Some simple hints before you start, my friend. Do not encumber yourself with too much luggage. The drays will not carry it for “_thank ye_.” There is no necessity for laying in a stock of everything, as storekeepers at the mines do not now desire a thousand per cent upon every article. This may arise from a principle of benevolence, or, as some ill-natured people say, from competition. If you lay in a stock in town you are likely to buy too much, as you are surrounded by good things, and the difficulties of the journey are unknown to you. Should you reserve the purchase of most of your requirements, till you arrive at the ground, you will have no trouble in carriage, you will _know_ what you really want, and, from the high price, you will only _buy_ what you want. By all means, however, provide yourself with good stout clothes and boots, a coat and trousers of oil-skin cloth, a roll of canvass for your future home, not forgetting a decent shooting jacket for Sundays, when you ought to appear civilized. Tools are dearer up than in town. A cradle may be carried in parts without much trouble. Take up a few choice books, (not on Metaphysics or Mathematics,) because you should be prepared in some degree to keep up your intellectual position. A packhorse will ease the toil of a party, or a bundle might rest on the top of a passing dray. Unless positively obliged, spare yourself the anxiety of having your own conveyance. Otherwise a solemn warning—_beware of a gibber_, as that genus is not an uncommon one on the road. There are few things in life more undesirable than pushing behind a cart at every foot of rising ground, extricating a load from a chasm, or watching a vehicle approaching a precipice, impelled by an animal that will persist in going crabwise.