The Cooey 84 is a shotgun manufactured by the H. Cooey Machine & Arms Company in Cobourg, Ontario, Canada The shotgun was sold as model number 84 until 1967, and (following acquisition by Winchester) as model number 840. The gun ceased to be produced in 1979. Today, the 84/840 is considered a. The History of Ballarat, from the First Pastoral Settlement to the Present Time by William Bramwell Withers.

The History of Ballarat, from the First Pastoral Settlement to the Present Time. A treasure-trove of literature treasure found hidden with no evidence of ownership Title: The History of Ballarat, from the First Pastoral Settlement to the Present Time. Author: William Bramwell Withers. * A Project Gutenberg of Australia eBook * eBook No.: 1304971h.html Language: English Date first posted: August 2013 Date most recently: August 2013 Produced by: Ned Overton. Project Gutenberg Australia eBooks are created from printed editions which are in the public domain in Australia, unless a copyright notice is included. We do NOT keep any eBooks in compliance with a particular paper edition.

Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check the copyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing this file. This eBook is made available at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg Australia which may be viewed online. GO TO HOME PAGE Production Notes: The original map is missing from the scanned document. In its place, a map has been sourced from the State Library of Victoria, compiled by Robert Allan and also published by F.W.

It covers the Ballarat gold mines and shows many of the locations mentioned in Appendix B. Click on this map to enlarge it.

In concordance with the classic, recently released in Project Gutenberg Australia, 'The Eureka Stockade' (HTML), translations of all foreign language quotations and passages are here provided as numbered footnotes in an added Glossary. To go to the translation, click on the [red] bracketed number, then click on the [blue] number to return to the text. Withers' book has no footnotes. Sandhurst is now Bendigo. THE HISTORY OF BALLARAT. THE HISTORY OF BALLARAT FROM THE FIRST PASTORAL SETTLEMENT TO THE PRESENT TIME. BY WILLIAM BRAMWELL WITHERS JOURNALIST.

SECOND EDITION: WITH PLANS, ILLUSTRATIONS, AND ORIGINAL DOCUMENTS. A L L A R A T is one of the wonders of this century. Young in years its mutations have been many and rapid, and its marvellous progress has given to it a seeming antiquity beyond its urban years. Our task is to trace an outline of the rise and progress of this golden city. This task takes us back to days that seem, in the swift march of colonial events, to belong already to a remote antiquity. While the sailor-King William IV. Was but newly buried, and Queen Victoria was still an uncrowned maiden; while only a few rude huts, sprinkled about the still uncleared slopes and gullies, failed to scare away the native animals that haunted the bush where the City of Melbourne now stands; while the pleasant borders of the Bay of Corio, where Geelong is to-day, were not graced by a single house, but only bore on their silent slopes a few scattered tents, a small band of settlers started from the Corio shore to explore the unknown country to the north-west.

This was in the month of August, 1837. The party comprised Mr. Thomas Livingstone Learmonth; Mr.

D'Arcy, a surveyor; Dr. Thompson, late of Geelong; Mr. David Fisher, then manager of the Derwent Company, Tasmania; Captain Hutton, of the East India Company's Service; and Mr. Henry Anderson.

With them they took suitable equipment and provisions. From Bellpost Hill they saw in the distance, north-westward, a mount, to which they directed their course, steering their way by compass, and thus they arrived at and ascended Mount Buninyong. From the Mount the explorers saw fine country to the north-westward, Lake Burrumbeet, and the distant ranges of the Pyrenees and the Grampians. An ocean of forest, with island hills, was all around them, but not a speck visible that spoke to them of civilisation. But the promising landscape drew the explorers on westward and north-westward. They descended the Mount, the party divided, their compass-bearings were not well kept, the provision-cart failed to be at the appointed rendezvous, and thus, broken into sections, the explorers found their way back to the coast, some of them unable to find their provisions, and therefore fasting by the way. In January of the next year explorers set out again.

The party this time consisted of Messrs. Aitken, Henry Anderson, Thomas L. Learmonth, Somerville L. Learmonth, and William Yuille. The starting point was Mr. Aitken's house, at Mount Aitken, and thence the explorers went towards Mount Alexander, which at that time had just been occupied by a party of overlanders from Sydney, consisting of Messrs. Ebden, Yaldwin, and Mollison.

From Mount Alexander they followed the course of the Loddon, passed over what has since been proved to be a rich auriferous country, and bore down on a prominent peak, which the explorers subsequently called Ercildoun, from the old keep on the Scottish border, with which the name of the Learmonth's ancestor, Thomas the Rhymer, was associated. Their course brought them to the lake district of Burrumbeet and its rich natural pastures. The days were hot but the nights cold, and the party, camping at night on an eminence near Ercildoun, suffered so much from cold that they gave the camping place the name Mount Misery.

There was water then in Burrumbeet, but it was intensely salt and very shallow. Next year, 1839, Lake Burrumbeet was quite dry, and it remained dry for several succeeding summers. It was covered with rank vegetation, and the ground afforded excellent pasture after the ranker growth had been burnt off. The country thus discovered was occupied during the year 1838, and other settlers, pushing on in the same direction, in a couple of years completed the occupation of all the fine pastoral country as far westward as the Hopkins River. The brothers Learmonth, Mr. Henry Anderson, Messrs. Archibald and W.C.

Yuille, and Mr. Waldie settled on the subsequently revealed gold-fields of Ballarat, Buninyong, Sebastopol, and their immediate vicinities.

Some members of the Clyde Company, of Tasmania, visited the Western district in 1838, that company giving the name to the Clyde Inn, of the old Geelong coach road. They settled upon the Moorabool and the Leigh, Mr. George Russell being the manager. Major Mercer, who gave the name to Mount Mercer, and Mr. Fisher, were of that company. The Narmbool run, near Meredith, was taken by Mr. Neville in 1839.

Ross' Creek was named from Capt. Ross, who in those early days used to perform the feat of walking in Highland costume all the way to Melbourne. But in those times travelling was a more serious matter than in these days of railroads, coaches, cabs, and other vehicles, with good roads and a generally settled country. Then there were no roads, few people, and a thick forest, encumbered about Ballarat, too, with the native hop. Archibald Fisken, of Lal Lal, was the first person to drive a vehicle through the then roadless forest of Warrenheip and Bullarook.

In 1846 he drove a dog-cart tandem with Mr. Taylor through the bush to Longerenong, on the Wimmera. Learmonth, whose father was then in Hobarton, settled their homestead on what became known as the Buninyong Gold Mining Company's ground at Buninyong. Henry Anderson, who was the earliest pioneer in what is now known as Winter's Flat, planted his homestead near the delta formed by the confluence of the Woolshed Creek and the Yarrowee, Messrs. Yuille subsequently taking that homestead and all the country now known as Ballarat West and East and Sebastopol. These settlers gave the name to Yuille's Swamp, more recently called Lake Wendouree.

The Bonshaw run was taken up by Mr. Anderson, 'who named it Waverley Park, and Mr. John Winter coming into possession shortly afterwards gave to it the present name, after his wife's home in Scotland. Pettett and Francis, in 1838 (as managers for Mr.

Clarke), took up the country at Dowling Forest, so called after Mrs. Clarke's maiden name. Shortly after they had settled there Mr. Francis was killed by one of his own men with a shear-blade, at one of the stations on the run. Pettett took up the Dowling Forest run he was living at the Little River, and a native chief named Balliang offered to show him the country about Lal Lal.

The chief in speaking of it distinguished between it and the Little River by describing the water as La-al La-al—the a long—and by gesture indicating the water-fall now so well known, the name signifying falling water. Waldie subsequently took up country north-west of Ballarat, and called his place Wyndholm, where he resided till his decease. Yuille had settled originally on the Barwon, near Inverleigh, but finding the natives troublesome they retired to Ballarat. Smythe, who with Mr.

Prentice held the run, gave the name to Smythe's Creek, as Messrs. Baillie had to the creek at Carngham their run there being afterwards transferred to Messrs. Russell and Simson. Darlot also occupied a run there. Creswick Creek has its name from Henry Creswick, who settled upon a small run there. Two brothers Creswick had previously held country close to Warrenheip. Baillie were sons of Sir William Baillie, Bart., of Polkemmet, Scotland.

Andrew Scott settled with his family at the foot of Mount Buninyong, where he had a snug run in which the mount and its rich surrounding soil were included. Andrew Scott was the first lady who travelled through this district.

She drove across the dry bed of Lake Burrumbeet in the year 1840. The country about Smeaton and Coghill's Creek was taken up in the year 1838 by Captain Hepburn and Mr.

David Coghill who came overland from New South Wales with sheep and cattle, following the route of Sir Thomas Mitchell in his expedition of exploration in Port Phillip in 1836. With them came Mr. Bowman, who also brought stock. He took up a run on the Campaspe, while his companions came on further south.

The Murray was very low when they crossed, and the stock was easily passed over. At the Ovens they found a dry river-bed; Lake Burrumbeet was also dry that year. Hepburn and Coghill had left sheep at the Campaspe and Brown's Creek on their way, they pushed on, and from Mount Alexander they descried the Smeaton Hills, and, continuing their journey, found and took up the unoccupied country there. Smeaton Hill was called Quaratwong by the natives, and the hill between the Glenlyon road and Smeaton Hill was called Moorabool. Captain Hepburn, a seafaring man originally, was one of the Hepburns of East Lothian, Scotland, and Smeaton was named by him after the East Lothian estate held by his relative, Sir Thomas Hepburn.

Coghill was the first to plough land at the creek which bears his name, and in which locality there now is found one of the broadest and richest tracts of farming land in Victoria. He brought with him overland a plough, a harrow, and the parts of a hand steel flour-mill. In 1839 he ploughed and sowed wheat, and thus grew and ground the first corn grown there.

In 1841 Captain Hepburn erected a water-mill for corn on Birch's Creek; that was the first mill of that kind. Birch's Creek was named after the brothers Arthur and Cecil Birch, who, with the Rev. Irvine, came overland soon after Messrs. Hepburn and Coghill, and settled at the Seven Hills. Besides the run at Coghill's Creek, taken up by Mr. Coghill for some others of his family. Cattle Station Hill was also taken by him.

This run lay between Glendaruel and the Seven Hills, and was part of the purchased estate belonging to the Hepburns. Download Free Program For Voyage 200 Software Applications. The late Captain Hepburn long acted as a justice of the peace, and he was one of the squatters whom M'Combie mentions as having taken part in a meeting held on the 4th of June, 1844, in front of the Mechanics' Institute, Melbourne, to protest against Sir G.

Gipps' squatting policy, and to urge forward the movement for the separation of Port Phillip from New South Wales. The squatters mustered on horseback that day on Batman's Hill, and thence rode to the meeting in Collins street, the 'equestrian order' thus giving an early example of the right freemen have, even in a Crown colony, to air public grievances publicly and fearlessly. Lal Lal was taken up in the year 1840 by Messrs. Blakeney and George Airey, the latter a brother of the Crimean officer so often and so flatteringly mentioned in Kinglake's 'History of the Crimean War'. In the same year, Messrs. Le Vet (or Levitt) and another took up Warrenheip as a pig-growing station, but the venture failed, and some of the pigs ran wild in the forest there for years, and preyed on each other.

After Messrs. Le Vet and Co. Had been there awhile, the run was taken up on behalf of Messrs. Verner, Welsh, and Holloway, of the Gingellac run, on the Hume, by Mr. Haverfield (at present the editor of the Bendigo Advertiser), Le Vet and partner selling their improvements for about £30. Shortly after Mr. Haverfield came to Warrenheip, Bullarook Forest was occupied by Mr.

