IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) Jc 4 X :/ (/j 1.0 :i 1.25 «« IM 112.5 IIIIM m 2.2 i^ 2.0 bo 1.4 1.6 P /; (^ //. > nan nch t ^ SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. "Shall I be with felons banded, by the 'beak' be reprimanded, And with infamy be branded ? — thou art versed in prison lore — Say not, Robert, that my bread will 'ere be earned upon the tread-mill, That a filthy prison bed will echo to my fevered snore — Ever echo to the music of my wild unearthly snore ! " Quoth the Peeler, " 'Tis the lawr ! " Thought on thought of bitter sadness, dissipating hope and gladness, Goading me to worse than madness, crowded on me by the score ; Ne'er before incarcerated, how that Peeler's form I hated, Cries for freedom, unabated — 'wrenched from out my bosom's core ' — Broke upon the midnight stillness, " Robert, set me free once more Quoth the Peeler, " Never more ! " Never since the days of Julian was there such a mass herculean Clad in garments so cerulean, with so little brains in store; %A 9" SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. And I cursed his name, and number, and his form as useless lumber Only fit to snore and slumber on a greasy kitchen floor — On the slime bespattered boarding of a greasy kitchen floor — Fit for this and nothing more ! ili And my heart was heavy loaded with a sorrow which corroded. And my expletives exploded with a deep and muffled roar ; But a sudden inspiration checked the clammy perspiration That 'till now, without cessation, streaming ran from every pore. And what checked the perspiration that ran streaming from each pore Was a thought, and nothing more. 'I In my pocket was a shilling! Could that giant form be willing. Tempted by the hope of swilling beer, to set me free once more ? Tempted by the lust of riches, and the silver shilling which is In the pocket in my breeches, and my liberty restore ? Hastily that garment searching, from its depths I fiercely tore But a ' Bob,' and nothing more. -'3 .'V- SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. 4 Wrenched it from my trousers' pocket, While his eye within the socket gleamed and sparkled like a rocket, Grimly rolled, and gloated o'er, Glared upon me — vainly mining in my pockets' depths — repining That its worn and threadbare lining IT should press, ah ! never more. Said I, while the coin revealing, " Robert, I've a tender feeling For the Force there's no concealing, and thy manly form adore ; :i^ I' II 8 SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. Thee I ne'er to hurt or slay meant ; take, oh ! take this humble payment — " Take thy grasp from off my raiment, and thy person from my door ; Though I like thee past expression, though I venerate the corps, Fain I'd bid thee 'Au revoir /^ And I view with approbation that official's hesitation, For his carnal inclination with his duty was at war; But that Peeler, though he muttered, knew which side his bread was buttered, But a word or two he uttered, and his choking grasp fore- bore — And he, when his clutching fingers from their choking grasp forebore, Vanished, and was seen no more. Oft at night when I'm returning, and the foot-path scarce discerning — Whiskey-fumes within me burning like a molten reservoir — In imagination kneeling, oft in fancy I'm appealing To the kind and manly feeling of that giant Trap once more — To the tender kindly feeling of the Trap I saw before — Vanished now for ever more ! LINES BY A (PAWN)BROKEN- HEARTED YOUTH. Oh ! take back the ticket thou gavest, And give me my watch and my ring, And may every sixpence thou savest Be armed with a centipede's sling ! 10 SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. ! uncle, I never expected Such grief would result from my calls, When, hard-up, depressed, and dejected, I came to the Three Golden Balls. 1 noticed thy free invitation — Enticing (though brief) — " Money Lent ;" I came to thee, oh, my relation, For succour, for mine was all spent. Thine int'rest in me was affecting — I noticed a tear in thine eye, Without for a moment suspecting How inirest would tell by and bye. It's true I'd been doing the heavy, And going a trifle too fast ; I've been a most dutiful 'nevvy,' — But, uncle, I know thee at last ; I brought thee a gun, and a pistol. And borrowed a couple of pound. Then exit, and cheerfully whistle In time to my heart's happy bound. lii SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. II I thought thee a regular " trimmer," I thought thee a generous man ; I drank to thy health in a brimmer, And pretty nigh emptied the can, I went with a mob "to do evil," I laughed, and I danced, and I sang ; Bid sorrow fly off to the Devil, And care and depression go hang. I looked on the vintage that's ruby, I "looked on the wine" that " is red," But 'twasn't mere looking o'erthrew me, Or made it get into my head. In spite of the Israelite's warning, In spite of what Solomon said, You may look from the dusk to the dawning, And still toddle sober to bed. Away with such hollow pretences ! It wasn't from watching the cup I lost the control of my senses. Or, falling, I couldn't get up. 'iii III ! 12 SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. Destruction again was before me, And empty once more was my purse, But thoughts of mine uncle came o'er me, And withered my half-uttered curse. I thought that the mines of Australia I'd found in the meanest of men. And, smoking a fearful •' regalia," I sought thine iniquitous den. My walk, though a little unsteady, V/as dignity tempered with grace ; I playfully asked for the " ready,'' And smiled in thy villainous face. I brought thee my best Sunday beaver, And gorgeous habiliments new ; My watch — such a fine English lever ! — I left, unbe//^7'^r, with you. I brought thee a coat — such a vestment ! 'Twas newly constructed by Poole ; I've found it a losing mvestnient — Oh ! how could I be such a fool ? SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. 13 I told thee I hadn't a " stiver ;" I said I'd been "cutting it fat," And coolly demanded a " fiver," — How thou must have chuckled at that ^!^ Thou well can'st remember the morning Succeeding thy Sabbath, thou Jew! When cursing the year I was born in, I felt the first turn of the screw. And, hope from my bosom departing, Like dew from the rays of the sun, My wits the sad news were imparting How I'd been deluded and done. I m 111 \ ill i ni ii I! 14 SOUTHERLV BUSTERS. And, borne on the telegraph wire, A message came swiftly to me ; It said that my grey-headed sire Was pining his offspring to see. How face my infuriate father — My property mortgaged and gone ? For darkly his anger will gather ; I've hardly a rag to put on. Thine int'rest I cannot repay thee, And gone are my coat and my hat ; Thou hast all my duds — I could slay thee Oh ! how could I be such a flat ? I brought thee each gift of my mother, Each gift of my generous aunt ; The pistol belonged to my brother — I'd like to restore it, but can't: For, uncle, thy fingers are sticky. And, if the sad truth be confessed. Thy heart is as false as the " dicky," Which covers my sorrowful breast. SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. 