FOLLOWING DOWN THE LAVA.

Grey River Argus, Volume XII, Issue 1392, 16 January 1873, Page 4

FOLLOWING DOWN THE LAVA.

The following interesting narrative is abridged from " The Mysteries and Miseries of Scripopolis," by "Demonax," and is declared by the author to be founded on fact : —

In a little hut, the walls of clay, the roof of bark, in what we call Wishing Gully, a lone spot, lived, or rather dragged out an existence, John Palmer and his daughter Polly. They were a good distance from any dwelling, but as their situation was high, they could see the suburbs of Sandhurst and the great engines puffing and puffing out smoke, like huge giants enjoying a quiet " draw." It was an arid place where the hut was built, the only water near being a muddy dam containg a fluid about the consistency of putty. In summer time not a bit of green was to be found except the few flower bushes and homely vegetables reared in the bit of garden by Polly. You can always tell where a woman is ; in the dreariest wilderness her natural taste will blossom into flowers, be they humble marigolds or costly dahlias. Polly* and her father were the sole occupants of the hut. Ah ! I forgot there was another, old Nan, the goat. The, age of this Nan no one knew ; her venerable beard spoke for her antiquity. The diggers said she was old enough in iniquity. Nan was black, and she obtained the sobriquet of the One-eyed Devil, because she was deficient of the left optic, which she lost in a fray with a Chinaman, and that her general characteristics were supposed to accord with those of the much maligned individual whose feet are said to be like hers, cloven. Nan had thoroughly earned her name. There was no thievery to . which she was not up, as all those who had ga--' ens knew to their cost. Nan was affectionately cherishedby the inmates. There was also two other dumb inhabitants — Sissy, the cat, and Nip. the terrier —which lived a kind of life of internecine war, but were always united when any enemies or depredators from the other gullies attempted to poach on their preserves < Jenerally. however, their quari filing was more bounce than anything else, like that of husband and wife ; they wou d lie on either side of the fire and spit and snarl, but matters seldom went so far as a downright outbreak. A word from Polly soon put them right. .Polly was the. angel of that household, the light of that home. Tender, fragile as the rose-leaf, she had been left to begin batt ; ing wi h the world at ten years of age, by the death of her mother, who was buried away at the White Hills Cemetery, and whose grave, though humble and unmarked by a stone, was always kept neat and covered with flowers by Polly. After her mother's death Polly led a lonely life, seldom seeing anyone except her father, to whom she made a good housekeeper, cooking his poor meals daintily, and keeping the house like an old woman. The child had much of mature age in her face, and she never laughed, although her smiles were ready always, and were sweet beyond expression. His child's smile, when he returned from work, was the only gleam of light in the world, for John. Polly was a strange girl, she seemed not in this world. Her mystic .high brow appeared full of matured thought. Her thin, worn fate, beautiful nevertheless, and white and red v was lit up by two great blue eyes that looking up into the infinitude of the blue «ky, and going beyond, beyond, far away. She loved the spring time, when the lonely .gully becamed covered with grass, out of which sprang all the wonderful flowers with which the hills around Sandhurst abound— the red creepers, the snow-white star-like sprays of bushes, the yellow and red heath, the blue and purple orchids, the wealth of golden wattle blossom— all conveyed ideas to her mind that were beyond utterance, ideas of light and happiness,, and hope, but not the hope of this perishing world. In these quiet spring days she would sit reading in the old Bible the Revelations-, and now and then pausing, she would gaze up into i the deep blue sky, and sing — ' ' There is a happy land, Far, far, away, Where saints in glory stand, j Bright, bright, as day. ! » And, in summer nights, too, when the glorious moon rose in splendour in the east, and bathed the world in her mystic light, pencilling each delicate spray in elegant silhouette on the turf, toning down what appeared glaring and discordant in the sunlight, Polly enjoyed the scene, and as she sat by the door, her hand in her father's, she shrank in the dream-like ideas called up by the moonlit panorama, the mystery, the other-world sensations. People looked at Polly, and said she was a "rum girl, not at all like other girls." Kind, motherly Mrs Sweetblossom, at the general store, would say, • "The lass ain't for this world, I'm sure; she's too good " Polly was a favorite with all, but she was too poor to have many.fi-iends. Jol::; Pc'-sier