BACK-BLOCK CELEBRITIES.

Otago Witness, Issue 2856, 9 December 1908, Page 82

BACK- BLOCK CELEBRITIES.

Bt John MacLenxan.

THE DIGGER. Of the grey company of pioneers fast disappearing into the mist of years perhaps the most romantic figure is that of the digger. Diggers, like generals, are bora, not made, and they are born of the most sterling material the empire can produce ; in short, they are born of the stuff that empires are made of There will never be a truer picture of the digger than that given to us _>y Mr Vincent Pyke of revered memory in hie charming book, "Wild Will Enderby.' I remember reading it long years ago, and years after I met the fcype of men he -wrote about ; and the same men, driven far back and reduced in numbers, are living to-day. This is admittedly the day of big concerns, and among the rest the little claim is absorbed in the big company. So if you wish to see blue shift and corduroy trousers, you will have to go well into the mountains to find them. The accomplishments of the digger are few. Like Othello, "he is a plain, blunt man." With something of the Romany Rye ir his composition, with the fever of the rush burning in his veins, he scorns working for a wage. He has been known to refuse to exchange his labour for money — ever when the price offered was as tempting as 30s a day. The story is told of two new chums bound for fcbfi goldfields who received this offer. One accepted it, and is to-day a retired bank manager. The other stuck to his swag, md if he lives is what Nature intended him to be — a digger. These men of the mountain never get rich — there are too many obstacles in the way — the distance between his hut and the bank, the many alluring places of entertainment on the road, the bother of keeping a bank book ; but the main reason of his eemipoverty is generosity. " Easy earned, ea-sy spent" is not a maxim applicable to tke digger. No one earns his money harder; no one works more assiduously; and yet wheir he gets down to the "Flat" he is a rich man, and forgets his toil. He drops nuggets into the hat when it goes round, and lights his pipe wih "fivers,'' justto show that his faith in the resources of the mountain is implicit. No one appreciates comfort more than the goldseeker ; no one deserves it more. He toils for it, dreams about it, comes down thfl mountain with a bag full of £^ld for it, but, like Miranda and her holiday, h° doesn't get it till he returns to his camp. Perhaps he, appreciates his com-fort-more from the fact that it is narrowed down to the three necessities — fire, water, food. His water on the mountair is pure, his fire consists of scrub and peat, his food flour and meat. He is an adept in the art 'of contriving, and with these common necessities at hand in ample store manages to make life in the hills more than comfortable. The rude sodhut in the mountain is a picfure of neatness and cleanliness, a,nd stands protected from the storms in a brushwood enclosure. The digger sees to it that he is provided for firing, as the evenly-piled heaps of peat testify, and when it happens — as it often does — that he is -snowed up, he is ready for the unpleasant experience. The implements at his command may be primitive^ — the rocking of the cradle is still to be heard in many a southern gully — or he may be the fortunate possessor of a "race," with its accompanying aid to toil ; but in whatever state he works, he loves the mountains as sailors love the sea. Their storniSj their calms, the heights of their, peaks, the depths of their gullies, the very ruggedness of the tracks that makes climbing the privilege of mountaineers alone, all tend to this. You may force him into the town — he may marry, and, in fairy phrase, "live happy ever after" ; you may place him on the land, which he will blees with his toil, but the spirit of the lone mountain remains with him, and long years after, when his hair 16 grey and his step infirm, he will tell you with a heart young as ever in enthusiasm about the secret gully which he could lay his life on hides the lucky nugget. Such a man was Robertson, better, perhaps, known amongst the early diggers as " Joe." He came to the colonies a young man, and spent the beet part of a lifetime on the goldfields between Ballarat and Gabriel's Gully. Somewhat of a lucky turn, he got married, and settled down in one of the- most beautiful suburbs of Dunedin-. The spirit of adventure, howerer, was upon him always. He would tell of and dwell upon the richness of a certain gully amid the Silver Peaks. So peisistently did he stick to his story that a 6maJl party was formed, which Joe led to the place of" his dreams. It lay a good day's tramp over the mountains in a fearsome valley, with a rill running through it that somewhere or another joined the Silverstream. The golden gully, as a matter of course, proved a failure— all golden gullies do ; but once among hi*= old friends the mountains, with dish and shovel at hand, Robertson was transformed. The dust of the city seemed to leave him — he was fro^. He worked like a Trojan among the barren gravel, put down holes, washed prospects, and a few grains of pyrites on the dish was proof to him tliat the lucky nugget was not far off. Tt was the effect of the mountain air on his digger nature. The camp was pitched on a green knoll, overlooking tha boulder creek, and he ! would sit outf-ide the tent smoking his oAcnin.' pipe til! long after the moreporks tame out. telling of fiirlits at tlip etookade or crapadiv. with the Maun^atua bushrjin^rs It was living thoi-e stirrino- old <l;i— . over .-.rcoiji to listen to him. ° The <-3mpf/rs had unmistakably struck g-old of a d'jtferent stamp than thoy sought, and they were satisfied. Presently the uiii-uc-ee«s' l ul party returned to Dunedin, Robertsor electing to go back for some of the

camp stuff, Vhicb bad been left behind. Tluit was his last tramp. On returning the fog overtook him, and, though a capable bushman, he lost his way. Search parties, organised immediately, scoured the hills, but only after searching for some days did they find poor old Joe, peacefully lying besida his swag, and smiling as if glad to be asleep among the mountains. So may he rest in peace.