and enclosed "Tiger Bay," I looked down on a group of tents, one a biggish one, from which came laughter and sounds of revelry, whilst the inevitable miner's dog announced the arrival of a stranger. The path was so steep I had to run down, and just as I reached the bottom, out came from the tent a big young fellow, in flannel shirt, bare armed, with a can of beer in his hands, quite a couple of quarts, which he held up before me, as he straddled across the path. "Have a drink?" he said. "Yes," I said, "I'm hot and thirsty," and I took a moderate draught. Instantly an uproarious burst of laughter in the tent; the flap of it drawn back, and a lot of merry faces, apparently poking fun at me. "I want to introduce myself," I said. "I'm going to have a service tomorrow across the river; I hope you will come." There was a general response: "We'll be there, and give you a show," a bit of digger's slang, which I found meant—"Here's your chance, can you use it?" Then a good deal of talk, and more merriment, which I didn't understand, until on Sunday, after the service, one of them stayed to talk. "I'm going to come regularly. Do you know what brought them all here to-day? We were in the tent, drinking beer, and someone sang out, Look, here's a parson coming; never saw one here before; I'll go and offer him a drink, and I'll lay anyone of you a fiver that he won't take it. The bet was taken by several, and that chap lost his money."
I shall have to revise my ideas of New Zealand gold diggers, taken chiefly from what one reads of California, or Australia. So far as I have seen, they are a class by themselves, lusty, powerful fellows, given to occasional sprees, with something sailor-like in
