Could nothing more be done for the moral and religious welfare of the poor diggers? The Bishop of Melbourne, while I was up there, made an earnest appeal to the miners at Bendigo to get a church erected before the wet season came on. But it is comparatively of little use urging this duty upon men who know that they are to leave next week. It is a deeply interesting sight to witness a number of rough, unshorn, and toil worn men assemble around some spreading gum tree in the wilderness, in the newly trodden gold fields, desiring to worship the God of their fathers with their brethren of a kindred faith. How pleasing, and yet how sad the emotions which rise in the breast during such an exercise! We love to think of _that_ House of Prayer now distant from us, and of _that_ dear company with whom we met to worship. Visions of sweet home appear, and each familiar countenance passes in review. And then we are anxious and concerned about the friends we left behind us. A tear starts in the eye at the thought of a wife or darling little one. It is well if we then can feel that a Father above is watching our absent home. The moral effects of the Diggings is an important subject. We may and do regret the debauchery and extravagance consequent upon the sudden accumulation of wealth,—the interruption to the regular course of business,—the indisposition of the miner, whether successful or unsuccessful, to resume his accustomed occupation in the field or in the workshop,—the absorbing thought of gain among all classes,—the neglect of literature, and the indifference to religion. But there is a serious social evil which is too often lost sight of;—the breaking up of families. How many a bitter tear, and how much domestic trouble have the Gold Fields occasioned. Wives separated from husbands, and children far away from the care of fathers. The object of love in a happy home has a stranger to close his eyes of death. Some there are of whom no tidings arrive. The depths of the forest alone can reveal the sad tale. One evening, coming down from the Bendigo, I encamped near a party also returning to town. Some children playing about drew my attention. Falling into conversation with the mother I learnt the following story. Her husband, a Burra miner, had gone to Mount Alexander. Having sent for his wife, she proceeded with her family overland. After this trying journey, she arrived only to hear of the death of her partner. “When dying in the hospital” said she, “the children lay heavy upon him; he was always calling out for them.” And that man was buried without a follower in the graveyard of strangers.