The Rand Reefs.
The gold reefs of the R:md are a very ' peculiar formation, consisting of a mixture of blue "cement" and white waterworn quartz pebbles, reminding one of the " alI niop.d rock " of the sweet-stuff shops, and I it is called " banket" rock, the Dutch j I name for that spotted confectionery. There ' are three reels or layers of this conglomerate, varyh.g from a few inches to a few fvet in thickness, and in their distance fiom each other; varying also in their comparative richness in gold. The lowesttee:", which lies next to the granite, is tiie thickest, the uppermost is thinnest, but is frequently richest. The reefs and the granite beneath them crop out at the surface willi a rather steep slope, and the uutcrnp has been traced, with nume- | roils gaps in it, for a total length of i7O or 80 miles. Until recently the outcrop had bsen known for only 40 or 50 miles, and JVburg stood about midway o: the line, but lately its known extent | has been largely added to. The line of ! laiternp is for the most part an arc of i a large circle, but the recent discoveries , add an S shaped extension to the arc. i Tiie mining claims granted by the Transj: vaal Government were each 153 ft along, :• ami 413 f- across, the outcrop, and the ,; claimholder was limited to the block of !• ground perpendicularly within his marks. " The mines on the outcrop were worked down on the incline of the reefs, and all •' stuff mined was hauled up the incline. !_' Another row of mines was then started to f tap the reef outside the outcrop claims, '' and these had to . sink shafts till they reached the "banket," and then follow its slope .?o,vr.v>i-..K Those were called •," deep" mines. Then a third row was ' commenced, and these are called "deep deeps." It is not known how far the
banket descends, but it is believed that if followed lux enough it will be found that the reef will flatten; the favourite estimate of the depth to the flat rock is " about 6000 ft." How far the reef extends is a matter for pure conjecture; Home think it extends .all the way from Jr/burg to the Vaal river, if not further. The gold is not in the quartz gravel, but in the blue cement, and is more or less misted with glistening iron pj rites. It is a geological puzzle how these l.iyers of auriferous quartz gravel and s nd were spread out. The usual explanation is that they were laid down in the sea, but that requires explanation too, as the sea, except tinder somewhat rare conditions, has not currents strong enough to transportgravel, and it is very difficult to imagine sea currents of any great width, and 70 or 80 mi!es in length, able to transport gravel.
The Steam Crane. ("John Anderson My Jo.") "John Anderson My Jo John," when \tc were iirst acqueni An order for a steam crane to Christchurch up we sent, But we haven't got it yet, although that's msny years ago, I really quite forget the date, " John Anderson My Jo." Yeais in and out we waited, but we waited ail in vain ; We got cement from England, but we couldn't get our crane; Some foolish people used to think our Htubour Hoard wax slow. But they weren't, a half a, patch on you, '" John Anderson My Jo." How anxiously, how patiently, we waited John, for you ; • Vi'c got a diving dress from Home, we got«a diver too; We mounted blocks upon the rocka, wo pitched them row by row : ]Sut they crumbled all away with age, " John Anderson My Jo." Poor Stumbles used to come each morn and heave a bitter sigh ; To see how worn he looked would bring a tear in any eye; To watch his feeble footsteps as he wandered to and .fro— You've got a lot to answer for, " John Anderson My Jo." The people out at Milford, my word, how they did laugh. And when they view'd our harbour works we got a dose of chaff. They'll have their pier before us, with its long and graceful bend. Like the one on Turnbull's pennies, with the lighthouse- at the end, While our poor sleepy-hollow boys can only look and weep. Those crumbling blocks like nightmarss come and haunt lis in our sleep. And—thinking of that order which we gave so long age:— We ask—in vain—-where is that crane. " John Anderson Mv Jo !" ' J.T.M. "the Lighthouse on the Hill. In view of the agitation for a new and mors powerful harbour light at Timaru, tta foil-wing, penned many years ago, should be interesting:
(After Dr. Watts-his-Nume.) " Our new light was shown for tho 3rst time on the evening of the first of July, li. is what is called a l'olly-hop-trick light, of the twentv-sccond oraer, visible from W.S.W. i p;*st W., to N.N.W. -j to E., and will be seen at the distance of a 'quarter of a mile. Its estimated power is equal to the amount of light it shows, and it is expected to prove a great boon."— Contemporary. Twinkle, twinkle, little star, How I wonder what you are, Up above the town so high, Like a rushlight in the sky. I wonder what that spark can mean, Faintest flame of kerosene, ' i When all else is dark and still, —"lis the lighthouse on the hill 1 When the seamen from afar. First behold that trembling star, They'll find themselves, it's my belief, Nice and snug upon the reef. As they struggle hard to reach, At dead of night, the shingly beach. What words of praise their mouths will fill, For the lighthouse on the hill. Slowly dragging o'er the plain, In the midnight Christchurch train, Speculating when and how They'd smashed up their latent cow, The passengers—the Judge's past— Will sight the welcome spark at last, And tears of joy their eyes will fill. To view the lighthouse on the hill. The' Bobby on his lonely beat, Pacing each deserted street, Counting lamps in sleepy fit, Which—dark nights—are never lit, To the beach if he should stray, —No star to cheer his lonely way,— Sees, and through him runs >. thrill. The glimmering lighthouse on the hill. When great Stumbles, 'mid the rocks, Starts to lay his stumbling blocks, If the weather's clear at night, From the mole they'll see the light. But past two hundred feet of wall, 'l'he light will look most precious small, While at another hundred still, They'll lose the ligjithoute on the hill. MORAL— Our noble beacon on the hill. Would beat Sir John with all his skill; Breakwaters he could plan, no doubt, But Coode he Cooden't rub that out. Then twinkle, twinkle, tiny spark, To tell us when it's getting dark, And we'll all be grateful still, For the lighthouse on the hill. J.T.M.