inns,
stores, cottages, a wooden church, a pretty stone
parsonage, and a neighbourhood of the finest alluvial
black soil. Passing the Campaspie you gain the
bridge of the Coliban: that is, if the awful quagmire
permits your passage. A thriving township is just
formed here called Malmsbury. This is about
twenty miles from the Forest Creek. Attempting
to get a short cut to the Loddon, my party were
three days stumbling with a gibbing horse among
the slate ranges. We had, too, the excitement of a
twenty-four hours fast on that occasion. But you
are less aspiring, and, following the beaten track, you
come at last upon the scene of scenes.  It is quite a
beehive. Men are flitting about in strange disguise.
Heads are popping up and down in various holes
around you. The population are digging, wheeling,
carrying or washing. But I have to conduct you
through the diggings, so we must hasten forward.
The old Post Office Square, the entrance to
Adelaide Gully, the Montgomery Hill, the White
Hill, the Private Escort station, the Little Bendigo,
have to be passed in succession before reaching the
junction of Forest, Barker, and Campbell creeks;
at which place is the Chief Commissioner’s Quarters.
This is a walk of four or five miles to the west.
Desirous of seeing other digging regions, you must
return to the neighbourhood of the Square, enter
Adelaide Gully, and keep alongside the Adelaide
creek till you come to the dividing range. Once
over that, you approach the head waters of Friar’s
creek, and you may follow down that stream to the
south till it unites with the Loddon. The Golden
creek flows southward into Friar’s creek; it has the
interesting neighbourhood of Golden Gully, Red
Hill and Windlas Hill. Turning once more to the east
you reach the junction of the Campbell Creek and
Loddon River. Pursuing thence a northernly course
along the banks of the former, you again behold the
Commissioner’s Tent. What with genuine soldiers,
pensioners, and police, there is a force of about 200
men. There you will see the depository of Gold,
awaiting the Escorts to carry it to town, and there is
the place where for thirty shillings you may procure
the talisman of a license.

But perhaps you want to go further.  You have
heard of Bendigo, and you would like to try your
luck there. Then on we go to Bendigo.  The direct
road from Melbourne to Bendigo Creek is about 100
miles, but from Forest Creek about 30.  You keep
the side of Barker’s Creek on your progress to the
northward. Now and then you pass some encampment
in the wilderness. The presence of bottles of
various character, innocent and suspicious, is always
on the trail of the civilized man.  On your right
you have the long range of Mount Alexander. Upon
a lovely evening my senses were feasted by a
delicious scene. All the forest trees before me
were in darkness, but beyond them and through
them were caught glimpses of the granitic walls of
Alexander, brilliantly shining in the last red rays of
the setting sun. It was as though I was approaching
by night some illuminated enchanted castle. The
Porcupine Inn is nearly half-way from Forest Creek
to Bendigo. It is often the place of tumultuous
revelries among lucky diggers. Some people think
it wise to camp beyond that locality. The country
beyond Gibson’s station is finely timbered. The
pasturage greatly improves as you progress, and few
districts present such softness and gentleness of
beauty in the landscape. Bendigo has a noble
ornament in the fluted, Doric-column like trunks of
its magnificent iron bark eucalypti. There is
majesty, there is even sublimity in the solitude of an
iron bark forest. Then, in the day a variety of
pretty songsters awaken the air with pleasure, and
the evening is closed in with the wild and ringing
chuckle of the laughing jackass.

Bendigo is the Carthage of the Tyre of Forest
Creek. The diggings there extend nearly twenty
miles in length. The ransacked gullies are many;
as, Golden, Spring, Jim Crow, Dusty, Poorman’s,
Blackman’s, Iron Bark, Picanniny, Long, American,
Californian, Eagle Hawk, Peg Leg, and Sailor.
Though most of these may be wrought out, a good
living may be got in either by the new comer,
in a little tin-dish fossicking in deserted holes. Once
upon the spot you are ready to go with the rush to
any newly discovered gully of wonders.


.sp 4
.h2
THE DIGGER AT WORK.
.sp 2

Arriving on the golden ground the first impulse
is to secure a good spot for future operations. Upon
enquiry you resolve upon some lucky gully. The
other day, you are told, a fellow nuggetted ten or
twenty pounds weight, and, of course, you see no
reason why half a hundred weight might not be
lying snugly ensconced awaiting the revelations of
your pick. You walk to the place, strike in your claim
as near the centre of the gully as possible, mark
your boundaries, determine upon the size and character
of your hole, and at once to vigorous exercise
of muscle.  Your mate spells you with the use of
his spade or shovel. The top soil is off, the sands
and clays are entered, and all goes on pretty smoothly
until the pick comes into contact with something
that soon drives it back again, with the loss perhaps
of its steel point. At it again with good heart. A
harder thrust is made. Again the tool rebounds.
Never despair. Blows thick and fast descend until an
entrance is gained, and some insignificant pieces are
knocked off. You pause to gather breath and
strength. “Why I have got into some iron here,”
you exclaim. Some neighbouring bearded digger
turns round and condescendingly remarks, that it is
only the “burnt stuff,” and that you must “drive
away.”

But the points of the new pick are sadly robbed
of their glory. The blacksmith is sought at his
primitive looking forge. After paying only half-a-crown
for each point being steeled, you return to
your claim and dash into it once more. But the day
is closing, and the aching back and arms assure you
that it is high time to think of home and supper.

Day after day the toil is continued. A little relief
comes after the burnt stuff, in the shape of some
more agreeable, separateable conglomerate, or some
yellow or blue clay. Soon the necessity is seen for
steps being cut in the side of the hole, and the back
is rather tried with the throwing up of the stuff.
Afterwards a few sticks are laid across one side of
the top, as a footing place for the drawer up of the
bucket, which has now to be employed. Several
awkward lumps of quartz give a little trouble and
test the patience of the miner. As you go on, your
hopes are more strongly exercised. Eagerly do you
notice the progress of your neighbours. Anxiously
do you enquire about their luck when they have got
down. In proportion to their success, so is the
elevation of your spirits. Should any one strike upon
a rich vein, you are very inquisitive about the particular
direction of that vein, and the possibility of
its running through your domain.

But the bottom is not gained and you begin to
fancy that you never will reach there. “Never
mind,” says some encouraging friend, “the deeper
you go the more chance of luck.” Then you feel as
though you would like to delve to the antipodes.
On you go, looking cautiously round occasionally, in
hope of catching a peep of some stray nugget or
other. At last a little yellow spot attracts attention.
It seems of a brighter colour than clay—a nearer
look satisfies you that it must be gold. With what
delight then does the embryo digger seize upon his
first treasure. More excitement and pleasure are
experienced at that time then in subsequent seasons
of pocket scraping. His first impulse is to cry out
“Eureka” with as great a zest as did Archimedes
when he was dealing with gold. Other glittering
spangles are in the maggotty stuff. Some greasy
substance with streaks of yellow sand, is at once
concluded by you to be the pipe clay bottom. But
this is not the case, you have further to go. Yet
console yourself with the idea that most of that
through which you are now digging may prove
“washing stuff.” But you approach the termination
of your downward course. Some light and friable
sandstone is seen studded with interesting looking
shining spangles. Seizing a piece with avidity, you
soon drop it with a dejected air as you recognize only
mica. Ah! but <i>there</i> is something different surely.
You are half disposed to doubt. No, it is no mica,
but beautiful little specks and nuggets of gold, stuck
all about the piece like currants in the Christmas
pudding. There is no mistake about it, as you
break bit after bit and let the little darlings tumble
clumsily into a pannican. True, some of them are
rather dirty; but you cannot help regarding them
with peculiar affection. Well, the pipe clay floor
is cleared, scraped and swept. The precious dust is
carefully stored above with that layer immediately
over, and preserved as washing stuff. The revelation
of its wealth is to be made another day, though
many and serious are the speculations as to its latent
worth. One will hope there are two ounces to the
load, another confidently asserts that there must be
four.