John Peerman, for Mr. Lyon Campbell. Verner mentioned above was the first Commissioner of the Melbourne Insolvency Court. He was related to Sir William Verner, a member in the House of Commons for Armagh.

Verner took part, as chairman, at a Separation meeting held in Melbourne on the 30th December, 1840, and soon after that he left the colony. Welsh was the late Mr. Patricius Welsh, of Ballarat; and Mr. Holloway became a gold-broker, and died at the Camp at Bendigo. In the year 1843, Mr. Peter Inglis, who had a station at Ballan, took up the Warrenheip run, and shortly after that purchased the Lal Lal station, and throwing them both together, grazed on the united runs one of the largest herds in the colony.

The western boundary of Mr. Inglis' Warrenheip run marched with the eastern boundary of Mr. Yuille's run, the line being struck by marked trees running from Mount Buninyong across Brown Hill to Slaty Creek. Donald Stewart, now of Buninyong, was stock-rider for Mr.

Inglis, on the Warrenheip and Lal Lal stations, and superintendent during the minority of the present owner of Lal Lal. Bacchus brought cattle from Melbourne and grazed them on his run of Burrumbeetup, the centre of which run is now occupied by the Ballan pound. There is a waterfall on the Moorabool there, which, for its picturesque beauty, is well worth visiting. The run extended on the Ballarat side of the Moorabool to about midway to the Lal Lal Creek.

Bacchus still resides in the same locality, his present station being known as Perewur, or Peerewurr, a native name, meaning waterfall and opossums. It was originally held by Messrs. Fairbairn and Gardner.

Buninyong was a village, or township, long before Ballarat had any existence as a settlement. The first huts were built at Buninyong in the year 1841, by sawyers, splitters, and others, Mr. George Innes being then called the 'King of the Splitters'. George Gab, George Coleman, and others, were the pioneers in the Buninyong settlement. Gab had a wife who used to ride Amazonian fashion on a fine horse called Petrel, and both husband and wife were energetic people. Gab opened a house of accommodation for travellers on the spot where Jamison's hotel was afterwards built. The first store in the neighborhood was opened at the Round Water Holes, near Bonshaw, by Messrs.

Campbell and Woolley, of Melbourne, who almost immediately afterwards removed to a site next Gab's, at Buninyong, whose place they took for a kitchen. Gab then removed and built another hut opposite to the present police-court, and he opened his new hut also as a hotel. A blacksmith named M'Lachlan, with a partner, opened a smithy opposite to Campbell and Wooley's store. This was the nucleus of the principal inland town then in the colony. In the year 1844 Dr. Power settled there, and built a hut behind what was afterwards the Buninyong hotel.

He was the first medical man in the locality, and for years the settlers had no other doctor nearer than Geelong. The young township became a favorite place with bullock teamsters, who were glad to build huts there where they could leave their wives and children in some degree safe from aboriginal or other marauders. In the year 1847, the Rev. Thomas Hastie, the first clergyman in the district, came to Buninyong. His house, and the church in which he performed service, were built entirely by the residents in Buninyong, both pecuniary gifts and manual labor being contributed.

Then, as afterwards, the Messrs. Learmonth were among the foremost movers in the promotion of the mental and moral, as well as material welfare of the people about them. Hastie, in a letter to us, says:— Before I came in 1847, the Messrs. Learmonth had made several efforts to procure the settlement of a clergyman at Buninyong, but had failed, partly from want of support, but chiefly from their inability to procure one likely to be suitable. Overtures had been made to Mr. Beazely, a Congregational minister then in Tasmania, and afterwards in New South Wales, but he declined them.

Learmonth were willing to take a minister from any denomination, and the circumstance that a Presbyterian clergyman was settled here arose from the fact that no other was available. Until after the gold discovery there was no minister in the interior, that is out of Melbourne, Geelong, Belfast, and Portland, but Mr. Hamilton of Mortlake, Mr. Gow of Campbellfield, and myself. For many years my diocese, as it may be called, extended from Batesford, on the Barwon, to Glenlogie, in the Pyrenees, and included all the country for miles on either side, my duties taking me from home more than half my time. Before I came the Messrs.

Learmonth had contemplated the establishment of a cheap boarding-school for the children of shepherds and others in the bush, but for prudential reasons they deferred the matter till the settlement of a minister offered the means of supervision. Immediately after I came the project was carried out, and subscriptions were received from most of the settlers in the Western district. The school was opened in 1848 by Mr. Bedwell, £10 a year being charged for board and education. The gold discovery carried away the teachers, raised the prices of everything, and Mr. Hastie had to see to the school and its GO boarders himself; but through all the difficulties the school was maintained with varying fortunes, until at length it became the Common-school near the Presbyterian Manse, with an average attendance of some 180 children. What is now the boroughs of Ballarat, Ballarat East, and Sebastopol, was then a pleasantly picturesque pastoral country.

Mount and range, and table land, gullies and creeks and grassy slopes, here black and dense forest, there only sprinkled with trees, and yonder showing clear reaches of grass, made up the general landscape. A pastoral quiet reigned everywhere. Over the whole expanse there was nothing of civilisation but a few pastoral settlers and their retinue—the occasional flock of nibbling sheep, or groups of cattle browsing in the broad herbage. There were three permanent waterholes in those days where the squatters used to find water for their flocks in the driest times of summer. One was at the junction of the Gong Gong and the Yarrowee, or Blakeney's Creek, as it was then called, after the settler of that name there. Another was where the Yarrowee bends under the ranges by the Brown Hill hotel, and the other was near Golden Point.

Aborigines built their mia-mias about Wendouree, the kangaroo leaped unharmed down the ranges, and fed upon the green slopes and flats where the Yarrowee rolled its clear water along its winding course down the valley. Bullock teams now and then plodded their dull, slow way across flat and range, and made unwittingly the sites and curves of future streets. Settlers would lighten their quasi[new?] solitude with occasional chases of the kangaroo, where now the homes of a busy population have made a city; it was a favorite resort of the kangaroo, and Mr. Fisken, of Lal Lal, and other settlers often hunted kangaroo where Main, Bridge, and other streets are now. The emu, the wombat, the dingo, were also plentiful. The edge of the eastern escarpment of the plateau where Ballarat West now is, was then green and golden in the spring time with the indigenous grass and trees. Where Sturt street descends to the flat was a little gully, and its upper edges, where are now the London Chartered Bank, the Post-office, and generally the eastern side of Lydiard street, from Sturt street to the gaol site, were prettily ornamented with wattles.

'King Billy' And The Ballarat Tribe, 1851. I often passed (says Mr. Hastie) the spot on which Ballarat is built, when visiting Mr. Waldie, and there could not be a prettier spot imagined.

It was the very picture of repose. There was, in general, plenty of grass and water, and often I have seen the cattle in considerable numbers lying in quiet enjoyment after being satisfied with the pasture. There was a beautiful clump of wattles where Lydiard street now stands, and on one occasion, when Mrs. Hastie was with me, she remarked, 'What a nice place for a house, with the flat in front and the wattles behind!' Waldie had at that time a shepherd's hut about where the Dead Horse Gully is on the Creswick Road, and one day when I was calling on the hut-keeper, he said the solitude was so painful that he could not endure it, for he saw no one from the time the shepherds went out in the morning till they returned at night. I was the only person he had ever seen there who was not connected with the station. The ground now occupied by Craig's hotel on one side of the gully that ran down by the 'Corner', and by the Camp buildings on the other side, were favorite camping places in the pastoral days.

Safe from floods, and near to water and grass, the spot invited herdsman and shepherd, bullock-driver and traveller, to halt and repose. The aborigines were nut numerous about Ballarat even in those early days; a little earlier, however, as when Dowling Forest was taken up, they were more numerous and were often troublesome, being great thieves.

Several of the adults were strongly marked with small-pox at the time the locality was taken up for pastoral occupation. The natives, were considered inferior to the Murray tribes, and were generally indolent and often treacherous. From time to time they were troublesome to the settlers—as well to the good as to the bad. King Billy was the name given to the chief of the tribes about here, and that regal personage for many years wore a big brass plate bearing his title. He was chief of the tribes about Mounts Buninyong and Emu, and King Jonathan, of a Borhoneyghurk tribe, was his subordinate. My brother and I (says Mr. Somerville L.

Learmonth) began by feeding and being kind to the natives, but not long after the establishment of our first out-station, on the way to Smythesdale, we were aroused in the dead of night by the intelligence that Teddy, the hut-keeper, had been murdered. Some of the natives had seen the ration-cart on the previous day; they watched until the hut-keeper went unarmed to the well for water, his return was intercepted, and one blow with a stone hatchet laid him dead at the murderers' feet. The hut was robbed and a shepherd brought to the homestead the Pad intelligence. A party started next day in pursuit of the natives, but I have often felt thankful that we failed in finding them. On two occasions our men were attacked, but they resisted successfully and their assailants retired. Frequently small numbers of sheep were missing, but beyond this, and the stealing of small things when allowed to come near a station, the natives never injured us. I attribute our immunity to having issued orders, which were enforced, that the natives should on no pretext be harbored about any station.

They are most expert thieves. I remember seeing a woman who was employed in gathering potatoes quietly raise a large proportion with her toes, and place the potatoes in her wallet, the others being openly put into the receptacle provided by the employer. Another gentleman, surprised at the rapidity with which his crop withered away, examined and found that the tubers had been removed and the stems placed in the ground again. The place where the Messrs. Learmonths' hut-keeper was murdered was called Murdering Valley. It is near the south-western boundary of the borough of Sebastopol, and was, a few years ago, the scene of a more horrible tragedy than that of the murder by the aborigines.

Once in 1842 the natives were troublesome on Mr. Inglis' run at Ballan.

They had offered some insult to a hut-keeper's wife and all the European force of the station turned out with tin kettles, pistols, sticks and other instruments of noise and defence or offence—a great noise and demonstration were made to terrify the natives and thus that trouble was got over. Hastie says that when he first came to Buninyong the natives were 'comparatively numerous'. They used to come to the manse for food, in return for which they would fetch or break up fire wood. As a pendant to the Rev. Hastie's picture of pre-auriferous Ballarat, the following, given to the author by Henry Hannington, will further help to illustrate the 'origins' of the place.

Hannington says:— I was several times about Ballarat before the diggings in 1851. In the year 1844 I was driving a team of bullocks for Mr. Duncan Cameron, of Pascoe Vale, from his station. Yuille's Swamp (Lake Wendouree) was a camping place for teams, and the bullocks generally made off for the flat by Golden Point, where the grass was always green in the driest of summers.

The timber on the flat was white gum, not thick. The creek opposite to Golden Point was shallow, about 15 inches deep. There was one water hole near Grimley's Baths (between Bridge Street and the Gas Works). I used to see a log hut or two about when I went after the bullocks, and some sawyers and splitters had huts and a few cattle on the ranges.

The road from the Grampians to Geelong and Melbourne was the same as at present. It went past where the Unicorn Hotel is (opposite to the Post Office), then round Dan. Fern's corner (Albert Street), across the creek near Golden Point, and then to Buninyong, to the publichouse kept by Mrs. Jamieson, who was called Mother Jamieson. From there it went to Fisken's, near the Lal Lal Falls, for water for the teams.

We had several visits from the black lubras. The blackfellows seldom came with them. We all had to carry firearms, as the blacks were treacherous, and were spearing hut keepers and others every day. I got safe with my team to Moonee Ponds, Pasco Vale, and had to come back to the Ballarat District in 1845, as there was an order from the Government for a few free men to join the new mounted police, and I was sent to Mr. Edward Parker, the protector of the blacks at Jim Crow Creek (Daylesford).

