Andrew Robertson, Nuggets in the Devil's Punch Bowl…
“ With a swag over my shoulder, I made my way to the coach office about five o'clock in the afternoon. The coach by which I proposed to go was just driving up."Hullo, old fellow!" said an acquaintance of mine. "Off to the diggings?""Yes, I'm going to have a try.""So long then; wish you luck."Having bought a ticket, I took an inside seat, not caring to advertise myself in big letters on the front page. I might as well be under the gaze of the hundred eyes of the Argus as sit and be conned like a book by every passer-by. When a coach trundles along any one who runs, or walks, may read. ”
