laim, drawl through the
genealogical tree at the commencement of the New Testament in a most
earnest and impressive manner, as though it were especially appropriate
to the occasion. In time, an oath became a rare thing amongst us.
Drunkenness was on the wane too. Casual travellers passing through the
Gulch used to marvel at our state of grace, and rumours of it went as
far as Ballarat, and excited much comment therein.

There were points about our evangelist which made him especially fitted
for the work which he had undertaken. A man entirely without redeeming
vices would have had no common basis on which to work, and no means of
gaining the sympathy of his flock. As we came to know Elias B. Hopkins
better, we discovered that in spite of his piety there was a leaven of
old Adam in him, and that he had certainly known unregenerate days.
He was no teetotaler. On the contrary, he could choose his liquor with
discrimination, and lower it in an able manner. He played a masterly
hand at poker, and there were few who could touch him at "cut-throat
euchre." He and the two ex-ruffians, Phillips and Maule, used to play
for hours in perfect harmony, except when the fall of the cards elicited
an oath from one of his companions. At the first of these offences
the parson would put on a pained smile, and gaze reproachfully at the
culprit. At the second he would reach for his Bible, and the game was
over for the evening. He showed us he was a good revolver shot too, for
when we were practising at an empty brandy bottle outside Adams' bar, he
took up a friend's pistol and hit it plumb in the centre at twenty-four
paces. There were few things he took up that he could not make a show at
apparently, except gold-digging, and at that he was the veriest duffer
alive. It was pitiful to see the little canvas bag, with his name
printed across it, lying placid and empty upon the shelf at Woburn's
store, while all the other bags were increasing daily, and some had
assumed quite a portly rotundity of form, for the weeks were slipping
by, and it was almost time for the gold-train to start off for Ballarat.
We reckoned that the amount which we had stored at the time represented
the greatest sum which had ever been taken by a single convoy out of
Jackman's Gulch.

Although Elias B. Hopkins appeared to derive a certain quiet
satisfaction from the wonderful change which he had effected in the
camp, his joy was not yet rounded and complete. There was on