was good, but nothing further could be said about it, for material and colour belonged to such a long past season, that both bad, in a measure, disappeared.

Shoes he certainly had, and they had been formerly sewn-at least the threads and holes could be seen in the seams which the cobbler's awl had produced in them-and now they only hung together by a thread, and, perhaps, to spare the soles he walked by the side of them.

This is, besides, the surest sign of a miner-that his right shoe or boot is trodden on one side, which comes from repeated stamping on the spade. On his hat Meier wore, besides, as an ornament, an old bronze brooch with four or five artificial and partially broken pearls.

The miners, by the way, are very fond of decorating themselves in this fashion; the Landrath's hat was brilliantly adorned with an old ostrich feather, which he had procured, heaven knows how; and with an agraffe, formed of a tin plate, most artistically set in a row of glass pearls ; and those who could not procure such decorations wore at least a brooch in their hat or cap.

The rest, perhaps with the exception of Panning, Albert, and Haye, were dressed much in the same style as I have described Meier; they formed a wild, strange band.

Meier, at any rate, appeared the nerve that gave life to the whole, and whenever he had worked himself up a little, there was no thinking of sleep. When it got to twelve or one in the morning, and the rest went off one by one to roost, he would lie for two or three hours all alone by the fire and regard the flames.

66

Now, Landrath," Meier said, when supper was over, and nearly all the campers were collected round the fire, "how did you spend the day, eh ?-slept, of course?"

"Ne!" said Försterling, by trade a tinker, but a jolly companion and good soul, "I've been out shooting to-day."

"With the rifle ?"

"Of course; it's a famous piece; the bullet's difficult enough to drive in, but it comes out again precious quick; it went off twice of its own accord."

"But the shot-barrel's no use," said Klaussen; "I wouldn't have the old thing as a present."

Meier and Klaussen had come together from Adelaide.

"The shot-barrel no use!" Försterling exclaimed; "you've never seen such a gun in your life, Klaussen. If I fire at a tree, and have got a good charge in, there's not a leaf from top to bottom that doesn't get its share."

One of the Americans and Haye had, in the meanwhile, seated themselves at the fire, and were playing a game of "sixty-six." The Pole and the German from Texas had also come to the fire, and were lying right opposite to Meier.

The Pole, whose name I believe none of us knew, was only called "the Pole" (he spoke German very well, and came from one of the German-Polish provinces, but from the lowest classes), or "the poor man," because he complained incessantly, and asserted that if a fellow was once poor, he would never have a chance of getting on in the world.

"Well, Pole," the Blacksmith cried in his gentle voice, “you weren't at Charles' store to-day; was the last week a bad one again?"

"Oh, as usual," the Pole said, with a gloomy, half-resigned countenance; "a fellow like me soon gets used to it-holes six and eight feet deep, and afterwards two or three dollars in them. But who can help it? The Almighty will not help us. God dit."

"Have the Americans found anything this week?" another inquired. "I do not know-they've gone down the Creek; but there's nothing except gold dust there. I don't think it's worth the trouble."

"That's all nonsense," the Landrath said; "that's the third company that's gone down, and the other two have held on bravely; if they didn't earn their day's wage, they wouldn't stop there."

66

Higher up the gold's certainly coarser," Meier expressed his opinion. "We've found it so up to the present, but that's no reason why we should say that coarse gold has not found it's way down there; the Pole, for instance, has got a good placer now, for he complains incessantly, and that's a sure sign."

"The devil fetch me, if I earn my food!" the Pole said, who had been listening attentively, and striking his hands together.

"The two Englishmen, under the fallen tree, found a famous piece of quartz yesterday," said the German from Texas; "brown quartz, with broad veins of gold across it—a goldsmith could not have made it more regularly."

"How have you two been getting on down there, Klaussen? Are things looking up?"

"Oh, it's nothing; and we get tired at last of digging one hole after the other uselessly. We've not got quite down yet, though, and in one corner we found rocks, and some gold."

"What sort of rocks?" Meier asked.

'Strange stuff; it looks for all the world like coarse salt, and indeed I was forced to put my tongue to it, to see whether it was salt." "Those are good rocks," the Blacksmith cried. "We found the best gold among them; but you must go a little deeper, and not merely scratch about the surface."

"Yes! it's a pretty game with the rocks, here about Mosquito Gulch," the Pole growled; "one time the gold lies on the top, and when we go deeper there's nothing-at another time we are forced to split the rocks, if we want to get at the gold."

"It's certainly very strange how the gold can have got here," said Klaussen. "At this gulch, for instance, we are all abroad; and the only thing that appears possible is, that a volcanic eruption strewed the melted metal so wildly around."

"It's very strange, too," said Meier, "how we are actually able to follow this eruption; and those very spots where no gold lies in the deep holes and chasms in the rock, are a proof of it, for we always find these places filled with firm grey volcanic scoria, so that it seems as if these ashes had been thrown out first, and carried down here by the mountain stream, then pressed firmly down by the power and weight of the water, and that the gold followed afterwards; but where it came from I should like to know; for at one moment we fancy that the vein runs from the

right, at another from the left, and yet there are no high volcanic mountains about."

"Yes, I should like to know that, too," the Pole growled ; " afterwards, we should not want to dig so many holes to no purpose; but that's the misfortune."

"What do you call diamonds in German?" the American asked Haye, with whom he was busily engaged in playing sixty-six.

"Caro," was the answer.

"And spades?"

"Pique.

"Hm!" the American muttered, for he did not seem quite to comprehend it; "the Germans are a strange people, they call a spade a pick."

66

“Oh, give up your stupid game and join our circle," Meier now cried. "You, Klaussen, just sing us a song, that will cause some life among us." "Oh, yes, I am just in the humour for singing," Klaussen said; I've felt queer all the evening. If I'm not better to-morrow I shall take some medicine."

