On occasions during the past few years when my mind was temporarily freed from the anxiety of official duty, my thoughts recurred to many marvellous experiences in my long police career on the gold fields, and elsewhere, which were pregnant with the deepest interest to my self and others.<br><br>As a New South Wales mounted police officer of over forty-seven years' service, it fell to my lot in the early days to have been in charge of most important alluvial gold fields, where thousands of all classes, including almond-eyed Mongolians, and others of a nondescript character, were located, bent on making their fortunes in divers ways.<br><br>The gold fields were the resort of mountebank lords, charlatan doctors, clerical hypocrites, wily conjurors, artful spirit-rappers, deceitful fortunetellers, and brazen impostors, who on occasions appeared in profuse fertility, swindled the honest miners and business men, and caused the principal troubles on the gold fields. The position of the police officer in charge was in truth an important one, and afforded me special facilities for acquiring an immense insight to the shrouded lives of many persons, or, in the language of Plinius Minor, "to the mysterious depths and skeleton closets of man's chequered life."