I had nothing much to do. Went once a week for the mail, and was often about Ballarat looking up horses, as they always made for the flat opposite Golden Point. Everything looked then pretty much as it had the year before. Hannington is only one of the vouchers for the water supply of the Yarrowee valley, but as old or older settlers than he tell us, as we have in part seen already, of the occasional drying up of what now seems to be permanent waters.

Thus, one of the Learmonths writing to the Corn Stalk, in April, 1858, says:— When we discovered the country around Burrumbeet, in January, 1838, there were then a few inches of intensely salt water in the lake. In June of that year the water dried up, and in the three following years Lakes Burrumbeet and Learmonth were quite dry and covered with coarse grass, which the cattle and sheep fed over, and which was burned in each of these summers. There was a little water in the middle of both lakes not evaporated at the end of the summer of 1842, and since then there was a gradual increase in both till 1852 when it reached its maximum and has been fluctuating since then. All the swamps and most of the springs that now supply water were perfectly dry, or nearly so, in the years 1839, 1840, 1841. The Moorabool did not run in these years, and the Leigh and the Barwon only for a few weeks, and then not more than knee deep. During these dry seasons Burrumbeet was fringed with a sort of myrtle, which must have been growing there for some time, for the trees had attained a considerable size, as may be seen by their stumps and roots which are still visible a hundred yards within water mark.

With regard to Yuille's Swamp, from which Ballarat is supplied with water, it also was dry in the years I have mentioned, but the water in it, when the winter rains did not fail, was always good, which was not the case with many of the lagoons in the district. Waldie corroborates Mr.

Learmonth as to Yuille's Swamp, and Mr. Learmonth, with smaller, other eyes than those of subsequent water-supply caterers, remarks that if Yuille's Swamp were improved by feeders from Waldie's Creek 'very inexpensive works would furnish Ballarat with an abundant and cheap supply of water at all times.' Hannington, like many another waif of the old days, seems, as we shall see by and bye, to have got stranded in the shallows whilst other craft about him swept on to fair havens. The squatters, too, were not fixed like the land they occupied, for they had their exits and their entrances, as we have seen, and many departed for good and all.

It was thus with the Learmonths eventually, albeit they remained for many years after the date of the days of which we are now treating. Their Buninyong pre-emptive they let on a mining lease and after that they sold the hind. Still holding the Ercildoun estate, they ventured, themselves, some years later, upon the fortunes of mining, and took a quartz mine at Egerton, appointed a manager, won a good deal of gold, then sold the mine and sued the vendees, including the manager, who had sold as the vendors' agent and then joined the vendees.

But this matter is dealt with further down the stream of our story. Not long after the law suit the last of the Learmonths left the colony or was dead. Ercildoun, the place where their famous merino flocks had borne them so many golden fleeces, was sold to Sir Samuel Wilson, and he eventually became an absentee, living in Earl Beaconsfield's house of Hughenden, and after some defeats becoming a member of the House of Commons, where he now sits as representative for Portsmouth. Ballarat, or, more properly, Ballaarat, is a native name, signifying a camping or resting place, balla meaning elbow, or reclining on the elbow; all native names beginning with balla have a similar significance. Wendouree is the anglicised form of Wendaaree, a native word, signifying 'be off', 'off you go.' Yarrowee is probably a Scottish settler's use of the Scottish Yarrow, with a diminutive to suit the smaller stream. Buninyong, or, as the natives have it, Bunning-yowang, means a big hill like a knee— bunning meaning knee, and yowang hill This name was given by the natives to Mount Buninyong because the mount, when seen-from a given point, resembled a man lying on his back with his knee drawn up.

The Yow-Yangs, by the Werribee, is a form of Yowang. Station Peak, one of the Yow-Yangs, was called Villamata by the natives. Warrengeep, corrupted to Warrenheip, means emu feathers; the name was given to Mount Warrenheip from the appearance presented by the ferns and other forest growths there.

Gong Gong, or Gang Gang, is an aboriginal name for a species of parrot; Burrumbeet means muddy water, and Woady Yaloak standing water. Mount Pisgah, in the lake country, was first known as Pettett's Look-Out, and Mount Rowan as Shuter's Hill. Mount Blowhard had no name among the settlers until one of Pettett's shepherd-boys gave it that name, from having often proved the appropriateness of such a designation, since his experiences of windy days there had been frequent.

As a race the Australian squatters were brave and adventurous. Many of them were men of liberal education and broad and generous culture, and some were men bearing old historic names, as well as possessing the instincts and the discipline of gentlemen.

Others were vulgar boors, whose only genius lay in adding Hock to flock, run to run, and swelling annually the balance at their bankers. The first squatters took their lives in their hands, for they had to fight with various enemies—a treacherous native population, drought, hunger, and on all sides difficulties.

Coghill, in a viva voce communication to us:— Every day, I may say for ten years, I have been many hours in the saddle. I never had much trouble with the natives, only that they would sometimes thieve a little; but I used always to make a point of going to them and talking to them as well as I could, and explaining to them that if they behaved themselves they would not be molested. I remember the bother we had with our first wool. We did not know how to get it down to ship, and we thought we would send it by way of Morrison's station, on the Campaspe. We had to cross the Jim Crow ranges, and we were a week among the gullies and creeks there before we could get a passage with our wool across the ranges.

The squatters were essentially explorers, and encountered all the risks of exploration. Over mountain and valley, through forest and across plain, they went where everything was new to civilisation. Passing by arid, treeless, grassless wastes, mere howling wildernesses of desolation, they pursued their way to tracts of boundless fertility, lands flowing, prospectively, with milk and honey, potentially rich in corn, and wine, and oil. Ever among the virgin newness of an unsubdued country, they steered their course by by guided by the sun or the compass; at night, led by the skies, as, to quote the great New England poet's melodious, child like conceit. From memory in Ballarat, since giving us an oral statement, Woodward writes the following as to the discovery:— Connor, Woodward, Jeanes, Thornton, and Brown left Geelong, Wednesday, 20th August, 1851. Smith arrived on Sunday, 24th August. Brown started (for new ground) Monday morning, 25th.

Meeting on Monday evening to petition against paying license-fee for the month of September on account of gold not being sufficient to pay expenses. On the 26th Brown came back for three more men, horse and curt and cradle, and the two first hours' work gave 4½ oz. Commissioners arrived on Friday, 19th September, asking for Connor's party; taking the pannikin up with the gold remarking—'This is a proof it will pay the license-fee.' On the 20th Commissioner sends for Connor to pay the license-fee for the remainder of the month. After Connor had paid the license he was pelted with clay and bonnetted.

A public meeting was held outside the bark hut in the hearing of the Commissioners, Herbert Swindells on the stump. Resolutions passed that no one pay the license for September, as we had petitioned against it. The meeting no sooner over than the (Commissioners') hut was rushed to pay the license, as them that did not pay would loose their ground—Conner's party receiving 16 feet square each, double the ground to what others had.

Herbert Swindells was refused a license to dig on account of taking the stump at the meeting. A collection was made for him of 12 oz.

Of gold which he lost the same night. This is a correct list of facts.

Merrick, writing from Morrison's Diggings, on the 24th February, 1870, to Mr. James Oddie, says:— As to the time or date of our arrival on Golden Point I do not remember, but as to the day and circumstances they are simply as follows:—I formed the party at first with the intention of proceeding to Esmond's Diggings, and on the road we tried Hiscock's Hill, found it would not pay, so we agreed at the end of the week to send George Wilson, one of our party, to the Brown Hill to see if Lindsay and party had found gold.

If they had not we were to start for the Clunes on the Monday morning. George went up on Saturday or Sunday returning over Golden Point, the flat being flooded. He tried a dishful of gravel and got a nice prospect—some of the bits like small shots flattened. When we had seen the prospect we determined to start for the place next morning early, so that we should not be noticed leaving. On our arrival at Yuille's Flat our cart got bogged, so three of our party, the carter, and horse, started for the Point, taking with them as many things as they could, leaving two of the party to mind the cart.

When they got to the Point to their surprise they found Connor's party just arrived. The cart was soon got up and the tents commenced putting up. Most of our party were for finishing tent and other odd jobs, and commence washing the next week, but I said, 'No for I intend to be the first that ever worked a cradle in this place.' It was agreed I should, and I cradled the remainder of the week, but no other party began till next Monday or Tuesday following, except they tin-dished it. My party consisted of six men, but Mr.

Batty did not come up with us. Their names are as follows:—T. Turner, Dunn, G. Fitzgerald, J.F.C. Thus was opened the gold-field of Ballarat, and the honor of discovery seems to be tolerably evenly balanced between the two claiming parties. Turner does not, though Dunn does, assert priority of discovery for his party, and he admits that Connor's party were first on the Point on the first working day, Woodward making Tuesday and Turner making Monday to be that day.

Merrick does not assert priority either, save as to the use of the cradle. It may, perhaps, be held that the balance of priority inclines to the side of Connor's party, and it is said in support of Connor's claim that he was always regarded as leader of the diggers at the meetings held in those first days when the authorities made their first demand of license fees.

Then it is seen from Woodward's statement that the Commissioner recognised Connor's claim to priority, and gave the party a double area. Schneider Electric Unity Pro Crack. Swindells fared worse than our modern men of the stump, and appears to have been less mindful of No. 1 than his less scrupulous descendants. It is worthy remark, as already shown, that none of these actual discoverers and openers of the Ballarat gold-field ever received any reward from the Government, though Hiscock had, and Esmond also, Hargreaves, however, as already stated, having the lion's share. So far, it must be said, Victoria has acted with less liberality to her own children than to the stranger's.

As to Hiscock's gold cup, lately (1870) exhibited here as the product of gold got in Hiscock's Gully, Woodward affirms that the cup was not made of gold discovered there. Writing to Mr.

James Oddie, from Tarnagulla, under date 29th May, 1884, William Brownbill, the discoverer of gold at what is now known as Brown Hill, on the road to the Gong Gong, says:— In the early portion of 1851, having donned the blue shirt, I resolved to swim with the tide and take the first job that presented itself. * * Took a job rebuilding Mr. Cray's station, which had suffered by the fire on black Thursday, and while there very exciting stories were told of the Sydney gold-fields, and several hands left the station for that new enterprise. Not long after the Sydney fields had been noised abroad it was stated that there had been gold found at Buninyong by a blacksmith named Hiscock.

Hearing that a great many people had gone there in search of gold I decided to go to Buninyong and see for myself what could be done. Judge, then, my disappointment to find that this diggings of Hiscock's was just about being deserted, parties chopfallen and discouraged selling their outfit, consisting of a tarpaulin, spade, pick, tin dish, for the merest trifle. During the evening, however, at the hotel I fraternised with a gentleman, a reporter for one of the Geelong papers, who had come up to take stock, and from him I learned that some new place had been discovered some miles out in the bush. He and I made our way to the place and found Dunlop and Regan, the discoverers, with about six or seven other parties on a small hill (Golden Point) scratching up dirt and washing it in a tin dish, where specks of gold became visible. Upon my attempting to follow their example I was informed that that side of the hill belonged to them and that I had better look for a place for myself.