But as yet, perhaps, there has been no important
manifestations of pockets, with their glittering contents.
Several dips of the rocky base gave you
hopes of leading on to fortune, but the fossicking
knife cleared out the pipe clay, and harshly scraped
against the slate in vain.  On repeated occasions
some purple sandy veins with bright red spots in the
pipe clay, like syrens of old, induce you to follow
them in their course, promising all the while a rich
feast at the end of the journey.  Most trustfully
you suffer yourself to be led along, until all at once
your conductor gives you the slip, and leaves you
staring at a wilderness of dirty white pipe clay.
Half tempted to despair, you languidly turn to
another place and carelessly plunge in the knife.
<i>There</i> is a subterranean beauty, a perfect nymph of
the hidden world, softly reclining, though not upon
a violet bank.  You hasten to obtain the lovely
stranger, and to reveal those long neglected charms to
the wondering gaze of devout admirers. Suspecting
the fact of other fair creatures being similarly confined
in these enchanted regions, you rush forward
to the rescue with all the ardour of a knight of
chivalry. With the sword of sharpness you penetrate
long passages of gloom, until at length you
reach a dark chamber. An entrance is forced, the
light pours in, and a sight presents itself, which well
nigh upsets your reason.  Talk of the secret
chamber, where suspended ranged the sweet wives
of hideous Blue Beard! Tell of the dungeon of
darkness, round whose damp walls were chained ten
of the fairest dames of Christendom, mates of war-like
knights, whom the giant thief of old had caged!
These were nothing to the view that now unfolds
itself.  There are not ten, but tens of  tens
of the dear creatures most adored by men, and for
whose release from the degradation and pangs of
imprisonment down below, such zealous and such
benevolent exertions are being made in the colonies
of Victoria and New South Wales. May those
worthy and disinterested labors be crowned with
abundant success! Lord Rosse may say what he
pleases about the intense gratification which he experienced,
when he first resolved the filmy nebulæ
of Orion into the galaxy of sparkling orbs, but I
mean to declare that that is perfect moonshine to the
delight of the gold seeker, when he first drops upon
a good pocket of nuggets.

The tunnelling work now follows.  The head
stuff is removed to make way for you to get under,
to work at the latent treasure of specs, nuggets and
washing stuff. The constraint of body in work,
the damp, the closeness of the atmosphere, the gloom,
the fear of impending rocks, with occasional raps of
knuckles and skull against the sides and roof, altogether
make this wombatting not the most amusing
operation in life; though, like other uncomfortable
things, it now and then leads to some important and
profitable result. It is often annoying to find your
hopes of veins in a bank so thoroughly blasted. A
week’s labor brings you to your boundary in a certain
direction without a single glimpse of gold. Then
perhaps, you may be placed in a peculiarly puzzling
condition. You trace a pleasing vein to the verge of
your claim; honesty says, “stop,” and self interest
cries “go on.”  To some lofty minds this position
makes no manner of difficulty; they see the gold,
and they simply follow it, reserving to a more convenient
season the consideration of the precise
whereabouts of their neighbour’s ground.  Cases
have been known of a poor fellow delving for weeks
in a hole, and when quite sure of dropping on the
gold, he all at once disappears in a cavern, which his
friend of the next claim has constructed with much
ingenuity to lighten his labors and load.

But the business of washing has to be thought of.
That heap of dirt has to be passed through the
cradle. If in the dry season, this must be done at a
distance of from three to nine miles from the hole,
paying, perhaps, one shilling a bucket for cartage.
There is the loss of time going so far, and the inconvenience
of having the company split into digging
and washing parties, each having a separate establishment.
Unless, therefore, you immediately
require cash, you prefer carting the stuff home to
your tent beside the dried up creek, waiting for the
time of rains. When that joyous harvest of diggers
does come, all is bustle and merriment. If a sensible
man, and not putting off till to-morrow, you have
secured your washing station beforehand. You now
cut a place in the bank for your tubs and cradle,
drive in two posts by the edge of the water, and roll
down against them a log of six or eight feet long,
against which dirt is put, to serve as a firm footing
and embankment.  The cradle is made to swing
easily and unshiftingly, by the rockers resting in the
grooves of two blocks of wood firmly fixed in the
soil. By giving the cradle a slight slant to the lower
end, the water will run off the quicker; but if it
dips too much a little gold may wash off with the
sand. All being ready, you take your iron bucket
and carry the stuff to the tubs. The <i>Aquarius</i> with
his long handed dipper, supplies the liquid for puddling.
The stuff is kept well stirred about with a
spade, so as to set the metal free from the adhesive
soil and pipe clay.  The dirtied water is gently
poured off every now and then, and, with a fresh supply
from the stream, you puddle away. Be not
afraid of too much working, remembering that good
puddling makes easy and profitable cradling. When
this is done, you fill the hopper of your cradle with
the stuff, keep on pouring water with the dipper, and
rock carefully and evenly, using with the right hand
a short stick to break any clods that may be in your
hopper, but which your tub ought not to have sent
there. The tubs being emptied, one of the party
can be filling and preparing another, while you take
out the residuum at the bottom of your cradle. The
gold ought to rest on the wooden shelf under the
hopper, but much will run down with the sand into
one of the compartments at the bottom.  But this
has to be washed by the hand in the tin dishes. Now
this process I cannot describe. It is one of the
deepest mysteries of the gentle craft of gold digging.
The uninitiated cannot possibly divine how the dish
washer is able to separate the soil from the precious
treasure.  This art requires a watchful eye and
skilful hand. Many men from careless washing lose
much gold. Two men were in a great hurry to get
through their heap, a party afterwards went over the
washed material and extracted ten pounds weight of
metal.

The day’s work over, you put your gold into the
digger’s treasure chamber,—a matchbox; and you
retire to your home to get dry clothes and your
supper. But the gold has to be dried. A spade is
put on the fire, the contents of the box poured on it,
and the moisture soon disappears. The dust is then
carefully blown away, the magnet is passed over to
take up the iron particles, the little gathering is
weighed and the result is known. Some interesting
guesses are made as to the value of your heap. If
thirty buckets made a load, if six buckets fill a tub,
and if ten tubs shall have produced you that day
eight ounces of gold, you can form a tolerable idea
as to the value of your heap. But you know that
while one part may bring but an ounce a load,
there will be some rich tubs when that locality is
reached, where the currant pudding lumps were
deposited.

The washing season is a lively time, as nearly all
are abroad. The merry joke is heard, and the loud
laugh mingles with the rattling of stones in the
hopper, the grinding of cradles, and splashing of
water. There is some amusement in quizzing the
machines employed. One day I saw an unfortunate
Irishman without a mate, who had a most original
contrivance for conducting his washing operations.
The cradle, a very rude one, was two feet long, his
dipper was a tin pannican cleverly fixed in a slit
stick, and his puddling tub was a hole in the ground.
Some in the dry season have taken known good
stuff, put it over a fire and blown away the dust to
get at the gold. In California, some have chosen a
windy day to sift the dry stuff, placing a blanket or
cloth on the ground to catch the heavy metal. A few
at our mines have taken advantage of occasional
summer showers to turn the water from a hill into a
deserted hole, which they converted into a washing
station. Though as a rule small parties had better
pay cart-hire than keep a horse, yet I knew a couple
of diggers who managed in the following manner.
One got each day a load of stuff from a hole, which
his mate carted to the creek, eight miles off, washed,
and came in the next morning for another load. The
latter, having his wife at head-quarters, would not
only bring a supply of water to his worthy bachelor
friend of the little <i>oilskin</i> tent, but now and then a
loaf, a cake or a tart. The chief washing stations in
the dry season at the Mount were, the Forest and
Campbell Creeks, and the river Loddon. Those
of Bendigo were the Sheepwash, Emu, and Bullock
Creeks.

