We put up residence No. 1 on the farm, composed of two side logs, and sheets of bark for top. We got a party to plough about an acre ready for potatoes and vegetables, and then started into the bush, about six miles off, to split fencing stuff; living under a few sheets of bark, for about two months. While there, I wrote a letter to my good mother in dear old England, and just in fun, headed it, "Splitters' Hall." This was taken in earnest, and I received a letter in due course, addressed to "Splitters' Hall." This gave us much amusement. Having got our stuff split, a difficulty arose. How to get it out of the bush! We must either give our labor to some farmer for a time for fetching it out for us, or return to the claim, and try for a few pounds, as we only had one old horse we used in the puddling machine, and no dray. We determined, therefore, to go and wash a few machines of stuff on the claim. I took one of the boys with me, and, to our agreeable surprise and astonishment, we washed out £70 worth of gold (alluded to before at page 18) in one week. The only "patch" we ever got, and for which I trust we were thankful enough; and grand indeed did it look as we washed it off, and it followed the sluicing fork in the clean water in washing down the boxes. But it was only just a "patch," and ran out the next day. We call it our "Providential patch." On coming from the bank, where I sold it, my pocket felt nicer than I ever recollected (except upon one other occasion), and we all felt quite jubilant!