Under these circumstances I was constrained to take my stand on the other side which was afterwards called Poverty Point. Not many days elapsed before feeling discouraged, and I struck out across the bush in search of fresh fields, trying bits of dirt here and there as I went along. In this way, then, I came to the place which in honor of my discovery the diggers called 'Brownbill's Diggings' and which afterwards degenerated into 'The Brown Hill'. We commenced work and must have been some considerable time there when Governor La Trobe, accompanied by Captain Dana and some black police, came up to see the place, Brownbill's diggings being the first visited.

Upon my showing the Governor the manner in which gold was obtained he remarked to me—'Your mother did not think when you came to Australia that you were going to dig gold out of the ground in that manner.' * * 'I have never received so much as a shilling in the shape of reward from the Government, my repeated applications being rejected on the plea that my discovery was too near another diggings.

Other parties from the seaboard were quickly on the trail of the Golden Point prospectors, and Hiscock's Gully-workers soon repaired to the richer locality. Hannington, whom we left revisiting pre-auriferous Ballarat, so to speak, in 1845, turns up again as we pursue his story.

He goes on thus:— After that I went exploring, and did not visit Ballarat again till 1851, where I arrived 28th August, and sunk several shallow holes about Poverty Point. There was not much gold getting then on Golden Point. Found a few specks in the grass, and put down a hole five feet deep.

The gold was all over the bottom like a jeweller's shop. There were some rows commencing over the claims then. I was about the fourth claim on the Point, and people coming every hour. We carried the dirt down to the creek in bags and washed it in dishes, and after that we got cradles. Some of the men that came washed with gloves on their hands.

There was doctors and lawyers. Ocock, from Geelong, was one. Then the flat below the Point started, and I got another hole there about 10 feet deep, and could see gold all over the bottom. Worked it out, and went off in the night, as there was sticking up beginning then. Made for William Ritchie's hotel, on the Geelong road, and got there by daylight, and came back after placing our gold safe. This time we pitched our tent on the very spot where the School of Mines is now, to be in sight of our claim. Cleared off a large heap of earth, and sunk 12 feet, and it seemed to be a little gutter.

It was like looking into a ginger bread basket, it looked so yellow with gold. We were doing well, but was near being stuck up one night, only I happened to be about, as I heard steps, and sang out to them to retreat or I should fire.

They stuck up two others that night. We soon worked out that hole, for we were surrounded by claims, the next to us being James Pugh, mate of Esmond's. We sold the claim for two ounces of gold, and went up to Mount Alexander. Came back again in 1852, six months after, and found one man only on Golden Point, and that was the same man we sold our claim to, as the others all left. He said to me that he had averaged six ounces a day since we left. I did not do well at Mount Alexander, and went to Big Bendigo.

Did well at Eaglehawk, but speculated in property at Melbourne, and got into the money-lenders' hands, and lost all, so came back to Ballarat again after trying other diggings unsuccessfully, and remained up to the present time (September, 1886.) Teddy Shannahan, whose story about the Eureka Stockade will be found further on, gives some touches of the times when the first rushes had set the colony ablaze. From notes furnished by gentlemen on the staff of the Ballarat Courier, after an interview with Shannahan, the author culls the following:— My party arrived at Buninyong in 1851, just after Esmond and Dunlop, and we went on Golden Point a few days afterwards, where we got 8 oz from a bucketful of stuff.

I saw one poor fellow killed by the fall of a tree which he had undermined recklessly, so anxious was he to get the gold. One day a commissioner and a trooper demanded my license, and, as I had not one, they took me, with a lot of others, to the camp, where we were guarded by eight or nine blackfellows, and they, with their polished boots, were looking as proud as possible. I got my license, after telling them my mind, and had to pay £10 in all. We went to Mount Alexander and Fryers' Creek and on to Bendigo, where we had our pick of a squatter's flock of sheep for 9s.

We were the first to sink in Long Gully. At Eaglehawk you could see the gold shining in the heap of dirt, and every man sat on his heap all night with pistol or some weapon in his hand; I thought they would be making picks and shovels of the gold, it was so plentiful. It was there the first nugget was found, one 9 lbs. We only got £3 an ounce for our gold. In a week or two we started for Geelong, where my family was, and 'home, home,' was the cry. Each of our party took about 8 lbs.

Weight of gold to Geelong. We spent Christmas of 1851 there, and soon after that decided to go again to Ballarat, taking our wives—Glenn and I—and families with us—seventeen in all. Three inches of snow fell in Ballarat on our arrival, and we were hardly landed on the Eureka when up came a commissioner and a trooper and demanded our grog; we had ten gallons of brandy, and had to give it up, and we had got it at the post office below, but we did not tell where we got it, though the commissioner knew, for the bullock driver, we believed, had told him. The trooper wanted a digger to assist him with the grog; 'if you do,' said I, 'I'll smash your head', so the digger gave no assistance.

Next day the commissioner came back to my mate, and got him to take the keg to the camp. We paid the post office man £1 a gallon for the grog, and he gave us back the £10. We started digging on the Eureka, near where the stockade was afterwards.

One day, when the troopers were license hunting, I saw Thomas Maher get into a hollow log to escape the troopers; when he got in he found a snake there four feet long; it went to one end of the log, and Maher remained till the troopers went away. The diggers were wearied out of their lives by the troopers. They were tormented everywhere. Our party from first to last on the diggings must have paid about £500 in license fees. Creswick Creek (near Ballarat) from Spring Hill, 1855. Shannahan, who is now 86 years of age, may be pardoned if his memory is not exact as to the number of pounds. His notion of the 'tormenting' troopers is honestly Hibernian, and was thoroughly characteristic in one who began his narration to the Courier interviewer with the words:— No, it was not the gold discovery that brought me out.

In Corrigeen, Barony of Kilmarney, where I lived, seventeen houses were burnt in one day by way of eviction. I at once made up my mind to be under Parker, our landlord, no longer, and I came out here. The ever recurring wail of the Saxon-hating Irish Celt was thus most naturally echoed by Shannahan as soon as he found the inconvenient officers of the law crossing his path in this new land. Shannahan had a store within the Stockade, and there the declaration of independence, mentioned in a subsequent chapter, was drawn up. On the 28th of August, among others who arrived at Buninyong, were Messrs.

James Oddie, Thomas Bath, Francis Herring, and George Howe, and they reached Golden Point on Monday, the 1st September. The news quickly got to Geelong, and on the 9th a good many people, including ministers of religion, doctors, merchants, and others, arrived. On the day following, the Clunes prospectors having heard of the richer discoveries, Esmond, Cavenagh, and others arrived from Clunes, and Esmond and Cavenagh found fifty pounds weight of gold in two days, that being the first sent down by escort, and Cavenagh being the first to send goid to England, where it realised £4 per oz. The sketch map of Golden Point, by A.C. M'Donald, as the place was when the first rush was just reaching there, gives us a fairly accurate picture of the ground as it was then occupied.

M'Donald was one of the diggers there, and Mr. Oddie vouches for the validity of the plan. He informs us that his tent was close to Cavanagh's claim, and his claim was down the slope towards the creek. Seeing how rich Cavanagh's claim was, and that Oddie's tent was not on the claim held by Oddie's party, Howe and Herring—probably the first practitioners in a line of business that in after years became an art—jumped Oddie's tent ground, a space twelve feet by fourteen, or thereabout, and took 37 lbs. Weight of gold out of the ground. The following extracts from Mr.

M'Donald's diary of the time throw additional light upon the aspect of affairs then, and prove that snow in summer was near being a fact in this elevated region that year. Left Geelong in company with A.V. Suter (now residing at Yambuck Station, near Portland, Victoria), William Fisher, (then of Barrabool Hills, farmer); Percy E. Champion (of Geelong, now deceased). Arrived at Golden Point, Ballarat. A considerable fall of snow to-day.

Snow-balling freely indulged in. Population estimated at about 1000 to 1200. Sly grog-selling carried on openly, several prominent Melbourne and Geelong storekeepers subsequently fined. Meetings were held and two orderly and respectable diggers did their best to put down sly grog-selling and partially succeeded in doing so. The postal arrangements at this time were very insufficient; a bi-weekly mail from Melbourne and Geelong served for a population of about 10,000 diggers. I frequently walked to Buninyong and received letters there that should have been sent on to Ballarat.

About this time a stampede set in for Mount Alexander and in less than a week Golden Point was almost deserted; many diggers returned to Geelong and reported that the field was worked out. Weather bitterly cold and wet, hail and sleet and a little snow fell to-day.

The Yarrowee and Gnarr Creek were, when I arrived on the field, clear running streams, the former 3 to 4 yards wide, with wide grassy black alluvial flats. Black Hill heavily timbered to its summit and not a pick had been put in anywhere on the western side of the Yarrowee stream. The diggers worked their claims very carelessly and accidents resulted by the caving in of the sides; a few deaths also resulted. One party took up a claim at the foot of a large tree, and found a considerable quantity of gold amongst its roots; the tree was under-mined and fell, killing one of the party and injuring another.

The police hunted the diggers, and any miner found searching for gold without a license was taken to the commissioners' camp. I have seen three men chained to a tree all night because they could not, or would not, pay the 30s. About the end of October, two men were shot at for stealing gold, or rather washdirt. They were not mortally wounded, however, and were allowed to escape. On the 19th of September Mr. Commissioner Doveton, and Assistant-Commissioner Armstrong arrived with troopers, and on the 20th the first license was issued, Connor's party being the first licensees, and paying 15s.

Each for the remainder of the month. The diggers did not relish the demand of license fees, and at a meeting held—Connor on the stump—the division was against paying the fees. But the decision was not adhered to in practice, for the licenses were taken out immediately. Turner, for his party, followed Connor's example quickly, for by that time jealousies of each other had arisen, the Clunes contingent being regarded with especial disfavor. Swindells, one of the Geelong diggers, mounted the stump in those early days and on one occasion he got the diggers to divide—Clunes v. Geelong—and the balance of power being seen to be on the side of the latter, and the presence of the authorities aiding also, peace was kept.

For the attitude of the Commissioners was firm. When Swindells and Oddie, as the chosen delegates of the diggers, waited on the Commissioners to oppose the issue of the licenses. Commissioner Doveton said to them:—'I am not come to make the law, but to administer it, and if you don't pay the license fee I'll damned soon make you pay it.' This was nervously epigrammatic, and being fortified by a very contiguous group of black troopers, was practically irresistible. No wonder, then, that the peace, in that direction also, was kept. But that little drama in the tent of the Commissioners was a kind of prophetic rehearsal.

The dialogue had in it pent-up elements which, not many years after, exploded in tragical fashion. But we must not here forestall the evolution of events.

The diggings were shallow and very productive, the rains were heavy, and two rude bridges erected, the first probably, over the Yarrowee by Connor's party, were washed away. By the time the first week was over there had gathered near 100 diggers at the Point, the riches unearthed there quickly attracting not only all the other prospectors, but setting the colony on fire with excitement from end to end. The quiet Ballarat sheep run, with its grassy slopes and shadowy glades, and its green-galley where the Yarrowee poured its limpid waters, became suddenly transformed as by the wand of an enchanter. The Black Hill then looked upon the valley with a densely timbered head and face, whence its name was taken. The valley was thinly sprinkled with trees, and the ranges, with the spurs subsequently known as Golden Point, Bakery, Specimen, and Sinclair's Hills, were well timbered, while the western basaltic table land, where Western Ballarat is now, was moderately sprinkled with the usual variety of forest growth. In a brief time all this was changed. Soon the solitary blue columns of smoke that rose from the first prospecting parties' camping places were but undistinguishable items amidst a host.

