I never felt more like a Rolling Stone, than when in Melbourne upon that occasion; but the sensation was not peculiar to myself: for the city contained thousands of people who had been everywhere; and were ready, at an hour's notice, to go there again! Volume Two, Chapter XXIX. FARRELL'S STORY CONTINUED. I at length succeeded in making up my mind to leave Melbourne; and, having parted with Vane and Cannon, I proceeded alone to Geelong--on my way to the gold fields of Ballarat. It was my first visit to Geelong; and I made it a short one; but, short as it was, I came to the conclusion, that if the people of Geelong had, within the two previous years, advanced in civilisation as rapidly as those of Melbourne, they must have been in a dreadfully degraded state before: since I found the social, moral, and intellectual condition of the place, if possible, still lower than that which had disgusted me on my first visit to Melbourne--and this is saying a deal. The principal business of the Geelongers appeared to be that of drinking; and at this they were, to a high degree, industrious. Almost every one, with whom I came in contact, used obscene language, and were, or appeared to be, in every way more depraved, ignorant, and brutish, than any people to be found out of England itself. From Geelong I went on to Ballarat--a distance of forty-eight miles--in a conveyance drawn by four horses; and paid for my accommodation the smart sum of six sovereigns. On my arrival, I once more pitched my tent on the richest gold field known to the world. Gold-diggers had been called "lucky vagabonds" by the then Attorney-General of Victoria. Perhaps he was right; but, whatever name had been given them, I was well pleased at finding myself once more in their company; and ready to share their toils, chances, and disappointments. There is something in gold hunting that unsettles a man's mind, and makes him unfit for the ordinary occupations of life; and yet the calling itself is exactly suited to the state of mind it thus produces. In this respect it is perhaps, unfortunately--too like the profession of the gamester. No other occupation could have been so well adapted to my state of mind. I had no hopes to realise--no object to accomplish, but that of forgetting the past, and guarding my thoughts from straying into the future. Such being the case, it was with much satisfaction that I again found myself a "lucky vagabond"--amidst the ever-varying scenes of excitement, to be witnessed on the gold fields of Ballarat. The first acquaintance I encountered, after my arrival at the place, was Farrell--the Californian gold-digger--whom I had last seen in San Francisco. As a matter of course, we stepped into the nearest hotel, to have a glass together. "I suppose," said Farrell, as soon as we were seated--"you have no objection to listen to the conclusion of that little romance--the second chapter of which I made you acquainted with in San Francisco?"