was not a lucky man. He had neve- been. He lo3t a fortune at home, because his uncle, who altered his mind at the last moment, became insensible before he could Bign his name to the codicil, bequeathing all his property to John. When he came to the diggings, lie got a claim in Eaglehawk Gully, the richest on Bendigo, and, *hen he sunk his shaft, mistook a false bottom for the real one, and finding the prospect poor, started off to another rush ; a man jumped into the claim, and-, sinking a few feet got the right bottom, and netted L6O(X) out of it. that week. John to< >k up a claim <>na new reef, since celebrated, sun ■• a shaft, but had to abandon it, and the result was that another man took it up— no other than the famous Ballerstedt — who not a ton of gold out of it. That was the sort of man John was. He had been compelled for some years back to work as a miner, and not being* a very strong man, did not have much employment, so that the little hut was often poorly provided with food and clothing for its inmates, who would have got on but indifferently were it not for Nan. But to make matters worse, John got "a craze." Be had followed the coppings of the- famous reef on which he was near making a fortune, and he was as sure as sure could be that it passed directly under the old hut. He spent all the money he had on a lease, and began to sink a shaft. This work he kept at constantly? until Polly's appealing looks, and the state of the house would make him go in search of something to do. Polly was ever much of an eater, but how often

and often did she go with only a bit of bread » whole day, so that her father would have enough. He was working hard, she argued to her unselfish self, and she was doing nothing, so she required little ; and John was blind to all this. His craze would not let him see anything. I don't know how they would have got on if it were not for kind Mrs S weetblossoiii. That dear woman— coarse, ugly, heavy, and commonplace to sight though she appeared — had in her ungainly body, one of the truest heart s that ever beat in the bosom of woman. In the book of the remembrances of the Lord, her name is posted in many entries. Although the times then Avere hard, and much " tic" had to be given, she never would see any one wanting. She had a sort of intuitive knowledge of when John had the craze, and would soundly rate poor Polly for not coming for her usual supply of floxir. tea, .and sugar. Her heart used to twuige again when she noticed the poor girl's thin and worn appearance on these occasions. She used to say — " Why don't you come often er, Polly dear ? You haven't gone to another store, have you f " Oh ! no, Mrs Sweetblossom," Polly would stutter out, " but — but we must be saving, for father's out of work." "Go 'long with you'," Mrs Sweetbloasom would say, "as if you'd not pay every shilling, child, when he gets work. I'm giving little presents to my customers this week, so Polly, here's a pot of salmon for you." And thus did the good soul try to smoothcn Polly's thorny path through life. Mrs Sweetblossom was not a churchgoing woman ; she was not in the odour of sanctity like her rival, Mrs Pinchnose, and was even suspected of occasionally taking a drop too much ; but she did no one harm, and she had a heart that was worth mountains of gold. John kept pegging away at the shaft whenever he was out of work, which waof ten, but, as he had no mate, his progress was slow. Polly helped to pull up the buckets of stuff, till the depth became too great, and John would not let her. He. reckoned, however, that at a depth of 40ft., he would interesect the vein that .led to the golden reef below. He would then sink on the underlie, that is, follow the vein down, and this would lead him 0n ,,t0, _«he.,reef. _ Provisions were getting short, and Nan's last youngster had to be sacrificed, when one day Polly, who was on -the doorstep, saw her father ascend in a great hurry, and run towards her. She ran to meet him, and anxiously asked if the shaft had fallen in ? "Come here, Polly," said he, and he led her over to the shaft. ' ' Look at this, " he continued, pointing to a thin slice of stuff like unctuous black day. Look at it, Polly — y<>ur fortune's made, you're a lady, ! That's the lava of the great Victoria Reef— the backbone of Bendigo, the great gold vein, It's exactly like the lava I struck in that fatal claim on the hill which I deserted, for that mean Ballerstedt to go in and make his pile — curse him ! A few feet more and our fortune is made." He clasped her passionately to his heart. O, could he not feel the change in her? , . , " He drive a carriage, and pair," cried John, wildly. "He flaunt about and look on me with contempt as I pass by. Why his claim Anil be a mere bagatelle to mine ; I have 600 yards along the line ! Oh, child, what a fortune is before you. The hut yonder will rise into a palace at the back