The one or two white tents of the prospectors were soon lost in crowded irregular lines and groups of tents that dotted the slopes and flats, or spread out along the tortuous tracks made by the bullock teams of the squatter. The axe of the digger quickly made inroads upon the forest all round; the green banks of the Yarrowee were lined with tubs and cradles, its clear waters were changed to liquid, yellow as the yellowest Tiber flood, and its banks grew to be long shoals of tailings. Everywhere little hillocks of red, yellow, and white earth were visible as the diggers got to work, and in a few weeks the green slopes, where the prospectors found the gold of Golden Point, changed from their aboriginal condition to the appearance of a fresh and rudely made burial ground. At first the upturned colored earth-heaps were but as isolated pustules upon the fair face of the primeval hills and valley, but they rapidly multiplied until they ran together, so to speak, and made the forest swards but so many blotched reaches of industrious disorder, the very feculence of golden fever everywhere in colored splotches with shadowed pits between. Latrobe, in a despatch at this date to Earl Grey, says:— It is quite impossible for me to describe to your lordship the effect which these discoveries have had upon the whole community. Within the last three weeks the towns of Melbourne and Geelong and their large suburbs have been in appearance almost emptied of many classes of their male inhabitants.

Not only have the idlers to be found in every community, and day laborers in town and the adjacent country, shopmen, artisans, and mechanics of every description thrown up their employments—in most cases leaving their employers and their wives and families to take care of themselves—and run off to the workings, but responsible tradesmen, farmers, clerks of every grade, and not a few of the superior classes have followed; some, unable to withstand the mania and force of the stream, but others because they were, as employers of labor, left in the lurch, and had no other alternative. Cottages are deserted, houses to let, business is at a standstill, and even schools are closed. In some of the suburbs not a man is left, and the women are known, for self-protection, to forget neighbors' jars, and to group together to keep house. The ships in the harbor are in a great measure deserted, and masters of vessels, like farmers, have made up parties with their men to go shares at the diggings. Both here and at Geelong all buildings and contract works, public and private, are at a stand-still. Westgarth, in his 'Victoria in 1857'.

Thus refers to what he saw of change in Melbourne when he returned from a visit to Europe:— All had been changed into a wild and tumultuous development. The waters of Hobson's Bay were scarcely visible beneath a forest of five or six hundred vessels. The grassy glades of North Melbourne were now a hard and dusty surface, cut up everywhere with roads, and disturbed with the incessant noise of the traffic to the interior. To extricate the deserted ships it was proposed to get Lascars from India.

Communication with the mother country was only possible haphazard in those days. The Victorian Governor's despatches took six, and, in one instance, seven months to reach London. His Excellency and all his following were perplexed by the whirlwind of auriferous excitement. As his despatches stated, all classes felt the burning thirst for gold. Palmer, at that time President of the Legislative Council, was one of the first diggers at Golden Point, and used to quarter at Lal Lal. Among the first visitors were Lady A'Beckett, wife of the Chief Justice, with other ladies and gentlemen, who made a pilgrimage from Melbourne in a waggonette to see the new wonders. The Governor, too, came upon the scene.

Clunes and Anderson's Creek had mildly aroused the authorities in Melbourne, and regulations to be enforced by the 1st of September were discussed for those places; 'but (writes the Governor to Earl Grey) before this could be done, they also were deserted, not from any real unproductiveness, but from the discovery of the new gold-field within a mile of the township of Buninyong.' This was the Hiscock's Gully ground, but that electric flash was speedily followed by the more brilliant discharges from Golden Point, 'another locality (to cite the Governor's despatches again) producing the precious metal in far greater abundance in the valley of the River Leigh, about seven miles to the northward, into which a very large conflux of adventurers is pouring.' Under these circumstances the Government bestirred itself, sent up police, promulgated the right of the Crown in the gold, issued licenses, and so took the first feeble steps in the portentous and sometimes wayward path of gold-fields government.

The Golden Point diggers did not like the licenses at first, but they soon took kindly to them, and 400 were issued within a few days. His Excellency, writing on 10th October, stated that 1300 had been issued, and by the 30th October, 2246. He saw the lucky diggers digging up the gold on the Point, and told Earl Grey there were 500 cradles at work, not fewer than 2500 persons on the ground, and 500 arriving daily. He saw 8 lbs.

Of gold washed from two tin dishes of dirt, heard of a party that raised 16 lbs. At an early hour, and 31 lbs. In all that day, many parties of four sharing day after day 10 oz. 'There can be no doubt (continues his Excellency) but that gold must rank as one of the most important, if not the most important, products of the colony, and that from this time forward a very considerable and valuable section of the population will be employed in realising it.' The Victorian Governor's foresight was true, for he was sagacious and the times were quickening.

He and his Ministers had only just begun to draw breath again after the Ballarat rush, had begun to discuss the propriety of raising the salaries of civil servants to meet the new state; of affairs, had noted 'business beginning to receive as many, physically and morally unfit for the austerities of the gold-fields returned to their homes,' when a second shock came to fright them from their re-assuring propriety. The Mount Alexander diggings 'broke out', as the expressive phrase had it, and the Governor once more took to horse and went to see the newer Eldorado, writing on 30th October to Earl Grey, and telling him 'On my return to Melbourne the whole population was again excited.'

The Mount Alexander rush was caused by a shepherd picking up a bit of golden quartz. That led to prospecting, and a party haying got £300 worth of gold in a seam of quartz, more prospectors arrived, and then the rich alluvial grounds were opened, and Ballarat itself was half deserted by rushers to the later held, and everything was turned topsy-turvy once more. Latrobe at last got excited in his syntax.

Writing on 3rd December to Earl Grey, his Excellency said:— I must now apprise you that the progress and results of the successful search for gold in this (Mount Alexander) quarter, in the short interval which has since elapsed, has been such as completely to disorganise the whole structure of society, and it really becomes a question how the more sober operations of society, and even the functions of government, may be carried on. Hastie, writing recently to the author, says:— At the beginning of the diggings little attention was paid to Sabbath religious worship, the feelings of many resembling those of the digger who, when asked for a subscription, sent for a bottle of brandy to treat his visitor with. For the brandy the digger paid nine shillings, and as the subscription sought was only five shillings, his refusal cost more than his consent would have cost. After a while, however, open shops on the Sabbath were shut, the diggings became dotted with places of worship, and the Sabbath was observed with nearly as much respect as at the present time. At the first, all sorts of people came to the diggings, government officers, lawyers, doctors, merchants, and others. Two friends spent a night with me on their way to Ballarat; one was in the civil service with a salary of £600 a year, the other a merchant in good business.

I expostulated with them, but they seemed determined to carry out their purpose of throwing up office and business for gold digging. Second thoughts must have induced them to change their design, for the civil servant rose afterwards to the very highest office in his department, and the merchant, after some years, retired, and, as far as I know, is still (1886) living at home on the estate he purchased. Among those who rushed to Ballarat were several clergymen, and one asked that his horse might graze in my paddock. I said a Church of England minister had been staying with me for a fortnight, and if he came, like him, to preach to and visit the diggers, I would be quite willing to keep his horse, but if he came as a digger, I must charge him, as I had not sufficient grass for my own stock, and was continually pestered with similar applications. One day a digger asked me if I would sell my vehicle, as he was going to Bendigo, and the trap would suit him; I said I could not spare it, and he then offered to take me as a mate. Humoring his whim for the moment, I pointed out how little I could do; 'Oh,' says he, 'we will make you cook, and you will share alike in the gold.' I declined, and perhaps lost the chance of becoming one of the Sandhurst magnates, but I do not regret the decision.

Society, for a time, seemed to lose its ordinary conditions; those at the bottom rose to the top, and those at the top fell to the bottom; but it says much for the intelligence and character of the diggers and others that this state of things was so speedily righted, and that authority and law so soon resumed their place. This was certainly not due to the conduct or character of some of those in authority, young men whose only title to office was their having the ear of the Government, or of some one connected with the Government, for there could not be one more just, upright, and anxious to promote the interests of the colony than Mr. Many of his inferior officers were indeed inferior. Many had come out with recommendations from the home Government which Mr. Latrobe was constrained to regard. Had he been left to act on his own authority the disturbances which took place would never have occurred.

Hastie's observations anticipate here the march of events in this history, but they go to vindicate the reputation of an honest officer, upon the heads of whose subordinates, appointed, doubtless, in the manner stated, much of the trouble hereafter to be recorded must be laid. David Ham, who was elected to the Legislative Council on the 30th June, 1886, as one of the representatives for the Wellington Province, tells the following story of his adventures as a pioneer in the early days, from which it will be seen that he was a wonderful man for being at the start of things:— Ballarat Flat, from the Black Hill—1855 I landed in Melbourne on the 24th July, 1849, when the wages paid for general servants was from £20 to £25 a year.

Having had contracts for the supply of stores to wool ships off Point Henry, I became a farmer in 1850 at Bellarine, Indented Heads, and was potato digging on the 6th July, when the fires of Black Thursday were about us. We all left work and ran down into the sea.

Left Geelong on the 10th July, 1851, for the diggings at Buninyong, no Ballarat being then discovered. Saw Hiscock and party washing off dirt in a tin dish, swilling it through the water, and then letting clear water on the dirt and fishing with a knife for any specks of gold that could be seen through the water in the dirt. Returned to Geelong and left there with stores when Ballarat was discovered. Riddell, Robert Fawcett, myself, and four others, reached Ballarat in September, as the first license had just been issued. Pistols and powder were the order of the day when work was over. We had a good claim on Golden Point, and soon worked it out, and then on the 3rd November, Alfred Douglass (senr.), W.

Harper (Government Officer), H. Butchers, and I, left for Fryer's Creek. Got there on the 9th, our party being the fourth on the ground. We opened up Golden Point and the Golden Gully, taking a loaded gun to protect ourselves with, as old hands were prowling about for chances to rob holes. Many a life was taken in those days and never accounted for. The diggings were rich. I have seen 130 lbs.

Weight of gold taken out of a crevice in the rock there. In March, 1852, we had come to Ballarat again, and had a claim on the creek below Golden Point, about 32 feet square, 10 feet deep, and we took out £1200 worth of gold in two months. Then I, with four others, sank the first hole in Canadian Gully, and found the first nugget just below Hill and party, who were surfacing on the top of the range.

We were about the first to open the first gully at Little Bendigo on the old Eureka. In May there came a flood and ruined all the workings on the flats. From 1853 to 1854 I had a butchery store on the Eureka, where the Orphan Asylum is now. Sold out, went to Geelong, invested in house property there, but people left for the gold-fields, property fell and I lost everything but my reputation. In the pound, and in 1857 went to Ararat diggings.

In 1859 I and others put up a sawmill in Monkey Gully, and opened up the Victoria Reef at Browns; and up to 1863 was engaged opening up Smythesdale, Happy Valley, Cape Clear, Bull Dog, and Linton. In 1868 I returned to Ballarat, where I have remained ever since. The Ballarat excitement was exceeded by that of the Mount Alexander rush, and the Governor informed Earl Grey that while there were about 6000 persons at the Ballarat rush, there were double that number in an area of 15 square miles at Mount Alexander. His Excellency forthwith proposed to put a pecuniary drag upon the wheels of this auriferous machine that was running away with the bodies and wits of the population. He proposed to double the license fee, as the Legislative Council would not sanction a special vote to meet the new exigencies of the Executive. A further ground for the proposal was, 'the notorious disproportion of the advantages derivable under the license system to the public revenue, compared with the amount of private gain.'

