ts with horror, but to which they have
recently become more or less accustomed. In the matter of vestments and
altar observances he flew absolutely in the face of the Court of
Arches.

Mr. B was a gentleman and a good fellow, but was sadly weak in the
matter of drink. This weakness was a source of general amusement, in
fact, it rather tended to increase the parson's popularity with the
diggers. Whenever he went up the creek on pastoral visitation bent,
every one would be on the qui uive, and as he returned men would lie in
wait for him with proffers of alcoholic refreshment. By the time he
reached home Mr. B would be more or less intoxicated, and several of
the perpetrators of this sorry conspiracy would assist him to bed.

However, I must try and avoid the tendency to set down a mere catalogue
of abnormal human specimens; I had rather ramble with the reader
through the now shadowy thickets of a vivid and virile past, following
a payable memory "lead," and examining such nuggets of interesting
experience as we may pick up on the way. For the period I write of has
passed, leaving scarcely a recognizable sign. The individual digger,
the hardy, hearty, independent man who took toll of the riches of the
earth by the might of his own arm and for his own proper benefit
without intermediary has gone for ever, and the soulless corporation,
the boomster, and the politician have taken his place. I, for one,
think that South Africa is poorer for the change.

Pilgrim's Creek was not what is known as "a poor man's diggings." Here
and there, especially on the terraces or beds of wash lying above the
water flow, lay a few claims which were comparatively easy to work. But
most of the alluvium in and about the bed of the creek ran deep, often
from ten to twenty feet. The most serious difficulties were presented
by the boulders, which were thickly distributed through the wash. It
would, indeed, be more correct to say that the wash was sparsely
distributed between the boulders.

Any stone which could not be lifted out by two men without tackle came
within the definition of a boulder. Thirty, or even forty, tons was no
very unusual weight for these blocks of smooth, water worn quartzite.
Every one, no matter how large, had to be shifted, the reason being
that whatever gold there was lay on the bedrock, and thus beneath all
the wash. The bedrock was granite, but was so decomposed and friable
that one could dig it out like so much cheese