of the enchanter, gold ; your mean cotton dress will become one of gorgeous silk ; a splendid carriage will be at your command, and Bendigo, aye, proud Melbourne, will bow the knee to you. Miss Mary Palmer, now unknown, of course, shall be sought by the highest in the land, and will wed the brightest and best youth the world has produced. A happy home, a brilliant husband, a lovely wife, children beautiful as the wattleblossoms in spring, and an old man with a face bright as the sunshine of life can make it, by the fireside in winter, and in the garden on sunny days; Gold everywhere — bright lustrous gold, potent magician, before whom every head is abased, every knee bent. Oh ! my heart is fit to break with joy— joy for my darling, my Polly, dear, dear Polly." Father and daughter wept together, wept tears of joy. Polly believed her father, and while he descended again to begin the underlie shaft on the lava, she returned back to the house to see if she could not get a cheerful little meal ready. But there was little in the larder, so she took her way down to Long Gully, to see what Mrs Sweetblossom would say to the event. Her face fell, when in Mrs Sweetblossom's accustomed place behind the counter, she saw her son, a graceless fellow. She inquired where Mrs Sweetblossom was. " Gone to Melbourne, Miss," was the inebriated reply, for young Sweetblossom was rarely sober when he could get the run of the till. - Polly's heart appeared to her to sink right down into her shoes. Still, when the thought about the cheerless home, the scant food, she ventured with throbbing heart, to ask for credit. "Mrs Sweetblossom always gives me the things," Polly stammered out ; "she knows we pay whenever we get it. I don't want much — a few pounds of flour, some sugar, some tea.— " Polly stopped ; the expression of the young man's face made her clutch the counter for support. He went over to the little desk where the rough book was kept in which Mrs Sweetblossom entered debts in her hieroglyphics. He looked solemn when he came back to the counter again." " We can't give you any more credit, Miss," said he harshly. " You're already Ll4 into us, and you must pay a little off. Wont do Miss, we're nearly ruined with bad debts." - ... ' ** v*u * .^ra Sweetblossom would never object, Polly breathed out. "Father's struck the reef.'" Mr Sweetblosspm took no notice of her but Served othe? 'customers, and with a weary sigh the girl turned and went over to Mrs Pinchnose's place, to prefer the same galling request, and received not credit but a tract. Her eye caught a sentence the writer had lugged in— '' Come unto me, ye that are heavy laden, and I will give you rest." These were the words of Jesus, and as the image which the reading of the Testament had given Polly of that most glorious of all characters arose in her mmd — a meek, and naild, and loving face going forth to all sufferers— the tears suffused her eyes, and she eried — " Oh ! Lord Jesus, dear Saviour, give me rest, peace, rest, rest, rest."

The child's prayer was answered. She prepared a humble supper for her father, and he ate of it heartily, all the time talking of the great tilings in store for her. He never noticed she did not eat ; if he thought of it at all, he said to himself she had a " piece" between meals and besides, she had the run of the house. Little good that was ! After supper he got a candle, and went again to work till 11 o'clock. Polly had had nothing that day, and she had passed through grear mental excitement. Yet she did not feel hungry The mystic words of Jesus were sounding in her ears, pervading her whole soul, breathing peace unspeakable. The m)on rose over the sombre forest, illuminating the w »rld with argent light. Dark as that world had her soul been before these words sounded in it, but now it was irradiated, never to be darkened again. Days passed, and John workec incessantly on his underlie shaft, the lava widening out, and quartz coming here and there— quartz of the right colour, that made his heart leap with joy. The lava, it may be as well to explain, is a kind of clay that always accompanies gold-bearing reefs, going down by the side of them. The reef often tails out, or disappears, but the lava continues, going downwards, often thin as a thread ; but, njvertheless, the unerring guide to the bodies of stone below. It is the miners' compass, the clew to their labyrinth. Hence, when a reef is lost, the saying amongst the miners is, "Follow down the lava and you'll get the lode richer than ever." Polly told her father when they were reduced to a bit of bread, how the storekeepers refused credit. He got into a fearful passion. " They'll live to cringe in the dust to us, Polly," said he ;' "the low hounds. In a day or so, to-night, perhaps, I'll strike the reef, and then see if they'll refuse. Why— —them ! there was such a sensation on Sandhurst before as will take