Part 2

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 _oilskin_ 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 _trouble_ 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 _sometimes_ 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.”

THE DIGGER AT HOME.

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 _clear the land_. 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.”

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.

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 _the_ 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.

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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.

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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.

HEALTH AT THE DIGGINGS.

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.

MORAL STATE OF THE DIGGINGS.

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.