But the bottom is not gained and you begin to fancy that you never will reach there. “Never mind,” says some encouraging friend, “the deeper you go the more chance of luck.” Then you feel as though you would like to delve to the antipodes. On you go, looking cautiously round occasionally, in hope of catching a peep of some stray nugget or other. At last a little yellow spot attracts attention. It seems of a brighter colour than clay—a nearer look satisfies you that it must be gold. With what delight then does the embryo digger seize upon his first treasure. More excitement and pleasure are experienced at that time then in subsequent seasons of pocket scraping. His first impulse is to cry out “Eureka” with as great a zest as did Archimedes when he was dealing with gold. Other glittering spangles are in the maggotty stuff. Some greasy substance with streaks of yellow sand, is at once concluded by you to be the pipe clay bottom. But this is not the case, you have further to go. Yet console yourself with the idea that most of that through which you are now digging may prove “washing stuff.” But you approach the termination of your downward course. Some light and friable sandstone is seen studded with interesting looking shining spangles. Seizing a piece with avidity, you soon drop it with a dejected air as you recognize only mica. Ah! but _there_ is something different surely. You are half disposed to doubt. No, it is no mica, but beautiful little specks and nuggets of gold, stuck all about the piece like currants in the Christmas pudding. There is no mistake about it, as you break bit after bit and let the little darlings tumble clumsily into a pannican. True, some of them are rather dirty; but you cannot help regarding them with peculiar affection. Well, the pipe clay floor is cleared, scraped and swept. The precious dust is carefully stored above with that layer immediately over, and preserved as washing stuff. The revelation of its wealth is to be made another day, though many and serious are the speculations as to its latent worth. One will hope there are two ounces to the load, another confidently asserts that there must be four.