There is a story told of an old man, at Friar’s
Creek, who put on his spectacles, and examining some
stuff out of his hole, observed no gold in it. He was
prevailed upon by somebody to wash a little of it in
the morning, when the metal appeared. The old
gentleman persisted in believing that none was there
when he looked for it, exclaiming, “then sure the
divil himself came in the night and put it there.”

When the wet season sets in, the holes are often
filled up and rendered useless, if not, the walls become
insecure, and serious accidents have occurred
in consequence. Surface washing then becomes
the rage. The country is explored and hills are
tried. Where favourable the surface is skimmed
over, carted to the water, and washed. Though not
so rich as that from holes, the stuff is got at less labour,
and the water is nearer at hand. The holes at
Bendigo are the shallowest, and those of Ballarat the
deepest; many of the former are under six feet, and
the latter, more than thirty feet. In California to
save time in prospecting, a number will form
a miners’ club, pay down a certain sum each, select
two or three good men and true, and send them prospecting,
while the others remain at steady work.
Quartz crushing is not likely to pay here like in
some places, as Brazil, where labor is cheap. The
size of the claim differs from that in California, where
no regular system is adopted, but where it is determined
by the miners, at the several localities. Here
one man is allowed eight feet long by eight broad,
though no party, however many in number, can have
a portion larger than sixteen feet long and the same
in breadth.

The care of animals at the mines is no small
difficulty and trial. Food in the dry season is confined
to oats and bran for the horses, and these at
such prices as to make the weekly cost of a horse
from £3 to £5. Some men close their work early,
and take the beasts perhaps four or five miles to
some scanty pasture, and stopping there in their
'possum rug for the night, bring them in the next
morning. There is the great nuisance of animals
straying, and the loss of time to parties looking for
them. Not a few of the better kind find their way
to sales in Melbourne, for the profit of those who
have had the <i>trouble</i> of bringing them all the way
down from some run near the diggings.

It is a mistake to imagine that none but diggers
do well at the mines. Without regarding the gold
buyers, and storekeepers, who do <i>sometimes</i> realize
a few hundreds per cent per annum, the blacksmiths
manage to hammer a good many ounces out of the
diggers. One told me that he gave his men 25s a day
and their board and lodging, and that he would
willingly give 50s. a hundred feet of sawn stuff, and
pay cartage himself. Excellent wages are made by
others at hut building. Several trades could there
be conducted most profitably; such as shoemaking,
harness making, &c. Of course medical men collect
a little of the gold dust. Of all employments, that
of carter in the dry season appears to me the least
enviable, walking continually beside their bullocks
or horses in one cloud of dust, and tormented by
myriads of flies.

The routine of toil is not a monotonous one. The
engagements are various, and constant excitement
attends them. Occasionally a rush gives animation
to a gully. The seizure of a grog-tent, a squabble
about claims, the horn of the news-vendor, a visit
from the commissioner, give a diversion to the
scene. License time gives good opportunity for
talk. Instead of the thirty shillings for the monthly
license, a man may pay half-an-ounce of gold.
Usually the first ten days of the month are days of
grace; after that, enquiries may be expected as to the
possession of the document. Though the risk is not
great, few are without their licenses. The five
pounds penalty is often not so bad as the loss of time.
A policeman one day demanded a sight of his license
from a digger at Friar’s Creek. The man civilly
said it was in his waistcoat down the hole, and
that he would go and fetch it directly. He departed,
and forgot to return. The hole was visited, but the
bird had flown. As it happened, there was much
tunnelling in that part, and the man had quietly
passed along the subterranean passages, and raised
his head from another and distant cell.

Now, as to success at the diggings;—although
cases, plentiful as blackberries, occur in which parties
have been two or three months up and more, without
doing anything beyond paying expenses, yet I am
not expected to talk of these. We all want to hear
of the fortunate, and make no enquiry about unlucky
diggers. It is, however, a fact that many who have
dug nineteen holes in vain, have dropped upon the
gold in the twentieth. A party that I knew were
five weeks wholly without success; in three weeks
after they got £900. Four men were weeks without
luck, when they fell in with 75lbs weight. Another
was four months and in debt, when a bright day came
suddenly in the shape of a £500 share. There were
two parties, friends of equal strength, working in the
same place for three mouths; the one did not pay
expenses, the other walked off with 98lbs weight.
At the foot of a tree three fellows took out £1800
worth; they went down to Melbourne, and stopped
till they had knocked it all down.  I knew a man
at Bendigo who washed out 9lbs of gold from a
nosebag of stuff. At Ballarat two tubs yielded 24lbs.
The surfacing at Golden Gully, Friar’s Creek,
was so immensely rich, that to talk of sums would
appear speaking fables. Holes have been bought
for an ounce of gold which have realized many
pounds weight. A friend of mine met a man whom
he knew, walking in rags and dirt behind a dusty
dray to town, and yet carrying £1500 worth of gold.
In Peg Leg gully 50 and even 80lbs have been taken
from holes three or four feet deep. Several companies
of sailors have been remarkable fortunate, and so
have those of our sober and worthy German fellow-colonists.
A hole at Forest Creek produced 60lbs in
one day, and 40lbs more the day after.  The Burra
miners are no luckier than digging tailors. From one
of our golden gullies a party took 198lbs in six
weeks.  The largest Victorian nugget weighed
25lbs.  Perseverance will accomplish wonders at
the diggings as elsewhere. Men must not be down-hearted
if not successful at first.  They must try,
try, try again. Even the aborigines are wealthy in
these times.  I met a party of them at Bullock
Creek well clothed, with a good supply of food, new
cooking utensils, and money in their pockets. One
remarked with becoming expression of dignity,
“me no poor blackfellow now, me plenty rich
blackfellow.”



.sp 4
.h2
THE DIGGER AT HOME.
.sp 2

The new comer may wish to know how we diggers
spend our time at home. We boast no courtly halls,
nor woodbine bowers. We glory not in rosewood
cheffoniers nor Turkey carpets. Our festal board
is not decorated with embroidered cloth, nor laden
with viands and tasteful vases. We live in canvas
homes, or huts of bark and logs. Free ventilation is
universally adopted on Hygean principles. Our
furniture is of a simple character. A box, a block
of wood, or a bit of paling across a pail, serves as a
table; though a few among us scorn such indulgence.
Some luxurious ones positively have
rough stools as seats; the majority recline upon their
beds, or make use of a log, the ground, or a pail
turned upside down. Our dinner service comprises
not many pieces. We have those who indulge in
plates, knives and forks; but it must not be supposed
that all are so fastidious. The washing of the plates,
and cleaning of knives and forks, require an appreciation
of cleanliness most foreign to the lofty genius
of the diggings. Besides, the chops can be picked
out of the frying pan, placed on a lump of bread,
and cut with a clasp knife that has done good
service in fossicking during the day.