15 'y 3 I've managed the needful to borrow, My watch and my ring to redeem ; I hope that the sight of my sorrow May cause thee a horrible dream. 'Twere joy should I hear that the pistol Had burst in thy villainous hand — While smoking the "bird's eye" of Bristol, My breast would dilate and expand. i I leave thee, for vain is resistance, And little thou heedest my slang, But I'd barter ten years of existence For power to cause thee a pang. I ' t W\ up i6 SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. O ! had I the wand of a wizard, A Nemesis cruel I'd bribe To torture that Israelite's gizzard, And caution the rest of his tribe. O ! ye who are fond of excitement, Ye students of Med'cine and Law, Be warned by this awful indictment, And never give Moses your paw ! From Moses who spoiled the Egyptian, To Moses who buys your old clo', They're all of the self-same description — They take, but they never let go. Ye sons of the Man on the Barrel (That's Bacchus) — ye " Monks of the Screw !" Don't mortgage your wearing apparel, Or have any truck with a Jew ; But take to cold water and virtue. And never, whatever befalls, Let any false logic convert you To visit the " Three Golden Balls." m p-v€^ :^^An PHERD. 2: beam g place to night, d placid lay the Lachlan's stream Beneath the fading light. Tl' !ll|| i8 SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. The shadows of the River Gums Were stretching long and black, As, far from Sydney's busy hum, I trod the narrow tra-^k. I watched the coming twih'ght spread. And thought on many a plan; I saw an object on ahead — It seemed to be a man. A venerable party sat Upon a fallen log ; Upon him was a battered hat. And near him was a dog. The look that o'er his features hung Was anything but sweet ; His swag and "bllly"a lay among The grass beneath his feet. And white and withered was his hair. And white and wan his face; I'd rather not have met the pair In such a lonely place. SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. 19 I thought misfortune's heavy hand Had done what it could do; Despair seemed branded on the man, And on the dingo too. A hungry look that dingo wore — He must have wanted prog — I think I never saw before So lean and lank a dog. I said — "Old man, I fear that you Are down upon your luck ; You very much resemble, too, A pig that has been stuck." His answer wasn't quite distinct — (I'm sure it wasn't true): He said I was (at least, I think,) "A" — something — "jackeroo!" '' He said he didn't want my chaff, And (with an angry stamp) Declared I made too free by half "A-rushing of his camp." Mi ;a 20 SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. I begged him to be calm, and not Apologise to me; He told me I might "go to pot" (Wherever that may be) ; And growled a muttered curse or two Expressive of his views Of men and things, and squatters too, New chums and jackeroos. But economical he was With his melodious voice ; I think the reason was because His epithets were choice. I said — " Old man, I fain would know The cause of thy distress ; What sorrows cloud thine a^red brow I cannot even guess. "There's anguish on thy wrinkled face, And passion in thine eye, Expressing anything but grace, But why, old man, oh ! why ? SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. 21 "A sympathising friend you'll find In me, old man, d'ye see? So if you've aught upon your mind Just pour it into me." He gravely shook his grizzled head- I rather touched him there— And something indistinct he said (I think he meant to swear). He made a gesture with his hand, He saw I meant him well; He said he was a shepherd, and "A takin'of a spell.'' He said he was an ill-used bird, And squatters they might be — (He used a very naughty word Commencing with a D.) I'd read of shepherds in the lore Of Thessaly and Greece, And had a china one at home Upon the mantelpiece. 'Ill 22 SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. I'd read about their loves and hates, As hot as Yankee stoves, And how they broke each other's pates In fair Arcadian groves ; But nothing in my ancient friend Was Hke Arcadian types: No fleecy flocks had he to tend, No crook or shepherds' pipes. No shepherdess was near at hand, And, if there were, I guessed She'd never suffer that old man To take her to his breast ! No raven locks had he to fall, And didn't seem to me To be the sort of thing at all A shepherd ought to be. I thought of all the history I'd studied when a boy — Of Paris and -^none, and The siege of ancient Troy. I thought, could Helen contemplate This party on the log, She would the race of shepherds* hate Like Brahmins hate a dog. It seemed a very certain thing That, since the world began, No shepherd ever was like him, From Paris down to Pan. I said — " Old man, you've settled now Another dream of youth ; I always understood, I vow. Mythology was truth "Until I saw thy bandy legs And sorrow-laden brow, But, sure as ever eggs is eggs, I cannot think so now. " For, an a shepherd thou should'st be, Then very sure am I The man who wrote mythology Was guilty of a lie. w 24 SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. " But never mind, old man," I said, "To sorrow we are born, So tell us why thine aged head Is bended and forlorn ? " li i With face as hard as Silas Wegg's He said, "Young man, here goes." He lit his pipe, and crossed his legs. And told me all his woes. He said he'd just been " lammin'-down " A flock of maiden-ewes. And then he'd had a trip to town To gather up the news ; But while in Bathurst's busy streets He got upon the spree, And publicans was awful cheats For soon " lamm'd down " was he. He said he'd "busted up his cheque" (What's that, I'd like to know ?) And now his happiness was wrecked, To work he'd got to go. SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. 25 He'd known the time, not lonq^ ago, When half the year he'd spend In idleness, and comfort too, A-camping in a " bend." No need to tread the weary track, Or work his strength away ; He lay extended on his back Each happy summer ' y. When sun-set comes and day-light flags, And dusky looms the scrub, He'd bundle up his ration-bags And toddle for his grub, And to some station-store he'd go And get the traveller's dower — ° " A pint o' dust " — that was his low Expression meaning flour ; But now he couldn't cadge about, For squatters wasn't game To give their tea and sugar out To every tramp that came. 1: 26 SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. The country's strength, he thought, was gone, Or going very fast. And feeding tramps now ranked among The glories of the past. He'd seen the " Yanko " "" :n its pride, When every night a host Of hungry tramps at supper tried For who could eat the most. A squatter then had feelin's strong And tender in his breast. And if a trav'ller came along He'd ask him in to rest. " But squatters now !" he stamped the soil, And m.uttered in his beard, He wished they'd got a whopping boil For every sheep they sheared ! His language got so very bad — It couldn't well be worse, For every second word he had Now seemed to be a curse. III! [(&■ SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. 