weather―and yarn about Ballarat and Bendigo―of the days when we spoke of being 'on' a place oftener than 'at' it: on Ballarat, on Gulgong, on Lambing Flat, on Creswick―and they would use the definite article before the names, as: 'on The Turon; The Lachlan; The Home Rule; The Canadian Lead.' Then again they'd yarn of old mates, such as Tom Brook, Jack Henright, and poor Martin Ratcliffe―who was killed in his golden hole―and of other men whom they didn't seem to have known much about, and who went by the names of 'Adelaide Adolphus,' 'Corney George,' and other names which might have been more or less applicable.
And sometimes they'd get talking, low and mysterious like, about 'Th' Eureka Stockade;' and if we didn't understand and asked questions, 'what was the Eureka Stockade?' or 'what did they do it for?' father'd say: 'Now, run away, sonny, and don't bother; me and Mr. So-and-so want to talk.' Father had the mark of a hole on his leg, which he said he got through a gun accident when a boy, and a scar on his side, that we saw when he was in swimming with us; he said he got that in an accident in a quartz-crushing machine. Mr. So-and-so had a big scar on the side of his forehead that was caused by a pick accidentally slipping out of a loop in the rope, and falling down a shaft where he was working. But how was it they talked low, and their eyes brightened up, and they didn't look at each other, but away over sunset, and had to get up and walk about, and take a stroll in the cool of the evening when they talked about Eureka?
