{"product_id":"2940013703261","title":"Mysteries and Adventures","description":"He was known in the Gulch as the Reverend Elias B. Hopkins, but it\u003cbr\u003ewas generally understood that the title was an honorary one,\u003cbr\u003eextorted by his many eminent qualities, and not borne out by any\u003cbr\u003elegal claim which he could adduce.  \"The Parson\" was another of his\u003cbr\u003esobriquets, which was sufficiently distinctive in a land where the\u003cbr\u003eflock was scattered and the shepherds few.  To do him justice, he\u003cbr\u003enever pretended to have received any preliminary training for the\u003cbr\u003eministry, or any orthodox qualification to practise it.  \"We're all\u003cbr\u003eworking in the claim of the Lord,\" he remarked one day, \"and it\u003cbr\u003edon't matter a cent whether we're hired for the job or whether we\u003cbr\u003ewaltzes in on our own account,\" a piece of rough imagery which\u003cbr\u003eappealed directly to the instincts of Jackman's Gulch.  It is quite\u003cbr\u003ecertain that during the first few months his presence had a marked\u003cbr\u003eeffect in diminishing the excessive use both of strong drinks and\u003cbr\u003eof stronger adjectives which had been characteristic of the little\u003cbr\u003emining settlement.  Under his tuition, men began to understand that\u003cbr\u003ethe resources of their native language were less limited than they\u003cbr\u003ehad supposed, and that it was possible to convey their impressions\u003cbr\u003ewith accuracy without the aid of a gaudy halo of profanity.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWe were certainly in need of a regenerator at Jackman's Gulch about\u003cbr\u003ethe beginning of '53.  Times were flush then over the whole colony,\u003cbr\u003ebut nowhere flusher than there.  Our material prosperity had had a\u003cbr\u003ebad effect upon our morals.  The camp was a small one, lying rather\u003cbr\u003ebetter than a hundred and twenty miles to the north of Ballarat, at\u003cbr\u003ea spot where a mountain torrent finds its way down a rugged ravine\u003cbr\u003eon its way to join the Arrowsmith River.  History does not relate\u003cbr\u003ewho the original Jackman may have been, but at the time I speak of\u003cbr\u003ethe camp it contained a hundred or so adults, many of whom were men\u003cbr\u003ewho had sought an asylum there after making more civilised mining\u003cbr\u003ecentres too hot to hold them.  They were a rough, murderous crew,\u003cbr\u003ehardly leavened by the few respectable members of society who were\u003cbr\u003escattered among them.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eCommunication between Jackman's Gulch and the outside world was\u003cbr\u003edifficult and uncertain.  A portion of the bush between it and\u003cbr\u003eBallarat was infested by a redoubtable outlaw named Conky Jim, who,\u003cbr\u003ewith a small band as desperate as himself, made travelling a\u003cbr\u003edangerous matter.  It was customary, therefore, at the Gulch, to\u003cbr\u003estore up the dust and nuggets obtained from the mines in a special\u003cbr\u003estore, each man's share being placed in a separate bag on which his\u003cbr\u003ename was marked.  A trusty man, named Woburn, was deputed to watch\u003cbr\u003eover this primitive bank.  When the amount deposited became\u003cbr\u003econsiderable, a waggon was hired, and the whole treasure was\u003cbr\u003econveyed to Ballarat, guarded by the police and by a certain number\u003cbr\u003eof miners, who took it in turn to perform the office.  Once in\u003cbr\u003eBallarat, it was forwarded on to Melbourne by the regular gold\u003cbr\u003ewaggons.  By this plan the gold was often kept for months in the\u003cbr\u003eGulch before being despatched, but Conky Jim was effectually\u003cbr\u003echeckmated, as the escort party were far too strong for him and his\u003cbr\u003egang.  He appeared, at the time of which I write, to have forsaken\u003cbr\u003ehis haunts in disgust, and the road could be traversed by small\u003cbr\u003eparties with impunity.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eComparative order used to reign during the daytime at Jackman's Gulch,\u003cbr\u003efor the majority of the inhabitants were out with crowbar and pick among\u003cbr\u003ethe quartz ledges, or washing clay and sand in their cradles by the\u003cbr\u003ebanks of the little stream. As the sun sank down, however, the claims\u003cbr\u003ewere gradually deserted, and their unkempt owners, clay-bespattered and\u003cbr\u003eshaggy, came lounging into camp, ripe for any form of mischief. Their\u003cbr\u003efirst visit was to Woburn's gold store, where their clean-up of the day\u003cbr\u003ewas duly deposited, the amount being entered in the storekeeper's book,\u003cbr\u003eand each miner retaining enough to cover his evening's expenses. After\u003cbr\u003ethat, all restraint was at an end, and each set to work to get rid of\u003cbr\u003ehis surplus dust with the greatest rapidity possible. The focus of\u003cbr\u003edissipation was the rough bar, formed by a couple of hogsheads spanned\u003cbr\u003eby planks, which was dignified by the name of the \"Britannia Drinking\u003cbr\u003eSaloon.\" Here Nat Adams, the burly bar-keeper, dispensed bad whisky at\u003cbr\u003ethe rate of two shillings a noggin, or a guinea a bottle, while his\u003cbr\u003ebrother Ben acted as croupier in a rude wooden shanty behind, which had\u003cbr\u003ebeen converted into a gambling hell, and was crowded every night. There\u003cbr\u003ehad been a third brother, but an unfortunate misunderstanding with a\u003cbr\u003ecustomer had shortened his existence.","brand":"WDS Publishing","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":47073765785840,"sku":"2940013703261","price":0.99,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":true}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/0737\/7593\/9824\/files\/2940013703261_p0.jpg?v=1763597494","url":"https:\/\/shop-qa.barnesandnoble.com\/products\/2940013703261","provider":"Barnes \u0026 Noble (DEV)","version":"1.0","type":"link"}