In the rooming the diggers rise from their hard
beds and prepare for breakfast. Happy are they on
a wet day who have a sheltered fire place. Fortunately
wood is cheap enough, though the havock made in
the Bendigo forests will certainly <i>clear the land</i>. The
eternal chops are cooked, the pannicans of scalding
tea are filled, and the first meal passes over. Active
preparations are now made for work. The several
dinners are tied up, the travelling pot of tea got
ready, the tools gathered together, and with the
never to be forgotten pipe, forth they sally into the
world of adventure. At twelve or one, a hasty
repast is taken, and the pannican and pipe again
called in requisition. Before sundown parties are
observed branching off from the gully homeward.
After a hard day’s work one is not disposed to be too
particular about the evening meal, and the mode in
which it is prepared. Something has yet to be done.
The morrow has claims. The damper is eaten.
Taking a washing tin dish, and clearing off the dirt
a little, six or eight pannicans of flour are thrown in;
a half table spoonful of carbonate of soda, the like
quantity of tartaric acid, and a spoonful of salt are
mixed together in a pannican, and then well mingled
with dry flour. Water is then poured in, the whole thoroughly
knuckled, rolled into a good shaped loaf, and
tumbled at once into the warmed camp oven. Fire
is applied beneath and above the oven in a way to
insure uniform heat, and a couple of hours or less
will turn out a loaf fit to set before the queen. Saturday
afternoon and Sunday morning are especially
consecrated to cookery. The same camp oven has,
perhaps, to turn out two loaves, a baked joint for
dinner, and, mystery of mysteries, a boiled plum pudding
in the bargain. Add to all this, potatoes when
you can afford to pay for them, not forgetting a few
boiled onions, should you chance to boil in your
oven a leg of mutton. A good cook is recognized
at the diggings as well as at a club-house. Some
men will not take time to make a wholesome loaf, but
content themselves with dry or fat Johnny cakes,
which are simply of flour and water, or with the
addition of greasy accumulation of cookery, hastily
prepared in the frying pan. Many lose health by
inattention to meals. By a little forethought and
prudent management much waste could be prevented,
excellent dishes be obtained, and an increase of
comfort be produced, which would make the probation
at the mines much more endurable.  It is
here that the skill and economy of a woman are seen
to advantage in a tent. The cost of provisions varies
greatly. I knew two men at the Loddon, who lived
for seven shillings a week each. Afterwards, when
flour at the Bendigo rose to two shillings a pound,
the board was rather more expensive. Meat is
seldom more than fourpence a pound. Cheese, butter,
pickles, ham, bacon, sardines, and eau de Cologne,
are enjoyed only by successful miners.

Amusements are not in harmony with the diggings.
Men come there usually to work in earnest, and they
have no time for play. Yet now and then a song is
heard, with the notes of a flute or violin. At Bullock
Creek a sick friend was charmed on the one
side by Kate Kearney, and on the other by the whole
range of Wesley’s hymns proceeding from a most
indefatigable Burra songstress. In one tent near me
there was an occasional concert of a fife, a dish-bottom
drum, and a primitive sort of triangles. As
a sample of a diggings song, a selection may be given.
It is said to be set to the air of “Coronation.”

.pm start_poem
In bush attire let each aspire
  By noble emulation,
To gain a digger’s chief desire
  Gold, by wise regulation.

With spades and picks we work like bricks
  And dig in gold formation;
And stir our cradles with short sticks
  To break conglomeration.
This golden trade doth not degrade
  The man of information,
Who shovels nuggets with the spade
  Of beauteous conformation.

What mother can her infant stock
  View with more satisfaction,
Than we our golden cradles rock,
  Which most love to distraction.
Let those who dare try thwart our care
  At our gold occupation;
They with bewilderment will stare
  At golden incubation.

We dig and delve from six to twelve,
  And then for relaxation,
We wash our pans and cradles’ shelves,
  And turn to mastication.
.pm end_poem

It is common in some places for a fellow who first
rises to come out and crow like a cock; this is taken
up by others, and the diggings are soon wide awake.
Some amuse themselves with going out 'possuming.
The shrill scream of the marsupial, flying squirrel,
and the plaintive howl of the wild dog, follow the
last note of the incomparable laughing jackass. There
used to be fish in the creeks, but our washings must
have choked them all with gold dust. A stray
kangaroo once got chased through Iron Bark Gully.
The poor creature took refuge in one of the holes,
but was soon converted into some exquisite soup for
mutton and damper diggers. A sailor lad at Golden
Gully was accustomed to give us the eight bells on
the frying pan. It is not usual for visits to be made
after dark, as a fall down a twenty feet hole is unpleasant.
The stupid custom of firing off guns,
pistols, and revolvers night and morning is fast going
out of fashion. A good fire, a short pipe, and a
long story are the usual evening accompaniments.

The diggings would be more tolerable if there
could be cleanliness. But with water sometimes at
a shilling a bucket, and that not easily obtained, the
incrustation has to remain longer than agreeable.
Coloured shirts last a good while without shewing
decided blackness. The bed clothes will sometimes
catch the dust, and a puff does not certainly improve
the appearance and taste of our uncupboarded eatables.
There is, also, a peculiar unctuous touch about
the interior of most tenements. But then what
matters? no visitors but diggers are expected, and
neighbours are no better off. In the wet season it
is only a change from dust to mud. But <i>the</i> nuisance
is the flies, the little fly and the stinging monster
March fly. O! the tortures these wretches give! In
the hole, out of the hole, at meals or walking, it is
all the same with these winged plagues. When
washing at a waterhole, the March flies will settle
upon the arms and face, and worry to that degree,
that I have known men pitch down their dishes, and
stamp and growl with agony. The fleas, too, are
not of the Tom Thumb order of creation, and they
begin their blood-thirsty work, when the flies are
tired of their recreation. The first good fall of
winter rain seems to lay not only the dust, but the
destructive powers of the insects.

.tb

And yet, in spite of weather, exposure, dust, mud,
filth, flies and fleas, the diggings have such attractions,
that even the unlucky must come back for another
trial. The wild, free and independent life appears
the great charm. They have no masters. They go
where they please and work when they will. Healthy
exercise, delightful scenery, and clear and buoyant
atmosphere, maintain an excitement of the spirits, and
a glow of animal enjoyment peculiar to bush life.
Married men, particularly young married men, are
too much bothered with thoughts of an absent home,
to realize the pleasures of the mines, which their
mates of the bachelor order possess. To them the
Post Office is the most sacred spot on the diggings.

.tb

There is a clannish spirit abroad. The Irish
mostly dwell at one encampment. We had Tipperary
Gully at the Bendigo; an Irish row near
our tent consisted entirely of families, conspicuous
for their order, cleanliness, kindheartedness and
happiness. The Adelaide men hang together, and
the Derwenters of Tasmania are strongly influenced
by party feeling. I was much amused one time by
a stentorian voice that rang through the forest, near
Friar’s Creek. It proceeded from a man in a cart
passing by. The burden of the cry was this:
“Ere’s your Van Demonian Happles, and them as
don’t like the country needn’t buy ’em.” As a
sincere admirer of the “Isle of Beauty” I had a
hearty feast on the pippins.




