FROM THE INCOME OF THE FISKE ENDOWMENT FUND THE BEQUEST OF Ubrarian of the University 1868-1883 1905 1 Cornell University Library PR g619.3.P29R5 Rio Grande's last race, and other verses 3 1924 009 433 230 || Cornell University '9 Library The original of tliis book is in tine Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924009433230 RIO GRANDE'S LAST RACE AND OTHER VERSES RIO GRANDE'S LAST RACE AND OTHER VERSES A. B. PATERSON Author of "The Man from Snowy River ' SYDNEY ANGUS AND ROBERTSON MELBOURNE : ANGUS ROBERTSON AND SHENSTONE 1902 Third Thousand Websdale, Shoosmith and Co. Printers, Sydney. The verses in this collection have appeared in papers in various parts of the world — " Rio Grande " in the London Sketch ; most of the war verses in tlie Bloem- fontein Friend ; others in the Sydney Bulletin, Commonwealth Annual, ' Sydney Mail, and Pastoealists' Review : and the author's acknowledg- ments are due to the proprietors of those papers. A. B. PATBRSON. CONTENTS FAOE RIO GRANDE'S LAST RACE Now this was what Macpherson told 1 BY THE GREY GULF-WATER Ear to the Northward there lies a land, 7 WITH THE CATTLE The drought is down on field and flock, 9 THE FIRST SURVEYOR ' The opening of the railway line ! — the Governor and all ! 15 MULGA BILL'S BICYCLE 'Twas Mulga Bill, from Eaglehawk, that caught the cycling craze ; 19 THE PEARL DIVER Kanzo Makame, the diver, sturdy and small Japanee, - - - - 23 viii CONTENTS PASS THE CITY OF DREADFUL THIRST The stranger came from Narromine and made his little joke — - 28 SALTBUSH BILL'S GAME COCK 'Twas Saltbush Bill, with his travelling sheep, was making his way to town ; 33 HAY AND HELL AND BOOLIGAL ' You come and see me, boys,' he said ; - 39 A WALGETT EPISODE The sun strikes down with a blinding glare, 42 FATHER RILEY'S HORSE 'Twas the horse thief, Andy Regan, that was hunted like a dog - - 45 THE SCOTCH ENGINEER With eyes that searched in the dark, - 53 SONG OF THE FUTURE 'Tis strange that in a land so strong, - 57 ANTHONY CONSIDINE Out in the wastes of the West oountrie, - 66 CONTENTS ix PAGE SONG OF THE ARTESIAN WATER Now the stock have started dying, for the Lord has sent a drought ; - 69 A DISQUALIFIED JOCKEY'S STORY You see, the thing was this way — there was me, - 73 THE ROAD TO GUNDAGAI The mountain road goes up and down, 77 SALTBUSH BILL'S SECOND FIGHT The news came down on the Castlereagh, and went to the world at large, 79 HARD LUCK I left the course, and by my side - - 87 SONG OF THE FEDERATION As the nations sat together, grimly waiting — - - 89 THE OLD AUSTRALIAN WAYS The London lights are far abeam - 92 THE BALLAD OF THE CALLIOPE . By the far Samoan shore, - - 96 X CONTENTS PAOB DO THEY KNOW Do they know 1 At the turn of the straight 102 THE PASSING OF GUNDAGAI ' I'll introdooce a friend ! ' he said, 104 THE WARGEILAH HANDICAP Wargeilah town is very small, - 108 ANY OTHER TIME All of us play our very best game — 1 15 THE LAST TRUMP 'You led the trump,' the old man said, 118 TAR AND FEATHERS Oh ! the circus swooped down - 120 IT'S GRAND It's grand to be a squatter 123 OUT OF SIGHT They held a polo meeting at a little country town, 126 THE ROAD TO OLD MAN'S TOWN The fields of youth are tilled with flowers, 128 CONTENTS xi PAaB THE OLD TIMER'S STEEPLECHASE The sheep were shorn and the wool went down - 130 IN THE STABLE What ! You don't like him ; well, maybe — we all have our fancies, of course: 137 "HE GIVBTH HIS BELOVED SLEEP" The long day passes with its load of sorrow : - 144 DRIVER SMITH 'Twas Driver Smith of Battery A was anxious to see a fight ; - 146 THERE'S ANOTHER BLESSED HORSE FELL DOWN When you're lying in your hammock, sleeping soft and sleeping sound, 151 ON THE TREK Oh, the weary, weary journey on the trek, day after day, - - - 153 THE LAST PARADE With never a sound of trumpet, - - 155 xii CONTENTS PAGE WITH FRENCH TO KIMBERLEY The Boers were down on Kimberley with siege and Maxitn gun ; 158 JOHNNY BOER Men fight all shapes and sizes as the racing horses run, - 164 WHAT HAVE THE CAVALRY DONE What have the cavalry done 1 167 RIGHT IN THE FRONT OF THE ARMY ' Where 'ave you been this week or more, 169 THAT V.C. 'Twas in the days of front attack, - - 171 FED UP I ain't a timid man at all, I'm just as brave as most, 173 JOCK! There's a soldier that's been doing of his share - 175 SANTA GLAUS Halt ! Who goes there ? The sentry's call 177 RIO GRANDE'S LAST RACE AND OTHER VERSES RIO GRANDE'S LAST RACE Now this was what Macpherson told While waiting in the stand ; A reckless rider, over-bold, The only man with hands to hold The rushing Rio Grande. He said, ' This day I bid good-bye ' To bit and bridle rein, ' To ditches deep and fences high, ' For I have dreamed a dream, and I ' Shall never ride again. ' I dreamt last night I rode this race ' That I to-day must ride, ' And cant'ring down to take my place ' I saw full many an old friend's face ' Come stealing to my side. 1 RIO GRANDE'S LAST RACE ' Dead men on horses long since dead, ' They clustered on the track ; ' The champions of the days long fled, ' They moved around with noiseless tread- ' Bay, chestnut, brown, and black. ' And one man on a big grey steed ' Eode up and waved his hand ; ' Said he, " We help a friend in need, ' "And we have come to give a lead ' " To you and Rio Grande. ' " For you must give the field the slip, ' " So never draw the rein, ' " But keep him moving with the whip, ' " And if he falter — set your lip ' " And rouse him up again. ' " But when you reach the big stone wall, ' •' Put down your bridle hand ' " And let him sail — he cannot fall— ' " But don't you interfere at all ; ' " You trust old Rio Grande." RIO GRANDE'S LAST RACE ' We started, and in front we showed, ' The big horse running free : ' Right fearlessly and game he strode, ' And by my side those dead men rode ' Whom no one else could see. ' As silently as flies a bird, ' They rode on either hand ; ' At every fence I plainly heard ' The phantom leader give the word, ' " Make room for Rio Grande ! " ' I spurred him on to get the lead, ' I chanced full many a fall ; ' But swifter still each phantom steed ' Kept with me, and at racing speed ' We reached the big stone wall." ' And there the phantoms on each side ' Drew in and blocked his leap ; ' " Make room ! make room ! " I loudly cried, ' But right in front they seemed to ride — ' I cursed them in my sleep. BIO GRANDE'S LAST RACE ' He never flinched, he faced it game, ' He struck it with his chest, • And every stone burst out in flame, ' And Rio Grande and I became ' As phantoms with the rest. ' And then I woke, and for a space ' All nerveless did I seem ; • For I have ridden many a race, ' But never one at such a pace ' As in that fearful dream. ' And I am sure as man can be ' That out upon the track, ' Those phantoms that men cannot see ' Are waiting now to ride with me, ' And P shall not come back. ' For I must ride the dead men's race, ' And follow their command ; ' 'Twere worse than death, the foul disgrace ' If I should fear to take my place ' To-day on Rio Grande.' RIO GRANDE'S LAST RACE He mounted, and a jest he threw, With never sign of gloom ; But all who heard the story knew That Jack Macpherson, brave and true, Was going to his doom. They started, and the big black steed Came flashing past the stand ; All single-handed in the lead He strode along at racing speed. The mighty Rio Grande. But on his ribs the whalebone stung, A madness it did seem ! And soon it rose on every tongue That Jack Macpherson rode among The creatures of his dream. He looked to left and looked to right. As though men rode beside ; And Rio Grande, with foam-flecks white. Raced at his jumps in headlong flight And cleared them in his stride. RIO GRANDE'S LAST RACE But when they, reached the big stone wall, Down went the bridle-hand, And loud we heard Maopherson call, ' Make room, or half the field will fall ! • Make room for Rio Grande ! ' ' He's down ! he's down ! ' And horse and man Lay quiet side by side ! No need the pallid face to scan, We knew with Rio Grande he ran The race the dead men ride. BY THE GREY GULF-WATER Fab to the Northward there lies a land, A wonderful land that the winds blow over, And none may fathom nor understand The charm it holds for the restless rover ; A great grey chaos — a land half made. Where endless space is and no life stirreth ; And the soul of a man will recoil afraid From the sphinx-like visage that Nature weareth. But old Dame Nature, though scornful, craves Her dole of death and her share of slaughter ; Many indeed are the nameless graves Where her victims sleep by the Grey Gulf- water. Slowly and slowly those grey streams glide, Drifting along with a languid motion. Lapping the reed-beds on either side, Wending their way to the Northern Ocean. 7 8 BY THE GREY GULF-WATER Grey are the plains where the emus pass Silent and slow, with their staid demeanour ; Over the dead men's graves the grass Maybe is waving a trifle greener. Down in the world where men toil and spin Dame Nature smiles as man's hand has taught her ; Only the dead men her smiles can win In the great lone land by the Grey Gulf-water. For the strength of man is an insect's strength, In the face of that mighty plain and river, And the life of a man is a moment's length To the life of the stream that wUl run for ever. And so it cometh they take no part In small-world worries ; each hardy rover Rideth abroad and is light of heart. With the plains around and the blue sky over. And up in the heavens the brown lark sings The songs that the strange wild land has taught her; Full of thanksgiving her sweet song rings — And I wish I were back by the Grey Gulf-water. WITH ;rHB CATTLE The drought is down on field and flock, The river-bed is dry ; And we must shift the starving stock Before the cattle die. We muster up with weary hearts At breaking of the day, And turn our heads to foreign parts, To take the stock away. And it's hunt 'em up and dog 'em. And it's get the whip and flog 'em, For it's weary work is droving when they're dying every day ; By stock-routes bare and eaten, On dusty roads and beaten, With half a chance to save their lives we take the stock away. 9 10 WITH THE CATTLE We cannot use the whip for shame On beasts that crawl along ; We have to drop the weak and lame, And try to save the strong ; The wrath of God is on the track, The drought fiend holds his sway. With blows and cries and stockwhip crack We take the stock away. As they fall we leave them lying, With the crows to watch them dying. Grim sextons of the Overland that fasten on their prey ; By the fiery dust-storm drifting. And the mocking mirage shifting, In heat and drought and hopeless pain we take the stock away. In dull despair the days go by With never hope of change. But every stage we draw more nigh Towards the mountain range ; And some may live to climb the pass. And reach the great plateau. And revel in the mountain grass, By streamlets fed with snow. WITH THE CATTLE 1] As the mountain wind is blowing It starts the cattle lowing, And calling to each other down the dusty long array ; And there speaks a grizzled drover : ' Well, thank God, the worst is over, ' The creatures smell the mountain grass that's twenty miles away.' They press towards the mountain grass. They look with eager eyes Along the rugged stony pass, That slopes towards the skies ; Their feet may bleed from rocks and stones, But though the blood-drop starts. They struggle on with stifled groans. For hope is in their hearts. And the cattle that are leading, Though their feet are worn and bleeding, Are breaking to a kind of run — pull up, and let them go ! For the mountain wind is blowing, And the mountain grass is growing, They settle down by running streams ice-cold with melted snow. 12 WITH THE CATTLE The days are done of heat and drought Upon the stricken plain ; The wind has shifted right about, And brought the welcome rain ; The river runs with sullen roar, All flecked with yellow foam. And we must take the road once more. To bring the cattle home. And it's ' Lads ! we'll raise a chorus, ' There's a pleasant trip before us.' And the horses bound beneath us as we start them down the track ; And the drovers canter, singing. Through the sweet green grasses springing, Towards the far-off mountain-land, to bring the cattle back. Are these the beasts we brought away That move so lively now 1 They scatter off like flying spray Across the mountain's brow ; And dashing down the rugged range We hear the stockwhip crack. Good faith, it is a welcome change To bring such cattle back. WITH THE CATTLE 13 And it's ' Steady down the lead there ! ' And it's ' Let 'em stop and feed there ! ' For they're wild as mountain eagles and their sides are all afoam ; But they're settling down already, And they'll travel nice and steady, With cheery call and jest and song we fetch the cattle home. We have to watch them close at night For fear they'll make a rush, And break away in headlong flight Across the open bush ; And by the camp-fire's cheery blaze, With mellow voice and strong, We hear the lonely watchman raise The Overlander's song : ' Oh ! it's when we're done with roving, ' With the camping and the droving, ' It's homeward down the Bland we'll go, and never more we'll roam ; ' While the stars shine out above us. Like the eyes of those who love us — The eyes of those who watch and wait to greet the cattle home. 14 WITH THE CATTLE The plains are all awave with grass, The skies are deepest blue ; And leisurely the cattle pass And feed the long day through ; But -when we sight the station gate, We make the stockwhips crack, A welcome sound to those who wait To greet the cattle back : And through the twilight falling We hear their voices calling, As the cattle splash across the ford and churn it into foam ; And the children run to meet us. And our wives and sweethearts greet us, Their heroes from the Overland who brought the cattle home. THE FIRST SURVEYOR ' Thk opening of the railway line ! — the Governor and all! ' With flags and banners down the street, a banquet and a ball. ' Hark to 'em at the station now ! They're raising cheer on cheer ! ' " The man who brought the railway through — our friend the engineer ! " ' They cheer his pluck and enterprise and engineering skill ! ' 'Twas my old husband found the pass behind that big Red Hill. ' Before the engineer was grown we settled with our stock ' Behind that great big mountain chain, a line of range and rock — 15 16 THE FIRST SURVEYOR ' A line that kept us starving there in weary weeks of drought, ' With ne'er a track across the range to let the cattle out. ''Twas then, with horses starved and weak and scarcely fit to crawl, ' My husband went to find a way across that rocky wall. ' He vanished in the wilderness, God knows where he was gone, ' He hunted till his food gave out, but still he battled on. ' His horses strayed — 'twas well they did — they made towards the grass, ■ And down behind that big red hiU they found an easy pass. ' He followed up and blazed the trees, to show the safest track, ' Then drew his belt another hole and turned and started back. ' His horses died — just one pulled through with nothing much to spare ; THE FIRST SURVEYOR 17 ' God bless the beast that brought him home, the old white Arab mare ! ' We drove the cattle through the hills, along the new-found way, ' And this was our first camping-ground — just where I live to-day. ' Then others came across the range and built the township here, ' And then there came the railway line and this young engineer. ' He drove about with tents and traps, a cook to cook his meals, ' A bath to wash himself at night, a chain-man at his heels. ' And that was all the pluck and skill for which he's cheered and praised, ' For after all he took the track, the same my husband blazed ! ' My poor old husband, dead and gone with never feast nor cheer j ' He's buried by the railway line ! — I wonder can he hear ' When down the very track he marked, and close to where he's laid, 18 THE FIRST SURVEYOR ' The cattle trains go roaring down the one-in-thirty grade. ' I wonder does he hear them pass and can he see the sight, ' When through the dark the fast express goes flaming by at night. ' I think 'twould comfort him to know there's someone left to care, ' I'll take some things this very night and hold a banquet there ! ' The hard old fare we've often shared together, him and me, ' Some damper and a bite of beef, a pannikin of tea : ' We'U do without the bands and flags, the speeches and the fuss, ' We know who ought to get the cheers and that's enough for us. ' What's that ? They wish that I'd come down — the oldest settler here ! ' Present me to the Governor and that young engineer ! ' Well, just you tell his Excellence and put the thing polite, ' I'm sorry, but I can't come down — I'm dining out to night ! ' MULGA BILL'S BICYCLE 'TwAS Mulga Bill, from Eaglehawk, that caught the cycling craze ; He turned away the good old horse that served him many days ; He dressed himself in cycling clothes, resplendent to be seen ; He hurried off to town and bought a shining new machine ; And as he wheeled it through the door, with air of lordly pride, The grinning shop assistant said, ' Excuse me, can you ride ? ' ' See, here, young man,' said Mulga Bill, ' from Walgett to the sea, ' From Conroy's Gap to Castlereagh, there's none can yide like me. B 19 20 MULGA BILL'S BICYCLE ' I'm good all round at everything, as everybody knows, ' Although I'm not the one to talk — I hate a man that blows. ' But riding is my special gift, my chiefest, sole delight ; ' Just ask a wild duck can it swim, a wild cat can it fight. ' There's nothing clothed in hair or hide, or built of flesh or steel, ' There's nothing walks or jumps, or runs, on axle, hoof, or wheel, ' But what I'll sit, while hide will hold and girths and straps are tight : ' I'll ride this here two-wheeled concern right straight away at sight.' 'Twas Mulga Bill, from Eaglehawk, that sought his own abode, That perched above the Dead Man's Creek, beside the mountain road. He turned the cycle down the hill and mounted for the fray. But ere he'd gone a dozen yards it bolted clean away. MULGA BILL'S BICyCLE 21 It left the track, and through the trees, just like a silver streak. It whistled down the awful slope, towards the Dead Man's Creek. It shaved a stump by half an inch, it dodged a big white-box : The very wallaroos in fright went scrambling up the rocks. The wombats hiding in their caves dug deeper under- ground, As Mulga Bill, as white as chalk, sat tight to every bound. It struck a stone and gave a spring that cleared a fallen tree. It raced beside a precipice as close as close could be ; And then as Mulga Bill let out one last despairing shriek It made a leap of twenty feet into the Dead Man's Creek. 