comprising as they do a series of persons ranging from a member of
Parliament down to a larrikin.

Ballarat, no doubt, possesses many of these precious pieces of
antiquity hidden in obscure corners, but one especially was known,
not only in the Golden City, but throughout Victoria. His name was
Slivers--plain Slivers, as he said himself--and, from a physical
point of view, he certainly spoke the truth. What his Christian name
was no one ever knew; he called himself Slivers, and so did everyone
else, without even an Esquire or a Mister to it--neither a head nor
a tail to add dignity to the name.

Slivers was as well known in Sturt Street and at 'The Corner' as the
town clock, and his tongue very much resembled that timepiece,
inasmuch as it was always going. He was a very early settler; in
fact, so remarkably early that it was currently reported the first
white men who came to Ballarat found Slivers had already taken up
his abode there, and lived in friendly relations with the local
blacks. He had achieved this amicable relationship by the trifling
loss of a leg, an arm, and an eye, all of which portions of his body
were taken off the right side, and consequently gave him rather a
lop-sided appearance. But what was left of Slivers possessed an
abundant vitality, and it seemed probable he would go on living in
the same damaged condition for the next twenty years.

The Ballarat folk were fond of pointing him out as a specimen of the
healthy climate, but this was rather a flight of fancy, as Slivers
was one of those exasperating individuals who, if they lived in a
swamp or a desert, would still continue to feel their digestions
good and their lungs strong.