Buckland River, January 29th, 1854.

The diggers here are a very quiet and civil race, at the same time that they are a most active and laborious one. This is all wet work; and you see them wading about to the waists in water all day, as though they were amphibious creatures. I have stated that this superior character was most striking at the Ovens; and the principal part of the diggers here are from the Ovens. The men here address you courteously, though with a manly freedom that I like; but you have no vulgar insolence. You have none of them accosting you with—“Well, old fellow, how goes it?” or, “I say, old fellow, are you a sailor, that you wear blue trousers?” or, “I say, fellow, what's the clock, eh?” It is here, “Good day, sir,” and nothing more. I never received a single incivility at the Ovens, except from the Miller and his men; but I have received many a one at Bendigo and at M'lvor. Not but that there is a large population of quiet, intelligent, and respectable people at both these places; but it is their misfortune to have, or to have had while I was there, a prominent admixture of the ruder class. The only instance that I have seen here of that lawlessness which was common at those places, was last Sunday, as Alfred and I rode up to Camp for our letters.