.sp 4
.h2
HEALTH AT THE DIGGINGS.
.sp 2

Although the part of the country in which our
mines are situated is almost unequalled for salubrity,
yet the miners as a class are not of robust health:
most of them look pale and haggard. The work
underground, excessive toil, discomforts, and
neglects, too often bring on disease.  Singularly
enough, accidents seldom occur.  Cramps, colds,
rheumatism, bad eyes, diarrhœa and dysentery are
the prevalent complaints. The sitting on the damp
ground induces piles. Most attacks of sickness resolve
themselves into fevers of the low typhoid type,
as the powers of life are soon exhausted there, and
medical men have but few appliances. A great
mistake arises from persons delaying a visit to the
doctor. In many cases recovery is hopeless, from
long continued neglect. Some will be for six or eight
weeks under dysenteric attack before seeking relief.
Then, too often, though they offer all their gold, no
aid can be rendered. The doctor’s fee is usually
ten shillings at his tent, a pound for a visit near, and
two or five pounds elsewhere, according to distance.
When a medical man is consulted in time, he may
often see it right to send his patient at once to town,
as from experience he knows the difficulty of providing
proper nourishment and attendance during
the period of convalescence. Yet instances are not
unknown, nay, they are common, of kindness and
christian charity towards the sick, even from strangers.
An old man, that from ill health was unable
to join a party, was tended by some neighbours for
three weeks, who not only paid all expenses of such
sickness besides, but actually gave £20 to get the
poor creature conveyed to an hospital. If the diggings
are so unpleasant a place for ordinary attacks
of illness, it may be supposed that they are not the
most comfortable home for a new mother. Yet on
some occasions neither doctor nor nurse has been
present. Deaths at the mines are by no means so
frequent as may be imagined. At the Loddon
cemetery I saw but eleven graves, four of which
were unenclosed; no memorial appeared over any
mound.

My friend and mate at the diggings, R. T.
Tracy, Esq., M.D., has favoured me with a few
hints which he thinks may be of service to his old
friends at the mines. He desires to enforce upon
their attention the necessity of regarding their mode
of living; as, carelessness in preparing meals,
lying on the ground, not guarding against night
chills, neglect of damp clothes, and want of
variety in articles of diet, are the fruitful sources of
disease. He would recommend them to get potatoes,
beef, onions, preserved fish and things called
luxuries as often as they can. A filter in the dry
season is invaluable; as bad water produces dysentery.
In attacks of diarrhœa and dysentery, much
mischief is done by persisting in the use of soda-damper
and fat mutton; broths, arrowroot and
leavened bread ought then only to be taken. Dr.
Tracy would, also, recommend that a store at the
diggings be allowed to sell port wine for strictly
medicinal purposes, upon orders from medical men,
as at present the sick can only obtain this stimulant
by sanctioning the sly grog shops, at which, too,
a bad article is sold at an exorbitant price.


.sp 4
.h2
MORAL STATE OF THE DIGGINGS.
.sp 2

The moral state of the Diggings, and the moral
effect of the gold discovery, are subjects of deep
interest to every well regulated mind. It is but
natural to suppose that, amidst the extraordinary
excitements of these times, there should not be great
progression in social virtues and refinement. It is
equally natural to imagine that, among a community
of men, out of the pale of civilized life, removed from
restraint, surrounded by degrading and deteriorating
influences, and constantly excited by the very character
of their occupation, there would be found much
that is repulsive and much that is condemnable. At the
same time I must confess, that residence at different
parts of the gold region, and continual enquiry and
observation, have satisfied me that what is commonly
called open crime does not exist there to a greater
extent than in towns, if at all to so great an extent.
Life and property I believe to be as safe there as in
town, if not safer. Even as to coarseness and
incivility, in all my wanderings there, I never experienced
any conduct but courtesy and kindness.
There were by no means the absorbing selfishness,
and the disposition to triumph over the educated,
which had been represented to me; on the contrary,
acts of obliging good nature proceeded even from
the roughest of Tasmania’s rough ones. I simply
speak as I found. Then as to treatment of females;
I never heard of an outrage or of an incivility.
Women seemed to be tabooed at the diggings; and
however a man may regret taking a wife there on
account of the discomforts of such a home, he need
be under no apprehension of the safety of her person
or her feelings.

The manner in which Sunday is observed, is
highly creditable to the district. The utter desertion
of the holes and washing stations, the quietude and
propriety of the tentwalks, and the readiness with
which a congregation is collected, whenever any
person could be found who had benevolence and
zeal enough to shew an interest in the religious welfare
of the poor miner, present very pleasing features
to the visitor. Only upon one instance did I observe
tossing on a Sunday. Never did I hear of an
instance of interruption of divine worship, nor even
of private religious meetings. With no ordinary
feelings of pleasure have I heard in the calmness of
a Sunday evening, voices from several tents mingling
in sacred harmony. Stopping for a night on Campbell’s
Creek, I was delighted with the sounds of
psalmody proceeding from an opposite tent.
Several favorite airs were sung, and the several
parts well maintained. All at once a company near
struck up a song. Immediately loud cries issued
from the neighbouring tents of “lay down, lay down.”
The revellers yielded to the pressure from without,
and again the sweet notes of praise to Jehovah resounded
through the quiet glen.

All this is the bright side of the picture. The
reverse is not so pleasing. Swearing is an almost
all prevailing vice. The recklessness begotten by
the wild and uncomfortable life, induces this licentiousness
of speech. That kind of existence, also,
is peculiarly antagonistic to habits of reading and
reflection. No retirement is to be found in the tent.
Fatigue indisposes one for mental exertion, and there
is not the great incentive to reading—a wish to please.
The evening’s talk is about the work of the day, the
probability of success, arrangement for future labor,
and, too often, some coarse and spicy anecdote to
sustain that excitement of spirit natural to men. No
woman’s soft voice is there to soothe and to refine.
Under no circumstances could I have known better
the moral influence of woman in the element of
civilization, than in a sojourn at the gold fields. The
filth, the disorder, the domestic misery give place at
the presence of a female to cleanliness, regularity
and comfort. When I passed a tent in which there
was a swept floor, a bit of furniture, nicely washed
plates, bright pannicans, a sheet to the bed with a
clean counterpane over, with here and there a sack
or piece of old carpet laid down, I knew that the
genial influence of woman had been there. A man
once alluding to his home under these circumstances
said to me, “you can’t tell how comfortable we are.”
There was a pretty sight to be witnessed at Bendigo;
a young, and not an ugly wife, standing under the
green bough porch of her tent, playing with a pair
of beautiful canaries in a cage.

The lovers of order and the friends of humanity
must surely rejoice at the noble stand taken by the
government, to sanction no sale of alcoholic drinks at
the Diggings. The miners themselves too well appreciate
the security and peace this gives, ever to
desire a change of the system. True it is that tents
still exist as “Sly Grogshops,” and true it is, also,
that scenes of riot and bloodshed are only to be found
in their vicinity. Men, otherwise agreeable mates
and quiet neighbours, become under the influence
of drink, tumultuous and quarrelsome. The destruction
of those nests of crime at Friar’s Creek, soon
made Murderer’s Flat and Choke’em Gully associated
only with the history of the past. Many parties
before going up, make agreement to be Total Abstainers
while at the Diggings.

One prominent and most common evil to be apprehended
from the diggings, is the sense of degradation
induced by the uncomfortable and often disgusting
associations of the place. Even gentlemen of
refinement and education have been so oppressed by
the circumstances around them, as to become reckless
of their personal appearance, and even their
language and demeanour. They have sunk to a
level with the mass about them. This loss of self-respect
is the precursor of a deterioration of moral
feeling. The same causes operate in producing disunion
of parties. Always together, and always in
contact with the same irritating circumstances, they
sometimes lead the life of Kilkenny Cats, which are
said to be eternally devouring one another. A very
sensible digger made the following judicious observations
to a new party he had formed. “Now”
said he “we shall have hardships, and we are sure
to lose our temper; when this happens, let us lay
it to the circumstances and not to each other.” The
effect of this life upon youths is most disastrous,
and many parents may have to rue the day they
suffered them to leave their homes of comfort and
of moral control.

