It is said that the climate of Australia makes young men old,
and old men young. I do not believe the first part of the proverb, but
I am quite certain that there is a great deal in the second part of
it. During those two years I chiefly lived in a tent, and led a quiet,
free, and pleasant life in the open forests and wild country,
continually shifting our scene as we took the fancy, now encamping in
some valley among the mountains, now by some pleasant lake or river.
In fact, pic-nicing from day to day, and month to month, watching, I
and my two sons, with ever new interest, all the varied life of beast,
bird, and insect, and the equally varied world of trees, shrubs, and
flowers. My mind was lying fallow, as it regarded my usual literary
pursuits, but actually engaged with a thousand things of novel
interest, both among men in the Gold Diggings, and among other
creatures and phenomena around me. In this climate I and my little
party enjoyed, on the whole, excellent health, though we often walked
or worked for days and weeks under a sun frequently, at noon, reaching
from one hundred to one hundred and fifty degrees of Fahrenheit; waded
through rivers breast high, because there were no bridges, and slept
occasionally under the forest trees. There, at nearly sixty years of
age, I dug for gold for weeks together, and my little company
discovered a fine gold field which continues one to this day.
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