27 And shaking was his withered hand With passion, not with age — I never thought so old a man Could get in such a rage. His eyes seemed starting from his head, They glared in such a way ; And half the wicked words he said I shouldn't like to say ; But from his language I inferred There wasn't one in three. Of squatters worth that little word Commencing with a " D." Ala« ! for my poetic lore, I fear it was astray, It never said that shepherds swore, Or talked in such a way. The knotted cordage of his brow Was tightened in a frown — He seemed the sort of party, now. To burn a wool-shed down. 28 SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. He told me, further, and his voice Grew very plaintive here, That now he'd got to make the choice ^ ind work^ or give up beer ! 'l!l!l II From heavy toil he'd always found 'Twas healthiest to keep, And mostly stuck to cadgin' round, And lookin' after sheep. ,.,M But shepherdin' was nearly " cooked "- I think he meant to say That si.epherds' prospects didn't look In quite a hopeful way. A new career he must begin, (And fresh it roused his ire) For squatters they was fencin' in With that infernal wire ; And sheep was paddocked everywhere — 'Twas like them squatters' cheek !— And shepherds now, for ail they'd care, Might go to Cooper's Creek. m SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. 29 He said he couldn't use an axe, And wouldn't if he could ; He'd see 'em blistered on their backs 'Fore he'd go choppin' wood ; That nappin' stones, or shovellin', Warn't good enough for he, And work it was a cussed thing As didn't ought to be. He'd known the Lachlan, man and boy, For close on forty year, But now they'd pisoned every joy. He thought it time to clear. They gave him sorrow's bitter cup, And filled his heart with woe. And now at last his back was up, He felt he ought to go. He'd heard of regions far away Across the barren plains. Where shepherds might be blythe and gay And bust the squatters' chains. 30 SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. To reach that land he meant to try, He didn't care a cuss, If 'twasn't any better, why, It couldn't be much wuss. Amongst the blacks, though old and grey, Existence he'd begin. And give his ancient hand away In marriage to a "gin." '^ Pi- HA?^•^ J ii SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. 31 He really was so old and grim, The thought was in my mind, That any gin to marry him Would have to be s^-'^ne blind. 'T would make an undertaker smile : What tickled me was this, The thought of such an ancient file Indulging in a kiss ! And, if it's true, as Shakespeare said, That equal justice whirls, He ought to think of Nick instead Of thinking of the girls. Then drooped his grim and aged head, And closed that glaring eye, And not another word he said Except a grunt or sigh. More lean he looks and still more lank Such changes o'er him pass. And down his ancient body sank In slumber on the grass. i^ 32 H P ■ ■ ii SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. I thought, old chap, you're wearing out. And not the sort of coon To lead a blushing bride about, Or spend a honeymoon ; Or if, indeed, there were a bride For such a withered stick. With such a tough and wrinkled hide, That bride should be old Nick. As streaks of faintish light began To mark the coming day. I left that grim and aged man And slowly stole away. And when the winter nights are rough. And shrieking is the wind, Or when I've eaten too much duff And dreams afflict my mind, I see that lean and withered hand, And, 'mid the gloom of night, I see the face of that old man, And horrid is the siiiht : While on my head in agony Up rises every hair, I see again his glaring eye — In fancy hear him swear. At breakfast time, when I come down To take that pleasant meal, With pallid face, and haggard frown. Into my place I steal ; a 34 SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. And when they saj^ I'm far from bright, The truth I dare not tell : I say I've passed a sleepless night, And don't feel very well. !i: 1 36 SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. WHERE IS FREEDOM? Oh ! Mother, say, for I long to know, Where doth the tree of Freedom grow, And strike its roots in the heart of man As deep and far as the famed banyan ? Is it 'mid those groups in the Southern Seas, In the Coral Isles, or the far Fijis, Where the restless billows seeth and toss 'Neath the gleaming light of the Southern Cross ? " Not there — not there, my child." IMiilii Then tell me, mother, can it be where The cry of " Liberty" rends the air ? Where grow the maize and the maple tree, In the fertile "bottoms" of Tennessee? Or is it up where the north winds roar. Away by the fair Canadian shore, Where the Indians shriek with insane halloos- As drunk as owls in their bark canoes ? '' Not there — not there, my child." SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. Or Is it back in the Western States, Where Colt's revolver rules the fates, And Judges lounge in a liquor shop While Dean and Adams's pistols pop ? Where Justice is but a shrivelled ghost As deaf and blind as a stockyard post, And License sits upon Freedom's chair — Oh, say, dear mother, can it be there ? " Not there — not there, my child." Is it on the banks of the wild Paroo, Where the emu stalks, and the kangaroo Bounds o'er the sand-hills free and light, And the dingo howls through the sultry night ; Where the native gathers the nardoo-seed For his frugal meal ; and the centipede — While the worn-out traveller lies inert. Invades the folds of his flannel shirt ? " Not there — not there, my child." Is it where yon death-like stillness reigns O'er the vast expanse of the salt-bush plains, Where the shepherd leaveth his Leicester ewes For the firm embrace of his noon-tide snooze, And the most enchanting visions come 37 ill 38 SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. To his t^■ ♦■v spirit of Queensland rum, While thv, un rays strike through his garments scant — Is it there, dear mother, this wond'rous plant ? " Not there — not there, my child." Or Southward, down where our brethren hold Those keys of power, rich mines of gold — That land of rumour and vague reports, Alluvial diggings, and reefs of quartz — Where brr>kers give you the straightest " tip," And let in in the way of " scrip;" Where all inen vapour, and vaunt, and boast, And manhood suffrage rules the roast ? " Not there — not there, my child." Is it where the blasts of the simoom fan, The blazing valleys of Hindustan ; Where the Dervish howls, and their dupes are fleeced By the swarth Parsee, and the Brahmin priest; Where men believe in their toddy-bowls, And the transmigration of human souls. And the monkeys battle with countless fleas On the twisted boughs of the tamarind trees ? " Not there — not there, my child." SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. 