The condition of children at the mines is to be
particularly regretted. Exposed to scenes with
which their young eyes ought not to be conversant,
knowing little of the sweets and privacy of a well
ordered household, with no means of daily instruction
at hand, and with no Sabbath bells to call them
to the place of prayer, they fall into habits which
materially and sadly affect their future course. It is
not impracticable to have even <i>Itinerant</i> Government
Schools at the Diggings for the young; it is
not impracticable, and it would be highly desirable,
to establish good circulating libraries, of light and
useful, but not trashy, books for the adults.

Could nothing more be done for the moral and
religious welfare of the poor diggers? The
Bishop of Melbourne, while I was up there, made an
earnest appeal to the miners at Bendigo to get a
church erected before the wet season came on. But
it is comparatively of little use urging this duty upon
men who know that they are to leave next week. It
is a deeply interesting sight to witness a number of
rough, unshorn, and toil worn men assemble around
some spreading gum tree in the wilderness, in the
newly trodden gold fields, desiring to worship the
God of their fathers with their brethren of a kindred
faith. How pleasing, and yet how sad the emotions
which rise in the breast during such an exercise!
We love to think of <i>that</i> House of Prayer now
distant from us, and of <i>that</i> dear company with
whom we met to worship. Visions of sweet home
appear, and each familiar countenance passes in
review. And then we are anxious and concerned
about the friends we left behind us. A tear starts
in the eye at the thought of a wife or darling little
one. It is well if we then can feel that a Father
above is watching our absent home.

The moral effects of the Diggings is an important
subject. We may and do regret the debauchery and
extravagance consequent upon the sudden accumulation
of wealth,—the interruption to the regular
course of business,—the indisposition of the
miner, whether successful or unsuccessful, to resume
his accustomed occupation in the field or
in the workshop,—the absorbing thought of gain
among all classes,—the neglect of literature, and
the indifference to religion. But there is a serious
social evil which is too often lost sight of;—the
breaking up of families. How many a bitter
tear, and how much domestic trouble have the Gold
Fields occasioned. Wives separated from husbands,
and children far away from the care of fathers.
The object of love in a happy home has a stranger
to close his eyes of death. Some there are of whom
no tidings arrive. The depths of the forest alone
can reveal the sad tale. One evening, coming
down from the Bendigo, I encamped near a party
also returning to town. Some children playing
about drew my attention. Falling into conversation
with the mother I learnt the following story. Her
husband, a Burra miner, had gone to Mount Alexander.
Having sent for his wife, she proceeded with
her family overland. After this trying journey,
she arrived only to hear of the death of her partner.
“When dying in the hospital” said she, “the children
lay heavy upon him; he was always calling out for
them.” And that man was buried without a follower
in the graveyard of strangers.

There are not wanting pleasing moral features of
the Diggings. At the same time we must bear in
mind, that in this our embryonic state as a Golden
Land, we see the first fruits only of disorganization;
by and by we may, if we use proper means, witness
happier effects. It is highly gratifying to observe
many who had been honestly contending with pecuniary
difficulties become by a visit to the mines freed
from debt and care. Many such have quietly returned
to their bush homesteads, and are now busy in
preparing for the Golden grain. As friends of progress
we may congratulate ourselves upon the development
of the Anti-feudal element. In spite
of the confusion of the times, and the dissipation of
lucky diggers, we must feel proud to live in a time
when the sons of toil, without bidding or control,
may realise the means of competency. It is to be
hoped that such persons will let their children be
benefitted by this change, in the improvement of
their education. This is preeminently the occasion,
when true patriots and philanthropists should awake
to an earnest feeling of the moral wants of the
times, and when they should in stern resolve prepare
at once to do their duty. The future condition of
our colony, and its influence upon the safety,
comfort, and happiness of our own homes, greatly
depend upon the efforts of the few and the unselfish,
amidst the whirl of excitement and the rush for
wealth.



.sp 4
.h2
HISTORY OF THE DIGGINGS.
.sp 2

Sir R. Murchison, from observations at the Ural
gold diggings, and his knowledge of the geology of
New South Wales, concluded that in our eastern
ridge the treasure would be found.  The Rev. W.
B. Clarke of Sydney, some years ago made a similar
announcement, and in fact discovered gold in the
valley of the Macquarie. Mr. Edward Hammond
Hargraves arrived in Australia from California,
resolving to find a gold field in our adopted land.
On the 12th of February, 1851, he sighted the
favored locality. Disappointed in his application for
£500 bonus from government, he at length threw himself
upon the liberality of the authorities, and made
known the lucky spots on April 30th. The Government
geologist reported favorably of the discovery, and
Mr. Hargraves afterwards received £500 and an appointment
of Commissioner of Crown Lands.  The
first party of diggers left Bathurst on May 6th. The
scene of labor was Ophir, at the junction of the
Summerhill Creek with the Lewis’ Ponds Creek,
near the river Macquarie, and 30 miles from Bathurst.
The Turon became known June 16th, and
Louisa Creek the month after. The metal is now
known to exist more or less from the Manero
Plains to Moreton Bay. The Bathurst gold was
found alloyed with silver in the proportion of 30
grains to an ounce. Platina and the precious stones
are also found.

The Port Phillip people were alarmed at the good
fortune of their neighbours. A gold committee
offered a reward for the discovery of a gold field
here. It was known that the precious material had
been seen. The Clunes diggings were announced
on July 8th, 1851. They were on Deep Creek, a
tributary of the Loddon, 100 miles to the west of
Melbourne. The Buninyong followed in August
9th, being 25 miles nearer our capital. But the great
revelation was made at Ballarat, on September 8th,
which was 75 miles from Melbourne and 54 from
Geelong. On September 17th, the press declared
that “Geelong is mad, stark staring gold mad.”
The following “symptoms of insanity created some
amusement at the time:—”

1. Rising early and proceeding to the creek, pulling
the stones about, and washing the sand and gravel,
then placing it in a box resembling a cradle, imagining
the stones and sand to be a <i>child of earth with golden
hair</i>; rocking the child to sleep; then taking the mud
and gravel out, and putting it into an <i>expecting dish</i>,
mixing it with water and shaking it, all the while looking
at the slush with the fondest solicitude for its safety;
ultimately throwing it away with disgust, and assuming
the appearance of intense disappointment.

2. Repeating the above strange proceeding day by
day.

3. Troubled sleep at night, with frightful dreams
of being pelted by Midas with lumps of gold, upwards
of 106 lbs weight, and being unable to pick
them up, or of smaller nuggets sticking anywhere,
but in your breeches pocket.“

The wonderful Mount Alexander diggings were
visited in September 10th. Bendigo followed soon
after, but remained for a time in obscurity. The
Jim Crow range diggings near the Loddon have
recently attracted attention.  The following licenses
were taken out at Ballarat; in September
532, October 2261, November 885. At Mount
Alexander there were in October 221, in November
4678.  The number of late on the
ground has ranged from 30,000 to 50,000. What
will be the number on the return of the Colonial emigration
in Spring, and on the advent of the English
gold diggers? It is not easy to calculate the produce
of the mines. In August last we exported 18 ounces,
and for July it rose to 180,000 ounces.  The escort
is no criterion, as many men convey their gold to
town themselves. The amount raised in 24 years
from the only paying English gold mine in South
America was worth £1,300,000. Only a few years
ago the total value of the world’s gold was estimated
at nine millions a year. Now Russia produces four
millions and California above a dozen millions
annually.