'Twaa Mulga Bill, from Eaglehawk, that slowly swam ashore : He said, 'I've had some narrer shaves and lively rides before ; 22 MULGA BILL'S BICYCLE ' I've rode a wild bull round a yard to win a five pound bet, ' But this was the most awful ride that I've encoun- tered yet. ' I'll give that two- wheeled outlaw best ; it's shaken all my nerve ' To feel it whistle through the air and plunge and buck and swerve. ' It's safe at rest in Dead Man's Creek, we'll leave it lying still ; ' A horse's back is good enough henceforth for Mulga Bill.' THE PEARL DIVER Kanzo Makamb, the diver, sturdy and small Japanee, Seeker of pearls and of pearl-shell down in the depths of the sea, Trudged o'er the bed of the ocean, searching industriously. Over the pearl-grounds, the lugger drifted — a little white speck : Joe Nagasaki, the ' tender,' holding the life- line on deck, Talked through the rope to the diver, knew when to drift or to check. Kanzo was king of his lugger, master and diver in one. Diving wherever it pleased him, taking instructions from none ; Hither and thither he wandered, steering by stars and by sun. 23 24 THE PEARL DIVER Fearless he was beyond credence, looking at death eye to eye : This was his formula always, ' All man go dead by- and-bye — ' S'posing time come no can help it — s'pose time no come, then no die.' Dived in the depths of the Darnleys, down twenty fathom and five ; Down where by law and by reason, men are forbidden to dive ; Down in a pressure so awful that only the strongest survive : Sweated four men at the air pumps, fast as the handles could go. Forcing the air down that reached him heated, and tainted, and slow — Kanzo Makame the diver stayed seven minutes below ; Came up on deck like a dead man, paralysed body and brain ; Suffered, while blood was returning, infinite tortures of pain : Sailed once again to the Darnleys — laughed and descended again ! THE PEARL DIVER 25 Scarce grew the shell in the shallows, rarely a patch could they touch ; Always the take was so little, always the labour so much ; Always they thought of the Islands held by the lumbering Dutch, Islands where shell was in plenty lying in passage.and bay. Islands where divers could gather hundreds of shell in a day : But the lumbering Dutch, with their gunboats, hunted the divers away. Joe Nagasaki, the ' tender,' finding the profits grow small. Said, ' Let us go to the Islands, try for a number one haul! ' If we get caught, go to prison — let them take lugger and all ! ' Kanzo Makame, the diver — knowing full well what it meant — Fatalist, gambler, and stoic, smiled a broad smile of content, Flattened in mainsail and foresail, and ofif to the Islands they went. 26 THE PEARL DIVER Close to the headlands they drifted, picking up shell by the ton, Piled up on deck were the oysters, opening wide in the sun, When, from the lee of the headland, boomed the report of a gun. Once that the diver was sighted pearl-shell and lugger must go. Joe Nagasaki decided — quick was the word and the blow — Out both the pipe and the life-line, leaving the diver below ! Kanzo Makame, the diver, failing to quite understand, Pulled the ' haul up ' on the life-line, found it was slack in his hand ; Then, like a little brown stoic, lay down and died on the sand. Joe Nagasaki, the ' tender,' smiling a sanctified smile. Headed her straight for the gunboat — throwing out shells all the while — Then went aboard and reported, ' No makee dive in three mile ! THE PEAB.L DIVER 27 ' Dress no have got and no helmet — diver go shore on the spree ; ' Plenty wind come and break rudder — lugger get blown out to sea : ' Take me to Japanee Consul, he help a poor Japanee !' So the Dutch let him go, and they watched him, as off from the Islands he ran. Doubting him much, but what would you? You have to be sure of your man Ere you wake up that nest-full of hornets — the little brown men of Japan. Down in the ooze and the coral, down where earth's wonders are spread, Helmeted, ghastly, and swollen, Kanzo Makame lies dead : Joe Nagasaki, his 'tender,' is owner and diver instead. Wearer of pearls in your necklace, comfort yourself if you can. These are the risks of the pearling — these are the ways of Japan, ' Plenty more Japanee diver, plenty more little brown man ! ' THE CITY OF DREADFUL THIRST The stranger came from Narromine and made his little joke — ' They say we folks in Narromine are narrow-minded folk. ' But all the smartest men down here are puzzled to define ' A kind of new phenomenon that came to Narro- mine. ' Last summer up in Narromine 'twas gettin' rather warm — ' Two hundred in the water-bag, and lookin' like a storm — ' We all were in the private bar, the coolest place in town, ' When out across the stretch of plain a cloud came rollin' down, 28 THE CITY OF DREADFUL THIRST 29 ' We don't respect the clouds up there, they fill us with disgust, ' They mostly bring a Bogan shower — three rain-drops and some dust ; ' But each man, simultaneous-like, to each man said " I think ' " That cloud suggests it's up to us to have another drink ! " 'There's clouds of rain and clouds of dust— we'd heard of them before, ' And sometimes in the daily press we read of " clouds of war :" ' But — if this ain't the Gospel truth I hope that I may burst — ' That cloud that came to Narromine was just a cloud of thirst. ' It wasn't like a common cloud, 'twas more a sort of haze ; ' It settled down about the streets, and stopped for days and days, ' And not a drop of dew could fall and not a sunbeam shine 'To pierce that dismal sort of mist that hung on Narromine. 30 THE CITY OF DREADFUL THIRST ' Oh, Lord ! we had a dreadful time beneath that cloud of thirst ! ' We all chucked-up our daily work and went upon the burst. ' The very blacks about the town that used to cadge for grub, ' They made an organised attack and tried to loot the pub. ' We couldn't leave the private bar no matter how we tried ; ' Shearers and squatters, union-men and blacklegs side by side ' Were drinkin' there and dursn't move, for each was sure, he said, ' Before he'd get a half-a-mile the thirst would strike him dead ! ' We drank until the drink gave out, we searched from room to room, ' And round the pub, like drunken ghosts, went howling through the gloom. ' The shearers found some kerosene and settled down again, ' But all the squatter chaps and I, we staggered to the train. THE CITY OF DREADFUL THIRST 31 ' And, once outside the cloud of thirst, we felt as right as pie, ' But -while we stopped about the town we had to drink or die. ' But now I hear it's safe enough, I'm going back to work ' Because they say the cloud of thirst has shifted on to Bourke. ' But when you see those clouds about — like this one over here — ' All white and frothy at the top, just like a pint of beer, ' It's time to go and have a drink, for if that cloud should burst ' You'd find the drink would all be gone, for that's a cloud of thirst ! ' We stood the man from Narromine a pint of half-and- half; He drank it off without a gasp in one tremendous qi^aff ; 32 THE CITY OP DREADFUL THIRST ' I joined some friends last night,' he said, ' in what they called a spree ; ' But after Narromine 'twas just a holiday to me.' And now beyond the Western Range, where sunset skies are red. And clouds of dust, and clouds of thirst, go drifting overhead. The railway-train is taking back, along the Western Line, That narrow-minded person on his road to Narromine. SALTBUSH BILL'S GAMECOCK 'TwAS Saltbush Bill, with his travelling sheep, was making his way to town ; He crossed them over the Hard Times Run, and he came to the Take 'Em Down ; He counted through at the boundary gate, and camped at the drafting yard : For Stingy Smith, of the Hard Times Run, had hunted him rather hard. He bore no malice to Stingy Smith — 'twas simply the hand of fate That caused his waggon to swerve aside and shatter old Stingy's gate ; And, being only the hand of fate, it follows, without a doubt. It wasn't the fault of Saltbush Bill that Stingy's sheep got out. 33 34 SALTBUSH BILL'S GAMECOCK So Saltbush Bill, with an easy heart, prepared for what might befall, Commenced his stages on Take 'Em Down, the station of Rooster Hall. 'Tis strange how often the men out back will take to some curious craft. Some ruling passion to keep their thoughts away from the overdraft ; And Rooster Hall, of the Take 'Em Down, was widely known to fame As breeder of champion fighting cocks — his /brte was the British Game. The passing stranger within his gates that camped with old Rooster Hall Was forced to talk about fowls all night, or else not talk at all. Though droughts should come, and though sheep should die, his fowls were his sole delight ; He left his shed in the flood of work to watch two gamecocks fight. He held in scorn the Australian Game, that long- legged child of sin ; In a desperate fight, with the steel-tipped spurs, the British Game must win ! SALTBUSH BILL'S GAMECOCK 35 The Australian bird was a mongrel bird, with a touch of the jungle cock ; The want of breeding must find him out, when facing the English stock ; For British breeding, and British pluck, must triumph it over all — And that was the root of the simple creed that governed old Rooster Hall. 'Twas Saltbush Bill to the station rode ahead of his travelling sheep. And sent a message to Rooster Hall that wakened him out of his sleep — A crafty message that fetched him out, and hurried him as he came — ' A drover has an Australian Bird to match with your British Game.' 'Twas done, and done in a half a trice ; a five-pound note aside ; Old Rooster Hall, with his champion bird, and the drover's bird untried. ' Steel spurs, of course 1 ' said old Rooster Hall ; ' you'll need 'em, without a doubt ! ' ' You stick the spurs on your bird,' said Bill ! ' but mine fights best without.' 36 SALTBUSH BILL'S GAMECOCK ' Fights best without 1 ' said old Booster Hall ; ' he can't fight best unspurred ! ' You must be crazy ! ' But Saltbush BUI said, ' Wait till you see my bird ! ' So Rooster HaU to his fowlyard went, and quickly back he came. Bearing a dipt and a shaven cock, the pride of his English Game. With an eye as fierce as an eaglehawk, and a crow like a trumpet call. He strutted about on the garden walk, and cackled at Rooster HaU. Then Rooster HaU sent off a boy with word to his cronies two, McCrae (the boss of the Black Police) and Father Donahoo. FuU many a cockfight old McCrae had held in his empty Court, With Father D. as a picker-up — a regular aU-round Sport ! They got the message of Rooster HaU, and down to his run they came. Prepared to scoff at the drover's bird, and to bet on the English Game ; SALTBUSH BILL'S GAMECOCK 37 They hied them off to the drover's camp, while Salt- bush rode before — Old Rooster Hall was a blithesome man, when he thought of the treat in store. They reached the camp, where the drover's cook, with countenance all serene, Was boiling beef in an iron pot, but never a fowl was seen. ' Take off the beef from the fire,' said Bill, ' and wait till you see the fight ; ' There's something fresh for the bUl-of-fare^there's game-fowl stew to-night ! ■ For Mister Hall has a fighting cock, all feathered and clipped and spurred ; ' And he's fet<;hed him here, for a bit of sport, to fight our Australian bird. ' Fve made a match that our pet will win, though he's hardly a fighting cock, ' But he's game enough, and it's many a mile that he's tramped with the travelling stock.' The cook he banged on a saucepan lid ; and, soon as Uie sound was heard. Under the dray, in the shadows hid, a something moved and stirred : 38 SALTBUSH BILL'S GAMECOCK A great tame Emu strutted out. Said Saltbush, ' Here's our bird ! ' But Booster Hall, and his cronies two, drove home without a word. The passing stranger within his gates that camps with old Booster Hall Must talk about something else than fowls, if he wishes to talk at all. For the record lies in the local Court, and filed in its deepest vault. That Peter Hall, of the Take 'Em Down, was tried for a fierce assault On a stranger man, who, in all good faith, and prompted by what he heard. Had asked old Hall if a British Game could beat an Australian bird ; And old McOrae, who was on the Bench, as soon as the case was tried, Eemarked, ' Discharged with a clean discharge — the assault was justified ! ' HAY AND HELL AND BOOLIGAL ' You come and see me, boys,' he said ; ' You'll find a welcome and a bed ' And -whisky any time you call ; ' Although our township hasn't got ' The name of quite a lively spot — ' You see, I live in Booligal. ' And people have an awful down ' Upon the district and the town — ' Which worse than hell itself they call ; ' In fact, the saying far and wide ' Along the Riverina side ' Is " Hay and Hell and Booligal." ' No doubt it suits 'em very well ' To say it's worse than Hay or Hell, ' But don't you heed their talk at all ; 39 40 HAY AND HELL AND BOOLTGAL ' Of course, there's heat — no one denies — ' And sand and dust and stacks of flies, ' And rabbits, too, at Booligal. ' But such a pleasant, quiet place, ' You never see a stranger's face — ' They hardly ever care to call ; ' The drovers mostly pass it by ; ' They reckon that they'd rather die ' Than spend a night in Booligal. ' The big mosquitoes frighten some — ' You'll lie awake to hear 'em hum — ' And snakes about the township crawl ; ' But shearers, when they get their cheque, ' They never come along and wreck ' The blessed town of Booligal. ' But down in Hay the shearers come ' And fill themselves with fighting-rum, ' And chase blue devils up the wall, ' And fight the snaggers every day, ' Until there is the deuce to pay — ' There's none of that in Booligal, HAY AND HELL AND BOOLIGAL 41 ' Of course, there isn't much to see — ' The billiard-table used to be ' The great attraction for us all, ' Until some careless, drunken curs ' Got sleeping on it in their spurs, ' And ruined it, in Booligal. ' Just now there is a howling drought ' That pretty near has starved us out — ' It never seems to rain at all ; ' But, if there should come any rain, ' You couldn't cross the black -soil plain — ' You'd have to stop in Booligal.' ' We'd have to stop ! ' "With bated breath We prayed that both in life and death Our fate in other lines might fall : ' Oh, send us to our just reward ' In Hay or Hell, but, gracious Lord, ' Deliver us from Booligal ! ' A WALGETT EPISODE The sun. strikes down with a blinding glare, The skies are blue and the plains are wide, The saltbush plains that are burnt and bare By Walgett out on the Barwon side — The Barwon river that wanders down In a leisurely manner by Walgett Town. There came a stranger — a ' Cockatoo ' — The word means farmer, as all men know Who dwell in the land where the kangaroo Barks loud at dawn, and the white-eyed crow Uplifts his song on the stock-yard fence As he watches the lambkins passing hence. The sunburnt stranger was gaunt and brown, But it soon appeared that he meant to flout The iron law of the country town, Which is — that the stranger has got to shout : ' If he will not shout we must take him down,' Remarked the yokels of Walgett Town. 42 A WALGETT EPISODE 43 They baited a trap with a crafty bait, With a crafty bait, for they held discourse Concerning a new chum who of late Had bought such a thoroughly lazy horse ; They would wager that no one could ride him down The length of the city of Walgett Town. The stranger was born on a horse's hide ; So he took the wagers, and made them good With his hard-earned cash — but his hopes they died, For the horse was a clothes-horse, made of wood ! — 'Twas a well-known horse that had taken down Full many a stranger in Walgett Town. The stranger smiled with a sickly smile — 'Tis a sickly smile that the loser grins — And he said he had travelled for quite a while In trying to sell some marsupial skins. ' And I thought that perhaps, as you've took me down, ' You would buy them from me, in Walgett Town ! ' He said that his home was at Wingadee, At Wingadee where he had for sale Some fifty skins and would guarantee They were full-sized skins, with the ears and tail 44 A WALGETT EPISODE Complete, and he sold them for money down To a venturesome buyer in Walgett Town. Then he smiled a smile as he pouched the pelf, ' I'm glad that I'm quit of them, win or lose : ' You can fetch them in when it suits yourself, ' And you'll find the skins — on the kangaroos ! ' Then he left — and the silence settled down Like a tapgible thing upon Walgett Town. FATHER RILEY'S HORSE 'TwAS the horse thief, Andy Regan, that was hunted like a dog By the troopers of the Upper Murray side. They had searched in every gully — they had looked in every log, But never sight or track of him they spied. Till the priest at Kiley's Crossing heard a knocking very late And a whisper ' Father Riley — come across ! ' So his Rev'rence in pyjamas trotted softly to the gate And admitted Andy Regan — and a horse ! ' Now, it's listen, Father Riley, to the words I've got to say, ■ For its close upon my death I am to-night. ' With the troopers hard behind me I've been hiding all the day ' In the gullies keeping close and out of sight. 45 46 FATHER RILEY'S HORSE ' But they're watching all the ranges till there's not a bird could fly, ' And I'm fairly worn to pieces with the strife, ' So I'm taking no more trouble, but I'm going home to die, ' 'Tis the only way I see to save my life. ' Yes, I'm making home to mother's, and I'll die o' Tuesday next ' An' be buried on the Thursday — and, of course, ' I'm prepared to meet my penance, but with one thing I'm perplexed ' And it's — Father, it's this jewel of a horse ! ' He was never bought nor paid for, and there's not a man can swear ' To his owner or his breeder, but I know, ' That his sire was by Pedantic from the Old Pretender mare ' And his dam was close related to The Roe. ' And there's nothing in the district that can race him for a step, ' He could canter while they're going at their top : ' He's the king of all the leppers that was ever seen to lep, ' A five-foot fence — he'd clear it in a hop ! FATHER RILEY'S HORSE 47 ' So I'll leave him with- you, Father, till the dead shall rise again, ' 'Tis yourself that knows a good 'un ; and, of course, ' You can say he's got by Moonlight out of Paddy Murphy's plain ' If you're ever asked the breeding of the horse ! ' But it's getting on to daylight and it's time to say good-bye, ' For the stars above the East are growing pale. ' And I'm making home to mother — and it's hard for me to die ! ' But it's harder still, is keeping out of gaol ! ' You can ride the old horse over to my grave across the dip ' Where the wattle bloom is waving overhead. ' Sure he'll jump them fences easy — you must never raise the whip ' Or he'll rush 'em ! — now, good-bye ! ' and he had fled! So they buried Andy Regan, and they buried him to rights. In the graveyard at the back of Kiley's Hill ; 48 FATHER RILEY'S HORSE There were five-and-twenty mourners who had five and-twenty fights Till the very boldest fighters had their fill. There were fifty horses racing from the graveyard to the pub, And their riders flogged each other all the while. And the lashins of the liquor ! And the lavins of the grub ! Oh, poor Andy went to rest in proper style. Then the races came to Kiley's — with a steeplechase and all, For the folk were mostly Irish round about, And it takes an Irish rider to be fearless of a fall, They were training morning in and morning out. But they never started training till the sun was on the course For a superstitious story kept 'em back. That the ghost of Andy Regan on a slashing chestnut horse, Had been training by the starlight on the track. And they read the nominations for the races with surprise And amusement at the Father's little joke. FATHER RILEY'S HORSE 49 For a novice had been entered for the steeplechasing prize, And they found that it was Father Riley's moke ! He was neat enough to gallop, he was strong enough to stay ! But his owner's views of training were immense. For the Reverend Father Riley used to ride him every day, And he never saw a hurdle nor a fence. And the priest would join the laughter ; ' Oh,' said he, ' I put him in, ' For there's five and twenty sovereigns to be won. ' And the poor would find it useful, if the chestnut chanced to win,' ' And he'll maybe win when all is said and done ! ' He had called him Faugh-a-ballagh, which is French for clear the course. And his colours were a vivid shade of green : All the Dooleys and O'Donnells were on Father Riley's horse. While the Orangemen were backing Mandarin ! It was Hogan, the dog poisoner — aged man and very wise, Who was camping in the racecourse with his swag. so FATHER RILEY'S HORSE And who ventured the opinion, to the township's great surprise, That the race would go to Father Riley's nag. ' You can talk about your riders — and the horse has not been schooled, ' And the fences is terrific, and the rest ! ' When the field is fairly going, then ye'll see ye've all been fooled, ' And the chestnut horse will battle with the best. ' For there's some has got condition, and they think the race is sure, ' And the chestnut horse will fall beneath the weight, ' But the hopes of all the helpless, and the prayers of all the poor, ' Will be running by his side to keep him straight. ' And it's what's the need of schoolin' or of workin' on the track, ' Whin the saints are there to guide him round the course ! ' I've prayed him over every fence — I've prayed him out and back ! ' And I'll bet my cash on Father Riley's horse ! ' FATHER RILEY'S HORSE SI Oh, the steeple was a caution ! They went tearin' round and round, And the fences rang and rattled where they struck. There was some that cleared the water — there was more fell in and drowned. Some blamed the men and others blamed the luck ! But the whips were flying freely when the field came into view, For the finish down the long green stretch of course. And in front of all the flyers — ^jumpin' like a kangaroo. Came the rank outsider — Father Riley's horse ! Oh, the shouting and the cheering as he rattled past the post ! For he left the others standing, in the straight; And the rider — well they reckoned it was Andy Regan's ghost. And it beat 'em how a ghost would draw the weight ! But he weighed it, nine stone seven, then he laughed and disappeared. Like, a Banshee (which is Spanish for an elf), D 51 52 FATHER RILEY'S HORSE And old Hogan muttered sagely, 'If it wasn't for the beard ' They'd be thinking it was Andy Regan's self ! ' And the poor of KUey's Crossing drank the health at Christmastide Of the chestnut and his rider dressed in green. There was never such a rider, not since Andy Began died, And they wondered who on earth he could have been. But they settled it among 'em, for the story got about, 'Mongst the bushmen and the people on the course, That the Devil had been ordered to let Andy Regan out For the steeplechase on Father Riley's horse ! THE SCOTCH ENGINEER With eyes that searched in the dark, Peering along the line, Stood the grim Scotchman, Hector Clark, Driver of ' Forty-nine,' And the veldt-fire flamed on the hills ahead. Like a blood-red beacon sign. There was word of a fight to the north, And a column hard-pressed. So they started the Highlanders forth, Without food, without rest. But the pipers gaily played. Chanting their fierce delight. And the armoured carriages rocked and swayed, Laden with men of the Scotch Brigade, Hurrying up to the fight, And the grim, grey Highland engineer, Driving them into the night. 