‘The contrary is the case,’ said the experienced proconsul. ‘Without stating that there are always among the miners gentlemen and graduates of the university, a considerable proportion consists of well-educated, travelled, sagacious men. These leaven the mass; and having strong convictions themselves upon all subjects, they are amenable to argument―to logic―which comprehends justice. It is an ignorant population which follows the demagogue like sheep; it is the uncultivated mind which is at the mercy of every specious lie which is offered to it.’ ‘Then crime is rare,’ said Ernest, ‘and offences against life and property uncommon?’ ‘Taking the numbers, one may aver, with safety, that crime is exceedingly infrequent. At the same time I cannot deny that the police charges are tolerably numerous. But in case of serious offences we have the main body of miners on the side of law and order, and the criminal rarely eludes the arm of the law.’ By this time they had neared the outskirts of the town, and Ernest was much pleased with the many neat cottages, surrounded by trim gardens, which they passed. Among these stood an exceedingly small but faultlessly neat dwelling, surrounded by a garden filled with vegetables, the profuse growth of which was due to a small stream of water which had been ingeniously led from the neighbouring hills. The owner, whose attire, though suitable for working, was marked by the exceptional neatness which pervaded the establishment, leaned upon his spade and gazed calmly upon the _cortège_ as it passed along the winding forest track. ‘How pleasant a sight it is,’ said Ernest, ‘to see one man, at least, superior to the mad thirst for gold which is common to this eager population. How contentedly that gardener devotes himself to the occupation in which he has probably passed his former life, and which, without holding out any splendid prize, no doubt provides him with a certain and ample subsistence.’ ‘I should say,’ said Mr. Branksome, ‘that your recluse has probably lost his all at a gold venture, and is from circumstances compelled to rusticate, literally, until he makes a fresh start.’ The Goldfields Commissioner smiled, but made no remark, as he rode close up to the palings of the garden and reined in his horse. The gardener left his work and advanced to the fence, apparently to hold converse with the important official―a man at that time possessed of enormous power and irresponsible control. ‘Hallo, De Bracy!’ said the latter, ‘how are you getting on? Weather too hot for the green peas? Asparagus pretty forward?’ ‘Shocking weather, altogether,’ said the horticulturist, advancing to the barrier and shaking hands with the Commissioner. ‘If it were not for my irrigation I should be ruined and undone. Splendid thing, water!’