upon the Provincial Council to reconsider his recall, that he might assist in the development of the new El Dorado. Those present, deeply impressed with his earnestness, did so, the resolution later being given effect to, and Revell was instructed to carry on.
Old timers loved to tell this story, holding that when the history of New Zealand comes to be written, this incident must be chronicled in letters of gold. Here, they contended, was a man who then knew that gold was to be found in Old Westland in fabulous quantities, and who would have been quite within his rights had he sold off his stores as instructed, and proceeded to harvest the golden grain on his own account. But no, “he saw his duty plain and straight, and went for it there and then,” and in so doing reached a level of self sacrificing service seldom attained. He was known to his friends, and they were legion, as “Big” Revell, and never was a title more appropriately bestowed, for his was the guiding hand at the commencement of Old Westland’s golden era. True at times he ruled, though wisely and well, with a rod of iron; true, too, that he “tuckered” many a down and out digger, giving the unfortunate one the chance required to make good. By one and all Revell was regarded as a real man. There is no greater distinction on a goldfield.
