This artful move on the part of the O.C. completely out-generalled the Micks, as the sons of Ould Ireland, God bless her, were by no means in a state to have resisted our landing had they wished to do so, and by the time they were awake, and ready to renew their potations and politics, we were in possession of the strongest position overawing the town. This fact may have induced them to take up another line of defence against the bloody Saxons, and they may have determined to kill by hospitality those they feared to attack with force. For their deputation waited on us, not with pick-handles, revolvers and fowling-pieces, but with cases of champagne and John Jameson’s whisky, and I verily believe they would have defeated us had we remained much longer with them. The west coast diggings were at that time booming, any man caring to work a few hours a day being able to make his eight to ten pounds per week, some of course far more, so that it was a marvel to me why men cared to serve a government, risk his life and undergo the awful hardships our men did, for six shillings a day. It was during this epoch in New Zealand I could have, had I chosen to look after my own interests, made my pile. I had plenty of money, and could have got plenty more had I asked for it, and as I before stated the late military settlers were selling their land-scrip for what they could get, so that as I was on the spot I could have purchased blocks of the finest land in New Zealand for a song, but I did not, and I want to warn young Lost Legionaries not to follow on my spoor. I had made the Crown and flag my fetish from early childhood, and in my own stupid and conceited mind reckoned it to be my bounden duty to fight for them, and that so long as the war continued I must continue to serve, no matter what it cost me in pecuniary and personal losses. This infatuation has stuck to me all my life, and is as quick now as it was then, my life in consequence, so far as gaining the good things of this world goes, being a wretched failure. I therefore want to warn the rising generation against it, so that all of you young fellows who are thinking of leading a frontier life take the advice of an old hand. “Fight certainly and fight like the devil, but don’t be carried away by any sentimental rot.” “God save the King” is a very fine tune, and the Union Jack a very pretty object flying at the masthead, but neither King nor flag can come to your aid when you are old and stranded on the pebbles, while as for your country, represented as it is by a gang of greedy, self-seeking politicians, you may starve in the gutter or rot in the workhouse. Therefore, my romantic new chum, when you see the chance to make money on the one hand and fighting for your country on the other, you go for the money. There are plenty of bally fools such as I have been to do the fighting. Your paltry services won’t be missed, and you will be thought much more of by the people of the self-same country.