Jim Was A Tremendously Smart Boy, Could Ride, Shoot, Box, Bowl, Or Keep Wicket Against Most White Men, And Any Reference To His Colour Or Family Was Deeply Resented.

On his first appearance the cook at Bayley's (the wife of one of the miners) proceeded to converse with

Him in the sort of pigeon-English commonly used, and handed him a plate of scraps for his dinner, calling out, "Hi, Jacky-Jacky, this one your tucker," to which Jim replied with stern dignity, "Who the h - - are you calling Jacky-Jacky? Do you think I'm a - - black-fellow?" The cook, a quiet and ladylike little woman, who had been a schoolmistress "at home" was not less astounded by the excellent English, than by the delicate way in which his disapprobation was expressed. This story of Jim reminds me of one about his master. He was a man who liked to have everything about him smart and showy, and was quite willing that every one should look upon him as a tremendous swell with the purse of a Croesus. I heard some diggers discussing him: one said he had come to buy up all the mines in the place and must be a man of importance. "Oh," said his mate, "any one could see 'e was a toff - I seed him black 'is boots and brush his teeth." "Yes, and 'e wears a - - collar too." Thus was exemplified the old adage "Fine feathers make fine birds."

Camped near Bayley's was Godfrey Massie, a cousin of Brownes and brother of the once famous cricketer. He had taken a contract to sink a shaft on the adjoining lease, but, owing to the death of one of his mates and his own incapacity to work, due to a "jarred" hand, he was forced to throw up the job, and quickly agreed to my proposal that he should form one of my party. People get to a very casual way of doing things on the goldfields. There was no formality about my arrangements; Godfrey helping me pack at a store, and during our work I said without preface, "You'd better come too;" "Right," said he, and the matter was settled. Godfrey, a son of one of the leading Sydney families, had started life in an insurance office, but soon finding that he was not cut out for city life, went on to a Queensland cattle-station, where he gained as varied a knowledge of bush life as any could wish for; tiring of breeding and fattening cattle for somebody else's benefit, he joined the rush to the Tasmanian silver-fields and there he had the usual ups and downs - now a man of wealth, and now carrying his load of bacon and oatmeal through the jungle on the steep Tasmanian mountains. While a field continues to boom, the up-and-down business does not so much signify, but when the "slump" comes it is distinctly awkward to be in a state of "down." It is then that the average speculator bemoans his hard fate, can't think how he is to live; and yet manages to do so by borrowing from any more fortunate fellow, and almost invariably omitting to pay him back.

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