place. Keep heart, Polly !" "Yes, father, clear," sighed Polly, looking up in his face, with her large, trusting eyes. " I don't think of myself, only of you— you work so hard, and want food." "The hope is food for me," said the enthusiastic man. "Go you, Polly, to . Mrs Penwannet and ask her for the loan of a big loaf and a bit of salt meat and some tea and sugar, and that'll do us till the gold is struck. Then, Polly, then — Oil .' won't it be glorious." And he caught her up and kissed her. Could he not feel, by the weight of the child, that something was wrong 1 No ; his heart was fevered with the gold, his pulse beat too wildly to take notice. Polly went to Mrs Penwannet and got the loan, although very begrudgingly, and small iv quantity, because Nan had been at her old games, and besides destroying some marigolds— the pride of Mrs Penwannet's heart— had disfigured her best cap, which had been on the fence to dry. It had been a lovely day- calm, mild and bright, but not glaring. The sun had set in glory— pillars of crimson, purple, blue, and gold rose on each side of him as he entered into his rest. John ate his supper — the last of the borrowed bread and meat — in the doorway, and Polly sat by, gazing earnestly at the grandeur of the sunset. John looked at her, and his mind being at that moment in a way free from the fever of gold, he wasstruckwithher almost supernatural appearance. He had seen pictures of pale thoughtful angels ; surely, never had he seen a living resemblance to them like his daughter. A cold shudder went through him as he noticed her etherial frame, light enough to be blown away by a breath of air. " Polly," he said in a startled tone. "Yes, father, dear," she replied, fixing her strange large eyes upon him. "Are you not well ?" asked he. "Oh! quite well father," she replied. " What are you thinking of Polly ?" he said. "Of those wonderful colors in the west," said Polly in a dreamy tone. " I've read, father, in the Revelations about the new Jerusalem, whose gates are of jasper and pearl and all manner of precious stones, and I was wondering if this was not something like it, some resemblance." Again a cold chill went to John's heart. There was the magnificent sunset, the jewelled pillars leading up to the gate of gold into which the sun had disappeared, and there was his daughter, her spiritual face, with its large mournful eyes fixed on the west, flushed with the glow, resembling that of a rapt seraph's ! "Polly," said he, hastily, "this won't do. You must not think of such things. There are glories in store for you in this world, of which you do not dream now. When I strike gold, Polly, love, you will be bright then : 'bright, bright as day,' as you sing yourself." "But, father, isn't Heaven a better place than this world ?" asked Polly quietly. " Yes, child, yes," he replied hastily, " when we've fulfilled our destiny here it's a home for us. But don't talk so, cliild, go inside or you'll catch cold. I'm almost" certain to strike it to-night." And he went and got his candle and cheerily prepared to go to work. " Father," said Polly. "Yes, dear," he said somewhat peevishly, for the tone of her voice was so sad, unearthly, and mournful that it disturbed him in the fulness of his joyous expectancy. "Kiss me," she simply said. "Tears, cliild?" he said ; "this is wrong." "Don't speak harshly to me, father dear, ' she said, fixing her eyes on Ms. He clisped her to his breast, and kissed and kissed her again. "Good bye, father, I'm happy now." He went to work with a mind much unsettled by his daughter's words and 'ways. He wondered what was the matter with her. Her eyes, those great touching eyes, troubled him, and from every comer of the shaft they looked at him. He got in a good shot towards 10 o'clock, and went down to clear the fallen rock away, and see if the long desired reef had been revealed, clambering on his hands and knees down the underlie, pushing aside the blocks of stone, in the murky atmosphere caused by the smoke, in which his candle glimmered faintly. Suddenly a strange awe, a dread, a horror, , came upon him ; then a deep pang passed through liis heart, followed by a painful joy, such as those feel whose smiles and tears are mingled. Again he thought he saw Polly's mournful eyes gazing at him from the darkness ; again the words

