Shavings & Scrapes from many parts. Jules Joubert

contracts were nearly finished, when the contractor—Mr. Mather—failed, leaving us all in the lurch. Unfortunately, I was hit harder than anyone else. After eight months of hard life, I found myself in my slab hut at Sawpit Gully, with a very limited stock of provisions, and—a claim on the estate!

      It is not in my nature to despond or stick in the mud long. I called together a meeting of my men, explained to them the position of affairs, left the assets of the estate in their charge, and went to Melbourne to fight it out with the Official Assignee. After some trouble I managed to draw the wages due to the men, but my screw had to be left in abeyance until the assets were realised; meanwhile the Court placed me in charge of the valuable property, scattered over the whole of the district, at a salary.

      In such times as those one could ill afford to sit quietly awaiting the slow process of the law.

      Sawpit Gully—now Elphinstone—was the dividing point of the various main thoroughfares to Fryer’s Creek, Forest Creek, Bendigo, M’Ivor, and other new diggings. It struck me that, in view of the thousands of people who daily passed through, a store might be a paying game. Unfortunately capital was the first consideration, and it was then “an absent friend.” Brooding over my empty purse, I mentioned my project to my men over the camp-fire one evening, prior to going to bed. A couple of hours later a deputation entered my hut. The spokesman—old Sellick, an old Tasmanian “lifer”—said—

      “Look you here, boss; you have been a good friend to us chaps, and d—n it, we ain’t agoing to see you in a muck. Pick out your spot; we mean to give you a lift. We will put up your shanty; and if you want money—why, you shall have it.”

      The offer was too good to be refused. Heartily made, heartily accepted. The next morning the corner of the cross roads was pegged out, and in less than a fortnight a long fifty by twenty-five feet slab building was up—stockyards, oven, stables, and fencing finished—and I was installed as general storekeeper, baker, butcher, &c., thanks to the timely and willing assistance of the good-hearted men I had often bullied and driven. A five-gallon keg of rum was used to celebrate the opening of the Sawpit Gully General Store, where for twelve months I carried on a roaring trade; one of the main advantages being the position—fifteen miles from the nearest store, bakery, or butcher’s shop. The price of the goods was guided by the state of the weather, the roads, and the number of customers. For instance, bread varied from half-a-crown to half-a-guinea—everything else in proportion.

      My application for the pre-emptive right of purchase of the quarter-acre of ground the store occupied being granted at the rate of eight pounds per acre, I secured the title-deeds of it, and made up my mind to sell out, which I had very little difficulty in doing. Storekeeping at Mount Alexander in those days was a very profitable occupation—to wit, the success of Sargood and Sons; and more particularly the “pot” of money realised by Joshua Brothers in a few days only.

      One of these young gentlemen, on his way from Melbourne, was overtaken on the road by the heavy rains of June, 1851. He at once took in the position and turned back to the city, where he found that the rate of carriage to the goldfields had risen five hundred per cent. He started straight for the Mount. I was the first storekeeper on the road upon whom he tried his hand. Knowing that he had interests in several stores on the diggings, I did not hesitate to sell him a large quantity of flour, sugar, tea, &c., for which he offered me what I considered a very handsome price. The contract drawn and deposit paid, he rode off at full speed to make similar bargains in every store on his way. When the news reached us that two shillings a pound had to be paid for carriage, we had to deal with Mr. Joshua to cancel the purchase! It was a fair and above-board transaction, but the result was a fine “haul” for that firm, the eldest of whom was hardly out of his teens.

      As I remarked previously, all the money made at the diggings was not made by the gold diggers. In those days, before the discovery of quartz-reefing, the work was confined to alluvial working and simple gold-washing. Some large finds occurred—here and there large nuggets, weighing even up to one hundredweight, have been recorded—but as a rule it was hard work and poor pay. Gold buyers, storekeepers, and more especially sly-grog shops, made the most money. They certainly made it more easily than the poor diggers, who in many instances met in those dens, and under the baneful effects of drink became an easy prey of sharpers, often confederates of the people who kept the sly-grog shanties. The police made occasional raids on these places, when the owners were taken up and the shanty burnt down without judgment. In many cases the flames destroyed, besides the “stock-in-trade,” large sums of money “planted” in the tent or the bark roof of the hut.

      When I returned to Melbourne I found the city in a state of transition. From a small country town it had in a couple of years grown into a thoroughly Yankee settlement. Buildings had sprung up, and were being hurriedly put up, in every direction. Canvas-town had become Emerald Hill, Sandridge was a continuation of Melbourne towards Hobson’s Bay, whilst Collingwood, Hotham, Jolimont, and Richmond on either side formed an uninterrupted line of streets with the original metropolitan thoroughfares. Everything was bustle and business. After my stay at the goldfields and rustication at Sawpit Gully, I once more craved for a ramble over the wide world, more particularly for that Dolce far niente which can only be found on board ship and the broad expanse of the ocean.

      NEW CALEDONIA.

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