39 ! ! Or is it more to the northward, more Toward the ice-bound rivers of Labrador, Where the glittering curtain of gleaming snow Enshrouds the home of the Esquimaux ; Or further still to the north, away Where the bones of the Artie heroes lay TT m 11 hi 40 SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. Long, long on the icy surface bare, To bleach and dry in the frosty air ? " Not there — not there, my child." Then is it, mother, among the trees That shade the paths in the Tuilleries, Where the students walk with the pale grisettes. And scent the air with their cigarettes ? Or doth it bloom in that atmosphere Of mild tobacco and lager beer, Where gutteral curses mingle too With the croupier's patter of '' Jaites votre jeu f " Not there — not there, my child." " Boy, 'tis a plant that loves to blow Where the fading rays of the sunset go ; Up where the sun-light never sets, And angels tootle their flageolets ; Up through the fleecy clouds, and far Beyond the track of the farthest star. Where the silvery echoes catch no tone Of a simmering sinner's stifling groan : *Tis there — 'tis there, my child !" SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. 41 h^ TFTT liii v^^- THE FREE-SELECTOR'S DAUGHTER} A Ballad of the Bush — Bushy. Up in Queensland, boys, it's hotter Than that other dreadful place; There there lived a certain squatter Full of years, if not of grace. . V SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. 43 %„. Countless sheep and countless cattle O'er his vast enclosures roam ; But you heard no children prattle 'Round that squatter's hearth and home. Older grew that squatter, older, Solitary and alone, And they said his heart was colder Than a granite pavin'-stone. Other squatters livin' handy, Wot had daughters in their prime, For that squatter " shouted " brandy In the Township many a time ; And those gals kept introdoocin' In their toilets every art With the object of sedoocin' That old sinner's stony heart. Thus they often made exposures Of their ankles, I'll be bound. When they, in his vast enclosures. Met that squatter ridin' round. ii\ i m\ iii i , p 44 SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. Their advances he rejected, Scornin' both their hands and hearts, 'Till one day a cove selected Forty acres in those parts. And that stalwart free-selector Had the handsomest of gals ; Conduct couldn't be correcter Than his youngest daughter Sal's. Prettily her h^ad she tosses — Loves a thing she don't regard ; Rides the most owdacious hcsses Wot was ever in a yard. She was lithe and she was limber — Farmer's daughter every inch — Not averse to sawin' timber With her father at a pinch. In remotest dells and dingles. Where most gals would be afraid, There she went a-splittin' shingles. Pretty tidy work she made. / SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. And that free selectors daughter, Driving of her father's cart, Made the very wildest slaughter In that wealthy squatter's heart. He proposed, and wasn't blighted, Took her to his residence, With his bride he was delighted For she saved him much expense. 45 i« f ! '.* t ! i d, ■ -fc 46 SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. Older grew that aged squatter, White and grizzly grew his pate, ' 'Till his weak rheumatic trotters Couldn't bear their owner's weight. Then he grew more helpless, 'till he Couldn't wash and couldn't shave, And one evening cold and chilly He was carried to his grave. Then that free selector's daughter Came right slap " out of her shell ;" Calm and grave as folks had thought her, She becomes a howling swell. To the neighb'ring township drove she In her chariot and pair, Splendid dreams and visions wove she While she braided up her hair. t She peruses Sydney papers. Sees a paragraph which tells Her benighted soul the capers Cut down there by nobs and swells ; ilir Then she couldn't stop contented In a region such as this, While the atmosphere she scented Of the great metropolis. Her intention she imparted To the neighbours round about ; Packed her duds, farewell'd, and started. And for Sydney she set out. Now her pantin' bosom hankers Spicily her form to deck, So she sought her husband's bankers And she drew a heavy cheque. She, of course, in dress a part spent. Satins, sables, silk and grebe. And she took some swell apartments Situated near the Glebe. With the very highest classes In her heart she longed to jine — Her opinion placed the masses Lower in the scale than swine. fiWlIf jiii i 48 SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. But she found it wasn't easy Climbin' up ambition's slope ; Slippy was the road, and greasy, To the summit of her hope. If into a '* set" she wriggled, She'd capsize some social rule, Then those parties mostly giggled, Loadin' her with ridicule. Many an awkward solecism — Many a breach of etiquette, (Though she knew her catechism) Often made her eyelids wet. Her plebeian early trainin' Was a precious pull-back then, Which prevented her from gainin' Footin' with the " upper ten." Strugglin' after social fame was Simply killin' her out-right. So she settled that the game was Hardly worth the candle-light. SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. 49 Things got worse and things got worser, 'Till she had a vision strange, The forerunner and precurser Of a most decided ':hange. In a dream she saw the station Where her father now was boss, And his usual occupation Was to ride a spavined hoss. Round inspectin' every shepherd With his penetratin' sight, And those underlings got peppered If he found things wasn't right. When she saw her grey-haired sire " Knockin' round " among the sheep, For her home a stronfr desire Made her yell out in her sleep. Then she saw herself in fancy In her strange fantastic dream, With her elder sister Nancy, Yokin' up the bullock team. : 50 SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. Up out of her sleep she started, And the tears came to her eyes ; She was almost broken-hearted, To her waitin' maid's surprise. She was sad and penitential. Like the Prodigal of old, So she got a piece of pencil And her state of mind she told To her grey and aged father In that far outlandish place ; And she told him that she'd rather Like to see his wrinkled face. Then that quondam free-selector Shed the biggest tears of joy ; When he knew he might expect her His was bliss without alloy. Home came Sarah, just as one fine Day in May was near its close, And the fadin' rays of sunshine Glinted on her father's nose. SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. 51 She beheld it glowing brightly ; Filial yearning was intense ; So she made a rush and lightly Cleared the four-foot paddock fence. Hugged he her in fond embraces ; Kissed she him with many a kiss ; And she busted her stay-laces In an ecstasy of bliss. 