of the people (a disposition very little to be expected, perhaps, by those who have not visited Australia), the order and regularity among the gold-diggers of that country, and especially of New South Wales,* has been something wonderful. Sunday has been kept sacred from toil, as it were by common consent, and in many places service has been performed with great regularity. Disputes have been referred to the commissioners, and their decision at once accepted; and little robbery or violence has as yet taken place. With the consciousness of this peace and order reigning among so rough and miscellaneous an assemblage, it must be an interesting sight to look down from some wooded eminence on one of these auriferous valleys, to see the lines and clusters of tents of all kinds, from the canvas marquee to the little bark 'gunyah,' gleaming in the sunshine, or peeping out here and there among the bush; and to look on several thousand men, in red or blue woollen shirts, with cabbage-tree hats, and 'bearded like the pard,' all busily and eagerly intent on their work: some digging, some wheeling and carrying, some washing and rocking, each acting independently, and yet all working together, with a willingness, intentness, and pertinacity, that nothing but the expectation of immediate gain could rouse in so many men at once.

Notwithstanding the business and the work, or perhaps in consequence of it, silence is said to reign over the scene, undisturbed except by the hum of the rocker or the wheel-barrow, or the taps of the picks. This order, and this voluntary silence and intent industry, we may, I think, claim as one of the peculiar characteristics of our Anglo-Saxon race, just tinged as it is with Celtic blood. Only let the reader picture to himself a few thousand Frenchmen similarly occupied: what a row there would be! Even if there were no quarrels (and duels would probably be coming off by the dozen), what shouts and gesticulations, what screams of rapture when a large lump was found, and what a cluster of admiring and loudly applauding spectators and congratulators!

There are, however, interruptions to this scene of busy industry. The water will sometimes gradually fail, so that, after reducing every drop in the river to the consistency of pea-soup, the diggings will perforce have to be suspended for want of means to render them useful. Sometimes, moreover, storms of rain will occur, that bring too much water, and cause great damage, and even loss of life.

* In Victoria there has been much more crime, both robbery and violence, than in New South Wales. This is to be attributed principally to its vicinity to Van Diemen's Land, from which place a rush of convicts, exiles, or ticket-of-leave men, across to the diggings immediately took place; and these men, as was to be expected, at once resorted to their old habits. To meet this rush of scoundrelism, the government of Victoria had but a small and insufficient police force, and borrowed some of the Van Diemen's Land convict police; but these men, having been themselves convicts, were but little to be depended upon under new conditions and less strict regulations, and were at once tyrannical and corrupt. Still, in spite of all these things, and notwithstanding all the exaggerated stories we hear, the order and good conduct of the gold-diggers has been remarkable.

A lively sketch of some of the scenes connected with the diggings appeared in the Port Phillip Magazine, under the name of a Tandem Drive to Ballarat.' 6 Having cleared the city,' says this writer, 'we overtook the golden army of bullock-drays moving northward, surrounded by companies of men and lads: occasionally a female is seen. Four bulldogs pull one carriage, a great dog in the shafts of another, and a man pushing behind at a load of near five hundredweight.

'Presently, the splendid panorama opened to view an extensive sweep of plains, encircled by mountain-ranges in the remote distance. Far as the eye can reach, the pilgrimage, its line moving along the undulations, now hid, now rising into viewEnglish and Germans, Irish and Scotch, Tasmanians. .

Sixteen drays at Yuille's Ford, and nearly 200 people. It is nearly impassable, from the fresh current of yesterday's rain. But the men, tailing on to the ropes by dozens, pull both the horses and carts through. Some there are pulling, some cooking their mid-day meals, some unloading the drays, some moving off the ground. Over the ford, the road is delightful, the scenery charming, the land more broken, and timbered like a park. Ladidak comes in view-a beautiful ravine, formed by the convergence of several hills, at the base of which the river so winds that it must be crossed thrice.

"Where formerly was silence, only broken by the voice of the bell-bird, now bullock-drays, bullocks, and bullock-drivers are shouting, roaring, and swearing up the hill, or descending splashing through the once clear stream. On, on until the expanse of Bacchus Marsh opens, until lately a favourite meet of our hounds.