53 54 THE SCOTCH ENGINEER Then a signal light glowed red, And a picket came to the track. ' Enemy holding the line ahead, ' Three of our mates we have left for dead, ' Only we two got back.' And far to the north through the still night air, They heard the rifles crack. And the boom of a gun rang out, Like the sound of a deep appeal. And the picket stood in doubt By the side of the driving-wheel. But the Engineer looked down. With his hand on the starting-bar, ' Ride ye back to the town, ' Ye know what my orders are, ' Maybe they're wanting the Scotch Brigade ' Up on those hills afar. ' I am no soldier at aU, ' Only an engineer, ' But I could not bear that the folk should say, ' Over in Scotland — Glasgow way — THE SCOTCH ENGINEER 55 ' That Hector Clark stayed here ' With the Scotch Brigade till the foe were gone, ' With ever a rail to run her on. ' Ready behind ! Stand clear ! ' Fireman, get you gone ' Into the armoured train, ' I will drive her alone ; ' One more trip — and perhaps the last — ' With a well-raked fire and an open blast — ' Hark to the rifles again.' On through the choking dark. Never a lamp nor a light, Never an engine spark, Showing her hurried flight. Over the lonely plain Rushed the great armoured-train. Hurrying up to the fight. Then with her living freight On to the foe she came. And the rifles snapped their hate, And the darkne,ss spouted flame. 56 THE SCOTCH ENGINEER Over the roar of the fray The hungry bullets whined, As she dashed through the foe that lay Loading and firing blind, Till the glare of the furnace burning clear Showed them the form of the engineer, Sharply and well defined. Through ! They were safely through ! Hark to the column's cheer ! Surely the driver knew He was to halt her here ; But he took no heed of the signals red, And the fireman found, when he climbed ahead, There on the floor of his engine — dead, Lay the Scotch Engineer ! SONG OF THE FUTURE 'Tis strange that in a land so strong, So strong and bold in mighty youth, We have no poet's voice of truth . To sing for us a wondrous song. Our chiefest singer yet has sung In wild, sweet notes a passing strain. All carelessly and sadly flung To that dull world he thought so vain. ' I care for nothing, good nor bad, ' My hopes are gone, my pleasures fled, ' I am but sifting sand,' he said : What wonder Gordon's songs were sad ! And yet, not always sad and hard ; In cheerful mood and light of heart He told the tale of Britomarte, And wrote the Rhyme of Joyous Guard. 57 58 SONG OF THE FUTURE And some have said that Nature's face To us is always sad ; but these Have never felt the smiling grace Of waving grass and forest trees On sunlit plains as wide as seas. ' A land where dull Despair is king ' O'er scentless flower and songless bird ! ' But we have heard the bell-birds ring Their silver bells at eventide, Like fairies on the mountain side, The sweetest note man ever heard. The wild thrush lifts a note of mirth ; The bronzewing pigeons call and coo Beside their nests the long day through ; The magpie warbles clear and strong A joyous, glad, thanksgiving song. For all God's mercies upon earth. And many voices such as these Are joyful sounds for those to tell, Who know the Bush and love it well, With all its hidden mysteries. SONG OP THE FUTURE 59 We cannot love the restless sea, That rolls and tosses to and fro Like some fierce creature in its glee ; For human weal or human woe It has no touch of sympathy. For us the bush is never sad : Its myriad voices whisper low, In tones the bushmen only know, Its sympathy and welcome glad. For us the roving breezes bring From many a blossom-tufted tree — Where wild bees murmur dreamily — The honey-laden breath of Spring. We have no tales of other days. No bygone history to tell ; Our tales are told where camp-fires blaze At midnight, when the solemn hush Of that vast wonderland, the Bush, Hath laid on every heart its spell. 60 SONG OF THE FUTURE Although we have no songs of strife, Of bloodshed reddening the land, We yet may find achievements grand Within the bushman's quiet life. Lift ye your faces to the sky Ye far blue mountains of the West, Who lie so peacefully at rest Enshrouded in a haze of blue ; 'Tis hard to feel that years went by Before the pioneers broke through Your rocky heights and walls of stone. And made your secrets all their own For years the fertile Western plains Were hid behind your sullen walls, Your cliffs and crags and waterfalls All weatherworn with tropic rains. Between the mountains and the sea. Like Israelites with staff in hand, The people waited restlessly : They looked towards the mountains old And saw the sunsets come and go With gorgeous golden afterglow, SONG OF THE FUTURE 61 That made the West a fairyland, And marvelled what that West might be Of which such wondrous tales were told. For tales were told of inland seas Like sullen oceans, salt and dead, And sandy deserts, white and wan. Where never trod the foot of man, Nor bird went winging overhead. Nor ever stirred a gracious breeze To wake the silence with its breath — A land of loneliness and death. At length the hardy pioneers By rock and crag found out the way. And woke with voices of to-day, A silence kept for years and years. Upon the Western slope they stood And saw — a wide expanse of plain As far as eye conld stretch or see Go rolling westward endlessly. The native grasses, tall as grain, Were waved and rippled in the breeze ; From boughs of blossom-laden trees The parrots answered back again. 62 SONG OF THE FUTURE They saw the land that it was good, A land of fatness all untrod, And gave their silent thanks to God. The way is won ! The way is won ! And straightway from the barren coast There came a westward-marching host, That aye and ever onward prest With eager faces to the West, Along the pathway of the sun. The mountains saw them marching by : They faced the all-consuming drought. They would not rest in settled land : But, taking each his life in hand. Their faces ever westward bent Beyond the farthest settlement. Responding to the challenge cry Of ' better country further out.' And lo a miracle ! the land But yesterday was all unknown. The wild man's boomerang was thrown Where now great busy cities stand. SONG OF THE FUTURE 63 It was not much, you say, that these ^ Should win their way where none withstood ; In sooth there was not much of blood No war was fought between the seas. It was not much ! but we who know The strange capricious land they trod — At times a stricken, parching sod, At times with raging floods beset — Through which they found their lonely way, Are quite content that you should say It was not much, while we can feel That nothing in the ages old, In song or story written yet On Grecian urn or Roman arch. Though it should ring with clash of steel, Could braver histories unfold Than this bush story, yet untold — The story of their westward march. But times are changed, and changes rung From old to new — the olden days. The old bush life and all its ways Ave passing from us all unsung. 64 SONG OF THE FUTURE The freedom, and the hopeful sense Of toil that brought due recompense, Of room for all, has passed away, And lies forgotten with the dead. Within our streets men cry for bread In cities built but yesterday. About us stretches wealth of land, A boundless wealth of virgin soil As yet unfruitful and untilled ! Our willing workmen, strong and skilled Within our cities idle stand, And cry aloud for leave to toil. The stunted children come and go In squalid lanes and alleys black ; We follow but the beaten track Of other nations, and we grow In wealth for some — for many, woe. And it may be that we who live In this new land apart, beyond The hard old world grown fierce and fond And bound by precedent and bond, SONG OF THE FUTURE 65 May read the riddle right and give New hope to those who dimly see That all things may be yet for good, And teach the world at length to be One vast united brotherhood. So may it be, and he who sings In accents hopeful, clear, and strong, The glories which that future brings Shall sing, indeed, a wond'rous song. ANTHONY CONSIDINE Out in the wastes of the Wipst countrie, Out where the white stars shine, Grim and silent as such men be, Rideth a man with a history — Anthony Considine. For the ways of men they are manifold As their diiFering views in life ; For some are sold for the lust of gold And some for the lust of strife : But this man counted the world well lost For the love of his neighbour's wife. They fled together, as those must flee Whom all men hold in blame ; Each to the other must all things be Who cross the gulf of iniquity And live in the land of shame. 66 ANTHONY CONSIDINE 67 But a light-o'-love, if she sins with one, She sinneth with ninety-nine : The rule holds good since the world begun — Since ever the streams began to run And the stars began to shine. The rule holds true, and he found it true — Anthony Oonsidine. A nobler spirit had turned in scorn From a love that was stained with mire ; A weaker being might mourn and mourn For the loss of his Heart's Desire : But the anger of Anthony Oonsidine Blazed up like a flaming fire. And she, with her new love, presently Came past with her eyes ashine ; And God so willed it, and God knows why. She turned and laughed as they passed him by — Anthony Oonsidine. Her laughter stung as a whip might sting ; And mad with his wounded pride He turned and sprang with a panther's spring And struck at his rival's side : And only the woman, shuddering, Gould tell how the dead man died ! 68 ANTHONY CONSIDINE She dared not speak — and the mystery Is buried in auld lang syne, But out on the wastes of the West countrie, Grim and silent as such men be, Rideth a man with a history — Anthony Considine. SONG OF THE ARTESIAN WATER Now the stock have started dying, for the Lord has sent a drought ; But we're sick of prayers and Providence — we're going to do without ; With the derricks up above us and the solid earth below, We are waiting at the lever for the word to let her go. Sinking down, deeper down. Oh, we'll sink it deeper down : As the drill is plugging downward at a thousand feet of level, If the Lord won't send us water, oh, we'll get it from the devil ; Yes, we'll get it from the devil deeper down. 69 70 SONG OF THE ARTESIAN WATER Now, our engine's built in Glasgow by a very canny Scot, And he marked it twenty horse-power, but he don't know what is what : When Canadian Bill is firing with the sun-dried gidgee logs. She can equal thirty horses and a score or so of dogs. Sinking down, deeper down, Oh, we're going deeper down : If we fail to get the water then it's ruin to the squatter, For the drought is on the station and the weather's growing hotter, But we're bound to get the water deeper down. But the shaft has started caving and the sinking's very slow, And the yellow rods are bending in the water down below, And the tubes are always jamming and they can't be made to shift Till we nearly burst the engine with a forty horse- power lift. Sinking down, deeper down, Oh, we're going deeper down SONG OP THE ARTESIAN WATER 71 Though the shaft is always caving, and the tubes are always jamming, Yet we'll fight our way to water while the stubborn drill is ramming — While the stubborn drill is ramming deeper down. But there's no artesian water, though we've passed three thousand feet. And the contract price is growing and the boss is nearly beat. But it must be down beneath us, and it's down we've got to go. Though she's bumping on the solid rock four thousand feet below. Sinking down, deeper down. Oh, we're going deeper down : And it's time they heard us knocking on the roof of Satan's dwellin' ; But we'll get artesian water if we cave the roof of hell in — Oh ! we'll get artesian water deeper down. But it's hark ! the whistle's blowing with a wild, exultant blast. And the boys are madly cheering, for they've struck the flow at last, 72 kSOng of the artesian water And it's rushing up the tubing from four thousand feet below Till it spouts above the casing in a million-gaUon flow. And it's down, deeper down Oh, it comes from deeper down ; It is flowing, ever flowing, in a free, unstinted measure From the silent hidden places where the old earth hides her treasure — Where the old earth hides her treasure deeper down. And it's clear away the timber, and it's let the water run : How it glimmers in the shadow, how it flashes in the sun ! By the silent belts of timber, by the miles of blazing plain It is bringing hope and comfort to the thirsty land again. Flowing down, further down ; It is flowing further down To the tortured thirsty cattle, bringing gladness in its going ; Through the droughty days of summer it is flowing, ever flowing — It is flowing, ever flowing, further down. A DISQUALIFIED JOCKEY'S STORY You see, the thing was this way — there was me, That rode Panoppoly, the Splendor mare. And Ikey Chambers on the Iron Dook, And Smith, the half-caste rider, on Regret, And that long bloke from Wagga — him what rode Veronikew, the Snowy River horse. Well, none of them had chances — not a chance Among the lot, unless the rest fell dead Or wasn't trying— for a blind man's dog Could see Enchantress was a certain cop, And all the books was layin' six to four. They brought her out to show our lot the road. Or so they said ; but, then, Gord's truth ! you know, You can't believe 'em, though they took an oath On forty Bibles that they'd tell the truth. 73 74 A DISQUALIFIED JOCKEY'S STORY But anyhow, an amateur was up On this Enchantress, and so Ike and me, We thought that we might frighten him a bit By asking if he minded riding rough — ' Oh, not at all,' says he, ' oh, not at all ! ' T learnt at Robbo Park, and if it comes ' To bumping I'm your Moses ! Strike me blue ! ' Says he, ' I'll bump you over either rail, ' The inside rail or outside — which you choose ' Is good enough for me ' — which settled Ike ; For he was shaky since he near got killed From being sent a buster on the rail. When some chap bumped his horse and fetched him down At Stony Bridge, so Ikey thought it best To leave this bloke alone, and I agreed. So all the books was layin' six to four Against the favourite, and the amateur Was walking this Enchantress up and down. And me and Smithy backed him ; for we thought We might as well get something for ourselves. Because we knew our horses couldn't win. But Ikey wouldn't-back him for a bob ; Because he said he reckoned he was stiff. And all the books was layin' six to four. A DISQUALIFIED JOCKEY'S STORY 75 Well, anyhow, before the start, the news Got round that this here amateur was stiff, And our good stuff was blued, and all the books Was in it, and the prices lengthened out. And every book was bustin' of his throat, And layin' five to one the favourite. So there was we that couldn't win ourselves. And this here amateur that wouldn't try, And all the books was layin' five to one.] So Smithy says to me, ' You take a hold ' Of that there moke of yours, and round the turn ' Come up behind Enchantress with the whip ' And let her have it ; that long bloke and me ' Will wait ahead, and when she comes to us ' We'll pass her on and belt her down the straight, ' And Ikey'U flog her home, because his boss ' Is judge and steward and the Lord knows what, ' And so he won't be touched — and, as for us, ' We'll swear we only hit her by mistake ! ' And all the books was layin' five to one. Well, off we went, and comin' to the turn I saw the amateur was holding back And poking into every hole he could To get her blocked, and so I pulled behind 76 A DISQUALIFIED JOCKEY'S STORY And drew the whip and dropped it on the mare — I let her have it twice, and then she shot Ahead of me, and Smithy opened out And let her up beside him on the rails, And kept her there a-beltin' her like smoke Until she struggled past him pullin' hard And came to Ike ; but Ikey drew his whip And hit her on the nose and sent her back And won the race himself — for, after all, It seems he had a fiver on the Dook And never told us — so our stuff was lost. And then they had us up for ridin' foul. And warned us off the tracks for twelve months each, To get our livin' any way we could ; But Ikey wasn't touched, because his boss Was judge and steward and the Lord knows what. But Mister — if you'll lend us half-a-crown, I know three certain winners at the Park — Three certain cops as no one knows but me ; And— thank you. Mister, come an' have a beer (I always like a beer about this time) . . . Well, so long, Mister, till we meet again. THE ROAD TO GUNDAGAI The mountain road goes up and down, Prom Gundagai to Tumut Town. And branching off there runs a track, Across the foothills grim and black, Across the plains and ranges grey To Sydney city far away. It came by chance one day that I From Tumut rode to Gundagai. And reached about the evening tide The crossing where the roads divide ; And, waiting at the crossing place, I saw a maiden fair of face. With eyes of deepest violet blue. And cheeks to match the rose in hue— 77 78 THE ROAD TO GUNDAGAI The fairest maids Australia knows Are bred among the mountain snows. Then, fearing I might go astray, I asked if she could show the way. Her voice might well a man bewitch — Its tones so supple, deep, and rich. ' The tracks are clear,' she made reply, ' And this goes down to Sydney town, ' And that one goes to Gundagai.' Then slowly, looking coyly back. She went along the Sydney track. And I for one was well content To go the road the lady went ; But round the turn a swain she met — The kiss she gave him haunts me yet ! I turned and travelled with a sigh The lonely road to Gundagai, SALTBUSH BILL'S SECOND FIGHT The news came down on the Castlereagh, and went to the world at large, That twenty thousand travelling sheep, with Saltbush Bill in charge. Were drifting down from a dried-out run to ravage the Castlereagh ; And the squatters swore when they heard the news, and wished they were well away : For the name and the fame of Saltbush Bill were over the country side For the wonderful way that he fed his sheep, and the dodges and tricks he tried. He would lose his way on a Main Stock Route, and stray to the squatters' grass ; He would come to a run with the boss away, and swear he had leave to pass ; 79 80 SALTBUSH BILL'S SECOND FIGHT And back of all and behind it aU, as well the squatters knew, If he had to fight, he would fight all day, so long as his sheep got through : But this is, the story of Stingy Smith, the owner of Hard Times Hill, And the way that he chanced on a fighting man to reckon with Saltbush Bill. 