52 SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. Then she wept with sorrow, thinkin', From the colour of his face, That her parent had been drinkin', Which was probably the case. But he, when he found his coat all Wet with many a filial tear, Took a solemn pledge tee-total To abstain from rum and beer. Then she went and sought her sisters, Judy, Nancy, and the rest ; On their faces she raised blisters With the kisses she impressed. And she once more con amore " Cottoned " to the calves and sheep, Likewise for her parent hoary She professed affection deep. Lavished on him fond caresses, Stuck to him like cobblers-wax, Cut up all her stylish dresses Into garments for the blacks. P I SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. 53 All her talents were befitted To a rough-and-tumble life, And from sheep to sheep she flitted When the " scab " and ** fluke " were rife. Sarah's heart was soft and tender, Her repentance was complete, Never sighed she more for splendour, For the " Block " or George's -street. Many a " back-block " lady-killer, Many a wealthy squatter's son. Wanted her to " douse the wilier," But she wasn't to be won. For that free-selector's daughter Said, when settled in her home, She'd be (somethinged) if they caught her Venturin' again to roam. if l,l' m P4 H tn SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. THE CATTLE MUSTER. THE NIGHT CAMP. The song goes round, we yarn and chaff, And cheerily the bushman's laugh Rolls through the forest glade. The hobbled horses feed around, We hear the horse-bell's tinkling sound ; The sand beneath their feet is ground, As in the creek they wade. We hear them crunch the juicy grass — The water gleams like polished glass, Beneath the moon's bright ray, Mosquitos form in solid cloud — They sting and sing, both sharp and loud ; Around the prostrate forms they crowd. And keep repose at bay. We watch the stars shine over head, And lounge upon the bushman's bed — A blanket on the ground. Each feels himself Dame Nature's guest. Our heads upon our saddles rest ; At length, with weariness oppressed, 55 n 56 SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. m I iffiir i! liiai! i We sink in sleep profound. We sleep as only weary ones Among hard-handed labour's sons, With minds at rest from debts and duns — As only these can do — Until the daylight's first faint streak Has lightly touched the distant peak, And o'er us where the branches creak, Is slowly creeping through. Reluctantly with sleep we strive, And hear the call to " look alive " ! We soon desert the camp. The horses caught and blankets rolled, The " Super's " brief instructions told — We mount, and scarce our steeds can hold, Impatiently they stamp. THE MUSTER. i! We ford the creek and need no bridge, And climb a steep and scrubby ridge. And then, boys, there's a sight ! — The "gully," by the sun unkist. Beneath lies rolled in gleammg mist And flowing waves of light; il SOUTHERLV BUSTERS. 57 As yet untouched by noon-tide heat, Like rocks where broken waters meet, ' Tis wrapped as by a winding sheet In billows fleecy white. Onward, and soon the sun's fierce rays Will dissipate the morning haze — He soars in fiery pomp. We skirt the shallow " clay-pan's " marge, Force "lignum" thickets, dense and large, And often-times we briskly charge Some dark " Yapunya-swamp." We gather first a quiet lot, Then off again with hurried trot Upon our toilsome tramp. Each gully, range, and hill we beat, Charge every horned thing we meet — With ringing shout and gallop fleet — And "run" ther-. "on the camp." The shaggy herd increases fast ; We know by lengthened shadows cast Time too has galloped hard ; 'Twill try our powers, howe'er we strive, This most rebellious mob to drive, E're night-fall, to the yard. 58 SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. THE RUN HOME. M'i! The order comes, — " Each to his place ! " And homeward now at length we face. The frightened monsters roar ; Some tear the unresisting ground, And some with frantic rush and bound (Half maddened by the stockwhip's sound) Each other fiercely gore ! We spread along the scattered line, Some on the "wings," and some behind, And steer them as we can. There's but one pass through yonder hill ; To guide them there will need some skill, And try both horse and man. Some hidden object checks them there ; The leaders snuff the wind, and glare, Then bellowing with their tails in air. Swerve madly to the right. A stockman hears our voices ring ; With easy stretch and supple spring, His hoi'se bears down along their wing, The living mass he wheels: Too close he presses ; at the sight One " breaks " and bellows with affright ; SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. 59 Dick swoops upon hini, like a kite ; The cutting thong he deals ; It falls with heavy sounding thwack — Such din those mountain gullies black Have scarce or never heard. He knows his work, that well-trained hack, Nor heeds the stockwhip's echoing crack, And sullenly the bull turns back, To join the hurrying herd. " Look out ! " a warning voice has said, " There's ' Mulga,' boys, and right ahead !" And now begins the rub ; From some their garments will be stripped, And saddle-flaps and " knee-pads " ripped, And horses' feet in holes be tripped, Before they clear the scrub. You, stockmen from the Murray's side, Who through the " Mallee " boldly ride, Beware the " mulga-stake ! " *Tis strong and tough as bullock-hide, Nor will, like " mallee," turn aside ; But, in its savage, sylvan pride, Will neither bend nor break ! Once through the scrub, we don't care how W ^ I 'T sessi |i;l! llilil iiii -i , ■1 ■ Things go ; we've got them steadied now And haven't lost a beast — And, far as ranges human eye, The plains are level as a die — Our toil has iiearly ceased. The Sun goes down, the day-light fails, But now we near the Stockyard rails — We've one sharp struggle more. One half the mob have never been (Forced from those gullies cool and green) In "branding- yard" before! We jam them at the open space ; They ring around, and fear to face The widely open gate. Whips crack, and voices shout in vain ; The cattle " ring," and strive again To force a passage to the plain. Impatiently we wait, Till one old charger glares around. And snuffing cautiously the ground Stalks through between the posts. With lowered heads the others " bore " And jam, and squeeze, and blindly gore; And with a hollow muttered roar SOUTHERLV BUSTERS. 6l Pour in those horned hosts ! Those posts are fourteen inches through- They creak, and groan, and tremble too, Before that pouring rush ! They're in at last, the gates are shut ; And falls o'er paddock, yard, and hut, A calm nocturnal hush. ^1- lit I m i' HI HI ffi I I I VV O 1-\ l'\ l-i U b E A WAIL O'ER A WHALE-MAN. Part I. Bill Blubber was a whale-man tight, And supple as a cord, And William first beheld the light Within a work-house ward. SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. 