self.

Next day, Sunday, I walked through the diggings, and observed the
words "No License Here" pinned or pasted outside every tent, and
during the next month only about three hundred licenses were taken
out, instead of the fourteen or fifteen thousand previously issued,
the digger-hunting was stopped, and a license-fee of forty shillings
for three months was substituted for that of thirty shillings per
month.

II.

As no man who had a good claim would be willing to run the risk of
losing it, the number of licenses taken out after the last meeting
would probably represent the number of really lucky diggers then at
work on Bendigo, viz., three hundred more or less, and of the three
hundred I don't think our gully could boast of one. All were finding
a little gold, but even the most fortunate were not making more than
"tucker." By puddling eight tubs of washdirt I found that we could
obtain about one pound's worth of gold each per day; but this was
hardly enough to keep hope alive. The golden hours flew over us, but
they did not send down any golden showers. I put the little that
fell to my share into a wooden match-box, which I carried in my
pocket. I knew it would hold twelve ounces--if I could get so much
--and looked into it daily and shook the gold about to see if I were
growing rich.

It was impossible to feel jolly, and I could see that Philip was
discontented. He had never been accustomed to manual labour; he did
not like being exposed to the cold winds, to the frost or rain, with
no shelter except that afforded by our small tent. While at work we
were always dirty, and often wet; and after we had passed a miserable
night, daylight found us shivering, until warmth came with hard work.
One morning Philip lost his temper; his only hat was soaked with
rain, and his trousers, shirt, and boots were stiff with clay. He
put a woollen comforter on his head in lieu of the hat. The
comforter was of gaudy colours, and soon attracted public attention.
A man down the gully said:

"I obsarved yesterday we had young Ireland puddling up here, and I
persave this morning we have an Italian bandit or a Sallee rover at
work among us."

Every digger looked at Philip, and he fell into a sudden fury; you
might have heard him at the first White Hill.

"Yesterday I heard a donkey braying down the gully, and this morning
he is braying again."

"Oh! I see," replied the Donkey. "We are in a bad temper this morning."