'Twas Stingy Smith on his stockyard sat, and prayed for an early Spring, When he stared at sight of a clean-shaved tramp, who walked with jaunty swing ; For a clean-shaved tramp with a jaunty walk a- swinging along the track Is as rare a thing as a feathered frog on the desolate roads out back. So the tramp he made for the travellers' hut, and asked could he camp the night ; But Stingy Smith had a bright idea, and he said to him, ' Can you fight ? ' ' Why, what's the game 1 ' said the clean-shaved tramp, as he looked at him up and down — ' If you want a battle, get off that fence, and I'll kUl you for half-a-crown ! SALTBUSH BILL'S SECOND FIGHT 81 ' But, Boss, you'd better not fight with me, it ■wouldn't be fair nor right ; ' I'm Stiffener Joe, from the Rocks Brigade, and I killed a man in a fight ; ' I served two years for it, fair and square, and now I'm a trampin' back, ' To look for a peaceful quiet life away on the outside track ' ' Oh, it's not myself, but a drover chap,' said Stingy Smith with glee ; ' A bullying fellow, called Saltbush Bill — and you are the man for me. ' He's on the road with his hungry sheep, and he's certain to raise a row, ' For he's bullied the whole of the Oastlereagh till he's got them under cow^ — ' Just pick a quarrel and raise a fight, and leather him good and hard, ' And I'll take good care that his wretched sheep don't wander a half a yard. ' It's a five-pound job if you belt him well — do any- thing short of kill, ' For there isn't a beak on the Oastlereagh will fine you for Saltbush Bill.' 82 SALTBUSH BILL'S SECOND FIGHT ' I'll take the job,' said the fighting man ; ' and hot as this cove appears, He'll stand no chance with a bloke like me, what's lived on the game for years ; ' For he's maybe learnt in a boxing school, and sparred for a round or so, ' But I've fought all hands in a ten-foot ring each night in a travelling show ; ' They earned a pound if they stayed three rounds, and they tried for it every night — ' In a ten-foot ring ! Oh, that's the game that teaches a bloke to fight, ' For they'd rush and clinch, it was Dublin Rules, and we drew no colour line ; ' And they all tried hard for to earn the pound, but they got no pound of mine : If I saw no chance in the opening round I'd slog at their wind, and wait ' Till an opening came — and it always came — and I settled 'em, sure as fate ; ' Left on the ribs and right on the jaw — and, when the chance comes, make sure ! ' And it's there a professional bloke like me gets home on an amateur : SALTBUSH BILL'S SECOND FIGHT 83 ' For it's my experience every day, and I make no doubt it's yours, ' That a third-class pro is an over-match for the best of the amateurs ' ' Oh, take your swag to the travellers' hut,' said Smith, ' for you waste your breath ; ' You've a first-class chance, if you lose the fight, of talking your man to death. ' I'll tell the cook you're to have your grub, and see that you eat your fill, ' And come to the scratch all fit and well to leather this Saltbush Bill.' 'Twas Saltbush Bill, and his travelling sheep were wending their weary way On the Main Stock Route, through the Hard Times Run, on their six-mile stage a day ; And he strayed a mile from the Main Stock Route, and started to feed along, And, when Stingy Smith came up. Bill said that the Route was surveyed wrong ; And he tried to prove that the sheep had rushed and strayed from their camp at night, But the fighting man he kicked Bill's dog, and of course that meant a fight : 84 SALTBUSH BILL'S SECOND FIGHT So they sparred and fought, and they shifted ground and never a sound was heard But the thudding fists on their brawny ribs, and the seconds' muttered word, Till the fighting man shot home his left on the ribs with a mighty clout. And his right flashed up with a half-arm blow — and Saltbush Bill ' went out.' He fell face down, and towards the blow ; and their hearts with fear were filled, For he lay as still as a fallen tree, and they thought that he must be killed. So Stingy Smith and the figliting man, they lifted him from the ground. And sent to home for a brandy-flask, and they slowly fetched him round ; But his head was bad, and his jaw was hurt — in fact, he could scarcely speak — So they let him spell till he got his wits, and he camped on the run a week. While the travelling sheep went here and there, where- ever they liked to stray, Till Saltbush Bill was fit once more for the track to the Castlereagh. SALTBUSH BILL'S SECOND FIGHT 85 Then Stingy Smith he wrote a note, and gave to the fighting man : 'Twas writ to the boss of the neighbouring run, and thus the missive ran : ' The man with this is a fighting man, one Stififener Joe by name ; ' He came near murdering Saltbush Bill, and I found it a costly game : ' But it's worth your while to employ the chap, for there isn't the slightest doubt ■ You'll have no trouble from Saltbush Bill while this man hangs about ' But an answer came by the next week's mail, with news that might well appal : ' The man you sent with a note is not a fighting man at all ! ' He has shaved- his beard, and has cut his hair, but I spotted him at a look ; ' He is Tom Devine, who has worked for years for Saltbush Bill as cook. ' Bill coached him up in the fighting yarn, and taught him the tale by rote, ' And they shammed to fight, and they got your grass and divided your five-pound note. 86 SALTBUSH BILL'S SECOND FIGHT ' 'Twas a clean take-in, and you'll find It wise — 'twill save you a lot of pelf — ' When next you're hiring a fighting man, just fight him a round yourself.' And the teamsters out on the Castlereagh, when they meet with a week of rain, And the waggon sinks to its axle-tree, deep down in the black soil plain. When the bullocks wade in a sea of mud, and strain at the load of wool. And the cattle-dogs at the bullocks' heels are biting to make them pull, When the ofi'-side driver flays the team, and curses them while he flogs, And the air is thick with the language used, and the clamour of men and dogs — The teamsters say, as they pause to rest and moisten each hairy throat, They wish they could swear like Stingy Smith when he read that neighbour's note. HARD LUCK I LEFT the course, and by my side There walked a ruined tout — A hungry creature evil-eyed, Who poured this story out. ' You see,' he said, ' there came a swell ' To Kensington to-day, And if I picked the winners well, ' A crown at least he'd pay. ' I picked three winners straight, I did, ' I filled his purse with pelf, ' And then he gave me half-a-quid, ' To back one for myself. ' A half-a-quid to me he cast, ' I wanted it indeed ' So help me Bob, for two days past ' I haven't had a feed. 87 88 HABD LUCK ' But still I thought my luck was in, ' I couldn't go astray, ' I put it all on Little Min, ' And lost it straightaway. .' I haven't got a bite or bed, ' I'm absolutely stuck, ' So keep this lesson in your head : ' Don't over-trust your luck ! ' The folks went homeward, near and far. The tout, Oh ! where was he 1 Ask where the empty boilers are, Beside the Circular Quay. SONG OF THE FEDERATION As the nations sat together, grimly waiting — The fierce old nations battle-scarred — Grown grey in their lusting and their hating, Ever armed and ever ready keeping guard, Through the tumult of their warlike preparation And the half -stilled clamour of the drums Came a voice crying, ' Lo ! a new made nation, ' To her place in the sisterhood she comes ! ' And she came — she was beautiful as morning, With the bloom of the roses in her mouth, Like a young queen lavishly adorning Her charms with the splendours of the South. And the fierce old nations, looking on her. Said, ' Nay, surely she were quickly overthrown, ' Hath she strength for the burden laid upon her, ' Hath she power to protect and guard her own 1 90 SONG OF THE FEDERATION Then she spoke, and her voice was clear and ringing In the ears of the nations old and gray, Saying, ' Hark, and ye shall hear my children singing ' Their war -song in countries far away. ' They are strangers to the tumult of the battle, ' They are few but their hearts are very strong, ' 'Twas but yesterday they called unto the cattle, ' But they now sing Australia's marching song ' Song of the Australians in Action For the honour of Australia, ow mother, Side by side toith our kin from over sea, We have fought and we have tested one another, And enrolled among the brotherhood are we. There was never post of danger but we sought it In the fighting, through the fire, and through the flood. There was never pnze so costly but we bought it. Though we paid for its purchase with our blood. Was there any road too rough fur us to travel ? Was there any path too far for us to tread ? You can track xis by the blood drops on the gravel On the roads that we milestoned with our dead! SONG OF THE FEDERATION 91 And for you, oh our young and anxious mother, O'er your great gains keeping watch and ward. Neither /earing nor despising any other. We will hold your possessions with the sword. Then they passed to the place of world-long sleeping, The grey-clad figures with their dead, To the sound of their women softly weeping And the Dead March moaning at their head : And the Nations, as the grim procession ended, Whispered, ' Child ! But ye have seen the price we pay, ' From War may we ever be defended, ' Kneel ye down, new-made Sister — Let us Pray ! ' THE OLD AUSTRALIAN WAYS The Loadon lights are far abeam Behind a bank of cloud, Along the shore the gaslights gleam, The gale is piping loud ; And down the Channel, groping blind, We drive her through the haze Towards the land we left behind — The good old land of ' never mind,' And old Australian ways. The narrow ways of English folk Are not for such as we ; They bear the long-accustomed yoke Of staid conservancy : But all our roads are new and strange, And through our blood there runs The vagabonding love of change 92 THE OLD AUSTRALIAN WAYS 93 That drove us westward of the range And westward of the suns. The city folk go to and fro Behind a prison's bars, They never feel the breezes blow And never see the stars ; They never hear in blossomed trees The music low and sweet Of wild birds making melodies, Nor catch the little laughing breeze That whispers in the wheat. Our fathers came of roving stock That could not fixed abide : And we have followed field and flock Since e'er we learnt to ride ; By miner's camp and shearing shed, In land of heat and drought, We followed where our fortunes led, With fortune always on ahead And always further put. The wind is in the barley-grass, The wattles are in bloom ; The breezes greet us as they pass With honey -sweet perfume ; 9i THE OLD AUSTRALIAN WAYS The parakeets go screaming by With flash of golden wing, And from the swamp the wild-ducks cry Their long-drawn note of revelry, Rejoicing at the Spring. So throw the weary pen aside And let the papers rest, For we must saddle up and ride Towards the blue hill's breast ; And we must travel far and fast Across their rugged maze, To find the Spring of Youth at last, And call back from the buried past The old Australian ways. When Clancy took the drover's track In years of long ago. He drifted to the outer back Beyond the Overflow ; By rolling plain and rocky shelf. With stockwhip in his hand. He reached at last, oh lucky elf, The Town of Come-and-help-yourself In Rough-and-ready Land. THE OLD AUSTRALIAN WAYS 95 And if it be that you would know The tracks he used to ride, Then you must saddle up and go Beyond the Queensland side — Beyond the reach of rule or law, To ride the long day through, In Nature's homestead — filled with awe : You then might see what Clancy saw And know what Clancy knew. THE BALLAD OF THE CALLIOPE By the far Samoan shore, Where the league-long rollers pour All the wash of the Pacific on the coral-guarded bay, Riding lightly at their ease, In the calm of tropic seas, The three great nations' warships at their anchors proudly lay. Riding lightly, head to wind, With the coral reefs behind. Three Germans and three Yankee ships were mirrored in the blue ; And on one ship unfurled Was the flag that rules the world — For on the old Calliope the flag of England flew. 96 THE BALLAD OF THE CALLIOPE 97 When the gentle off-shore breeze, That had scarcely stirred the trees, Dropped down to utter stillness, and the glass began to fall. Away across the main Lowered the coming hurricane, And far away to seaward hung the cloud wrack like a pall. If the word had passed around, ' Let us move to safer ground ; ' Let us steam away to seaward ' — then this tale were not to tell ! But each Captain seemed to say ' If the others stay, I stay ! ' And they lingered at their moorings till the shades of evening fell. Then the cloud wrack neared them fast. And there came a sudden blast. And the hurricane came leaping down a thousand miles of main ! Like a lion on its prey. Leapt the storm fiend on the bay. And the vessels shook and shivered as their cables felt the strain. 98 THE BALLAD OF THE CALLIOPE As the surging seas came by, That were running mountains high, The vessels started dragging, drifting slowly to the lee ; And the darkness of the night Hid the coral reefs from sight, And the Captains dared not risk the chance to grope their way to sea. In the dark they dared not shift ! They were forced to wait and drift ; All hands stood by uncertain would the anchors hold or no. But the men on deck could see If a chance of hope might be — There was little chance of safety for the men who were below. Through that long, long night of dread. While the storm raged overhead, They were waiting by their engines, with the furnace fires aroar. So they waited, staunch and true. Though they knew, and well they knew, They must drown like rats imprisoned if the vessel touched the shore. THE BALLAD OF THE CALLIOPE 99 When the grey dawn broke at last, And the long, long night was past. While the hurricane redoubled, lest its prey should steal away. On the rocks, all smashed and strewn, Were the German vessels thrown. While the Yankees, swamped and helpless, drifted shorewards down the bay. Then at last spoke Captain Kane, ' All our anchors are in vain, ' And the Germans and the Yankees they have drifted to the lee ! ' Cut the cables at the bow ! ' We must trust the engines now ! ' Give her steam, and let her have it, lads, we'll fight her out to sea ! ' And the answer came with cheers From the stalwart engineers, From the grim and grimy firemen at the furnaces below ; And above the sullen roar Of the breakers on the shore Came the throbbing of the engines as they laboured to and fro. 100 THE BALLAD OF THE CALLIOPE If the strain should find a flaw, Should a bolt or rivet draw, Then — God help them ! for the vessel were a plaything in the tide ! With a face of honest cheer, Quoth an English engineer, ' I will answer for the engines that were built on old Thames side ! ' For the stays and stanchions taut, ' For the rivets truly wrought, ' For the valves that fit their faces as a glove should fit the hand. ' Give her every ounce of power, ' If we make a knot an hour ' Then it's way enough to steer her and we'll drive her from the land.' Like a foam flake tossed and thrown, She could barely hold her own, While the other ships all helplessly were drifting to the lee. Through the smother and the rout The Calliope steamed out — And they cheered her from the Trenton that was foundering in the sea. THE BALLAD OF THE CALLIOPE 101 Aye ! drifting shoreward there, All helpless as they were, Their vessel hurled upon the reefs as weed ashore is hurled. Without a thought of fear The Yankees raised a cheer — A cheer that English-speaking folk should echo round the world. DO THEY KNOW Do they know 1 At the turn to the straight Where the favourites fail, And every atom of weight Is telhng its tale ; As some grim old stayer hard-pressed Runs true to his breed, And with head just in front of the rest Fights on in the lead ; When the jockeys are out with the whips, With a furlong to go ; And the backers grow white to the lips — Do you think they don't know ? Do they know 1 As they come back to weigh In a whirlwind of cheers, Though the spurs have left marks of the fray, Though the sweat on the ears 102 DO THEY KNOW 103 Gathers cold, and they sob with distress As they roll up the track, They know just as well their success As the man on their back. As they walk through a dense human lane, That sways to and fro, And cheers them again and again. Do you think they don't know ? THE PASSING OF GUNDAGAI ' I'll introdooce a friend I ' he said, ' And if you've got a vacant pen ' You'd better take him in the shed ■ And start him shearing straight ahead, ' He's one of these here quiet men. ' He never strikes — that ain't his game ; ' No matter what the others try ' He goes on shearing just the same. ' I never rightly knew his name — ' We always call him " Gundagai ! " Our flashest shearer then had gone To train a racehorse for a race, And while his sporting fit was on He couldn't be relied upon. So ' Gundagai ' shore in his place. 104 THE PASSING OF GUNDAGAI 105 Alas for man's veracity ! For reputations false and true ! This ' Gundagai ' turned out to be, For strife and all-round villainy, The very worst I ever knew ! He started racing Jack Devine, And grumbled when I made him stop. The pace he showed was extra fine. But all those pure-bred ewes of mine Were bleeding like a butcher's shop. He cursed the sheep, he cursed the shed, From roof to rafter, floor to shelf ; As for my mongrel ewes, he said, I ought to get a razor blade And shave the blooming things myself. On Sundays he controlled a ' school,' And played ' two-up ' the livelong day ; And many a young confiding fool He shore of his financial wool ; And when he lost he would not pay. He organised a shearers' race. And ' touched ' me to provide the prize. 106 THE PASSING OF GUNDAGAI His packhorse showed surprising pace And won hands down — he was The Ace, A well-known racehorse in disguise. Next day the bruiser of the shed Displayed an opal-tinted eye, With large contusions on his head. He smiled a sickly smile, and said He'd ' had a cut at " Gundagai ! " ' But just as we were getting full Of ' Gundagai ' and all his ways, A telegram for ' Henry Bull ' Arrived. Said he, ' That's me — all wool ! ' Let's see what this here message says.' He opened it, his face grew white. He dropped the shears and turned away. It ran, ' Your wife took bad last night ; ' Come home at once — no time to write, ' We fear she may not last the day.' He got his cheque— I didn't care To dock him for my mangled ewes ; His store account — we ' called it square.' Poor wretch ! he had enough to bear, Confronted by such dreadful news. THE PASSING OF GUNDAGAI 107 The shearers raised a little purse To help a mate, as shearers will, ' To pay the doctor and the nurse, ' And if there should be something worse — ' To pay the undertaker's bill.' They wrung his hand in sympathy, He rode away without a word. His head hung down in misery. A wandering hawker passing by Was told of what had just occurred. ' Well ! that's a curious thing,' he said, ' I've known that feller all his life — ' He's had the loan of this here shed ! ' I know his wife ain't nearly dead, ' Because he hasn't got a wife ! ' You should have heard the whipcord crack As angry shearers galloped by. In vain they tried to fetch him back, A little dust along the track Was all they saw of ' Gundagai.' THE WARGEILAH HANDICAP Waeqeilah town is very small, There's no cathedral nor a club, In fact the township, all in all, Is just one unpretentious pub ; And there, from all the stations round, The local sportsmen can be found. The sportsmen of Wargeilah side Are very few but very fit : There's scarcely any sport been tried But what they held their own at it In fact, to search their records o'er, They held their own and something more. 