His Excellency also hoped by this means to deter unfit men from going to the diggings—fond but delusive hope. The superintendent of police and the sheriff furnished their contributions to the bitter cup of the unhappy Governor, informing him that most of the police and warders and turnkeys of gaols had sent in their resignations. Nor was this all, for 'many clerks in the public service are bent on the same course.' Then the Governor applied to the Governor-General at Sydney for 'an increase to the small military force stationed here, sufficient, I trust, happen what may, to place the gaols, stockades, and banks for the present in safety.' Latrobe wisely reminded Earl Grey that the preservation of order was more important than raising a great revenue, as thousands would flock to the colony, but good colonists would stay away if law became impotent to preserve peace and order. So he felt that he must have soldiers, not fearing that they would desert like the sailors to follow the seductive pursuit of gold.

'Melbourne ought (wrote his Excellency) to be made the head-quarters of one regiment at least.' In time this came about, and then, in less than two decades, we had talked of getting rid of both soldiers and the Home Government, and setting up absolutely for ourselves.

The soldiers are already gone, and all the British empire is discussing the relations to be maintained between the parent State and her world-encircling colonies. This modern outcome, however, had not appeared to the Government of 1851 as a probability.

The Governor and his subordinates were busy regulating and licensing and escorting the diggers and their gold. 'Boninyong', as the name was spelt in the despatches, was the head-quarters of the local authorities then.

They issued a notice in October, having found that gold was accumulating, that 'the escort will leave Boninyong every Tuesday morning at six o'clock; persons desirous of sending gold under the security afforded by this conveyance are to take care that it is forwarded to Boninyong not later than four o'clock p.m. Of the Monday.

Escort charge of 1 per cent. On washed gold, to be estimated at the rate of £3 per ounce, and on gold mixed with a larger portion of stone at the rate of £2 10s. The Government authorities undertook no responsibility. Like the squatters, or small settlers, they advertised a sort of accommodation paddock on wheels, but took no responsibility.

They had to take gold-dust in payment for licenses, for coin was scarce, and in the same month we find the Treasurer in Melbourne advertising for tenders for the purchase of 1500 oz. In December the Government doubled the license fee, making it £3 per month, or £1 10s. If the license was taken out after the 15th of the month. And this for a claim eight feet square for one man, or eight feet by sixteen for a party, and with a prohibition against digging within half-a-mile of every side of a homestead. Even these regulations were luxuries to be denied to civil servants unless they could show that their resignation of office had 'not only been authorised, but was unattended with embarrassment to the Government.' To work this machinery on the Ballarat, or 'Boninyong', diggings there were gazetted in October:—William Mair, commissioner, salary £300 a-year; D.

Armstrong, assistant-commissioner, salary £250; John Bell, clerk, salary £100; Henry Smith, inspector of police, salary £150; mounted and foot constables at 3s. Per diem respectively; and native police at the magnificent pay of 1½d.

For the Mount Alexander diggings there were Messrs. Doveton, Lydiard, Dana, and Eyre as commissioners, or police officers; and, as clerk, Mr. Hogarth, afterwards for sometime clerk of petty sessions in Ballarat. The following table, showing the prices current at Ballarat, has been compiled from official returns, and will show the influence of the gold discovery on the value of the necessaries of life:— articles. Flour pound 0 6 0 6 0 10 1 3 Tea ' 2 0 2 6 2 6 3 6 Sugar ' 0 6 0 6 0 8 1 0 Meat ' 0 3½ 0 3 0 4½ 0 5 Milk quart 2 0 4 0 — — — — Bread pound 0 4½ 0 6 0 9 0 10½ Bacon ' 3 0 2 6 3 0 3 0 Butter ' 3 0 2 6 3 6 3 6 Potatoes ' — — 0 3 0 5 0 8 Washing dozen 7 0 6 0 8 0 8 0 The returns for the Mount Alexander diggings were more elaborate, as at the dates given that locality was the more important. It is, however, presumable that similar rates ruled in Ballarat for goods not included in the Ballarat table. The prices at Mount Alexander in October, 1852, were similar where both tables recite the same articles.

We find that at Mount Alexander some handicraftsmen got as much as 25s. Per diem, oats were £3 per bushel, tobacco 10s. Per lb.; while in Melbourne Wellington boots were quoted at from 50s. Per pair for imported, and from 75s. For those made to order. The price of cartage from Melbourne to the diggings was from £100 to £120 per ton; hotel charges were from 50s. Per week, and a horse at livery cost 15s.

A day, or 105s. And it must be remembered that these prices were paid for the roughest and rudest accommodation and service, while the qualities of goods could never in those days be very closely or, at least, profitably scrutinised. From some accounts and papers placed by Mr. Thomas Bath in the author's hands, the proofs are given that up to the end of 1854 and the beginning of 1855, there had not been any great reduction in prices. The coach fare from Geelong was still £3; 'Mrs.

Lynn and nine children' paying £20. At that time Mr. Bath had some men sawing for him the native timber then growing contiguous to a sawpit in the Gnarr Creek gully, between Doveton and Armstrong streets, where the railway reserve and wood merchants now are. For flooring boards, the price was 38s.

Per 100 feet; and quartering, or 4 inches by 3 inches, 33s. Per 100 feet. Flour was £6 10s. Per bag; potatoes, 4¾d. Per lb.; eggs, 6s. Per dozen; milk, 3s. Per quart; peas, in husk, 1s.

Per quart; ginger beer, 4s. Per dozen; lemonade and soda water, 5s. Per dozen; oats, 16s.

Per bushel; hay, £25 per ton. A blacksmith's bill charges 24s. For shoeing a horse, a single shoe being paid for at the same rate. For a crowbar weighing 26 lbs., the price was 32s., and 30s. For tireing wheels, but how many is not stated, though 2s. Is the price for one linch pin, 3s. For a maul ring, and 5s.

For 'one new axe;' not very exorbitant charges these last, surely, for the times. From the same heap of old papers it is found that £1 was the rent for two sittings from 1st January to 31st March, 1856, in the little wooden building in Armstrong street, which served then for Anglican church purposes. Some weighbridge notes for August, 1856, also are evidence of Mr.

Bath's priority in that way; the first bridge in Ballarat having been erected by him in what is now Bath street, and about midway between Lydiard and Armstrong streets. One of the best-kept documents in the series now before the author carries us back to the days immediately after the Eureka Stockade affair,—mentioned further on—and to the days preceding the foundation of the District Hospital. It is as follows:—. O W N the swift stream of the brief years we now come to troublous times. At the root of all the troubles that led to the Eureka Stockade, lay the old tyranny of taxation without representation. When the gold discovery occurred, Victoria had not long been created an independent colony.

It had become independent then only in the sense of separation from New South Wales, and in having a Lieutenant-Governor and a Parliament of its own. But that Parliament was not representative in more than a small degree. It was a single House, and largely composed of nominees of the Crown, the balance of members representing constituencies in which the masses, gathered and increasing on the gold-fields, had, not simply not a voice potential, but absolutely no voice at all. This was an injustice that was attended with more than the usual dangers that accompany wrong. The gold-fields inhabitants being outside the mystic circle of governing power were placed, ab initio, in an attitude of hostility to the constituted authorities. An unnatural separation was, so to speak, created by the law between the majority of the people and the Crown; and to give intensity to the danger, the people here were for the most part superior in mental and bodily capacities to the average capacities of their fellow countrymen whom they had left in their fatherlands.

The courage and adventure which had made them emigrants, and the physical strength which had enabled them to weather the rude elements of early gold-fields life, were qualities which made them valuable as freemen, but dangerous as slaves. They were not the men tamely to brook the voiceless poverty of political power which marked the ante-Eureka Stockade era; and when to the absence of representation were added the insolence of gold-fields officials, the indignities of quasi-martial regulations, and dark suspicions of corruption, the elements of disorder rapidly grew more and more menacing to the public peace, until, at last, it needed only the proverbial want of tact in official routine to permit the recurrence of irritations that fell like sparks upon prepared combustibles. Then a flame burst out that was partially quenched in blood, the black disorder of the conflagration being cleared away only by that reform of grievances which has given to us what we now possess. The First Quartz Crushing Battery, base of Black Hill, Ballaarat, 1855 When the European gold hunter arrived in Victoria, just after the gold discovery, he no sooner found himself upon the gold-fields than he was, as we have seen, brought into contact with a Government in the construction of which, and in the direction of whose policy, he had no more voice than the naked aborigine he saw prowling about the bush. Before he could legally put pick or shovel into the ground, the digger had to pay a heavy monthly tax, levied upon him by a Government and Parliament in which he was not represented. At first for thirty shillings, then for sixty shillings, and then again for thirty shillings per month, the digger obtained a license in this or some nearly identical form:— GOLD LICENSE.

185 The bearer, having paid to me the sum of on account of the territorial revenue, I hereby license him to dig, search for, and remove gold on and from any such Crown lands within the as I shall assign to him for that purpose during the month of 185, not within half-a-mile of any head station. This license is not transferable and must be produced whenever demanded by me or any other person acting under the authority of the Government. B., Commissioner. In this we have the symbol of the grievances that roused the gold-fields population. There was a heavy tax levied monthly by a non-representative executive; that tax was often oppressive in itself and unequal in its incidence, and it was often collected in so insolent a manner, that its unpopularity became a thousandfold greater. Here, illustrative of the sport of license or digger-hunting, is an episode from a lecture by the late Mr. William Benson, once an escort-trooper in South Australia, then a reporter on the Ballarat Times, and subsequently a mining surveyor.

The lecture was delivered at a Working Men's Temperance Meeting, in the Alfred Hall, on Saturday, the 19th February, 1870:— I had been for some short time in 1853 occupied at the store of Messrs. Hilfling and Greig, on the township, where the drapery establishment of David Jones and Co.

Not very well liking my employment, I was on my way to the labor office on Bakery Hill to offer for a stock-rider's billet. Being dressed in somewhat digger costume, and talking near where the Yarrowee bridge now is, I heard behind me a stentorian voice—'Hallo! I turned round. Speechless horror!

There, at full galop, at the head of fifteen or twenty mounted troopers, with scabbards clattering and stirrups jingling, rode a stalwart black-looking chief of the digger hunters. I say, you, sir,' thundered forth he, with a mighty flourish of his sword glittering in the beautiful sunlight, 'have you got a license.' Worse luck to me I never was a digger, even when gold could be got by pounds weight. Well, there flourished the sword of a mighty hunter, and there stammered I forth 'No.' At that moment up came the mounted and foot police. 'Take this man into custody', shouts out the leader of the troop and off he gallops. I, in my simplicity, said the mighty hunter did not recognise me, he was a sergeant in the foot police at Adelaide when I was a government escort trooper there.

'Well,' says my custodian, 'all I know is that I am going to take you to quod.' This was the 'logs', but all this time I was being taken away from the 'logs' (or Camp lock-up), and near where the corner of Barkly street now is we there found another guardian of the spoil of the hunters, holding in terror of his formidable weapon a real digger whose clothes bespoke him to be a sojourner amongst the holes on the Red Hill.

We were marched up the slope of Golden Point, the troopers and foot police far in advance; but I refused to go further and sat down. One of the diggers near, espying my bespattered comrade in distress, calls out 'Hallo! Mate, what's the row?' 'Got no license,' grumbles out the Red Hill digger. 'Can't you give bail?'

Sings out the charitable-minded questioner. 'Not I,' returns the other, 'or I should'nt be without a license.' No more ado, but into his tent walks he of the charitable mind, and out he shortly comes and walking straight up to my fellow captive, thrusts into his brawny hands five £1 notes, saying 'There's thy bail money', and off he walked. 'Know you that man?' Said I to my astonished mate in misfortune. 'Never saw him before in my life,' he replied, 'but he is a good fellow and one of the right sort.' Benson and his companion were both bailed, and, after the examination before the bench, the digger was lined in the amount of his bail.