63 In youth he met with sad rebuffs, Hard, hard was William's lot, And most unnecessary cuffs And kicks he often got. At length one night both dark and black A window he got through, And with fresh weals upon his back He joined a whaler's crew. He learnt to " hand," and " reef," and steer, And knew the compass pat ; He learnt to honour and revere The boatswain and his " cat." He went to every coral isle Down in the Southern seas, Where dark-eyed beauties beam and smile Beneath the bread-fruit trees. His foot was firm upon the deck As Norval's on his heath ; He dared the tempest and the wreck For whale and walrus teeth. WM ■fn«' Mi I i 1' ill He braved Pacific foam and spray, For oil and b^che-le-mer, Till he grew ugly, old, and grey, An ancient mariner. His face got red, and blue, and pink With grog and weather stains ; He looked much like the missin link When in the mizen chains. SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. 65 Part II. Bill Blubber's ^one, and he'll be missed By all on British soil ; Be aisy now and hold your whist, He'll go no more for Hoyle ! No more he'll see the billows curl In north Atlantic gales ; No more the keen harpoon he'll hurl At spermaceti whales. Ah ! never more he'll heave the log — A harsh decree was Fate's ; He took an over-dose of grog When up in Be(e)hrin^ Straits, Death blew a bitter blast and chill Which struck his sails aback, And round the corse of Workhouse Bill They wound a Union Jack. A " longing, lingering look " they cast, Then sewed him in a bag, And half way up the lofty mast They hoist the drooping flag. W I 66 SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. His mess-mates crossways tossed the yards, Askew they hung the sails, Eschewed tobacco, rum, and cards. And filled the ship with wails The grief-struck skipper drank some grog, Of solace he had need. And made an entry in the log No livin' soul could read. And then a ghastly laugh he laughed His spirits to exhalt, And then he called the boatswain aft And fnustered every sali The whalers gave one final howl, And cursed their hard, hard lucks; They came, and though the wind W2is foul, They wore their whitest ducks. The captain — kindest, best of men — Strove hard his breath to catch ; (Crouched like an incubating hen, Upon the dSt^r-katc/i). i^{ II M ^ 'IB. il ii ^1^ II 111 He said as how the time was come To Bill to say good -bye ; And tears of water and of rum, Stood in each manly eye. Said he, " My lads, dispel this gloom, " Bid griet and sorrow halt ; " For if the sea must be his tomb, " D'ye see it aint \i\s f(v)ault. " ' Tis true we'll never see his like " At 'cutting in' a whale — " At usin' knife ci marlin-spike, " But blubber won't avail. " Soh ! steady lads, belay all that ! " ' Vast heaving sobs and sighs ; ". D(^n't never go to ' whip the cat ' " For William, bless hij eyes ! *' I knew him lads when first he shipped, " And this is certain, that " Though William by th*" ' cat " was whipped, "He never ' whipped the cat! " ® SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. The skipper read the service through, And snivelled in his sleeve, While calm and still, old wcrk'us Bill Awaits the final heave. He had no spicy hearse and three. No gay funereal car ; But, at the word, souse in the sea They pitch that luckless tar. Short-handed then those whalemen toil Upon their oily cruise, And many and many a cruse of oil For want of Bill they lose. The mate and captain in despair His cruel fate deplore ; His mess-mates swore they never were In such a mess before. The crew, who had a bittt r cup To drink with their salt-horse. When next they hauled the mainsel up, Bewailed his missin corse. * J.ilzen-course o course. 69 iiL ■ ill mm i M It t ^^^ 70 SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. i! Ml .;( Aks ! his corpse had downward sunk, His soul hath upward sped, And Will hath left a sailor's ' bunk ' To share an oyster's bed. We hope his resting place will suit — We trust he's happy now — Laid where the pigs can never root, Lulled by the ocean's sough. I! r\v The Souqh of the Ocean. CHRISTMAS IN AUSTRALIA. *ile up the logs, for Christmas keen Shall find us not in gloom — Stay ! put the windows up, I mean, And air this stifling room. :i:) 72 i SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. This Christmas-eve ? This stifling night ? The leaves upon the trees ? The temperature by Farenheit Some ninety odd degrees ? Ah me ! my thoughts were off at score To Christmases I've passed, Before upon this Southern shore My weary lot was cast. To Christmases of ice and snow, And stormy nights and dark ; To holly-boughs and mistletoe, And skating in the Park To vast yule-logs and yellow fogs Of the vanished days of yore — To the keen white frost, and tiie home that's lost, The home that's mine no more. *Twas passing nice through snow and ice To drive to distant " hops," But here, alas ! the only ice Is in the bars and shops I SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. 73 I've Christmased since those palmy days In many a varied spot, And suffered many a weary phase Of Christmas cold and hot. When cherished hopes were stricken down- Hopes born but to be lost — And when the ""^orld's chill blighting frown Seemed colder than the frost. ifflll' ml 'Tis hard to watch — when from within The heart all hope has flown — The old year out, the new year in, Unfriended and alone When whispers seem to rise and tell Of scenes you used to know — You almost hear the very bells You heard so long ago. v\n I've Christmased in a leaky tub Where briny billows roll. And Christmased in the Mulga scrub Beside a water-hole. ill! hm I''k ' 74 SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. With ague in my aching joints, And in my quivering bones; My bed, the rough uneven points Of sharp and jagged stones. Where life a weary burden was With all the varied breeds Of creeping things with pointed stings, And snakes, and centipedes. *Twas not a happy Christmas that : How can one happy be With bull-dog ants inside your hat. And black ants in your tea } Australian child, what cans't thou know Of Christmas in its prime .<* Not flower-wreathed, but wreathed in snow, As in yon northern clime. Thou hast not seen the vales and dells Arrayed in gleaming white, Nor heard the sledge^s silver bells Go tinkling through the night. For thee no glittering snow-storm whirls ; Thou hast instead of this Only the dust-storm's eddying swirls — The hot-wind's scalding kiss ! What can'st thou know of frozen lakes, Or Hyde — that Park divine ? For, though by no means lacking snakes, Thou hast no " Serpentined Thou hast not panted, yearned to cut Strange figures out with skates. Nor practised in the water-butt, Nor heard those dismal " waits." J For thee no "waits" lugubrious voice Breaks forth in plaintive wail ; Rejoice, Australian child, rejoice ! That balances the scale. I see in fancy once again The London streets at night — Trafalgar square, St Martin's Lane — Each well remembered sight. I'l'^'i!