'Twas round about Wargeilah town An English new-chum did infest : He used to wander up and down In baggy English breeches drest — His mental aspect seemed to be Just stolid self-suflB.ciency. 108 THE WARGEILAH HANDICAP 109 The local sportsmen vainly sought His tranquil calm to counteract, By urging that he should be brought Within the Noxious Creatures Act. 'Nay, harm him not,' said one more wise, ' He is a blessing in disguise ! ' You see, he wants to buy a horse, ' To ride, and hunt, and steeplechase, ' And carry ladies, too, of course, ' And pull a cart and win a race. ' Good gracious ! he must be a flat ' To think he'll get a horse like that ! ' But since he has so little sense ' And such a lot of cash to burn, ' We'll sell him some experience ' By which alone a fool can learn. ' Suppose we let him have The Trap ' To win Wargeilah Handicap ! ' And here, I must explain to you That, round about Wargeilah run. There lived a very aged screw Whose daj'^s of brilliancy were done : A grand old warrior in his prime — But age will beat us all in time. 110 THE WARGEILAH HANDICAP A trooper's horse in seasons past He did his share to keep the peace, But took to falling, and at last Was cast for age from the Police. A publican at Conroy's Gap Then bought and christened him The Trap. When grass was good, and horses dear, He changed his owner now and then At prices ranging somewhere near The neighbourhood of two pound ten : And manfully he earned his keep By yarding cows and ration sheep. They brought him in from off the grass And fed and groomed the old horse up ; His coat began to shine like glass — You'd think he'd win the Melbourne Cup. And when they'd got him fat and flash They asked the new-chum — fifty — cash ! And when he said the price was high, Their indignation knew no bounds. They said, ' It's seldom you can buy ' A horse like that for fifty pounds ! ' We'll refund twenty if The Trap ' Should fail to win the handicap ! ' THE WARGEILAH HANDICAP m The deed was done, the price was paid, The new-chum put the horse in train : The local sports were much afraid That he would sad experience gain, By racing with some shearer's hack, Who'd beat him half-way round the track. So, on this guileless English spark They did most fervently impress That he must keep the matter dark, And not let any person guess That he was purchasing The Trap To win Wargeilah Handicap. They spoke of ' spielers from The Bland,' And ' champions from the Castlereagh,' And gave the youth to understand That all of these would stop away, And spoil the race, if they should hear That they had got The Trap to fear. ' Keep dark I They'll muster thick as flies ' When once the news gets sent around ' We're giving such a splendid prize — ' A Snowdon horse worth fifty pound ! ' They'll come right in from Dandaloo, ' And find — that it's a gift to you ! ' 112 THE WARGEILAH HANDICAP The race came on — with no display, Nor any calling of the card, But round about the pub all day A crowd of shearers, drinking hard, And using language in a strain 'Twere flattery to call profane. Our hero, dressed in silk attire — Blue jacket and a scarlet cap — With boots that shone like flames of fire. Now did his canter on The Trap, And walked him up and round about, Until the other steeds came out. He eyed them with a haughty look. But saw a sight that caught his breath ! It was ! Ah John ! The Chinee cook ! In boots and breeches ! Pale as death ! Tied with a rope, like any sack. Upon a piebald pony's back ! The next, a colt — all mud and burrs ! Half-broken, with a black boy up. Who said, ' You gim'me pair o' spurs, ' I win the bloomin' Melbourne Cup ! ' These two were to oppose The Trap For the Wargeilah Handicap ! THE WARGEILAH HANDICAP 113 They're off ! The colt whipped down his head, And humped his back and gave a squeal, And bucked into the drinking shed, Revolving like a Oath'rine wheel ! Men ran like rats ! The atmosphere Was filled with oaths and pints of beer ! But up the course the bold Ah John Beside The Trap raced neck and neck : The boys had tied him firmly on. Which ultimately proved his wreck, The saddle turned, and, like a clown, He rode some distance upside down. His legs around the horse were tied, His feet towards the heavens were spread, He swung and bumped at every stride And ploughed the ground up with his head ! And when they rescued him, The Trap Had won Wargeilah Handicap ! And no enquiries we could make Could tell by what false statements swayed Ah John was led to undertake A task so foreign to his trade ! He only smiled and said, ' Hoo Ki ! I stop topside, I win all 'li ! ' 114 THE WARGEILAH HANDICAP But never, in Wargeilah Town, Was heard so eloquent a cheer As when the President came down, And toasted, in Colonial Beer, ' The finest rider on the course ! ' The winner of the Snowdon Horse ! ' ' You go and get your prize,' he said, ' He's with a wild mob, somewhere round ' The mountains near The Watershed ; ' He's honestly worth fifty pound, ' A noble horse, indeed, to win, ' But none of us can run him in ! ' We've chased him poor, we've chased him fat, ' We've run him till our horses dropped, ' But by such obstacles as that ' A man like you will not be stopped, ' You'll go and yard him any day, ' So here's your health ! Hooray ! Hooray ! ' The day wound up with booze and blow And fights till all were well content, But of the new-chum, all I know Is shown by this advertisement — ' For Sale, the well-known racehorse Trap, • He won Wargeilah Handicap ! ' ANY OTHER TIME All of us play our very best game — Any other time. Golf or billiards, it's all the same — Any other time. Lose a match and you always say, ' Just my luck ! I was ' off ' to-day ! ' I could have beaten him quite half-way — ' Any other time ! ' After a fiver you ought to go — Any other time. Every man that you ask says ' Oh,' ' Any other time. ' Lend you a fiver ! I'd lend you two, ' But I'm overdrawn and my bills are due, ' Wish you'd ask me — now, mind you do — ' Any other time ! ' H 1J5 116 ANY OTHEK TIME Fellows will ask you out to dine — Any other time. ' Not to-night, for we're twenty-nine — ' Any other time. ' Not to-morrow, for cook's on strike, ' Not next day, I'll be out on the bike — ' Just drop in whenever you like — ' Any other time ! ' Seasick passengers like the sea — Any other time. ' Something . . I ate . . disagreed . . with me ! ' Any other time ' Ocean-trav'lling is . . simply bliss, ' Must be my . . liver . . has gone amiss . . ' Why, I would . . laugh . . at a sea . . like this — ' Any other time.' Most of us mean to be better men- Any other time : Regular upright characters then — Any other time, ANY OTHER TIME 117 Yet somehow as the years go by Still we gamble and drink and lie, When it comes to the last we'll want to die- Any other time ! THE LAST TRUMP ' You led the trump,' the old man said With fury in his eye, ' And yet you hope my girl to wed ! ' Young man ! your hopes of love are fled, ' 'Twere better she should die ! ' My sweet young daughter sitting there, ' So innocent and plump ! ' You don't suppose that she would care ' To wed an outlawed man who'd dare ' To lead the thirteenth trump ! ' If you had drawn their leading spade ' It meant a certain win ! ' But no ! By Pembroke's mighty shade ' The thirteenth trump you went and played ' And let their diamonds in ! 118 THE LAST TRUMP 119 ' My girl ! Return at my command ' His presents in a lump ! ' Return his ring ! For understand ' No man is fit to hold your hand ' Who leads a thirteenth trump ! ' But hold ! Give every man his due ' And every dog his day. ' Speak up and say what made you do ' This dreadful thing — that is, if you ' Have anything to say ! ' He spoke. ' I meant at first,' said he, ' To give their spades a bump : ' Or lead the hearts, but then you see ' I thought against us there might be, ' Perhaps, a fourteenth trump ! ' They buried him at dawn of day Beside a ruined stump : And there he sleeps the hours away And waits for Gabriel to play The last — the fourteenth — trump. TAR AND FEATHERS Oh ! the circus swooped down On the Narrabri town, For the Narrabri populace moneyed are ; And the showman he smiled At the folk he beguiled To come all the distance from Gunnedah. But a juvenile smart, Who objected to ' part,' Went in ' on the nod,' and to do it he Crawled in through a crack In the tent at the back. For the boy had no slight ingenuity. 120 TAB AND FEATHERS 121 And says he with a grin, ' That's the way to get in ; ' But I reckon I'd better be quiet or ' They'll spiflicate me,' And he chuckled, for he Had the loan of the circus proprietor. But the showman astute On that wily galoot Soon dropped, and you'll say that he leathered him — Not he j with a grim Sort of humorous whim, He took him and tarred him and feathered him. Says he, ' You can go ' Round the world with a show, ' And knock every Injun and Arab wry ; ' With your name and your trade, ' On the posters displayed, ' The feathered what-is-it from Narrabri.' Next day for his freak. By a Narrabri beak, He was jawed with a deal of verbosity ; For his only appeal Was ' professional zeal ' — He Tg^anted another monstrosity. 122 TAR AND FEATHERS Said his worship, ' Begob ! ' You are fined forty bob, ' And six shillin's costs to the clurk ! ' he says. And the Narrabri joy, Half bird and half boy, Has a ' down ' on himself and on circuses. IT'S GRAND It's grand to be a squatter And sit upon a post, And watch your little ewes and lambs A-giving up the ghost. It's grand to be a ' cookie ' With wife and kids to keep, And find an all-wise Providence Has mustered all your sheep. It's grand to be a Western man, With shovel in your hand. To dig your little homestead out From underneath the sand. 123 124 IT'S GRAND It's grand to be a shearer, Along the Darling side, And pluck the wool from stinking sheep That some days since have died. It's grand to be a rabbit And breed till all is blue, And then to die in heaps because There's nothing left to chew. It's grand to be a Minister And travel like a swell. And tell the Central District folk To go to — Inverell. It's grand to be a Socialist And lead the bold array That marches to prosperity At seven bob a day. It's grand to be an unemployed And lie in the Domain, And wake up every second day And go to sleep again. IT'S GRAND 125 It's grand to borrow English tin To pay for wharves and Eocks, And then to find it isn't in The little money-box. It's grand to be a democrat And toady to the mob, For fear that if you told the truth They'd hunt you from your job. It's grand to be a lot of things In this fair Southern land, But if the Lord would send us rain, That would, indeed, be grand ! OUT OF SIGHT They held a polo meeting at a little country town, And all the local sportsmen came to win themselves renown. There came two strangers with a horse, and I am much afraid They both belonged to what is called ' the take-you- down brigade.' They said their horse could jump like fun, and asked an amateur To ride him in the steeplechase, and told him they were sure, The last time round, he'd sail away with such a swallow's flight The rest would never see him go— he'd finish out of sight. 126 OUT OP SIGHT 127 So out he went ; and, when folk saw the amateur was up, Some local genius called the race ' the dude-in-danger cup.' The horse was known as ' Who's Afraid,' by Panic from ' The Fright.' But still his owners told the jock he'd finish out of sight. And so he did ; for ' Who's Afraid,' without the least pretence. Disposed of him by rushing through the very second fence ; And when they ran the last time round the prophecy was right — For he was in the ambulance, and safely ' out of sight.' THE ROAD TO OLD MAN'S TOWN The fields of youth are filled with flowers, The wine of youth is strong : What need have we to count the hours 1 The summer days are long. But soon we find to our dismay That we are drifting down The barren slopes that fall away Towards the foothills grim and grey That lead to Old Man's Town. And marching with us on the track Full many friends we find : We see them looking sadly back For those that dropped behind. 128 THE ROAD TO OLD MAN'S TOWN 129 But God forbid a fate so dread — Alone to travel down The dreary road we all must tread, With faltering steps and whitening head, The road to Old Man's Town ! THE OLD TIMER'S STEEPLECHASE The sheep were shorn and the wool went down At the time of our local racing : And I'd earned a spell — I was burnt and brown- So I rolled my swag for a trip to town And a look at the steeplechasing. 'Twas rough and ready — an uncleared course As rough as the blacks had found it ; With barbed-wire fences, topped with gorse, And a water-jump that would drown a horse, And the steeple three^times round it. There was never a fence the tracks to guard, — Some straggling posts defined 'em : And the day was hot, and the drinking hard. Till none of the stewards could see a yard Before nor yet behind 'em ! 130 THE OLD TIMER'S STEEPLECHASE 131 But the bell was rung and the nags were out, Excepting an old outsider Whose trainer started an awful rout, For his boy had gone on a drinking bout And left him without a rider. ■ Is there not one man in the crowd,' he cried, ' In the whole of the crowd so clever, ' Is there not one man that will take a ride ' On the old white horse from the Northern side ' That was bred on the Mooki River ? ' 'Twas an old white horse that they called The Cow, And a cow would look well beside him ; But I was pluckier then than now (And I wanted excitement anyhow), So at last I agreed to ride him. And the trainer said, ' Well, he's dreadful slow, ' And he hasn't a chance whatever ; ' But I'm stony broke, so it's time to show ' A trick or two that the trainers know ' Who train by the Mooki River. 132 THE OLD TIMER'S STEEPLECHASE ' The first time round at the further side, ' With the trees and the scrub about you, ' Just pull behind them and run out wide ' And then dodge into the scrub and hide, ' And let them go round without you. ' At the third time round, for the final spin ' With the pace, and the dust to blind 'em, ' They'll never notice if you chip in ' For the last half-mile — you'll be sure to win, ' And they'll think you raced behind 'em. ' At the water-jump you may have to swim — ' He hasn't a hope to clear it — ' Unless he skims like the swallows skim ' At full speed over, but not for him ! ' He'll never go next or near it. ' But don't you worry — just plunge across, ' For he swims like a well-trained setter. ' Then hide away in the scrub and gorse ' The rest will be far ahead of course — ' The further ahead the better. THE OLD TIMER'S STEEPLECHASE 133 ' You must rush the jumps in the last half-round ' For fear that he might refuse 'em ; ' He'll try to baulk with you, I'll be bound, ' Take whip and spurs on the mean old hound, ' And don't be afraid to use 'em. At the final round, when the field are slow ' And you are quite fresh to meet 'em, ' Sit down, and hustle him all you know ' With the whip and spurs, and he'll have to go — ' Remember, you've got to beat 'em ! ' The flag went down and we seemed to fly, And we made the timbers shiver Of the first big fence, as the stand flashed by, And I caught the ring of the trainer's cry : ' Go on ! For the Mooki River ! ' I jammed him in with a well-packed crush. And recklessly — out for slaughter — Like a living wave over fence and brush We swept and swung with a flying rush, Till we came to the dreaded water. 134 THE OLD TIMER'S STEEPLECHASE Ha, ha ! I laugh at it now to think Of the way I contrived to work it. Shut in amongst them, before you'd wink, He found himself on the water's brink, With never a chance to shirk it ! The thought of the horror he felt, beguiles The heart of this grizzled rover ! He gave a snort you could hear for miles, And a spring would have cleared the Channel Isles And carried me safely over ! Then we neared the scrub, and I pulled him back In the shade where the gum-leaves quiver : And I waited there in the shadows black While the rest of the horses, round the track. Went on like a rushing river ! At the second round, as the field swept by, I saw that the pace was telling ; But on they thundered, and by-and-bye As they passed the stand T could hear the cry Of the folk in the distance, yelling ! THE OLD TIMER'S STEEPLECHASE 135 Then the last time round ! And the hoofbeats rang ! And I said, ' Well, it's now or never ! ' And out on the heels of the throng I sprang, And the spurs bit deep and the whipcord sang As I rode ! For the Mooki River ! We raced for home in a cloud of dust And the curses rose in chorus. 'Twas flog, and hustle, and jump you must ! And The Cow ran well — but to my disgust There was one got home before us. 'Twas a big black horse, that I had not seen In the part of the race I'd ridden ; And his coat was cool and his rider clean. And I thought that perhaps I had not been The only one that had hidden. And the trainer came with a visage blue With rage, when the race concluded : Said he, ' I thought you'd have pulled us through, ' But the man on the black horse planted too, , And nearer to liome than you did ! ' 136 THE OLD TIMERS STEEPLECHASE Alas to think that those times so gay Have vanished and passed for ever ! You don't believe in the yarn you say 1 Why, man ! 'Twas a matter of every day When we raced on the Mooki River ! IN THE STABLE What ! You don't like him ; well, maybe — we all have our fancies, of course : Brumby to look at you reckon ? Well, no : he's a thoroughbred horse ; Sired by a son of old Panic — look at his ears and his head — Lop-eared and Boman-nosed, ain't he 1 — well, that's how the Panics are bred. Gluttonous, ugly and lazy, rough as a tip-cart to ride, Yet if you offered a sovereign apiece for the hairs on his hide That wouldn't buy him, nor twice that ; while I've a pound to the good, This here old stager stays by me and lives like a , thoroughbred should : 137 138 IN THE STABLE Hunt him away from his bedding, and sit yourself down by the wall, Till you hear how the old fellow saved me from Gilbert, O'Maley and Hall. Gilbert and Hall and O'Maley, back in the bush- ranging days. Made themselves kings of the district — ruled it in old-fashioned ways — Robbing the coach and the escort, stealing our horses at night, Calling sometimes at the homesteads and giving the women a fright : Came to the station one morning — and why they did this no one knows — Took a brood mare from the paddock — wanting some fun, I suppose — Fastened a bucket beneath her, hung by a strap round her flank, Then turned her loose in the timber back of the seven-mile tank. IN THE STABLE ' 139 Go ! She went mad ! She went tearing and screaming with fear through the trees, While the curst bucket beneath her was banging her flanks and her knees. Bucking and racing and screaming she ran to the back of the run. Killed herself there in a gully ; by God, but they paid for their fun ! Paid for it dear, for the black-boys found tracks, and the bucket, and all, And I swore that I'd live to get even with Gilbert, O'Maley and Hall. Day after day then I chased them — 'course they had friends on the sly. Friends who were willing to sell them to those who were willing to buy. Early one morning we found them in camp at the Cockatoo Farm One of us shot at O'Maley and wounded him under the arm : , Ran them for miles in the ranges, till Hall, with his horse fairly beat. Took to the rocks and we lost him — the others made ' good their retreat. 140 IN THE STABLE It was war to the knife then, I tell you, and once, on the door of my shed, They nailed up a notice that offered a hundred reward for my head ! Then we heard they were gone from the district they stuck up a coach in the West, And I rode by myself in the paddocks, taking a bit of a rest, Riding this colt as a youngster — awkward, half- broken and shy, He wheeled round one day on a sudden ; I looked, but I couldn't see why, But I soon found out why, for before me, the hiUside rose up like a wall, And there on the top with their rifles were Gilbert, O'Maley and Hall ! 