Benson escaped fine, and after some delay recovered his bail. Such episodes abounded, with variations in detail. From an unpublished manuscript by Mr. Serjeant, descriptive of the times under discussion, the following comic picture is taken:— We marked out a couple of claims on the Eureka, and one or two more at Prince Regent's Gully. On returning home one afternoon we found our gully (Specimen Gully) surrounded by the force on the hunt for licenses.

I noticed our sod chimney smoking, and the hut door—an old flour sack stretched on a frame of wattle saplins—wide open, so I concluded Joe, our cooking mate, was about, and could not very well escape two of the police who were marching straight into the doorway. I had approached to within a few yards of the scene, license paper in hand, when the traps stepped back, as I thought, rather hastily, and, to my surprise, were confronted on the threshhold by a smart, genteel-looking female, who politely enquired their business, and the next moment espying me close in the rear, said—'Perhaps my brother can answer your enquiries, gentlemen!' The gentlemen, however, were not among the rudest of their class, begged pardon, and turned on their heels in search of more easy prey, while I proceeded to introduce myself to my newly-found sister, whom I then saw throwing up her heels and cutting most unladylike capers round the dining table. In the course of the evening Joe intimated that as he had resolved never to take out a license, he should, if we had no objection, continue to wear his new style of attire, and that in future his name was to be Josephine. Serjeant gives us another lively view of the digger hunting process:— 'Traps! Were the well-known signals which announced that the police were out on a license raid, now becoming almost of daily occurrence.

The hasty abandonment of tubs and cradles by fossickers and outsiders, and the great rush of shepherds to the deep holes on the flat as the police hove in view, readily told that there were not a few among them who believed in the doctrine that 'base is the slave who pays.' Hunting the digger was evidently regarded by Mr.

Commissioner Sleuth and his hounds as a source of delightful recreation, and one of such paramount importance to the State that the sport was reduced to an exact science. Thus, given a couple of dirty constables, in diggers' guise, jumping a claim, gentle shepherd approaches with delapidated shovel on shoulder and proceeds to dispossess intruders in summary manner.

A great barney ensues: Constable Derwent and his mate talk big, a crowd gathers round, and 'a ring! The combatants have just commenced to shape, when the signal referred to at the head of this paragraph rings through the flat. On come the traps in skirmishing order, driving in the stragglers as they advance, and supported by mounted troopers in the rear, who occupy commanding positions on the ranges.

A great haul is made, and some sixty prisoners are marched off in triumph to the Camp, hand-cuffed together like a gang of felons, there to be dealt with according to the caprice or cupidity of their oppressors. Irwin, in his letters to the Geelong Advertiser, corroborates Benson's account of the hunting mode, and gives, under date 23rd October, 1854, the following statement in explanation of resolutions adopted at a meeting in the Roman Catholic Chapel on Bakery Hill, expressive of sympathy with Father Smyth, and of indignation against Commissioner Johnstone:— Some time since Mr.

Johnstone was in command of a license-hunting party, one of whom, named Lord, came up to a tent in which was John Gregory, a foreigner, on a visit of charity to some other foreigners whose language he knew. The trooper Lord ordered the '—— wretches' to come out of the tent that he might see their licenses.

Gregory, the servant of the Rev. Smyth, had no such document; on seeing which the trooper, damning him and the priest, ordered him to come along. As Gregory is not very strong-limbed, he requested to be allowed to go to the Camp himself, as he was not able to follow the force while visiting the various diggings looking for unlicensed miners. So far right; but on Gregory's appearing unwilling or unable to follow, the trooper ill-used him, and only let him off on Mr. Smyth depositing £5 bail for his appearance. At the Police-office, after being fined £5 for not having a license, Gregory was going away, but was recalled. On re-appearing, the charge of wanting a license was withdrawn by Mr.

Johnstone, and one of assaulting a trooper put instead. For this he, the cripple, was fined the original £5 bail. In the whole affair the Rev. Smyth was certainly treated with but little courtesy; and the trumpery story of a cripple assaulting an able-bodied mounted trooper is too ridiculous to warrant serious attention. Englishmen, free from crime, were at the mercy in those days of many demoralised and ruffianly policemen, who treated the diggers like felons, and were too often abetted by their superiors in this treatment of men thus practically deprived of two centuries of political progress. To these causes of irritation were added suspicions of corruption in the administration of the common law on the Ballarat gold-field, and this it was, as will presently appear, that precipitated the events which ended in the collision between the Queen's troops and the armed insurgents. Begun at Bendigo in 1853, the agitation against the gold-fields license tax, and for representation in Parliament, was quickly taken up in Ballarat, and was there pushed forward with more eventful incident to a more tragic conclusion.

The outbreak was not that of a stupid, stolid, ignorant peasantry in arms against hay stacks and threshing machines, but of free-spirited, intelligent, people, goaded to resistance by intolerable wrong, and guided—at all events during a portion of the period—by men of education and character among themselves, aided by a provincial Press created and sustained for the most part by men also from among their own ranks. When commissioners, magistrates, and troopers, had got used to treating the diggers as people to be taxed and harried at pleasure, the offensive method of carrying out the obnoxious license law had grown so irksome that a reform of the whole system was irresistibly pressed upon the population. A Reform League was formed for the redress of grievances, and all the gold-fields supported the organisation. Towards the middle of 1854, Mr. Latrobe's successor. Sir Charles Hotham, and Lady Hotham, visited Ballarat, and, in spite of the existing grievances, they were loyally received. In connection with the visit there was some prominence acquired by a gigantic Irish digger, called Big Larry, who, with a rougher Raleigh-like politeness, not only assiduously planked over muddy spots for the dainty feet of the Governor's wife, but sometimes carried that representative lady bodily over portions of the ground, and generally cleared a way for the visitors through the crowd of spectators.

It may be that his Excellency and his Melbourne advisers were led, by the welcome given by the diggers, to misconstrue the mind of the gold-fields population, and to think that all the Camp officials, instead of a very small minority only, were proper men properly enforcing the law. Be that as it may, the Government not only maintained the law, but sought to enforce it with greater rigor. In October, 1854, the Government sent up an order that the police should go out two days a week hunting for unlicensed diggers. At that time there were four commissioners at Ballarat, between whom the field was parcelled out in four divisions; but the boundaries being ill-defined, the police often hunted over the same ground twice, and thus the rudeness which too often marked the process of license-fee collection was often repeated over and over again upon the same man in the same day. Joseph Roff, clothier, at present a member of the Town Council, writing to the author respecting the early days, says:— The storekeepers were embittered against the Government, not only from a natural sympathy with their customers, the diggers, but also from a want of protection from lawless vagabonds let loose from the various colonies, and who were ever ready to rob or murder law-abiding citizens.

To remedy this a meeting was called, asking the authorities for a night patrol, and the citizens meanwhile formed themselves into a body for the protection of life and property. As the stores were mostly of canvas at that time, a knife was all that was needed, for the most part, to enter a store, the only protection being a revolver kept close at hand for instant use. I well remember the early morning drills in the ranges for revolver practice, with a sheet of paper pinned to a tree for a target, and fired at from a distance of ten or twenty paces. One Minter morning, between one and two o'clock—the night being divided into watches—my watch had come. An adjoining store had been stuck up the night before, and, stung by the recollection of sleepless nights and constant anxiety, I had sworn to shoot the first thief who dared to attack my place. At that very moment of my watch I heard footsteps coming nearer and nearer, and, as it seemed to mo, with stealthy tread.

A stop was made just where I had been sleeping. Immediate and silent as a cat I sprang from my blankets to the floor, placing the muzzle of my shooter in a line with the foe, who, in the coolest manner possible, struck a match, lit a candle, placed it in a bottle, and was apparently searching for the weakest part of the canvas before cutting a hole.

'Villain,' I muttered to myself in my thoughts, 'I'll make an example of you; if you dare to enter, I'll fire, let the consequences be what they may.' Minutes, which seemed like hours, passed; the damp earth chilled my bare feet; not a sign was made; what is the burglar up to?

Peeping through an opening at the doorway, I saw a digger holding up a light to the side of the tent, and quietly and intently staring at it 'What the deuce are you up to there at this hour of the night?' I roared out. Said the digger: 'why, I've just come off my night shift, and wanted to read the latest news from the Roosian war.'

My heart sank within me, and I thanked God I did not fire; but this man was certainly nigh being murdered. Going outside, I found that Alfred Black, brother of the editor of the Digger's Advocate, who lodged with me and slept on the counter, had pasted up the latest number of the Advocate on the tent side, headed 'Latest news from the Russian war.' So ended that little episode. Shortly after that I had the satisfaction of winging a burglar who had cut the canvas from floor to ceiling, and was in the act of walking off with a bundle labelled with neither his name or address. The tragical was intimately associated with the comical in those days; the latter was sometimes born of the former.

If the woes of the diggers and the insults and injuries of the troopers were tragical, they produced Thatcher's comical metrical gibes at the authorities, and occasional theatrical farces with a similarly caustic anti-police humour in them. Thatcher sang nightly at the Charlie Napier, and amongst the farces of the day was one produced at the Red Hill theatre, partly to suit the requirements of a popular actor, and partly to have a fling at the officials of the camp. It contained a scene laid at the Black Hill, in which the authorities were pilloried as oppressors of the diggers, and license hunting was ridiculed and denounced. The audiences were not nicely critical, and every joke and every hit were applauded with all the force of exceptionally sound lungs. The more furious the fun, the better the diggers, as a rule, liked the entertainment.

Sometimes there were episodes of exciting mirth not included in the bill of fare, and Mr. Roff, whose recollections of the old days seem to be very graphic, tells of one or two of those extra programme performances:— I had the honor, he writes, of being costumier to the first theatre in Ballarat. I was staying at the Criterion Hotel. Red Hill, at that time the best on the Flat; it was of canvas, and resembled a circus; beds were fitted up round the sides like bunks in a ship, but hidden from view by calico hangings.

The tables and seats were permanent fixtures made of boards. The theatre was made of wood and canvas, and was nearly opposite to the hotel, A large and magnificent company were specially engaged, with a complete and splendid orchestra. The pieces for the opening night were, I think, Maritana, as a play, and the Irish Tutor. The night was fine and warm, and the place was crowded with diggers in every variety of costume. There were the blue and red serge shirt, the tall Yankee hat, Hessian knee boots, the long scarlet sashes, and all the audience ruddy with health, and as jolly as sand boys. The curtain had descended on the first piece, brandied peaches, sherry cobblers and spiders, cocktails, and what not, had been consumed between the acts, and the leading star had been encored, recalled, and shouted for in champagne at least a dozen times.

The curtain rose for the after-piece, and the re-appearance of the star was greeted with enthusiasm, although it was apparent that stellar demoralisation had set in. As the piece proceeded, something was seen to have gone wrong, and the face of the star reddened with rage. Turning upon a subordinate actor who was leaving the stage, he severely kicked the super., who turned round upon his leader and said: 'You may get as drunk as you like, but you don't kick me again, if you do, I'm dashed.' The star, approaching the footlights as the curtain fell, said: 'Ladies and gentlemen, the fellow says I'm drunk. (Shouts from the audience.) If I did kick him he knows he deserved it. (Go it old man.) Am I drunk, ladies and gentlemen? (No, yes, pitch into him.) I'd rather be drunk any time than a fool.