Australia is eagerly competing with the American
El Dorado, and it is thought that in Victoria
alone the yield for 1852 will very nearly equal that of
California, if not exceed it. But how long are our
Gold Fields to last? Some will talk of hundreds of
years at the present amount. This is impossible.
It is highly improbable that as they are now wrought
they will continue twenty years.  But even should
they continue as briskly as ever for four or five
years more, this colony will be placed upon a very
comfortable footing.  Even when the scrambling
and wasteful diggings are over, and the lottery runs
out, it will be discovered that judicious and systematic
working of places not paying now, and even
going over the old claims again, will in the hands of
gold companies profitably employ a large population
at excellent wages, or furnish individual miners a
most respectable maintenance. Having then no
fears of the future, we can with joyful voice exclaim,
“Advance, Victoria.”

.tb

A few stories were given as connected with the discovery
of certain gold localities. A shepherd was the
first who brought gold to Melbourne from the Pyrenees.
A boy at one of Dr. Barker’s huts, Mount
Alexander, is said to have brought in some shining stuff
which he had found to his father, and that originated a
gold field. Gold districts have been made known
by holes being dug for posts. A horse’s hoof, or
the wheel of a dray, unfolds to view a glittering
lump. A bullock driver spied a nugget at the foot
of a tree; he scratched up a handful of beauties,
and the gully was soon known as the rich Eagle
Hawk. The celebrated Peg Leg Gully yielded its
gold through the surfacing of a man whose wooden
legs forbade him sinking. Part of Friar’s Creek
became an Ophir through some passing shearers
who washed some of its sands in a tin plate. Golden
Gully, near there, gave up its hidden wealth
through a man idly pulling up a root of grass, under
which was a lovely nest of nuggets. Mr. Gibson is
said to have been scratching with his knife on the
banks of the Bendigo, and accidentally turned up a
piece of gold. Telling his men, they feasted awhile
by themselves upon this dainty repast. But I had
another story given me, which I must tell, although
conscious that there is a fearful scandal in it. Mr.
Gibson’s shepherd there told his wife privately of
the treasure. She told it in the strictest confidence
of secresy to another woman, who conferred a
similar favour upon a female neighbour of hers, who
might in the fulness of her heart have bound a
friend in the same ties of anti-revelation, and so it
went on, I suppose, till a man knew it, for it soon
got blazed about far and near.



.sp 4
.h2
GEOLOGY OF THE DIGGINGS.
.sp 2

When a man of observation walks over the Gold
Fields, his attention is arrested by the following
facts.

1. The prevalent rocks are observed to be of a
crystalline, or what is called igneous, character; as,
granites of all varieties, quartz, mica, slate, felspar,
sienite &c. Some felspar is seen decomposed into a
soft white finger-staining mineral, or into fine porcelain
clay. At the “Gap” of the river Macquarie
the sienite is flanked by precipitous silicious slates.
The Mount Alexander range is of a granitic character,
and the beds of the streams running from it,
on the Bendigo road, are filled with huge boulders
of granite on a granite floor, containing parallel
veins of crystallized felspar, having usually a north
and south direction. No detritus of other rocks is
found on the granite by the “Porcupine.” Some
of the rocks bear fantastic resemblance to Beehives,
Logan stones, and Scandinavian Tumuli. Granite is
the bed of the Macquarie at Bathurst, and the base of
the Mullion range, near which were the first diggings
of New South Wales. The quartz is of all kinds;
black, white, yellow, pink, green, red, spotted, streaked,
mosaic, porous, fibrous, clinker like, and crystallized.
Carbon makes it black; copper or chlorine, green;
oxide of iron, red or brown; manganese, rose colour.
The crystals are hexaedron pyramids, single or double,
of different sizes and degrees of transparency. Some
rise from the surface like wedges, having a singular
appearance. The prisms are triangular, quadrilateral
or pentagonal; some crystals have others attached
to their sides. Veins of black quartz are observed
with the centre very vesicular. Carious quartz,
or swimming stone, is not common. The granulated
quartz or grindstone schist has often minute transparent
crystals in cavities. From a hole in Golden
Gully, Bendigo, I obtained a specimen of soft sandstone,
with most exquisitely beautiful veins of crystallized
quartz running in all directions.

2. The Crystalline rocks are observed gradually
changing into what is called the Sedimentary rocks,
as slates. Such a transition from the crystalline to
the laminated form is by insensible degrees. The experience
of the miner is often opposed to the theories
of geologists. He cannot help noticing the different
kinds of slates, as presenting proof of their being
transmutations of, or some among the many kinds of
developement in, crystalline rocks. There are slates
as amorphous looking as any Huttonian can desire.
Others are so silicious, as to be denominated by the
New South Wales geologists, <i>Quartzites</i>. On the
Bell’s creek the clay slate changes into jasper. The
chlorite slate of Ophir is so full of quartz veins, and
dykes and bosses of quartz, as to be called by Sir T.
L. Mitchell, <i>Quartz iferons schist</i>. Instances are numerous
of slate with embedded quartz, and quartz entangling
slate. At the cathedral rock, near Specimen
Hill, Bendigo, numerous veins of chlorite slate are
seen running unharmed and unchanged amidst that
huge block of so called, igneous rock. The same
specimen of quartz has exhibited in different parts
not only different colours, but the clinker, the
calcined, and the transparent conditions. The Rev.
W. B. Clarke, of Sydney, hints at the probability
of quartz, greenstone, basalt, and slates, by the influence
of segregation, chemical affinity, galvanic or
other forces, being “derived from the same original
source, and indefinitely varied in the order of their
arrangements and relations to each other at different
intervals.” Mr. Clarke’s observations on the Diggings’
ground, would seem rather to have confounded his
geological creed. The absence of ordinary stratification,
even in the holes, is a remarkable feature.
The character of stuff through which we have to go
on the tops of hills resembles that in the gullies.
Though much of the soil bears evidence of diluvial
action, yet a considerable portion clearly results
from the decomposition of the rocks near. The
great irregularity of mineral beds in the holes, no
two holes being alike, would not present the idea
of gentle depositions, nor are we warranted to assume
volcanic dislocation. Such fantastic changes in the
order and depths of these mineral beds, were compared
by a diggings’ friend to the alternations of the
eight notes of music in different bars.

Our slates in Victoria are elongated, amorphous,
crystalline, contorted, laminated, with or without
cleavage, red, brown, white, blue, and chocolate color.
Some are very talcose and soapy. In others grains
or streaks like rainbows are seen. Mundic or Iron
pyrites’ crystals are found in dark, friable, unctious
slate of Forest creek. At Miles’ creek, Bendigo,
are fine curvillinial lines in red slates. Near the old
square, Forest creek, and beside Fryer’s creek is
some splendid blue book slate, resembling the leaves
of a book. The cleavage of the slates is evidently
made by magnetic agency. Sometimes, as at Bendigo,
the cleavage planes preserve a true parallelism
while passing through contorted hard slate.

3. The rocks of the diggings are observed in
successive bands of various colors and compositions
with a great vertical inclination. This is the same
as in other gold countries. Intelligent miners are
much struck with this fact of rock succeeding rock
over a country side by side, and all with a perpendicular
direction. The slate has some odd changes of
position, influenced doubtless by local disturbances.
On the road from Bendigo to Bullock creek, the
rock may be seen in one place dipping 80° to the
east, a little further 80° to the west, then 10° to
the west, &c. In Iron bark gully I noticed in a
square yard of space the following different position,
in some blue roofing slate; 45° to N E, 30° to Es
70° to N. The Pipe clay, which, being silicate of
alumina, is decomposed from siliceous slates and
granites, has, like the neighbouring rocks, this
same vertical inclination.

4. The ridges of rocks are observed to run nearly
in a North and South direction. This is the same
as in all gold countries, and establishes the theory of
terrestrial magnetic agency.