'Twas a good three-mile run to the homestead — bad going, with plenty of trees — So I gathered the youngster together, and gripped at his ribs with my knees. 'Twas a mighty poor chance to escape them ! It puts a man's nerve to the test On a half-broken colt to be hunted by the best mounted men in the West. IN THE STABLE 141 But the half-broken colt was a racehorse ! He lay down to work with a will, Flashed through the scrub like a clean-skin — by Heavens we flew down the hill ! Over a twenty-foot gully he swept with the spring of a deer And they fired as we jumped, but they missed me — a bullet sang close to my ear — And the jump gained us ground, for they shirked it : but I saw as we raced through the gap That the rails at the homestead were fastened — I was caught like a rat in a trap. Fenced with barbed wire was the paddock — barbed wire that would cut like a knife — How was a youngster to clear it that never had jumped in his life! Bang went a rifle behind me — the colt gave a spring, he was hit ; Straight at the sliprails I rode him — I felt him take hold of the bit ; Never a foot to the right or the left did he swerve in his stride, Awkward and frightened, but honest, the sort it's a pleasure to ride ! 142 IN THE STABLE Straight at the rails, where they'd fastened barbed wire on the top of the post, Rose like a stag and went over, with hardly a scratch at the most ; Into the homestead I darted, and snatched down my gun from the wall, And I tell you I made them step lively, Gilbert, O'Maley and Hall ! Yes ! There's the mark of the bullet — he's got it inside of him yet Mixed up somehow with his victuals, but bless you he don't seem to fret ! Gluttonous, ugly, and lazy — eats any thing he can bite; Now, let us shut up the stable, and bid the old fellow good-night : Ah ! We can't breed 'em, the sort that were bred when we old 'uns were young. Yes, I was saying, these bushrangers, none of 'em lived to be hung, Gilbert was shot by the troopers. Hall was betrayed by his friend, Campbell disposed of O'Maley, bringing the lot to an end. IN THE STABLE 143 But you can talk about riding — I've ridden a lot in the past — Wait till there's rifles behind you, you'll know what it means to go fast ! I've steeplechased, raced, and 'run horses,' but I think the most dashing of all Was the ride when the old fellow saved me from Gilbert, O'Maley and Hall ! " HE GIVETH HIS BELOVED SLEEP " The long day passes with its load of sorrow : In slumber deep I lay me down to rest until to-morrow — Thank God for sleep. Thank God for all respite from weary toiling, From cares that creep Across our lives like evil shadows, spoiling God's kindly sleep. We plough and sow, and, as the hours grow later, We strive to reap, And build our barns, and hope to build them greater Before we sleep. We toil and strain and strive with one another In hopes to heap Some greater share of profit than our brother Before we sleep. 144 145 " HE GIVETH HIS BELOVED SLEEP What will it profit that with tears or laughter Our watch we keep 1 Beyond it all there lies the Great Hereafter ! Thank God for sleep ! For, at the last, beseeching Christ to save us, We turn with deep Heart-felt thanksgiving unto God, who gave us The Gift of Sleep. DRIVER SMITH 'TwAS Driver Smith of Battery A was anxious to see a fight ; He thought of the Transvaal all the day, he thought of it all the night — ' "Well, if the battery's left behind, I'll go to the war,' says he, ' I'll go a-driving an ambulance in the ranks of the A.M.C. ' I'm fairly sick of these here parades, it's want of a change that kills ' A-oharging the Randwiok Rifle Range and aiming at Surry Hills. ' And I think if I go with the ambulance I'm certain to find a show, ' For they have to send the Medical men wherever the troops can go. 146 DRIVER SMITH 147 ' Wherever the rifle bullets flash and the Maxims raise a din, ' It's there you'll find the Medical men a-raking the wounded in — ' A-raking 'em in like human flies — and a driver smart like me ' Will find some scope for his extra skill in the ranks of the A.M.C So Driver Smith he went to the war a-cracking his driver's whip, From ambulance to collecting base they showed him his regular trip. And he said to the boys that were marching past, as he gave his whip a crack, ' You'll walk yourselves to the fight,' says he — ' Lord spare me, I'll drive you back.' Now, the fight went on in the Transvaal hills for the half of a day or more, And Driver Smith he worked his trip — all aboard for the seat of war ! He took his load from the stretcher men and hurried 'em homeward fast Till he heard a sound that he knew full well — a battery rolling past. 148 DRIVER SMITH He heard the clink of the leading chains and the roll of the guns behind — He heard the crack of the drivers' whips, and he says to 'em, ' Strike me blind, ' I'll miss me trip with this ambulance, although I don't care to shirk, , ' But I'll take the car off the line to-day and follow the guns at work.' Then up the Battery Colonel came a-cursing 'em black in the face. ' Sit down and shift 'em, you drivers there, and gallop 'em into place.' So off the Battery rolled and swung, a-going a merry dance. And holding his own with the leading gun goes Smith with his ambulance. They opened fire on the mountain side, a-peppering by and large, When over the hill above their flank the Boers came down at the charge ; They rushed the guns with a daring rush, a-voUeying left and right, And Driver Smith with his ambulance moved up to the edge of the fight. DRIVER SMITH 149 The gunners stuck to their guns like men, and fought like the wild cats fight, For a Battery man don't leave his gun with ever a hope in sight ; But the bullets sang and the Mausers cracked and the Battery men gave way, Till Driver Smith with his ambulance drove into the thick of the fray. He saw the head of the Transvaal troop a-thundering to and fro, A hard old face with a monkey beard — a face that he seemed to know ; ' Now, who's that leader,' said Driver Smith, ' I've seen him before to-day. ' Why, bless my heart, but it's Kruger's self,' and he jumped for him straight away. He collared old Kruger round the waist and hustled him into the van. It wasn't according to stretcher drill for raising a wounded man ; But he forced him in and said, ' All aboard, we're oflF for a little ride, ' And you'll have the car to yourself,' says he, ' I reckon we're full inside.' 150 DRIVER SMITH He wheeled his team on the mountain side and set 'em a merry pace, A-galloping over the rocks and stones, and a lot of the Boers gave chase ; But Driver Smith had a fairish start, and he said to the Boers, ' Good-day, ' You have Buckley's chance for to catch a man that was trained ia Battery A.' He drove his team to the hospital and said to the P.M.O., ' Beg pardon, sir, but I missed a trip, mistaking the way to go ; * ' And Kruger came to the ambulance and asked could we spare a bed, ' So I fetched him here, and we'll take him home to show for a bob a head.' So the word went round to the English troops to say they need fight no more. For Driver Smith with his ambulance had ended the blooming war : And in London now at the music halls he's starring it every night. And drawing a hundred pounds a week to tell how he won the fight THERE'S ANOTHER BLESSED HORSE FELL DOWN When you're lying in your hammock, sleeping soft and sleeping sound, Without a care or trouble on your mind. And there's nothing to disturb you but the engines going round, And you're dreaming of the girl you left behind ; In the middle of your joys you'll be wakened by a noise, And a clatter on the deck above your crown. And you'll hear the corporal shout as he turns the picket out, ' There's another blessed horse fell down.' You can see 'em in the morning, when you're cleaning out the stall, A-leaning on the railings nearly dead, 151 152 ANOTHER BLESSED HORSE FELL DOWN And you reckon by the evening they'll be pretty sure to fall, And you curse them as you tumble into bed. Oh, you'll hear it pretty soon, ' Pass the word for Denny Moon, ' There's a horse here throwing handsprings like a clown ; And it's ' Shove the others back or he'll cripple half the pack, ' There's another blessed horse fell down.' And when the war is over and the fighting all is done. And you're all at home with medals on your chest, And you've learnt to sleep so soundly that the firing of a gun At your bedside wouldn't rob you of your rest ; As you lie in slumber deep, if your wife walks in her sleep, And tumbles down the stairs and breaks her crown. Oh, it won't awaken you, for you'll say, ' It's nothing new, ' It's another blessed horse fell down,' ON THE TREK Oh, the weary, weary journey on the trek, day after day, With sun above and silent veldt below ; And our hearts keep turning homeward to the youngsters far away. And the homestead where the climbing roses grow. Shall we see the flats grow golden with the ripening of the grain ? Shall we hear the parrots calling on the bough 1 Ah ! the weary months of marching ere we hear them call again. For we're going on a long job now. In the drowsy days on escort, riding slowly half asleep. With the endless line of waggons stretching back, 153 154 ON THE TREK While the khaki soldiers travel like a mob of travelling sheep, Plodding silent on the never-ending track, While the constant snap and sniping of the foe you never see Makes you wonder will your turn come— when and how? As the Mauser ball hums past you like a vicious kind of bee — Oh ! we're going on a long job now. When the dash and the excitement and the novelty are dead, And you've seen a load of wounded once or twice. Or you've watched your old mate dying — with the vultures overhead, Well, you wonder if the war is worth the price. And down along Monaro now they're starting out to shear, I can picture the excitement and the row ; But they'll miss me on the Lachlan when they call the roll this year, For we're going on a long job now. THE LAST PARADE With never a sound of trumpet, With never a flag displayed, The last of the old campaigners Lined up for the last parade. Weary they were and battered, Shoeless, and knocked about ; From under their ragged forelocks Their hungry eyes looked out. And they watched as the old commander Read out, to the cheering men, The Nation's thanks and the orders To carry them home again. And the last of the old campaigners, Sinewy, lean, and spare — He spoke for his hungry comrades : ' Have we not done our share ? 155 166 THE LAST PARADE ' Starving and tired and thirsty ' We limped on the blazing plain ; ' And after a long night's picket ' You saddled us up again. ' We froze on the wind-swept kopjes ' When the frost lay snowy-white. ' Never a halt in the daytime, ' Never a rest at night ! ' We knew when the rifles rattled ' From the hillside bare and brown, ' And over our weary shoulders ' We felt warm blood run down, ' As we turned for the stretching gallop, ' Crushed to the earth with weight ; ' But we carried our riders through it — ' Carried them p'raps too late. ' Steel ! We were steel to stand it — ' We that have lasted through, ' We that are old campaigners ' Pitiful, poor, and few. THE LAST PARADE 157 ' Over the sea you brought us, ' Over the leagues of foam : ' Now we have served you fairly ' Will you not take us home 1 ' Home to the Hunter River, ' To the flats where the lucerne grows ; ' Home where the Murrumbidgee ' Runs white with the melted snows. ' This is a small thing surely ! ' Will not you give command ' That the last of the old campaigners ■ ' Go back to their native land ? ' They looked at the grim commander, But never a sign he made. ■ Dismiss ! ' and the old campaigners Moved oflF from their last parade WITH FRENCH TO KIMBERLEY The Boers were down on Kimberley with siege and Maxim gun ; The Boers were down on Kimberley, their numbers ten to one ! Paint were the hopes the British had to make the struggle good, Defenceless in an open plain the Diamond City stood. They built them forts from bags of sand, they fought from roof and wall. They flashed a message to the south ' Help ! or the town must fall ! ' And down our ranks the order ran to march at dawn of day, For French was off to Kimberley to drive the Boers away. 158 WITH FRENCH TO KIMBERLEy 159 He made no march -along the line ; he made no front attack Upon those Magersfontein heights that drove the Scotchmen back ; But eastward over pathless plains by open veldt and vley, Across the front of Oronje's force his troopers held their way. The springbuck, feeding on the flats where Modder River runs, Were startled by his horses' hoofs, the rumble of his guns. The Dutchman's spies that watched his march from every rocky wall Rode back in haste ; ' He marches east ! He threatens Jacobsdal ! ' Then north he wheeled as wheels the hawk and showed to their dismay, That French was off to Kimberley to drive the Boers away. His column was five thousand strong^all mounted men — and guns : There met, beneath the world-wide iiag, the world- wide Empire's sons ; 160 WITH FRENCH TO KIMBEELEY They came to prove to all the earth that kinship conquers space, And those who fight the British Isles must fight the British race ! From far New Zealand's flax and fern, from cold Canadian snows, From Queensland plains, where hot as fire the summer sunshine glows ; And in the front the Lancers rode that New South Wales had sent : With easy stride across the plain their long, lean Walers went. " Unknown, untried, those squadrons were, but proudly out they drew Beside the English regiments that fought at Waterloo. From every coast, from every clime, they met in proud array, To go with French to Kimberley to drive the Boers away. He crossed the Reit and fought his way towards the Modder bank. The foemen closed behind his march, and hung upon the flank. WITH FRENCH TO KIMBERLEY 161 The long, dry grass was all ablaze, and fierce the veldt fire runs ; He fought them through a wall of flame that blazed around the guns ! Then limbered up and drove at speed, though horses fell and died ; We might not halt for man nor beast on that wild, daring ride. Black with the smoke and parched with thirst, we pressed the livelong day Our headlong march to Kimberley to drive the Boers away. We reached the drift at fall of night, and camped across the ford. Next day from all the hills around the Dutchman's cannons roared. A narrow pass between the hills, with guns on either side ; The boldest man might well turn pale before that pass he tried, For if the first attack should fail then every hope was gone: But French looked once, and only once, and then he said, ' Push on ! ' 162 WITH FRENCH TO KIMBERLEf The gunners plied their guns amain ; the hail of shrapnel flew ; With rifle fire and lancer charge their squadrons back we threw ; And through the pass between the hills we swept in furious fray, And French was through to Kimberley to drive the Boers away. Ay, French was through to Kimberley ! And ere the day was done We saw the Diamond City stand, lit by the evening sun : Above the town the heliograph hung like an eye of flame : Around the town the foemen camped — they knew not that we came ; But soon they saw us, rank on rank ; they heard our squadrons' tread ; In panic fear they left their tents, in hopeless rout they fled ; And French rode into Kimberley ; the people cheered amain, The women came with tear-stained eyes to touch his bridle rein, WITH FRENCH TO KIMBERLEY 163 The starving children lined the streets to raise a feeble cheer, The bells rang out a joyous peal to say ' Relief is here !' Ay ! we that saw that stirring march are proud that we can say We went with French to Kimberley to drive the Boers away. JOHNNY BOER Men fight all shapes and sizes as the racing horses run, And no man knows his courage till he stands before a gun. At mixed-up fighting, hand to hand, and clawing men about They reckon Juzzy-wuzzy is the hottest fighter out. But Fuzzy gives himself away — his style is out of date, He charges like a driven grouse that rushes on its fate ; You've nothing in the world to do but pump him full of lead : But when you're fighting Johnny Boer you have to use your head ; He don't believe in front attacks or charging at the run, He fights you from a kopje with his little Maxim gun. 164 JOHNNY BOER 165 For when the Lord He made the earth, it seems uncommon clear, He gave the job of Africa to some good engineer. Who started building fortresses on fashions of his own — Lunettes, redoubts, and counterscarps all made of rock and stone. The Boer needs only bring a gun, for ready to his hand He finds these heaven-built fortresses all scattered through the land j And there he sits and winks his eye and wheels his gun about. And we must charge across the plain to hunt the beggar out. It ain't a game that grows on us, there's lots of better fun Than charging at old Johnny with his little Maxim gun. On rocks a goat could scarcely climb, steep as the walls of Troy, He wheels a four-point-seven about as easy as a toy; 166 JOHNNY BOER With bullocks yoked and drag-ropes manned, he lifts her up the rocks And shifts her every now and then, as cunning as a fox. At night you mark her right ahead, you see her clean and clear, Next day at dawn — ' What, ho ! she bumps ' — from somewhere in the rear. Or else the keenest-eyed patrol will miss him with the glass — He's lying hidden in the rocks to let the leaders pass ; But when the main guard comes along he opens up the fun. There's lots of ammunition for the Uttle Maxim gun. But after all the job is sure, although the job ia slow, We have to see the business through, the Boer has got to go. With Nordenfeldt and lyddite shell it's certain, soon or late. We'll hunt him from his kopjes and across the Orange State ; And then across those open flats you'll see the beggar run, And we'll be running after with our little Maxim gun. WHAT HAVE THE CAVALRY DONE What have the cavalry done ? Cantered and trotted about, Routin" the enemy out, Causin' the beggars to run ! And we tramped along in the blazin' heat. Over the veldt on our weary feet. Tramp, tramp, tramp Under the blazin' sun, With never the sight of a bloomin' Boer, 'Cause they'd hunted 'em long before — That's what the cavalry done ! What have the gunners done Battlin' every day, Battlia' any way. Boers outranged 'em, but what cared they 1 Shoot and be damned,' said the R.H.A. ! 167 168 WHAT HAVE THE CAVALRY DONE See ! when the fight grows hot, Under the rifles or not, Always the order runs, ' Fetch up the bloomin' guns ! ' And you'd see them great gun-horses spring To the ' action front ' — and around they'd swing. Find the range with some queer machine ' At four thousand with fuse fourteen. ' Ready ! Fire number one ! ' Handled the battery neat and quick ! Stick to it, too ! How did they stick ! Never a gunner was seen to run ! Never a gunner would leave his gun ! Not though his mates dropped all around ! Always a gunner would stand his ground. Take the army — the infantry, Mounted rifles, and cavalry. Twice the numbers I'd give away. And I'd fight the lot with the E.H.A., For they showed us how a corps should be run. That's what the gunners done! RIGHT IN THE FRONT OF THE ARMY ' Where 'ave you been this week or more, ' 'Aven't seen you about the war ? ' Thought perhaps you was at the rear ' Guarding the waggons.' ' What, us ? No fear ! ' Where have we been 1 Why, bless my heart, Where have we been since the bloomin' start ? ' Right in the front of the army, ' Battling day and night ! ' Right in the front of the army, ' Teaching 'em how to fight ! ' Every separate man you see. Sapper, gunner, and C.I.V., Every one of 'em seems to be Right in the front of the army ! Most of the troops to the camp had gone, When we met with a cow-gun toiling on ; Afld we said to the boys, as they walked her past, 169 170 RIGHT IN THE FRONT OF THE ARMY ' Well, thank goodness, you're here at last ! ' ' Here at last ! Why, what d'yer mean 1 ' Ain't we just where we've always been ? ' Right in the front of the army, ' Battling day and night ! ' Right in the front of the army, ' Teaching 'em how to fight ! ' Correspondents and vets, in force, Mounted foot and dismounted horse, All of them were, as a matter of course, Right in the front of the army. Old Lord Roberts will have to mind If ever the enemy get behind ; For they'll smash him up with a rear attack, Because his army has got no back ! Think of the horrors that might befall An army without any rear at all ! Right in the front of the army, Battling day and night ! Right in the front of the army, Teaching 'em how to fight ! Swede attache's and German counts, Yeomen (known as De Wet's remounts). All of them were by their own accounts Right in the front of the army ! THAT V.C. 