Page:Banking Under Difficulties- Or Life On The Goldfields Of Victoria, New South Wales And New Zealand (1888).pdf/142

Rh “I have told you that I went into the Custom-house, of which I soon got tired. After leaving that I hardly knew what to do. I had but little money. One day I was in the shop of a bookseller, with whom I was acquainted. I asked him if he knew of anything that would suit me. ‘Yes,’ he replied, “there’s a fortune to be made paper-running at the diggings.’ After a little talk,I thought I could but try it.

“At that time, once one left GreytownGreymouth [sic], there was no postal communication to any one of the numerous diggings situated on and about the Grey River, although they must have contained a population of some 5000.

“Accordingly the next day I started with a stock of papers on my back to travel round the various diggings. The first halting place was Notown, a small village about twelve miles from Greymouth. Up to here I went in a whale boat, which was partly pulled, partly poled, and the rest of the distance dragged up by the crew—they up to their waists in water, with a rope over their shoulders. This was termed ‘tracking.’ Such a trip as it was! The boatmen, the roughest and strongest men that could be got, were half their time wet through with water, to eliminate which from their system they consistently soaked themselves with rum. Every few trips some one of them would lose his life, as the smallest slip in a rapid river like the Grey meant almost certain death. Once safely arrived at Notown, I used to start for German Gully, about eight miles away. Road there simply was none; it was a mere track cut through the dense bush, and available for pack-horses only. These used to go sliding and slipping along, and every now and then one would get hopelessly bogged. Then, should there not be sufficient help to get it out, the poor brute would be unloaded and simply left to sink deeper and deeper, until at last he sank out of sight, engulphed in the horrible morass.

“Once at the diggings, however, all previous discomfort was forgotten. ‘Paper!’ A regular rush!

“‘Here you are lad! Give me an Australasian. How much?’

“‘Five bob, old man.’

“‘Give it here then.’

“‘Have you a Nation there?’

“‘One left only, I want a pound for it.’

“‘Too much, I’ll give you fifteen bob!’

“‘All right, collar,’ and paper and money would change hands.

“It was simply coining money. The regular price was 5s. for any of the Australian weeklies, and as much as you could get, but never less than 10s. for any of the home papers.

“The life though was simply awful. At that time, to many of the diggings, food had to be carried on men’s backs. Flour ranged from 9d. to 1s. 6d. the pannikin full, and other things in proportion. Thus it will be seen that although one got 2s. 6d. for posting a