At another music hall the song most in favor and nightly sung with immense _éclat_ was one in which the adventures of a fortunate I. D. B. were told in the following doggerel, which was always sure of a vociferous encore, especially as many thought it had a peculiar local application: “I’m shortly about to retire, Then to Flo of course I’ll be wed, I shall do the thing fine, buy shares in the mine Or else float a company instead. I’ll of course have a carriage and pair, And later I shall not despair, In the council I’ll get, and if _you_ wait a bit No doubt you will see me made mayor.” The fact of a song like this being sung in public speaks volumes as to the utter demoralization which then existed in certain circles. In their well-known houses of call the popping of champagne corks was like one continuous fusilade, and money flowed like water, for at this time the illicit buyer had little or no fear of a detective tapping him on the shoulder and asking him to account for the diamonds in his pocket. Professor Darwin may write about the development of species, but if he resided here he might describe how an eminently respectable (?) member of society is evolved from a thief. There are I. D. B.’s and I. D. B.’s, all grades from high to low, from rich to poor, some accounted among the _creme de la creme_ of Kimberley society, even pillars of this or that church, pious receivers and ex-receivers of stolen property well knowing it to be stolen, others buying from hand to mouth to ward off starvation. The I. D. B. moving in society, probably now the manager of a digging company, or a licensed buyer, but nevertheless a rank hypocrite who has worked his way through all grades of rascality to a certain position, wishes by associating with men of acknowledged social status to avoid suspicion, and therefore, as a matter of tact, he rails against the illicit trade and preaches morality _ad nauseam_. If he has money or influence he is surrounded by satellites, who shine but by a borrowed light, or to alter the simile, by dogs who support their miserable existence by licking up the “crumbs that fall from the rich man’s table.” So powerful is the leaven of corruption engendered by this illicit system, that men, otherwise of undoubted probity, “kowtow” to the man whom in their heart of hearts they know to be, to quote thieves’ Latin, a simple “fence,” because they think that “Thrift may follow fawning.”