'TwAS in the days of front attack, This glorious truth we'd yet to learn it — That every ' front ' had got a back, And French was just the man to turn it. A wounded soldier on the ground Was lying hid behind a hummock ; He proved the good old proverb sound — An army travels on its stomach. He lay as flat as any fish. His nose had worn a little furrow ; He only had one frantic wish, That like an antbear he could burrow. The bullets whistled into space, The pom-pom gun kept up its braying. The four-point-seven supplied the bass — You'd think the devil's band was playing. 171 172 THAT V.C. A valiant comrade crawling near Observed his most supine behaviour, And crept towards him, ' Hey ! what cheer 1 ' Buck up,' said he, ' I've come to save yer. ' You get up on my shoulders, mate, ' And if we live beyond the firing, ' I'll get the V.C. sure as fate, ' Because our blokes is all retiring. ' It's fifty pounds a year,' says he, ' I'll stand you lots of beer and whisky.' ' No,' says the wounded man, ' not me, ' I'll not be saved, it's far too risky. ' I'm fairly safe behind this mound, ' I've worn a hole that seems to fit me ; ' But if you lift me ofif the ground, ' It's fifty pounds to one they'll hit me.' So back towards the firing line Our friend crept slowly to the rear oh ! Remarking ' What a selfish swine ! ' He might have let me be a hero.' FED UP I ain't a timid man at all, I'm just as brave as most, I'll take my chance in open fight and die beside my post ; But riding round the 'ole day long as target for a Krupp, A-drawing fire from Koppies — well, I'm fair fed up. It's wonderful how few get hit, it's luck that pulls us through ; Their rifle fire's no class at all, it misses me and you ; But when they sprinkle shells around like water from a cup From that there blooming pom-pom gun — well, I'm fed up. We never get a chance to charge, to do a thrust and cut, I'll have to chuck the Cavalry and join the Mounted Fut. 173 174 FED UP But after all — What's Mounted Fut? I saw them t'other day, They occupied a Koppie when the Boers had run away. The Cavalry went riding on and seen a score of fights, But there they kept them Mounted Fut three solid days and nights — Three solid starving days and nights with scarce a bite or sup, Well ! after that on Mounted Fut I'm fair fed up. And tramping with the Footies ain't as easy as it looks. They scarcely ever see a Boer except in picture books. They do a march of twenty mile that leaves 'em nearly dead, And then they find the bloomin' Boers is twenty miles ahead. Each Footy is as full of fight as any bulldog pup, But walking forty miles to fight — well, I'm fed up ! So after all I think that when I leave the Cavalry I'll either join the ambulance or else the A.S.C. ; They've always tucker in the plate and coffee in the cup, But Bully Beef and Biscuits — well ! I'm fair fed up ! JOCK ! There's a soldier that's been doing of his share In the fighting up and down and round about. He's continually marching here and there And he's fighting, morning in and morning out. The Boer, you see, he generally runs ; But sometimes when he hides behind a rock. And we can't make no impression with the guns, Oh, then you'll hear the order, ' Send for Jock ! ' Yes, it's Jock — Scotch Jock. He's the fellow that can give or take a knock. For he's hairy and he's hard. And his feet are by the yard. And his face is like the face what's on a clock. But when the bullets fly you will mostly hear the cry- ' Send for Jock ! ' 175 176 JOCK The Cavalry have gun and sword and lance, Before they choose their weapon, why, they're dead. The Mounted Fut are hampered in advance By holding of their helmets on their head. And when the Boer has dug himself a trench And placed his Maxim gun behind a rock, These mounted heroes — pets of Johnny French — They have to sit and wait and send for Jock ! Yes, the Jocks — Scotch Jocks, With their music that'd terrify an ox ! When the bullets kick the sand You can hear the sharp command — ' Forty-Second ! At the double ! Charge the rocks ! ' And the charge is like a flood When they've warmed the Highland blood Of the Jocks ! SANTA CLAUS Halt I Who goes there 1 The sentry's call Rose on the midnight air Above the noises of the camp, The roll of wheels, the horses' tramp. The challenge echoed over all — Halt ! Who goes there 1 A quaint old figure clothed in white, He bore a staff of pine, An ivy-wreath was on his head. ' Advance, oh friend,' the sentry said, ' Advance, for this is Christmas night, ' And give the countersign.' ' No sign nor countersign have I, ' Through many lands I roam ' The whole world over far and wide, 177 178 SANTA CLAUS ' To exiles all at Christmastide, ' From those who love them tenderly ' I bring a thought of home. ' From English brook and Scottish burn, ' From cold Canadian snows, ' From those far lands ye hold most dear ' I bring you all a greeting here, ' A frond of a New Zealand fern, ' A bloom of English rose. ' From faithful wife and loving lass ' I bring a wish divine, ' For Christmas blessings on your head.' ' I wish you well,' the sentry said, ' But here, alas ! you may not pass ' Without the countersign.' He vanished— and the sentry's tramp Re-echoed down the line. It was not till the morning light The soldiers knew that in the night Old Santa Glaus had come to camp "Without the countersign. LIST OF BOOKS PUBLISHED BY ANGUS & ROBERTSON 89 CASTLEREAaH STREET, SYDNEY 205 SWANSTON STREET, MELBOURNE SOLD IN ENGLAND BY THE AUSTRALIAN BOOK COMPANY 38 WEST SMITHFIELD, LONDON, EX. TH E COMMONWEALTH SERIES Crown 8vo., Is. eaoli {post free Is. 3d. each). ON THE TRACK : New Stories. By HENRY LA WSON OVER THE SLIPRAILS : New Stories. By H. LA WSON POPULAR VERSES. By HENRY LA WSON Now first published in book form. HUMOROUS VERSES. By HENRY LA WSON Now first pvhlished in look form. WHILE THE BILLY BOILS : Australian Stories. First Series. By HENRY LA WSON WHILE THE BILLY BOILS : Australian Stories. Second Series. By HENRY LA WSON MY CHINEE COOK AND OTHER HUMOROUS VERSES. By BRUNTON STEPHENS HISTORY OF AUSTRALASIA: From the Earliest Times to the Inauguration of the Commonwealth. By A. W. JOSE HISTORY OF AUSTRALIAN BUSHRANGING. By CHARLES WHITE Part I. — The Eaely Days. Part II.— 1850 to 1862, Part III.— 1863 to 1869. Part IV.— 1869 to 1878. For press notices of these books see the cloth-bound editions on pages 4, 5, 6, 9 and 13 of this catalogue. JOE WILSON AND HIS MATES. By henry LAWSON, Author of " While the Billy Boils ; " " When the World was Wide and Other Verses ; " " Verses, Popular and Humorous ; " " On the Track and Over the Sliprails." Crown 8 vo, cloth gilt, 3s. 6d. {postjree 4s.) in paper covers, 2s. 6d. {post free 3s.) The Athenaeum (London) : " This is a long way the best work Mr. Lawson has yet given us. These stories are so good that (from the literary point of view, of course) one hopes they are not auto- biographical. As autobiography they would be good ; as pure fiction they are more of an attainment." Pall Mall Gazette : " We can see in these rough diamonds the men who have of late so distinguished themselves at Bland's River and elsewhere." The Argus : " More tales of the Joe Wilson series are promised, and this will be gratifying to Mr. Lawson's admirers, for on the whole the sketches are the best work the writer has so far accomplished." The Academy : — " I have never read anything in modern English literature that is so absolutely demo- cratic in tone, so much the real thing, as Joe Wilson's Courtship. And so with all Lawson's tales and sketches. Tolstoy and Ho wells, and Whitman and Kipling, and Zola and Hauptmann and Grorky have all written descriptions of 'democratic' life; but none of these celebrated authors, not even Maupassant himself, has so absolutely taken us inside the life as do the tales Joe Wilson's Courtship and A Double Buggy at Lahey's Creek, and it is this rare convincing tone of this Aus- tralian writer that gives him a great value. The most casual 'newspapery' and apparently artless art of this Australian writer carries with it a truer, finer, more delicate commentary on life than all the idealistic works of any of our genteel school of writers." VERSES: POPULAR AND HUMOROUS. By HENRY LAWSON, Author of "When the World was Wide, and Other Verses," " Joe Wilson and His Mates," " On the Track and Over the Slip- rails," and " While the Billy Boils." Crown 8vo, cloth gilt, 3s. 6d. {post free 4s.). For Cheaper Edition see Commonwealth Series, page S, Peancis Thompson, in The Daily Chronicle : " He is a writer of strong and ringing ballad verse, who gets his blows straight in, and at his best makes them all tell. He can vignette the life he knows in a few touches, and in this book shows an increased power of selection." Academy ; " Mr, Lawson's work should be well known to our readers ; for we have urged them often enough to make acquaintance with it. He has the gift of movement, and he rarely offers a loose rhyme. Technically, short of anxious lapidary work, these verses are excellent. He varies sentiment and humour very agreeably." New YorJc Evening Journal : " Such pride as a man feels when he has true greatness as his guest, this newspaper feels in introducing to a million readers a man of ability hitherto unknown to them. Henry Lawson is his name." The Book Lover : " Any book of Lawson's should be bought and treasured by all who care for the real beginnings of Australian literature. As a matter of fact, he is the one Australian literary product, in any distinctive sense." ON THE TRACK AND OVER THE 8LIPRAILS. Stoeiks by henry LAWSON, Author of " While the Billy Boils," "Joe Wilson and his Mates," "When the World Was Wide and Other Verses," and " Verses, Popular and Humorous." Crown 8vo, cloth gilt, 3s. 6d. (post /ree 4s.). For Cheaper Edition see Commonwealth Series, page S. Daily Chronicle : " Will well sustain the reputation its author has already won as the best writer of Australian short stories and sketches the literary world knows. Henry Lawson has the art, possessed in such eminent degree by Mr. J. M. Barrie, of sketching in a character and suggesting a whole life-story in a single sentence." Pall Mall Gazette : "The volume now received will do much to enhance the author's reputation. There is all the quiet irresistible humour of Dickens in the description of ' The Darling River,' and the creator of 'Truthful James' never did anything better in the way of character sketches than Steelman and Mitchell. Mr. Lawson has a master's sense of what is dramatic, and he can bring out strong effects in a few touches. Humour and pathos, comedy and tragedy, are equally at his command." Glasg-OW Herald : " Mr. Lawson must now be regarded as facile princeps in the production of the short tale. Some of these brief and even slight sketches are veritable gems that would be spoiled by an added word, and without a word that can be looked upon as superfluous." Melbourne Punch : " Often the little stories are wedges cut clean out of life, and presented with artistic truth and vivid colour." WHILE THE BILLY BOILS. Stories by HENRY LAWSON, Author o! "When the World Was Wide and Other Verses," "Joe Wilsoa and his Mates," " On the Track and Oyer the Sliprails," and "Verses, Popular and Humorous." Twenty -third Thousand. With eight plates and vignette title, by F. P. Mahony. Crown 8vo, cloth gilt, 3s. 6d. {post free 4s-). For Cheaper Edition aee Commonwealth Series, page S. The Academy : " A book of honest, direct, sympa- thetic, humorous writing about Australia from within is worth a library of travellers' tales. . . . The result is a real book — a book in a hundred. His language is terse, supple, and richly idiomatic. He can tell a yarn with the best." Literature : " A book which Mrs. Campbell Praed assured me made her feel that all she had written of bush life was pale and ineffective." The Spectator : " It is strange that one we would venture to call the greatest Australian writer should be practically unknown in England. Mr. Lawson is a less experienced writer than Mr. Kipling, and more unequal, but there are two or three sketches in this volume which for vigour and truth can hold their own with even so great a rival." The Times : " A collection of short and vigorous studies and stories of Australian life and character. A little in Bret Harte's manner, crossed, perhaps, with that of Guy de Maupassant." The Scotsman : " There is no lack of dramatic imagination in the construction of the tales ; and the best of them contrive to construct a strong sensational situation in a couple of pages." WHEN THE WORLD WAS WIDE AND OTHER VERSES. By henry LAWSON, Author of "While the Billy Boils;" "Joe Wilson and his Mates," "On the Track and Over the Sliprails," and " Verses, Popular and Humorous." Eleventh Thousand. With photogravure portrait and vignette title. Crown 8vo, cloth gilt, gilt top, 5s. (post free 5s. 5d.). Presentation edition, French Morocco, gilt edges, 9s. The Speaker (London) : " There are poems in ' In the Days when the World was Wide ' which are of a higher mood than any yet heard in distinctiyely Aus- tralian poetry." The Academy : "These ballads (for such they mostly are) abound in spirit and manhood, in the colour and smell of Australian soil. They deserve the popularity which they have won in Australia, and which, we trust, this edition will now give them in England." Newcastle Weekly Chronicle : "Swinging, rhyth- mic verse." Sydney Morning: Herald : " The verses have natural vigour, the writer has a rough, true faculty of characterisation, and the book is racy of the soil from cover to cover." Bulletin : " How graphic he is, how natural, how true, how strong." OtagO Witness : " It were well to have such books upon our shelves. . . . They are true history." THE MAN FROM SNOWY RIVER AND OTHER VERSES. By a. B. PATERSON. Twenty-Seventh Thousand. With photo- gravure portrait and vignette title. Crown 8vo, cloth gilt, gilt top, 5s. {post free 5s. Bd.). Presentation edition, French Moroceo, gilt edges, 9b. The Literary Year Book : " The immediate success of this book of bush ballads is without parallel in Colonial literary annals, nor can any living English or American poet boast so wide a public, always excepting Mr. Rudyard Kipling." The Times : " At his best he compares not unfavour- ably with the author of ' Barrack Room Ballads.' " Spectator : " These lines have the true lyrical cry in them. Eloquent and ardent verses." Athenaeum : " Swinging, rattling ballads of ready humour, ready pathos, and crowding adventure. . . . Stirring and entertaining ballads about great rides, in which the lines gallop like the very hoofs of the horses." Mr. A. Patchett Martin, in Literature (London) : " In my opinion it is the absolutely un-English, thoroughly Australian style and character of these new bush bards which has given them such immediate popularity, such wide vogue, among all classes of the rising native generation." London: Macmillan & Co., Limited. 8 THE POETICAL WORKS OF BRUNTON STEPHENS. New edition, with photogravure portrait. Crown 8vo, cloth gilt, gilt top, 5s. See also Commonwealth Series, page S, Sydney Morning Herald (N.S.W.) : " ' The Poeti- cal Works of Brunton Stephens' is a book which every Australian should have on_his bookshelves, whether these bookshelves cover walls or are merely the small collection which the man of taste, however shrunken his purse, is bound to make. Brunton Stephens deserves his place in even the smallest of collections. The chief of Australian poets he has contributed to English literature work of distinguished merit. He is many-sided, embracing all sorts and conditions of men and things." The Melbourne ArgfUS: "Mr. Brunton Stephens has for some years enjoyed an established reputa- tion as one of the best among the small and select cluster of Australian poets Mr. Stephens is specially favoured, in that he not only has at command a vein of true pathos, but he has moments of real humour. In more than one poem, too, he has made good his right to be regarded as the poet of brotherhood and the prophet of federation." The Melbourne Age : " It is certainly one of the happiest of his efforts, and exhibits alike his copious vocabulary and his mastery of a most attractive form of metre. ... A poet both in thought and feeling." Newcastle (N.S.W.) Morning Herald : " Of the rapidly lengthening roll of Australian writers, none deserves a higher place than Brunton Stephens. For more than a generation he has charmed his country- men with his exquisite verse." RHYMES FROM THE MINES AND OTHER LINES. By EDWARD DYSON, Author of "A Golden Shanty." Second Thousand. With photogravure portrait and vignette title. Crown 8vo, cloth gilt, gilt top, 5s. (post free, 5s. 5d.). Presentation edition, French Morocco, gilt edges, 9s. FOR THE TERM OF HIS NATURAL LIFE. By MARCUS CLARKE. With a Memoir of the Author, by A. B. Paterson, Portrait of the Author, Map of Eagle Hawk Neck and the vicinity, and 14 full-page views ot places mentioned in the book. Crown 8vo, cloth gilt, gilt top, 3s. 6d. (post free, 4s.) RIO GRANDE'S LAST RACE AND OTHER VERSES. By a. B. paterson. This is issued uniform with the Snowy River Series at 5s. The contents are quite up to the standard of " The Man from Snowy River," and as the demand is certain to be very large we would ask the Trade to place their orders at once. 10 FLOOD-TIDE. By SARAH P. McL. GREENE, Author of " Vesty of the Basins," &c. Cloth, 3s. 6d.; paper, 2s. 6d. The ApgfUS (Albany, N.Y.) : " ' Flood-Tide ' is a strong dramatic story of primitive life in a hamlet coast town in Maine. It is a study of human nature set in primitive surroundings, and is full of the pathos and humour of life's little comedies. ' Flood- Tide' is full of 'characters.' There is Johnny Dinsmore, whose wayward humours and mischievous pranks keep his mother and the whole neighbour- hood on thorns, and who is one of the most delightful young imps ever turned loose in fiction, not even excepting Sentimental Tommy. Captain Shale, with his scraps of rustic philosophy, is a quaint original, worthy of David Harum's companionship. His reflections on the subject of clothes are of a piece with those of Teufelsdrochk : ' The world's a-dyin* of clo's. So fur as I can see, the sons o' men is pretty much all a-strugglin' for one kind and another o' clo's j that's what it amounts to THE SPIRIT OF THE BUSH FIRE AND OTHER AUSTRALIAN FAIRY TALES. By j. m. whitfeld. Second Thousand. With 32 illustrations by G. W. Lambert. Crown 8vo, cloth gilt, 2s. 6d. [post free, 3s.). n TEENS. A story of Australian Schoolgirls. Bt LOUISE MACK. Fourth Thousand. With 14 full-page illus- trations by F. P. Mahony. Crown 8vo, cloth gilt, 2s. 6d. Sydney Morning Herald : " Ought to be welcome to all who feel the responsibility of choosing the read- ing books of the young ... its gaiety, impulsiveness, and youthfulness will charm them." Sydney Daily Telegraph : " Nothing could be more natural, more sympathetic" The Australasian : " 'Teens' is a pleasantly- written story, very suitable for a present or a school prize." Bulletin : " It is written so well that it could not be written better." GIRLS TOGETHER. A Sequel to " Teens." By LOUISE MACK. Third Thousand. Illustrated by G. W. Lambert. Crown 8vo, cloth gilt, 2s. 6d. Sydney Morning Herald: "'Girls Together' should be in the library of every girl who likes a pleasant story of real life. . . Older people will read it for its bright touches of human nature." Queenslander : "A story told in a dainty style that makes it attractive to all. It is fresh, bright, and cheery, and well worth a place on any Australian bookshelf." 