^ Past twelve ! and Nature's winding-sheet Is over street and square, And silently now fall the feet, Of those who linger there. I see a wretch with hunger bold (An Ishmaelite 'mong men) Crawl from some hovel dark and cold — Some foul polluted den — A wretch who never learnt to pray. And wearily he drags His life along from day to day In v/retchedness and rags. I see a wandering carriage lamp Glide silently and slow ; The night-policeman's heavy tramp Is muffled by the snow. I hear the mournful chaunt ascend ('Tis meaningless to you) " We're frozen out, hard- working men, We've got no work to do 1 " SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. All, all the many sounds and sights Come trooping through my brain Of London streets, and winter nights, And pleasure mixed with pain. 11 fflft Be happy you who have a home, Be happy while you may. For sorrow's ever quick to come, And slow to pass away. y '■ Your churches and your dwellings deck With ferns and flowers fair ; I would not breathe a word to check The mirth I cannot share. For, though my barque's a shattered hi. 11, And I could be at best But like the famed Egyptian skull, A mirth-destroying guest, I would not play the cynic's part, Nor at ^/ly pleasure sneer — I wish thee, Reader, from my heart, A happy, glad New year. ri:: 78 SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. ECHO VERSES. Some years ago I chanced upon a magazine article con- taining a dissertation upon a now almost obsolete kind of versification, much affected by Ben Jonson and some of the last century poets, in which the first two or three lines of each verse ask a question, and the echo of the concluding words gives an answer more or less appropriate. An amusing example was given in the article above mentioned, which was equally rough on the great violinist of the past and his audience, thus : "What are they who pay six guineas To hear a string of Paganini's ? " (Echo) " Pack '0 ninnies ! " I read this and a few other examples, and was straightway stricken with a desire to emulate this eccentric and somewhat difficult species of versification, and now with considerable diffidence, and a choking prayer for mercy at the hands of the critic, I lay my attempt before the reader. The following echo-verses are not on any account what- ever to be understood as reflecting on the present or any past Government of this Colony. They are merely to be taken as shadowing forth a state of things possible in the remote future. m. SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. 79 WHAT AN ECHO TOLD THE AUTHOB. Author, musing : Our land hath peace, prosperity, and rhino, And Legislators true, and staunch, and tried — What trait have they, that is not pure — divine oh ? ( Echo interposing) " / hwzv ! " What is it, if thus closely thou hast pried ? '^ Pride!'' If thus into their hearts thou hast been prying, Thy version of the matter prithee paint ; Tell us, I pray, on what are they relying ? I thought their honour was without a taint- '' Lying!'' '''Taint !" Have they forgotten all their former glories ? Their virtue — what hath chanced its sffowth to stunt ? Oh ! wherefore should they change their ancient mores ? " More ease!" What weapon makes the sword of Justice blunt ? ''Blunt!"* \ I r - ifla IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 1.0 I.I iia iiiiiM m "'"— 2.0 1.8 If I4£ 1.25 1.4 1.6 ^ 6" ► V2 : *^ '.s!'-' c- ^% (P / Photographic Sciences Corporation iV ^v ^^ i\ \ LV ^\y^ 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 (716) 872-4503 L

'■• — ^- ■*^^- V^l^ " And the possums 'streaked' it up the trees, And frightened the young gallars, And all the hairs on the native-bears Stood fetifif as iron bars ! " The shepherd came from his low roof-tree And gazed at the shrunken wight; He go.ve him welcome courteously, And jested at his plight. He led the traveller 'neath his roof, And gazed in his wan, worn face. Where want was writ, and he bid him sit On an empty 'three-star' case. And a smile of evil import played On the face of ancient Bill As some of the damper down he laid, And bid him take his fill. With mute thanksgiving in his breast The food the stranger tore ; Piece after piece he closely pressed Dc wn on the piece before. 94 SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. And then — his heart fresh buoyed with hope- Essayed to mount his steed, But the horse shut flat as an opera-hat With the weight of his master's feed ; And horse and man sunk through the sod Some sixty feet or less ! No crust, I swear, of the Earth could bear The weight of the gruesome mess ! I SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. 'iWJi'jflJI^Jl :_ J*^ iriiiu Ml Gin and Water. 95 Then the shepherd grinned with a grizzly grin As he notched his stick again ; The night passed by and the sun rose high And glared on the salt-bush plain. Two "gins" set forth in a bark canoe To traverse the gloomy lake, And he bid them take enough for two, For lunch, of the deadly cake. t l!' ( ' 96 SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. Enough for two ! 'twas enough I ween To settle the hash of four, For the barque o'er-flowed with the crushing load- They sank to rise no more. And ever his fiendish lust for blood — His thirst for vengeance grows ; In sport he threw a crumb or two To the hawks and carrion crows ; And as they helpless, fluttering lay, His eldrich laughter rings ; One crumb to bear through the lambent air Was past the power of wings. Beside his door he sat 'ti!l noon When a bullock-team came by ; The echoes 'round with the whips resound, And the drivers' cheery cry. Upon the dray a piece he threw No bigger than your hand, Of the cursed thing, 'twas enough to bring The bullocks to a stand. r-r T SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. And, though they bend their sinewy necks 'Till red with their crimson gore, And fiercely strain yoke, pole, and chain With savage, muttering roar, The wheels sank down to the axle-tree — Through the hard baked clay they tore. And a single jot from out that spot They shifted never more. Then the shepherd called to the drivers, " Ho ! My frugal meal partake." And, though they ate but a crumb or two Of the fell, unholy cake, Down, down they sank on the scorching track, Immovable and prone. And steel blue ants crawled up their pants A nd ate them to the bone ! For days by his lonely hut sat Bill, The hut to the lakelet nigh, And he wrought his dark revengeful will On each traveller that came by. 97 1 1 : 98 SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. And he eats nor drinks meat, bread, nor gruel, Nor washes, nor combs, nor shaves, But he yelled, and he danced a wild pas seul O'er each of his victims' graves. S|l Three weeks passed by, but his end was nigh- His day was near its close, For rumour whispered his horrid deeds, And in arms the settlers rose. SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. 99 They came, hinds, shepherds, and shearers too, And squatters of high degree ; His hands they tied, and his case they tried 'Neath the shade of a bhie gum tree. They sentence passed, and they gripped him fast. Though to tear their flesh he tried ; His teeth he ground, but his Hmbs they bound With thongs of a wild bull's hide. They laid him down on a "bull-dog's" nest, For the bull-dog ants to sting ; On his withered chest they pile the rest Of the damned cursM thing. They gather round and they stir the ground 'Till the insects swarm again. And the echoes wake by the gloomy lake With his cry of rage and pain. O'er his writhing form the insects swarm— O'er arm, o'er foot, and leg ; The damper pressed on his heaving chest, And he couldn't move a peg. lOO SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. 