" kiss me, father," fell on his ears. Then it was all past, and he thought he heard in the far of distance the sound of music low and sweet. It might be the circus band, mellowed by th& distance. Then his fever to get a look at the " face" grew and he crept down. For a while he looked and saw nothing but the black line of the lava. Suddenly his eye struck the line at the side o the shaft ; by the side of the lava appeared the top of a creamy white stone, with blue veins. It was the top of the reef. With Ids heart '■eating at high pressure, his tongue cleaving to the roof of his mouth, his eyes staring wildly, he reached the spot and clutched the stone which the shot had broken off. One glance was enough. It was the beautiful Victoria Reef stone, and in one of the blue veins glistened two particles, set off by the cream white of the quartz— one rich yellow gold, the other blue glittering galena. It was over ; the dream was a reality. i When John recovered his senses, for j he had fainted, he sat for a few moments on a stone, his mind tumultuous with j<>y, pictures flashing through it. of the grandeur that was to be his daughter's, the glory of the Palmers in Victoria, the joy, the ease, the plenty. Parties of pleasure, halls of dazzling light, youth and beauty, and Polly supreme amongst all. Such were John's* visions as he sat in the gloom near the potent magnician, gold — for he had overturned the candle and put it out. " But why keep the discovery from the dear gii*l ?" he cried, and with nimble steps he went up the rough ladder. " I wonder Polly hasn't come to see me before this," said he to himself as he made his way to the hut with light steps The door was open ; there was no light. Had she gone to bed 1 She had never done so before. He entered. Opposite the door was a small window, and through it the moonlight streamed, lighting tip with silver glory the head of Polly who appeared sleeping, her head resting on her hand. Her face was upturned, and there was an expression of ectasy in it that the moonlight dwelt on lovingiy. For a moment the father gazed on the lovely picture iv delight. No sculptor could throw such expression: into marble, although her featues seemed as_ if chiselled out of pure Parian, so motionless was she, so statuesque. At her feet lay Nan, silent an! happy. "Polly." She answered not. "Wake, dearest," said her father. She did not stir. "I Avill wake her with a kiss," said he, and he stepped over to her. Through the wild waste of Wishing Gully that night there echoed a terrible cry as of a strong man whose heart was broken, as if it were the sound of the last chord snapping asunder. And in the hut all that night, while the moon glided calmly through the sky to her home in the west, there was heard wailing and moaning, deep, deep, as of a strong man in agony, and the words of the wailing were, "My cliild ! Oh, my child ! Too late, accursed gold !" Visitors to the Yarra Bend Lunatic Asylum, Melbourne, often wonder at the curious madness of an old white-haired man, almost a shadow in appearance, who is continually digging, being alloAved, as he is harmless, to wander about and do What he likes. His sole talk is of " following down the lava." "It's a matter of certainty," he will say : " not a doubt of it, Polly, if I follow the lava down I must come on the Victoria Reef, and when I do, why, we'il be millionaires. Don't look so, Polly, you'll be the brightest in the land, the admired of all— a hundred thousand for a dowry. Who said Polly was dead ? Ha ! ha ! Good indeed ! She's sleeping beautifully in the moonlight ; don't she. look lovely, like a statue? Don't wake- her. Poor Nan! how lovingly the dumb creature lies at ber feet. I won't wake Polly ; the picture will be spoiled. Sleep on Polly, with the morning -beams in your hair, and I'll follow the' lava down, down, till I get the reef, the .'gold, the glory of the world ! Sleep, Polly, sleep." O yes ! she did sleep, too deep to be awakened. The morning after Polly's death the principal doctor in Sandhurst was thunderstruck by a wild figure that rushed into his breakfast room with a bit of quartz in his band, and proffered a mine of untold wealth to him if he could wake his daughter. He only wanted him to wake her, the sleep was so heavy eu her. The doctor had the man taken up for a lunatic, and after finishing his breakfast, j went out quietly to Long Gully with the sergeant of police, and poor Polly's remains were found in the hut ; with the faithful Nan trying to wake her dead mistress by licking her hands and face, and rubbing against her. Polly was buried by the Government, and John was sent to the Yarra Bend, while poor Nan, now bereft of her friends, led a vagrant life in Wishing Gully, sheltering in the old hut, and bleating ; piteou sly at night for her lost friends; Bereft of her friends, she soon became a prey to her enemies, who shot her remorselessly. The shrewd doctor, after the excitement was over, bethought him of the words of the maniac, and had the, lease taken up afresh, and floated a company to work the ground. On descending John's shaft they found the cap of the reef, and sinking a gobd shaft the claim i proved to be one of the most valuable in Victoria. Where poor John worked, friendless and alone, "following down the lava," a hundred men are now employed, and the throb of many engines and the clatter of many batteries are heard. Had Polly lived, she had been a queen of society now. But which lot was best 1