That will do now, in as much as the end of the story is this: That portion
in my brains called "acquisitiveness" got the gold-fever again, and I started
for old Ballaarat.
Chapter VI.
Sua Cuique Voluntas.
I was really delighted to see the old spot once more; Easter, 1854.
I do not mean any offence to my fellow-diggers elsewhere; it struck me
very forcibly, however, that our Ballaarat men look by far more decent, and
our storekeepers, or grog-sellers if you like, undoubtedly more respectable.
Of a constitution not necessarily savage, I did not fail to observe
that the fair ones had ventured now on a large scale to trust their virtue
among us vagabonds, and on a hot-wind day, I patronized of course some
refreshment room.
I met my old mate, and we determined to try the old game; but this time
on the old principle of 'labor omnia vincit' - I pitched my tent right in
the bush, and prophesied, that from my door I would see the golden hole
in the gully below.
I spoke the truth, and such is the case this very day. Feast of the
Assumption, 1855: - What sad events, however, were destined to pass exactly
before the very door of my tent!