Isn't it enough to make anybody drunk to have to play with such idiots? Haven't I played before the Governor of New South Wales—but am I drunk, gentlemen?' At this moment some person from behind the curtain pitchforked the star forward right over the footlights into the orchestra, and as he lay astride the double bass, clutching the neck of it as for very life, the whole audience rose and roared with laughter, the rapid fun of the affair tickling them more than a dozen screaming farces of the best low comedians. Roff, after telling how a gold buyer secreted £1000 worth of bank notes in his stove chimney overnight, and in the morning, hearing his boy lighting a fire, rushed to the rescue of the notes, but only in time to save a half-charred heap of paper that, luckily, still showed most of the numbers, goes on to detail the pains of a tailor with a cork leg. This tailor lived in the first brick house built in Ballarat East, and had for next room neighbours a band of Bohemians who made night hideous with what they called harmony.

The tailor lived like a martyr for a while, though he had to rise early in those ante-eight-hours-of-labor days; but his camel back was broken one night by the harmonists striking up 'The Cork Leg'. As this seemed to be adding brutal insult to much provoking injury, the tailor resolved on revenge. Rising from bed, he pulled a big zinc case into his room, and belabored it lustily with cork leg and a stick. The Bohemians were vanquished. In fierce response to their shouts of remonstrance, the tailor roared: 'I've stood this little game long enough. You'll have enough 'cork leg' before you're done, so here goes for another hour, to see how you like my harmony.' Away banged the tailor with leg and arm upon the sonorous metal, until the enemy, tired and beaten, retreated from the field, and left the angry tailor to sleep thenceforth in peace.

Arrival of Geelong Mail—Main Road, Ballaarat, 1854. Another of Mr. Roff's illustrations of the early times in Ballarat refers to the period when that part of the city about Drummond street was bush:— Adventuring beyond as far as what is now Pleasant street one day with a companion sportsman, Mr. Rolf lost his friend, and then himself; The native 'cooey' failed to bring any answering sound. I moved onwards, he says, and at last thought—'Where am I?' Looking upwards and on all sides, I replied—'Lost in the bush.' Everywhere trees, openings, bits of sky, but everywhere the same bush.

I walked till I was tired and bewildered. I sat down to rest, thirsty and perplexed; then looking up again at the sun, I saw he was sinking in the sky; westward, of course. I have it; I will turn my back to the sun, go forward, and that will take me eastward towards my home.

I rose and ran, often looking back to see how the sun lay, and in less than two hours I saw a house; soon after that I reached Winter's paddock, but it was getting dark. Before me, right away on the hills and down in the valleys, shone the illuminated stores and tents of the diggings, and I soon reached my home.

I had been for hours lost in the bush, and had travelled some thirty miles or so; but I had not, probably, been at any time more than three or four miles from the Ballarat post office. While reform leagues and committees were organising during the years 1853 and 1854, the population educated itself to a certain degree in the discussion of grievances, and men came to the front as popular leaders, some of whom remain to this day in public life, as Mr.

Lalor, at present (January, 1887) speaker of the Legislative Assembly. Others there were who, more gifted in committee than upon the public platform, quietly and effectively aided the reform movement, but never rose or sought to rise to the more prominent elevation of public celebrity. Many of these, also, remain-with us to this day.

'Digger hunting', as the collection of the license fee was called by the men on the gold-fields, continued incessantly, accompanied with frequent instances of official tyranny. Informers were employed by the authorities, and some of those men were mere creatures of the higher officials, and had histories that helped from the first to forbid confidence. The tide of irritation and discontent rose higher and higher, and the more excited of the population began to collect arms, to form leagues of their different nationalities, and to discuss the probabilities of open insurrection and a declaration of revolt from British rule. At length, in the latter half of the year 1854, a digger named James Scobie was killed in a scuffle at the Eureka hotel, on Specimen Hill (now Eureka street), kept by one Bentley, who was considered by the diggers to be a participator in Scobie's murder.

The house was one of very bad fame, and Bentley was arrested and brought before a bench presided over by Mr. Dewes, the police magistrate, who acquitted him. There were a few thoughtful men sitting in the court at the time, who saw the gravity of what they felt to be a glaring miscarriage of justice. One of them—Mr.

Russell Thomson—narrowly escaped committal for daring to urge that Bentley's was a case which should be sent to a jury. This acquittal aroused the population more than any single official act since the gold discovery, for the general belief was that Bentley was guilty, and that the police magistrate corruptly urged the acquittal because he was under pecuniary obligations to the prisoner. This opinion as to Dewes' embarrassments with Bentley is still held. Dewes fell before the popular storm, went to British Columbia, where he justified Victorian condemnation by committing embezzlement, and he ended his life by suicide in Paris. The exasperation caused by Bentley's acquittal gave a vigorous impetus to the agitations for reform. At an indignation meeting held on, or close to, the spot where Scobie was killed, Messrs.

Thomson, T.D. Wanliss, Peter Lalor, J.W.

Corkhill, Alex. Grant, and Archibald Carmichael were appointed a committee to take steps for the collection of money to defray the cost of a further prosecution of Bentley, and so warmly did the public respond that £200 were gathered in a very short time in Ballarat alone, when the collections were stopped, as the Government, in the meantime, moved in the business and offered rewards for the apprehension of Scobie's murderers. The collector of the moneys, Mr. Gray, returned the subscriptions, after payment of some charges, and thus that expression of indignation at wrong done was ended The other gold-fields ardently joined in the feeling prevalent here In Ballarat meetings were held on Sundays as well as on other days, and on Saturday, 11th November, 1854, thousands of men gathered, and flags and bands of music lent ominous life to the assemblage.

The leaders were in favor of moral force and a purely constitutional agitation; but there were more fiery spirits than they. One of these—a compatriot of Scobie—on another occasion harangued the crowd, and said the spirit of the murdered Scobie was hovering over them and yearning for revenge. The occasion referred to was a meeting held near Bentley's hotel on the 17th of October, when the arrival of the police and military, and some injudicious acts by a few bystanders, led to a collision with the police, the reading of the Riot Act, and the burning of the hotel.

Some of the diggers were arrested, and one was rescued on the way to the Camp. Milne, Sergeant-Major of police, a man held in general execration as an unprincipled informer, was regarded as the right hand of the officials in that business. The subjoined extracts are from contributions to the Ballarat Star, by Mr Samuel Irwin, a gentleman who was an eye-witness of the time and a daily recorder for the Press of what transpired. His letters to the Geelong Advertiser of those days gave very full and, in the main, very accurate descriptions of the occurrences of the time.

So far may their reliableness be assumed that not only have no material contradictions been made, but, as the English Blue Books demonstrate, Sir Charles Hotham adopted some of Irwin's letters as portions of his despatches to the English Secretary for the Colonies:— As a matter of course, those who take an interest in the past of Ballarat have in a great measure to fall back on personal reminiscences, as but few of them have easy access to documentary evidence, so that most of what can be said or written under the circumstances partakes of the egotistical. A good deal has been said of the means and persons by and through whom Bentley got into the good graces of some of the leading officials at the Camp. Little is positively known of the matter beyond those immediately concerned, but any one who had heard the tone in which Bentley asked a person standing one cold early winter's day in the verandah of the Police-court, after the court had closed, 'Where is Mr. Could hardly have failed to note a more than usually free and easy manner on the part of the equestrian questioner. The reply was civil—'In the magistrate's room'—to which Bentley, dismounting, betook himself with all the confidence of one who knew the locality well. In a few minutes Mr.

Dewes and his visitor, then an applicant for a publican's license, appeared, and went into the large tent, just opposite the Police-court where the former resided. The license was in due time granted, the hotel was usually crowded, the bowling-alley and the free use of cards contributing among other inducements to attract a large number of customers, almost in a continuous stream by night as well as by day. Knowing the fact that the hotel was nearly always open, Scobie made for it, found it closed, created a disturbance to gain admission, was assaulted in consequence and died. The coroner's inquest which followed was far from partaking of that strict scrutiny and judicial aspect which on the whole are so characteristic of such proceedings, and so the suspicion already existent as to the purity of some of the camp officials became stronger. At length the supposed participators in the death of Scobie were brought before the Police-court, composed of Messrs. Dewes, P.M., Rede, resident commissioner, and Johnston, commissioner.

The prisoners, in the opinion of the majority of the bench, were free from blame, and were discharged, though Mr. Johnston, the junior, dissented from the opinion of his seniors. He even was so decided in opinion as to the guilt of the prisoners that he took a copy of the depositions, forwarding them to Melbourne for the consideration of the Attorney-General. It was decided to hold a public indignation meeting on the spot where Scobie had met his death, to protest against the miscarriage of justice, and to devise the ways and means for bringing the delinquents to a fair trial. The meeting was held and passed off quietly, though pretty strong language had been used. The camp authorities, dreading an attack they said on Bentley's hotel, but to provoke one asserted the discontented, sent the police to act as a guard over the building. The usual 'chaff' was indulged in, and nothing serious was supposed to be imminent on the part of the leaders among the discontented.

But it fell out otherwise. A youngster, one of the lads who used to wash 'headings' from rich claims, in the reckless unthinking spirit of untamed boyhood, threw a stone at the lamp in front of the hotel. The stone struck the lamp and broke the glass. This was the spark which lighted the train. The long suppressed indignation broke forth in one long terrific yell of irrepressible indignation 'down with the house, burn it.'

The demolition of the windows was effected in a moment, and the sound of the crashing glass added still more to the excitement of all present, even of those who either from disinclination for such work, or by reason of the intervening crowd, could not join in it. The house was soon occupied, the people swarming into it by door or window as came most conveniently to hand. Some of the camp officials who had still managed to keep some faith in their honesty in the popular breast—notably Mr. Commissioner Amos, who was drowned in the London, aided by Mr. M'Intyre, who subsequently was rewarded for having done this, by being arrested for having been an aider and abettor in the riot—tried all their persuasive powers to calm the excited and now well-nigh frantic assemblage. It was labor in vain. The long gathering hurricane had burst, and must career until its fury had been spent.

In a few minutes the cry was that the rear or side of the premises towards the bowling alley was in flames. And so it was, but who caused the fire is among the secrets of that day. How it should have been a secret seems remarkable if the description given by the Argus correspondent be considered. His narrative may, in the absence of a statement to the contrary, be taken as given by an eye-witness, He says:— About half-past two or three o'clock in the afternoon, and when the crowd had increased to about 8,000 or 10,000, a man carried an armful of paper and rags to the windward end of the bowling-alley, and placing them under the calico covering, deliberately struck a match and fired the building in the presence of the military. The cool, resolute manner in which everything was carried on resembled more the proceedings of the 'Porteous mob' than of anything of the kind that has occurred since.

Contrasting with present rapidity of communication, the tardy publication of the Bentley hotel burning in the towns on the seaboard is notable. The disturbance and burning happened on the 12th October, but it was not mentioned in the Argus till the 19th, and then only in a letter from Geelong dated the 18th, and saying the news had been 'just received'. The Ballarat correspondent of the Argus seems to have acted with considerable deliberation, for he did not write till the 18th, his letter appearing on the 23rd. To make the deliberation more judicial by contrast with facts, the letter began with the words, 'the exciting events, &c.' Irwin's narrative continues:— During the earlier stage of the proceedings it was evident that the owner of the hotel might not expect much mercy at the hands of those present, and he was therefore easily persuaded to mount a fleet horse provided for him, and make his way to the Camp, where he ensured his personal safety, and gave word that more assistance was needed by the authorities at the hotel.

The hurried progress of the refugee messenger, as he sped along the main road coatless, if not hatless.