'A camp of tents has been formed by those who think it discreet to put off the crossing struggle until their beasts have had the benefit of a night's rest; loud is the ringing of bullock-bells; meanwhile, an impromptu bridge of a tree has been thrown across the river, and men are crossing and recrossing like a stream of ants. A dray deep in the stream makes a complete capsize before it can be hauled through.

'Our tandem dog-cart dashes through gallantly; we reach the Pentland Hills, where another encampment has been formed in the long ravine; we trot on slowly, the moon bright, the sky cloudless, a sharp frost nips the uplands, the campers eating, drinking, and smoking; architects, jewellers, chemists, booksellers, tinker, tailor, and sailor, all cold, but cheerful. At the next station, we halt and enjoy our friend's fire and supper.

'The next morning broke bright and fresh; the ground was white with frost; at daylight, the train of pilgrims was crossing the plain-the Germans with wheel-barrows led the way. At Ballan, we find the inn eaten out. A horse passes at speed, bearing on his back two horsemen. We meet sulky parties of the unsuccessful returning, and see signs, in small excavations, of prospecting parties. The forest grows denser. Towards evening,

we reach the hospitable roof-tree of Lal Lal, where at daybreak all the laughing jackasses of the colony seemed to have established a representative assembly. Ha, ha, ha! ho, ho, ho! hu, hu, hu! ring forth in every variety of key innumerous.

The cavalcade in motion splashes through the broad river, where one driver, in his shirt, without breeches, walks beside and urges on his horses, fearful of his dray sticking on the way. Our next point is Warrenneep, where we refresh with a draught from the delicious mineral spring. Two miles from Warrenneep, the hills begin gradually to slope toward Ballarat. The forest-trees are loftier and denser, but the surface soil is not so richly grassed. The road emerges on to a rich bottom of considerable extent, and the hill to the left extends upwards in such a gentle slope as to diminish the appearance of his height. Within a mile and a half of Golden Point, the tents begin to peer through the trees. The Black Hill rises precipitously on the right from a creek that washes its base, and through its thick forest-covering the road is visible down which the carriers are conveying their earth.

'The bank of the creek is lined with cradles, and the washers are in full operation. Round the base of the mountain, on the further side, at right angles with this creek, the River Leigh flows; and for half a mile along its bank the cradles are at work. We descend, leave the road, cross the bottom, spring over a dam, and are among the workmen. "Rock, rock, rock! swish, swash,

swish!" such the universal sound.

'The cradle is placed lengthwise with the water. The cradleman, holding the handle in his left hand, with a stick or scraper to break the lumps of earth or stir up the contents, keeps the cradle constantly going. The waterman, standing at the head of the cradle with a ladle of any kind, keeps baling water continuously into it. A third man washes carefully into a large tin dish the deposit that has fallen through the sieves of the cradle on to the boards beneath, carries it into the stream, where he stands kneedeep, and, tilting the dish up under the water, and shaking its contents, the precious metal falls to the bottom, while the earth and sand are washed out by the water.

After long washing, the glittering dust is seen along the bottom edges of the dish. This residuum is carefully washed into a pannikin, dried over the fire, and bottled or packed for expor tation. Meanwhile, the cradleman and waterman examine the quartz-stones in the upper sieve for quartz-gold. Occasionally some are found with pieces of quartz adhering, the rest are thrown aside. The cradle filled, the men are at work again, and the rockrock recommences. On the top of the hill, the diggers are hard at work; the carriers descend the steep side, dragging a loaded sled filled with the gold-impregnated earth, some with tin vessels on their heads, others with bags on their backs. The earth thrown down, they reascend the toilsome way; and this is the process "from morn till dewy eve."

'Returning to the road, the outer encampment this side of Golden Point became visible. A sound is heard like the continuous beat of a thousand muffled drums, or the rushing of a mighty waterfall. As we issue from the trees, the cause is beheld. From the margin of the forest a broad swamp spreads, through which the Leigh runs. Over against you, the broad shoulder of a bold hill is pushed out to meet its attacking waters, and round its base run the swamp waters, uniting with the river. Along this the cradles are ranged for about half a mile, on both sides of the creek and down the river, forming the letter T with the ends upturned. They are crowded so closely together as barely to permit being worked-in some places in triple file. At this distance you see some of the excavations, and the carriers swarming up and down hill with all sorts of vessels, from the bag to the wheel-barrow. The enormous ant-hive swarms like a railway cutting, where the crown of a hill is carried down to fill a valley.

