Unable to comprehend the wishes of his customer, the shopman called to his assistance the master of the establishment, who being, I suppose, of quicker apprehension, placed some satins before him. "I thought the paper would help you find it. I want a gown for my missus. What's the price?" "Twenty yards at one-ten--thirty pounds. That do, Sir?" "No; not good enough!" was the energetic reply. The shrewd shopkeeper quickly fathomed his customer's desires, and now displayed before him a rich orange-coloured satin, which elicited an exclamation of delight. "Twenty-five yards--couldn't sell less, it's a remnant--at three pounds the yard." "That's the go!" interrupted the digger, throwing some more notes upon the counter. "My missus was married in a cotton gown, and now she'll have a real gold 'un!" And seizing the satin from the shopkeeper, he twisted up the portion that had been unrolled for his inspection, placed the whole under his arm, and triumphantly walked out of the shop, little thinking how he had been cheated. "A 'lucky digger' that," observed the shopman, as he attended to my wants. I could not forbear a smile, for I pictured to myself the digger's wife mixing a damper with the sleeves of her dazzling satin dress tucked up above her elbows. A few days after, a heavy shower drove me to take shelter in a pastry-cook's, where, under the pretence of eating a bun, I escaped a good drenching. Hardly had I been seated five minutes, when a sailor-looking personage entered, and addressed the shopwoman with: "I'm agoing to be spliced to-morrow, young woman; show us some large wedding-cakes." The largest (which was but a small one) was placed before him, and eighteen pounds demanded for it. He laid down four five-pound notes upon the counter, and taking up the cake, told her to "keep the change to buy ribbons with." "Pleasant to have plenty of gold-digging friends," I remarked, by way of saying something. "Not a friend," said she, smiling. "I never saw him before. I expect he's only a successful digger." Turn we now to the darker side of this picture. My favourite walk, whilst in Melbourne, was over Prince's Bridge, and along the road to Liardet's Beach, thus passing close to the canvas settlement, called Little Adelaide. One day, about a week before we embarked for England, I took my accustomed walk in this direction, and as I passed the tents, was much struck by the appearance of a little girl, who, with a large pitcher in her arms, came to procure some water from a small stream beside the road. Her dress, though clean and neat, bespoke extreme poverty; and her countenance had a wan, sad expression upon it which would have touched the most indifferent beholder, and left an impression deeper even than that produced by her extreme though delicate beauty.