thought of gardening (which they monopolize now), and there were about 4000 of them then on the Nine Mile. I will not dwell long on our life on the diggings. I was not a "lucky digger," with the exception of one little patch (which see particulars further on). We lived, however, a comfortable, happy, healthy, and a very independent life, and brought up a large family--they now had increased to eleven, seven boys and four girls. This ten years on the diggings was, by far, the longest rest down, up to then, of our married life. For instance, of our seven children born in England, not two were born in one house; here, in our digger's home, we had three in addition, one being also born in Melbourne. It will be imagined that by this time I had worn off all my "smooth-handedness." Yes, indeed, I had become a "horny-handed" working man, and considered it no disgrace either. "Who will hang his head in blushes For the stains to toiling due? There is dignity in labor, If the laborer be true." I worked like a navvy for ten years, through many hardships and danger. I had two narrow escapes in falling banks of earth--had my pick caught each time, and buried as I was dragging it in running out of the way of the fall. I had also, during the first year, a very narrow escape of being buried alive, working underground when the ground was rotten and dangerous from the continued wet, mentioned before. It happened thus: Just before knocking-off for dinner, I had given up the wash-dirt to the man at the windlass, and put a prop in. On resuming work after dinner, I remarked that the prop had got "as firm as a church," and that I did not like the appearance of things at all, as this was a sign that the ground was giving. I also said that, as the stuff would hardly pay for driving much further, I would sweep it out and try in another direction from the shaft which my brother had pointed out, where he had got a fair prospect. I had just sent up the few buckets of sweepings, and was pointing out to the windlass-man the direction I intended driving, when, all of a sudden, without the least warning, the sides of the shaft commenced cracking; large masses also from the lower part breaking off. Of course, the rope was immediately let down, and I was hauled up, but not before a large block of earth struck me on the knee, which lamed me for about a week. Well, in about an hour afterwards, the whole of the ground, for about half an acre, sunk bodily down. The ground was completely honeycombed with drives. I was thankful I put that prop in before dinner, as it gave the indication of danger.