'Higher up the hill's crest, along its sides, and stretching down to the swamp far away to the right and left, are the tents, thickly clustered and pitched, and, far beyond, the lofty, white-barked trees form a background. This is Ballarat !

"Crossing the swamp, we reach the commissioner's tent, where he is trying a depredator, who, for want of a lock-up, has been tied to a tree all through the hard night's frost.

'Troops of horses, drays, carts, and gigs, with their owners, are all around. Squatter, merchant, farmer, shopkeeper, labourer, shepherd, artisan, law, physic, and divinity, all are here. You meet men you have not seen for years, but they recognise you first, for even your most intimate friends are scarcely to be known in the disguise of costume, beard, and dirt. "Welcome to Golden Point!" "Ah, old friend! hardly knew you. How are you getting on?" "Did nothing for a week; tried six holes, and found no gold. My party, disheartened, left me. I formed another party; sank eighteen feet until we came to the quartz, and dug through it, and now I have reached the blue clay. It is a capital hole; come and see it."

'Imagine a gigantic honeycomb, in which the cells are eight feet wide, and from six to twenty-five feet deep, with the partitions proportionately thin, and to follow a friend to find a hole in the very midst is dangerous work

"Lightly tread, 'tis hollowed ground."

'The miners move nimbly about, with barrow, pick, and bag, swarming along the narrow ledges; while below, others are picking, shovelling, and heating the stove.

"No danger, sir; our bank is supported by quartz. We've got to the gold at last. Made an ounce yesterday. There was a man killed yesterday three holes off; the bank fell down on him as he was squatting down this way, picking under the bank, and

squeezed him together. His mate had his head cut, and was covered up to the throat."

'Down the shady excuse for a ladder half the way, then a jump, and the bottom of the capital hole is gained. Nearly four feet of red sand formed the upper layer, next a stratum of pipe-clay, below which lie the quartz-boulders; then a formation of quartzpebbles, with sand impregnated with iron; this penetrated, the bluish marl is reached in which the vein of gold is found.

'Down among the men washing there is nothing to be observed. The work is earnest-no time for talk.

'The commissioner has a busy time issuing licences. His tent has the mounted police on one side, and the native police on the other. The black fellows are busy tailoring; one on the broad of his back, in the sun, with his eyes shut, chanting a monotonous aboriginal ditty. Three men are waiting their turn with the commissioner.

"I say, Bill, this here's rayther respectable okipashum. That cove with the specs is a first-class swell in Melbourne, and there's a lot in the same party with him. The greatest nobs are all the same as uz snobs! I saw Mr from the Barwon here this morning; he found his shepherd in a hole getting gold, an no mistake! He comes with his brother to have a turn with the rest; but when he saw him, he looked nonplushed, and said to himself: 'Well, I can't go down to this;' and I believe the fool started back. But come, it's our turn now."

The evening shadows fall; the gun from the commissioner's tent is fired, the signal for digging to cease; the fires blaze up; the men gather round them for their evening meal; their smoke floats over the trees as over a city; the sounds of labour are hushed, but are succeeded by loud voices and ringing laughter, mingled with the bells of the browsing oxen, and the dogs baying more loudly as the darkness grows more dark. A party of gamblers are staking each a pinch of gold-dust on the turn of a copper. The native police, lithe and graceful as kangaroo-dogs, are enjoying a round of sham-combat: one black fellow attacks with a frying pan; the other pretends to shoot him with his knife-a painter might study their attitudes. Hark! to the sax-horns from the Black Hill, floating to us across the valley; close at hand, the sweet melody of German hymn in chorus rises; and then, down from toward the river, comes the roaring chorus of a sailor's song. The space and distance mellow in one harmonious whole all the sounds; and as we retreat, they fall upon one wearied with hard labour like the rich hum of an English meadow in harvest-time.'

At the time when this paper is closed (end of September 1852), the latest accounts from Australia give such a view of the progress of the gold-digging, as exceeds the most sanguine expectations that were originally formed upon the subject. The product of the