5. There is a remarkable abundance of iron.
Crystals of iron pyrites are common. The carburet
of iron or emery, like iron sand, is always associated
with gold. Oxydulous masses of iron form
a precipitous waterfall of 60 feet near Oaky Creek,
New South Wales. Ferruginous, or iron bearing,
conglomerate, overhangs the river at Ophir. Auriferous
bands of argillaceous iron ore traverse the limestone
of Bungonia. Large nodules of peroxide of
iron, and magnetic iron ore of all kinds, are taken out
of our Victoria Diggings. The burnt stuff, or burnt
quartz of the miners, is a ferruginous cement binding
quartz pebbles. There is no need of referring
this compound to volcanic or electric fire. Chemical
action with moisture will make any mixture hard
enough. Roman cement when dried is not very soft.
In the Ballarat holes the “Burnt Quartz” has been
found ten feet thick; it is less at the Mount, and
less still at Bendigo, though on some Bendigo hills
it occurs six or eight feet.

6. The Gold is found in positions where there is
a transition from the ordinary crystalline rocks to
those of the sedimentary character. This remark
leads us at once to the interesting and debated
subject of the “<sc>Origin of Gold</sc>.” Some say that
the gold of our gullies and hills is washed down from
a matrix or source,—that is from certain golden
lodes in a mountain. Others affirm that a volcano
once burst forth and showered gold instead of cinders,
and they direct us to the shot like appearance of
nuggets. It is believed, also, that mica is the
mother of Gold. Without doubt some is washed
down by rivers, and more was deposited by
ancient floods when covering the whole country,
but a large amount is found <i>in situ</i> as
it always had been. It is assuredly a fact noticed
in all auriferous countries, that the gold is seen in
positions where the sedimentary looking rocks come
in contact with the so called igneous rocks. It is
also, always found associated with iron, and commonly
in the decomposition of rocks. It is in auriferous
sulphuret of iron in Chili; ochreous decomposed
silicious rock, adhering to specular iron, in
Columbia; ferruginous sands in the Niger; decomposed
reddish granite in Thibet; honeycomb quartz
and rotten slate in Virginia; black peroxide of iron
in Ceylon; pyrites in decomposed felspar in Hungary;
sulphuret of iron in quartz in France; ferruginous
clay slate in Granada; with iron of all
kinds in Wieklow; decomposed crystalline rock
with iron pyrites in the Ural; so in California, so
in Australia. It would appear, then, that the gold
was the produce of certain changes in certain rocks.
The formation of crystals is somewhat analogous.
The wall of a mine previously bare is seen gradually
to get covered with crystals. Even crystals of iron
pyrites are so produced, and are known by miners
as “Young Mundic.” There must be, then, constant
activity going on in the apparently inert mass
of mineral matter. There is no rest in creation.
The heavens above us speak of eternal movement.
The animal and vegetable kingdoms reveal an incessant
round of change. And now the dull rock
unfolds to us the existence of motions and transformations
that know no stay. There may be death
upon the earth, there can be none beneath. We
sweep off crystals only to make way for more. And
may it not be so with metals in general? We may
not know the particular elements and circumstances
necessary for the formation of the yellow treasure,
but some approximate conception may be gained by
observation.

If crystals are the flowers of the earth beneath,
metals are unquestionably mineral trees in gradual
development, and dependent upon certain acids,
alkalies, and other materials, for sources of their
transformations. Moisture seems essential for these
chemical changes. The production of gold is observed
to take place chiefly towards the surface, though
at a considerable depth in the compact rock very
minute particles may be detected. When the crystalline
rock disintegrates, iron sand is developed and
accumulated. Mr. Hopkins, of the Port Phillip
Gold Company, the ablest practical mining geologist
of the day, and who calls clay slate “<i>oxidated crust
of granite</i>,” observes, that it is “within the limits
of this transition of the crystalline base into the oxydated
compound that the minerals become principally
developed in veins, &c.” An interesting illustration
of this is afforded at Specimen Hill, Bendigo,
where the metal lies between the quartz and the
slate. Again, at Clunes, the fissures in the quartz
are filled with greasy red earth, highly impregnated
with iron, and in this was the gold. Sir T. L.
Mitchell, in his most interesting report, tells us, that
the gold of Summerhill Creek was “in incrementitious
portions and separate increments of quartzose
crystals.” In fact, the metal is often detected in
considerable masses in the solid rock apart from
any veins, which could not be, unless formed in the
very place. It is not often, however, that a lump
of 106lbs, as at Louisa Creek, is found thus
detached.

Our Gold deposits of Victoria, then, are not the
products of washings from distant rocks, but of
certain friable metalliferous rocks, which gradually
wearing away unfold their treasures; and the
gold itself is a sort of crystallization or growth in
ferruginous crystalline formations, acting under
regular, though at present unknown laws. <i>Our
rocks are at this moment producing gold.</i> The
metal is found on the tops of hills and in all possible
situations. We never are sure where to drop on it.
All we see is that <i>where it is, there it is</i>. In some
gullies the sides of the hills are not favorable; in
others they are. Long Gully, Bendigo, received a
return of visitors, after being <i>wrought out</i>, to have
the hills ransacked. Then, with regard to the Pipe
clay, the gold is in it, on it, or under it, according
to the locality; that is, according to the period when
the metal was formed, and rolled off from the parent
rock, whether before, or after, or during the development
of the decomposed felspar. Some men who
came down to pipe clay in a certain gully found no
gold, and retired. Another party pierced through
the white floor, and brought up the wealth. In
Californian gully more than six feet of it contained
gold. The pipe clay varies much in depth, from an
inch to forty feet. Occasionally, as in the shallow,
lucky, holes of Peg Leg Gully, there is no pipe clay
at all. The character of the gold changes according
to the locality in which the transmuting agency has
been more or less active. The lumps, however, are
not larger in proportion to proximity to some matrix,
as supposed, or when nearer to the volcano, which
others think threw out the lovely, weighty, cinders.
Notwithstanding all this uncertainty which exists as
to the whereabouts of gold, I believe that with the
progress of science it will be quite possible at once
to know the precise place in which to discover the
hidden beauties. O the delicious yellow crystals!
Who does not love to view them, whether in the
form of fibres, scales, or nuggets! The poet well
may sing;

.pm start_poem
Or 'midst the darksome wonders
Which earth’s vast caves conceal,
Where subterranean thunders
The miner’s path reveal;
Where bright in matchless lustre,
The lithal flowers (<i>crystals</i>) unfold,
And 'midst the beauteous cluster,
Beams efflorescent Gold.
.pm end_poem



.sp 4
[ADVERTISEMENT.]

.h2
NOTICE TO GOLD DIGGERS.
.sp 2

Mr. CONNEBEE Publisher, 174 Elizabeth-street, in directing
attention to Mr. Bonwick’s judicious suggestion, in page
4, of the preceding work—“Take up with you a few choice
books because you should be prepared to keep up your intellectual
position”—begs to inform Gold Diggers, and others,
about to visit our mines, that he has procured from London and
Sydney for their especial use, pocket editions of almost all
our eminent authors, and that he has several thousand
volumes now on sale at his Establishment, exactly adapted
for those who desire to obtain valuable information or rational
recreation, compressed in the smallest possible compass.

Mr. C’s Catalogue of New Works may be obtained <i>gratis</i>
at 174 Elizabeth-street.

.dv class='tnotes'
.ce
<l>Transcriber’s Note</l>

Errors in the text have been corrected where they can be reasonably
attributed to the printer or editor, or where the same word appears as
expected elsewhere. Inconsistencies in punctuation or the spacing of
characters have been resolved with no further notice.
.dv-