12 THE ANNOTATED CONSTITU- TION OF THE AUSTRALIAN COMMONWEALTH. By Sir JOHN QUICK and K R. GARRAN, C.M.G. Royal 8vo, cloth gilt, 21s. The Times : " The Annotated Constitution of the Australian Commonwealth is a monument of industry. . . . Dr. Quick and Mr. Grarran have collected, with patience and enthusiasm, every sort of infor- mation, legal and historical, which can throw light on the new measure. The book has evidenlily been a labour of love." HISTORY OF AUSTRALIAN BUSH RANGING, by oharles white. To be completed in two vols. Crown 8vo, cloth gilt, 3s. 6d. each. [FbZ. I. now ready. Vol. II. now ready For Cheaper Edition see Comrnonwealth Series, page ^. Press Notices of Volume I. Year Book of Australia : " There is ' romance ' enough about it to make it of permanent interest as a peculiar and most remarkable stage in our social history." Queenslander : "Mr. White has supplied material enough for twenty such novels as 'Eobbery Under Arms.'" 13 THE GROWTH OF THE EMPIRE. A Handbook to the History of Greater Britain. By ARTHUR W. JOSE, Author of " A Short History of Australasia." Second Edition. With 14 Maps. Crown 8vo, cloth gilt, 5s. {post free, 5s. 6d.). Morning- Post : " This book is published in Sydney, but it deserves to be circulated throughout the United Kingdom. The picture of the fashion in which British enterprise made its way from settlement to setlement has never been drawn more vividly than in these pages. Mr. Jose's style is crisp and pleasant, now and then even rising to eloquence on his grand theme. His book deserves wide popularity, and it has the rare merit of being so written as to be attractive alike to the young student and to the mature man of letters." Literature : " He has studied thoroughly, and writes vigorously. . . . Admirably done. . . . We commend it to Britons the world over." Saturday Review • " He writes Imperially ; he also often writes sympathetically. . . . We cannot close Mr. Jose's creditable account of our misdoings without a glow of national pride." Yorkshire Post : " A brighter short history we do not know, and this book deserves for the matter aud the manner of it to be as well known as Mr. McCarthy's ' History of Our Own Times.' " The Scotsman : " This admirable work is a solid octavo of more than 400 pages. It is a thoughtful, well written, and well-arranged history. There are fourteen excellent maps to illustrate the text." 14 HISTORY OF AUSTRALASIA. From the Earliest Times to the Inauguration of the Commonwealth. By ARTHUR W. JOSE, Author of " The Growth of the Empire." The chapter on Federation revised by R. R. Garran, C.M.G. With 6 maps and 64 portraits and illustra- tions. Crown 8vo, cloth, Is. 6d. {post free Is, lOd.y -P^or Cheaper Edition see Commonwealth SerieSt patje 2 The Book Lover : " The ignorance of the average Australian youth about the brief history of his native land is often deplorable. . . . ' A Short History of Australasia/' by Arthur W. Jose, just provides the thing wanted. Mr. Jose's previous historical work was most favourably received in England^ and this story of our land is capitally done. It is not too long, and it is brightly written. Its value is considerably enhanced by the useful maps and interesting illus- trations. A very good book to give to a boy." Victorian Education Gazette : " The language is graphic and simple, and there is much evidence of careful work and acquaintance with original docu- ments, which give the reader confidence in the accuracy of the details. The low price of the book leaves young Australia no excuse ^for remaining in ignorance of the history of their native land." Town and Country Journal : ' His language is graphic and simple, and he has maintained the unity and continuity of the story of events despite the necessity of following the subject along the seven branches corresponding with the seven separate colonies." 15 THE GEOLOGY OF SYDNEY AND THE BLUE MOUNTAINS. A Popular Introduction to the Stady of Australian Geology. By Rbv. J. MILNE CURRAN, Lecturer in Chemistry and Geology, Technical College, Sydney. Second Edition. With a Glossary of Scien- tific terms, a Reference List of commonly- occurring Fossils, 2 coloured maps, and 83 illustrations. Crown 8vo, cloth gilt, 6s. {post free, 6s. 6d.) Nature : " This is, strictly speaking, an elementary manual of geology. The general plan of the work is good ; the book is well printed and illustrated with maps, photographic pictures of rock structure and scenery, and figures of fossils and rock sections." Saturday Review : " His style is animated and inspiring, or clear and precise, as occasion demands. The people of Sydney are to be congratulated on the existence of such a guide to their beautiful country." Literary World : " We can heartily recommend the book as a very interesting one, written in a much more readable style than is usual in works of this kind." South Australian Beg'ister : " Mr. Curran has ex- tracted a charming narrative of the earth's history out of the prosaic stone. Though he has selected Sydney rocks for his text, his discourse is interestingly Aus- tralian." 16 SIMPLE TESTS FOR MINERALS; Or, Every Man his Own Analyst. By JOSEPH CAMPBELL, M.A., P.G.S., M.LM.E. Fourth Edition, revised and enlarged (com- pleting the ninth thousand). With illus- trations. Cloth, round corners, 3s. 6d. [post free 2s. 9d.). THE KINGSWOOD COOKERY BOOK. By Mrs. WIOKEN, M.C.A., Late Teacher of Cookery, Technical College, Sydney. Fifth edition, revised, completing the Nine- teenth Thousand. 382 pages, crown 8vo, paper cover, Is ; cloth, Is. 6d. [postage 4d.), ANSWERS TO TAYLOR'S METRIC SYSTEM, ed. [post free rd.). PRESBYTERIAN WOMEN'S MISSIONARY ASSOCIATION COOKERY BOOK. Seventh Edition, enlarged, completing the 45th Thousand. Crown 8vo, cloth. Is. {post free Is. 2d). 17 THE METRIC SYSTEM OF WEIGHTS AND MEASURES, AND DECIMAL COINAGE. By J. M. TAYLOR, M.A., LL.B. With Introductory Notes on the nature of Decimals, and contracted methods for the Multiplication and Division of Decimals. Crown 8vo, 6d. {post free 7d.). N.S.W. Educational Gazette: "A masterly and elaborate treatise for the use of schools on a subject of world-wide interest and importance. ... In commercial life a knowledge of the metric system has been for some years essential, and it is, therefore, fitting that its underlying principles should be taught in our schools concurrently with reduction, and prac- tised systematically in the more advanced grades. For this purpose the book is unquestionably the best we have seen." A NEW BOOK OF SONGS FOR SCHOOLS AND SINGING CLASSES. By HUGO ALPEN, Superintendent of Music Department of Public Instruction, New South Wales. 8vo, paper cover. Is. [post free Is. 2d.). 18 THE ELEMENTS OF EUCLID. With Historical Introduction, Notes, Appendicea and Miscellaneous Examples. By J. D. ST.CLAIR MACLARDY, M.A., Lecturer at the Training Colleges and Examiner for the New South Wales Department of Public Instruction. Books I. -IV. Crown 8vo, cloth, 3s. 6d. (post free 3s. 10 d.). Book I., separately, cloth. Is. 6d. {jpost free Is. 9d.). Books V.-VI. Cloth, Is. 6d. (post free Is. 9d.). N.S.W. Educational Gazette : " The most complete and logical discussion of this part of the works of the great geometer that we have seen. An unusual amount of care has been bestowed on the initiatory stages, the definitions, axioms, and postulates being treated with commendable fulness. . . . The brevity, simplicity, and perspicuity of his methods will appeal forcibly to students Mr. Maclardy adheres to the plan of simplifying the proofs and reducing the verbiage to a minimum, and has added a contribution to mathematical literature which we regard as indispensable." Victorian Educational Gazette : " Among the legion of editions of Euclid, Mr. Maclardy's takes an honourable place. There are many features that are the result of the author's long experience as a lecturer and examiner in mathematics. He has evidently taken a pride in making his work as perfect as possible." 19 ENGLISH GRAMMAR, COMPOSI- TION, AND PRECIS WRITING. For Use by Candidates for University and Public Service Exams. By JAMES CONWAY, Headmaster at Cleveland- street Superior Public School, Sydney. Prescribed by the Department of Public Instruction, N.S.W., for First and Second Class Teacbers' Certificate Examinations. New edition, revised and enlarged. Crown 8vo, cloth gilt, 3s. 6d. {post free 3s. 10 d.). Sydney Morningf Herald : " To its concise and admirable arrangement of rules and definitions, which, holds good wherever the English language is spoken or written, is added special treatment of special difficulties. Mr. Conway adopts the excellent plan of taking certain papers, and of answering the questions in detail. . . . Should be in the hands of every teacher." Victorian Educational News : " A book which we can heartily recommend as the most suitable we have yet met with to place in the hands of students for our intermediate examinations, and also for matriculation, pupil teachers^ and certificate of competency examina- tions. We should be glad to see the work set down in the syllabus of the Department so that it would reach the hands of all the students and teachers engaged in studying the subject in our State schools." 20 A SMALLER ENGLISH GRAMMAR, COMPOSITION, AND PRfeCIS WRITING. By JAMES CONWAY. Prescribed by the Department of Public Instruction, N.S.W., for Third Class and Pupil Teachers' Examinations. New edition, revised and enlarged. Crown 8vo, cloth. Is. 6d. {post free Is. 9d.). N.S.W. Educational Gazette : " The abridgment is very well done. One recognises the hand of a man who has had long experience of the difficulties of this subject." GEOGRAPHY OF NEW SOUTH WALES. By J. M. TAYLOR, M.A., LL.B. New Edition, revised. With 37 illustrations and 6 folding maps. Crown 8vo, cloth gilt, 3s. 6d. {post free 3s. lOd.). Sydney Morning Herald : " Something more than a school book ; it is an approach to an ideal geography." Review of Reviews : " It makes a very attractive handbook. Its geography is up to date; it is not overburdened with details, and it is richly illustrated with geological diagrams and photographs of scenery reproduced with happy skill." 21 CAUSERIES FAMILIERES; OR, FRIENDLY CHATS. a simple and Deductive French Course. By Mes. S. C. Boyd. Prescribed for use in schools by the Department of PubUc Instruction, New South Wales. Pupils' Edition containing all that need be in the hands of the learner, Crown 8vo, cloth, limp, Is. 6d. (post free Is. 8d.y Teachers' Edition, containing grammatical summaries, exercises, a full treatise on pronunciation, French- English and English-French Vocabulary, and other matter for the use of the teacher or of a student without a master. Crown 8vo, cloth gilt, 3s. 6d. (post free, Ss. lOd.). The London Spectator: "A most excellent and practical little volume, evidently the work of a trained teacher. It combines admirably and in an entertaining form the advantages of the conversational with those of the grammatical method of learning a language." THE AUSTRALIAN OBJECT LESSON BOOK. Part I. — For Infant and Junior Classes With 43 illustrations. Crown 8vo, cloth gilt, 3s. 6d. ; paper cover, 2s. 6d. {postage, 4d.). N.S.W. Educational Gazette: "Mr. Wiley has wisely adopted the plan of utilising the services of specialists. The series is remarkably complete, and includes almost everything with which the little learners ought to be made familiar. Through- out the whole series the lessons have been selected with judgment and with a due appreciation of the capacity of the pupils for whose use they are intended." 22 AUSTRALIAN SONGS FOR AUSTRALIAN CHILDREN. Bt Mrs. MAYBANKE ANDERSON. All the songs are set to music, while to some of them appropriate calisthenic exer- cises are given. Demy 4to, picture cover, Is. Sydney Morning: Herald : This is a prettily got up little book, in which the music of old songs or old melodies has been set to verses having reference to this country. The verses are in every case simple and goodj suited to children and to the illustration by action for which directions are given in a foot note. ' Australia Fair/ to a melody by Gluck, is the tune which the late Carl Formes and Signor Foli made popular as ' The Mill Wheel.' ' The Gum Tree/ to the tune of ' Banker's Wallet/ is a capital song for little children, and ' The Bonnie Orange Tree/ to the tune of ' Come, Landlord, Fill your Flowing Bowl,' has really charming verses. ' The Little Grey Bandicoot,' again, has first-rate verse. The publication as a whole should prove popular." THE AUSTRALIAN LETTERING BOOK. Containing the Alphabets most useful in Mapping, Exercise Headings, &g., with ^practical applications. Easy Scrolls, Flou- rishes, Borders, Corners, Rulings, &c. Second Edition. New Edition, revised and enlarged, cloth limp, 6d. [post free 7d.). 23 THE AUSTRALIAN OBJECT LESSON BOOK. Part II. — For advanced classes. With 113 illustrations. Crown 8vo, cloth gilt, 3s. 6d.; paper cover, 2s. 6d. (postage 4d.). Vietopian Education Gazette : " Mr. Wiley and his colleagues have provided a storelioiise of nseful infor- mation on a great number of topics that can be taken up in any Australian school." N.S.W. Edueational Gazette : " The Australian Object Lesson Book is evidently the result of infinite patience and deep research on the part of its compiler, who is also to be commended for the admirable arrangement of his matter." THE AUSTRALIAN PROGRESSIVE SONGSTER. By S. McBuRNEY, Mus. Doc, Fellow T.S.F. College. Containing graded Songs, Rounds and Exer- cises in Staff Notation, Tonic Sol-fa and Numerals, with Musical Theory. Price, 6d, each part ; combined, Is. {postage id. each part). No. 1. — For Junior Classes, No. 2. — For Senior Classes. 24 GEOGRAPHY OF AUSTRALIA AND NEW ZEALAND. With Definitions of Geographical Terms. Second Edition, with 8 maps and 19 illus- trations. 64 pages. 6d. {postjree 7d.). GEOGRAPHY OF EUROPE, ASIA AND AMERICA. Second Edition, with 14 relief and other maps, and 18 illustrations of transconti- nental views, distribution of animals, &c. 84 pages. 6d. {post free 7d). GEOGRAPHY OF NEW SOUTH WALES. With five folding maps. 48 pages. 6d. {post free 7d.). GEOGRAPHY OF AFRICA. With five maps in relief, &c. 64 pages. 6d. {post free 7d.). 25 AUSTRALIAN SCHOOL SERIES. Gpamraar and Derivation Book. 64 pages. 2d. Test Exercises in Grammar for Srd Class, 1st Year. 64 pages. 2d. Test Exercises in Grammar for 3rd Class, 2nd Year. 64 pages. 2d. Table Book and Mental Arithmetic. 48 pages Id. Chief Events and Dates in Eng-lish History. Part I. From 55 B.C. to 1485 A d. 50 pages. 2d. Chief Events and Dates in English History. Part II. Prom Henry VII. (1485) to Victoria (1900). 64 pages. 2d. History of Australia. 80 pages 4d. Illustrated. Geography. Part I. Australasia and Polynesia. 64 pages. 2d. Geogcraphy. Part II. Europe, Asia, America, and Africa. 66 pages. 2d. Euclid. Book I. With Definitions, Postulates, Axioms, &c. 64 pages. 2d. Euclid. Book II. With Definitions and Exercises on Books I. and II. 32 pages. 2d. Euclid. Book III. With University " Junior " Papers 1891-1897. 60 pages. 2d. Arithmetic— Exercises for Class II. 49 pages. 2d. Answers, 2d. Arithmetic— Exercises for Class III. 66 pages. 2d. Answers, 2d. Arithmetic— Exercises for Class IV. 65 pages. 2d. Answers, 2d. Arithmetic and Mensuration— Exercises for Class V. With the Arithmetic Papers set at the Sydney University Junior, the Public Service, the Sydney Chamber of Commerce, and the Bankers' Institute Examinations to 1900, &c. 112 pages. 4d. Answers, 4d. Algfebra. Part I. 49 pages. 2d, Answers, 2d. 26 Algcebra. Part II. To Quadratic Equations. Contains over twelve hundred Exercises, including the Univer- sity Junior, the Public Service, the Sydney Ohamber of Commerce, and the Bankers' Institute Examination Papers to 1900, &c. 112 pages. 4d. Answers, 4d. Full Solutions of all Algebra Papers set at 1st and 2nd Class Teachers' Examinations from 1894 to 1901 (inclusive), by W, L. Atkins, B.A. {Post jree 5s.). Full Solution of all Arithmetic Papers set at 1st, 2nd and 3rd Class Teachers' Examinations from 1894 to 1901 (inclusive), by J. M. Taylor, M.A., LL.B. {Post free 2s. 6d.) N.S.W, Educational Gazette: "Messrs. Angus and Robertson forward us ' Solutions of the Firsts Second and Third Class Teachers' Arithmetic Papers,' and 'Solutions of the First and Second Class Teachers' Algebra Papers.' Both may be at once pronounced indispensable to teachers preparing for any of these grades. The solutions throughout are neat, clear, and concise, and will show intending candidates not only how to obtain the desired results, but how to do so in a manner calculated to secure full marks from the examiners." THE AUSTRALASIAN CATHOLIC SCHOOL SERIES. History of Australia and New Zealand for Catholic Schools, 128 pages. 4d. Pupil's Companion to the Australian Catholic First Reader, 32 pages, id. Pupil's Companion to the Australian Catholic Second Reader, 64 pages. 2d. Pupil's Companion to the Australian Catholic Third Reader, 112 pages. 3d. Pupil's Companion to the Australian Catholic Fourth Reader, 160 pages, 4d. 27 ANGUS AND ROBERTSON'S PENCIL COPY BOOK. Approved by the N.S.W. Department of Public Instruction. In nine numbers. Id. each. No. 1, Initiatory lines, curves, letters, figures ; 2 and 3, Short letters, easy combinations, figures; 4, Long letters, short ■words, figures ; 5, Long letters, words, figures ; 6, 7, and 8, Capitals, words, figures ; 9, Short sentences, figures. GUIDES TO THE NEW SOUTH WALES PUBLIC SERVICE EXAMINATIONS. No. I. — Containing the Papers set in March, 1899 and Keys thereto, together with the Regulations and Hints on suitable Text-books. Cheaper edition. 8vo., paper cover, Is. [post free Is. Id.). No. II. — Containing the Papers set in August, 1900 and Keys thereto, together with the revised Regulations and Hints on suitable Text-books, and the Papers set at the examination held in December, 1899. Cheaper edition. 8vo, paper cover, Is' (post free Is. Id.). 30 CHAMBERS'S GOVERNMENT HAND COPY BOOKS. Approved by Department of Public Instruction. The Letters are continuously joined to each other, so that the pupil need not lift the pen from the beginning to the end of each word. The Spaces between the letters are wide, each letter thus standing out boldly and distinctly by itself. The Slope is gentle, but sufficient to prevent the pupil from acquiring a back hand. The Curves are well rounded, checking the tendency to too great angularity. The Writing is not cramped and confined, plenty of space being allowed for each word. The Words are spaced by perpendi- cular lines, and the lengths of the letters are indicated by horizontal lines in the early numbers of the series. These books are now printed in N.S.W. on paper which has been specially manufactured for the series, and is of unusually good quality. Price, 2d. each. No. 1, Large Hand, Elements, Letters, and Short Words ; 2, Half-Text, Short Words without Capitals ; 3, Half- Text, Sentences with Capitals, Figures ; 4, Half-Text, Proper Names with Capitals } 5, Half-Text, Sentences with Capitals, Figures ; 6, Small Round — Double Ruling, Figures ; 7, Small, Double Ruling with Inter- mediate Lines ; 8, Small, Double Ruling without Inter- mediate Lines ; 9, Small, Single Ruling — Historical ; 10, Small, Single Ruling — Geographical ; 11, Small, with Partial Ruling — Poetical; 12, Small, Commer- cial — Business Forms, &c. ; 13, For Pupil Teachers. CALENDAR OF THE UNIVERSITY OF SYDNEY. 8vo, linen, 2s. 6d. ; paper cover, Is. (postage 8d.) 31 MANUAL OF PUBLIC EXAMINATIONS HELD BY THE UNIVERSITY OF SYDNEY 8vo, paper cover, Is. (post free Is. 3d.). QUALITATIVE ANALYSIS; Notea and Tables for the Use of Students. By Eev. J. MILNE OURRAN, Lecturer in Chemistry and Geology, Technical College, Sydney, Author of " The Geology of Sydney and the Blue Mountains." With illustrations. Demy 8vo, clotli gilt, 4s. 6d. {post free 5s.). j/ THE POSSIBILITY OF A SCIENCE OF CASUISTRY. By ERNEST NORTHCROPT MERRING- TON, B.A. Crown 8vo, cloth, 2s. 6d. A SHORT HISTORICAL ACCOUNT OF THE UNIVERSITY OF SYDNEY. By H. B. BARFP, M.A. Demy Svo, cloth gilt, 7s. 6d. (post free, 8s.). 32