"You're only seedy," said the Landrath.

"It's a pity our old doctor at home is not here," Meier said; "he would have saved you taking medicine-he had a famous remedy." "Well, he could not cure me without giving me medicine."

"Something of the sort," Meier said, with a laugh; "he was a doctor of the good old school, who would neither give up his old broad-tailed coat or his pigtail; and, in fact, the latter was as necessary as his right hand, for his universal remedy consisted in that."

"Don't tell us any more of your nonsense," the Blacksmith cried ; if he gave his patients the pigtail to take!"

(as

"Quiet, Smith-go to kennel," Meier said; "he certainly gave them his pigtail, for if any one was unwell, instead of ordering him an emetic, like our present physicians, who have retrograded in cultivation, he pushed the pigtail into his throat. Yes! you need not laugh at it, but this was not necessary in all cases, for his method was so well known-and he could, naturally, only employ one pigtail-that, in many instances, he only required to show his patient the pigtail in order to produce precisely the same effect as if he had adhered most strictly to his prescription." "Was that the doctor with the flat nose?" Klaussen asked, while the others were laughing.

"Yes," Meier said, "and Klaussen will not believe that either. The little fellow had such a flat nose that my uncle often assured me he was obliged to use a pair of pincers instead of a pocket handkerchief."

"Is the donkey here ?" a loud voice asked at this moment in the midst of the laughter.

The silence of death prevailed instantly, but at the next moment the shouts broke out afresh, for behind the circle, where he had made his appearance quite unnoticed, stood Panning, looking somewhat disconcerted at the terrible noise, and regarding one after the other in astonishment. It was a good quarter of an hour before any one could calm his fears about the mule.

"But, confound it, you're sitting here so dry," Panning cried, when the noise had slightly ceased, and Albert got up to look for some supper for the new comer, and warm his tea-" no brandy, no grog?"

"I really believe that's the first sensible idea Panning's had to-day," Meier said.

of

"And where have you been this evening?" Albert asked; "and which you two was the cleverer ?"

"The donkey, most assuredly, Albert, my boy," said Panning, with a laugh, for he was in much too good a humour to quarrel about a word; "the donkey, most assuredly-as he always gets home first."

"And how are they getting on at Charles'?" Meier asked; "all jolly? The truth is, we left two hours too soon to-day."

"Yes, and I should have been home long ago," Panning said, “but I had to wait for the meat; they were slaughtering an ox."

"But our meat was on the donkey?" Albert retorted.

"Indeed," said Panning, looking very cunning; "well then, Albert, there's another proof that the donkey was in the right; but still, I waited for the meat."

"Yes, Panning's a capital fellow," said the smith; "he's been knocking about in the world since he was a lad."

"You'd better be quiet, you scamp!" said Panning; "if I like to tell something

"If you tell that, I'll tell the other," said the Blacksmith, tauntingly. "Hurrah! two new stories,” cried the Landrath; “out with it, Panning.

But there must have been something queer about the matter, for neither cared to begin. Meier, in the meanwhile, had placed water to boil on the fire, brandy bottles were produced from various sides, and a famous bowl of grog brewed; the anecdotes, laughing, and shouting, became constantly louder. Försterling had finished his baking, and "The Pope he leads a happy Life," "Rinaldini's haughty Robbers," and "Prince Eugenius," had echoed through the silent Californian forest, when Meier at length cried :

"Stop-empty your glasses: confound it, Smith, that's my cup. And now for my song; but you must all join in the chorus." And in a loud, hearty voice he sang

*Translated from the German by G. W. Thornbury, Esq., author of "Ballads

of the New World."

Care! Who talks of care or sorrow?
Sorrow, by my fay!

The luck may come to-morrow,
Though it's missed to-day.

Let us never cark or pine,
Good hearts and bold,

There is stuff shall soon be thine,

Diggers of the gold.

Still a whisper's in my ear,

Diggers hurrah!

Wilt thou tarry ever here,

From thy home so far?

Canst thou careless revel keep,

Lusty and free,

When thy love does sit and weep,
Digger for thee?

Heart, thy fruitless whispers cease,
Diggers hurrah!

Can I sit at home in peace,

When I should be far?

Man must labour, rend, and rive,

Stout heart and bold,

And in storm and sunshine strive,
Diggers for gold.

But there soon shall come a day,
Diggers hurrah!

When we'll bear rich spoil away

Coming from afar ;

Homeward hieing, heavy laden,

Stout hearts and bold,

Then for father, mother, maiden,
Diggers for gold.

The chorus was sung with great effect, and in the last verses it became a species of Dutch melody, for they seemed to forget the tune utterly, and all sorts of possible and impossible songs were now heard. Haye even sang "Bumsfallera" once more, and the Blacksmith his "Ich bin liederlich," while the neighbouring Americans and Englishmen had come down from the hill to hear the songs. Meier now sang the serenade "I am beneath thy window, dearest," with all the proper gesticulations, and beneath an oak-tree instead of his beloved's window. Klaussen had drunk a little too much, and had become harmonious. Wohlgemuth took Albert into a corner, and told him a frightfully long story of his schooldays; how they had placed a bone under the master's chair, and with what presence of mind he had extricated himself from the affair. Renich had made fast to the Landrath, who was singing, though, between whiles, and told him a story from ancient Roman history, doubtlessly very important in itself, but a matter of perfect indifference to Försterling, which he afterwards brought into connexion with later history, although his shouting victim did not pay the slightest attention to him.

In the meanwhile, fire and grog drew to an end; one after the other retired to his tent. Renich as well as Wohlgemuth had both lost their hearers, and Renich had also gone to bed. Meier and Wohlgemuth still