At the latter end of the month, one hundred and seventy
seven pounds troy, in two superb masses of gold, were discovered at the depth
of sixty feet, on the hill opposite where I was working. The talk was soon
Vulcanish through the land. Canadian Gully was as rich in lumps as other
gold-fields are in dust. Diggers, whom the gold fever had rendered
stark blind, so as to desert Ballaarat for Mount Alexander and Bendigo,
now returned as ravens to the old spot; and towards the end of February, '53,
Canadian Gully was in its full glory.
Chapter IV.
Incipit Lamentatio.
The search for licences, or "the traps are out to-day"--their name at the
time--happened once a month. The strong population now on this gold-field had
perhaps rendered it necessary twice a month. Only in October, I recollect
they had come out three times. Yet, "the traps are out" was annoying,
but not exasperating. Not exasperating, because John Bull, 'ab initio et
ante secula', was born for law, order, and safe money-making on land and sea.
They were annoying, because, said John, not that he likes his money more
than his belly, but he hates the bayonet: I mean, of course, he does not want
to be bullied with the bayonet. To this honest grumbling of John,
the drunkard, that is the lazy, which make the incapables, joined their cant,
and the Vandemonians pulled up with wonted audacity.
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