An Australian miner had reached the very last of his resources
without finding a speck of gold, and there was nothing for
him to do but to turn back on the morrow, while a mouthful of
food was left, and retrace his steps as best he might do to
the nearest port. He flung down his tools in despair that last
night, and staggered over the two or three miles of desert to
the camp-fire. Next morning, early, after a great deal of sleep
and very little food, he braced himself up to go back for his
tools, knowing that they might bring the price of a meal or two
when it came to the last. As he stumbled back that hot morning
the way seemed very long, for his heart was too heavy to carry.
At last he saw his wheelbarrow and pick standing upon the flat
plain a little way off, and was wearily dragging on toward them,
when he caught his toe against a stone deeply embedded in the
sand, and fell down. This was the last straw that broke the
camel’s back. He lay there and curst his luck bitterly, to think
that he should nearly break his toe against the only stone in
the whole district after all his failure to find gold. He felt
like a passionate child who kicks and breaks the thing which has
hurt him, and he had to beat that stone before he could feel
quiet. It was too firm in the sand for his hands to get it up;
so in his rage he dug it up with his pick, intending to smash
it; but it would not smash, for it was solid gold, and nearly as
big as a baby’s head. (Text.)--LOUIS ALBERT BANKS.
(1504)