'Till eve he lay in the scorching heat, And the rays of the blinding sun, Then the black-ants came and they soon complete What the bull-dogs have begun. 'Tis o'er at last, and his spirit passed With a yell of fiendish hate. And down by the shore of that black lagoon, Where his victims met their fate — ! m. SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. lOI Where the " bunyip " glides, and the inky tides Lip, lap on the gloomy shore, And the loathsome snake of the swamp abides, He wanders ever more. And when the shadows of darkness fall (As hinds and stock-men tell) The plains around with his howls resound, And his fierce, blood-curdling yell. The kangaroos come forth at night To feed o'er his lonely grave, And above his bones with disma tones The dingos shriek and rave. And when drovers camp with a wild-mob there They shiver with affright, And quake with dread if they hear his tread In the gloom of the ebon night ! c:q^9:? I02 SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. SOCIAL EVILS. FEEL that any reader who has been long-suffering enough to accompany me thus far must be craving earnestly for a change of some sort, even though it but take the form of an oasis of indifferent prose in a monotonous Sahara of verse; I want it myself, and I know that the reader must yearn for it, even as the bushman who has sojourned long among the flesh-pots of remote sheep and cattle stations yearneth after the pumpkins and cabbages of the Mongolian market gardener. I am, therefore, going to write about social evils ; not because I think I can say anything particularly original or striking about them, but because I must have a subject, and I know the craving of the Colonial mind after practical ones. I commence diffidently, however ; not on account of the barrenness of the theme — oh ! dear no — it is its very fruitfulness which baffles me ; its magnitude that appals me ; its con ^ lehensiveness which gets over me ; and my inability to deal with it in such limited space which " knocks me into a cocked-hat " Even as I write, things which may be legitimately called social evils rise up before me in spectral array, like Banquo's issue, in sufficient numbers to stretch not only to the *' crack '"im SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. 103 of doom," — wherever that mysterious fissure may be — but a considerable distance beyond it. Unfortunately, too, each one, like the progeny of that philoprogenitive Scotchman, " bears a glass which shows me many more," until I am as much flabbergasted as Macbeth himself, and am compelled to take a glass of something myself to soothe my disordered nerves. If every one were permitted to give his notion of what constitutes a social evil my difficulties would be still more augmented, and the schedule swelled considerably. I know men who would put their wives down in the list as a matter of course ; and others, fathers of families, who would include children. Few married men would omit mothers-in-law ; most domestics would include work and masters and mistresses ; and hardly anybody would exclude tax-gatherers. Fortunately, however, these well-meaning, but mistaken reformers, will have to take back seats on the present occasion, and leave me to touch on a few, at least, of what are legitimate and undeniable social evils. Look at them, as they drag their mis-shapen forms past us in hideous review ! Adulteration of food, political dishonesty, '' larrikinism," barbarism on the part of the police, lemonade and gingerbeerism in the stalls of theatres, peppermint- ' I I04 SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. lozengism in the dress circle, flunkeyism, itinerant preacherism in the parks — what a subject this last is, by the way, and how beautifully mixed up one's faith becomes after listening to half a dozen park preachers, of different denominations, in succession ! After hearing the different views propounded by these self-constituted apostles, an intelligent islander from the Pacific would receive the impression that the white man wor- shipped about seventy or eighty different and distinct gods (a theological complication with whir' his simple mind would be unable to grapple), and he would probably retire to enjoy the society of his graven image with an increased respect for that bit of carving, and any half-formed inclinations to dissent from the religion of his forefathers quenched for ever. I have neither space, ability, nor desire to tackle such stupendous subjects as political dishonesty or adulteration. They are so firmly grafted on our social system that nothing short of a literary torpedo could affect them in the slightest degree, but I do feel equal to crushing the boy who sells oranges and lemonade in the pit — who when, in imagination, I am on the " blasted heath" enjoying the society of the weird sisters, or at a Slave Auction in the Southern States, sympathis- ing with the sufferings of the Octoroon, ruthlessly drags me back to nineteenth century common places with his thrice damnable war-cry of "applesorangeslemonadeanabill!" a string "Tflff SOUTHERLV BUSTERS. 105 of syllables which are in themselves death to romance, and annihilation to sentiment, irrespective of the tone and key in which they are uttered. If for one happy moment I have forgotten that Hamlet is in very truth " a icing of shreds and patches," or that Ophelia is a complicated combination of rouge, paste, springs, padding, and pectoral improvers, I maintain that it is playing it particularly rough on me if I am to be recalled to a remembrance of all this by the blood- curdling shibboleth of these soulless fruit merchants. Can lemonade compensate me for the destruction of the airy castles I have been building ? Can ginger-beer steep my senses again in the elysium of romance and sentiment from which they have been thus ruthlessly awakened ? Or can an ocean of orange- juice wash away or obliterate the disagreeable consciousness that I am a clerk in a Government office, or a reporter on the staff of a weekly paper, and am neither Claud Melnotte nor " a person of consequence in the 13th century?" — unhesitatingly no ! And if, in addition, there be wafted towards me a whiff or two of a highly-flavoured peppermint lozenge from some antique female — on whose head be shame ! and on whose false front rest eternal obliquy — my cup of sorrow is full, my enjoy- ment of the drama is destroyed, the Recording angel has a lively time of it for an hour or so registering execrations, and I am plunged in an abyss of melancholy from which the arm '■? of a Hennessy (the one that holds the battle axe) or a Kinahan can alone rescue ine. And here, reader, I must conclude, for your patience is in all probability exhausted, and my washerwoman has called ; she is a social evil of the most malignant tyoe. SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. 107 MORAL PHILOSOPHY FOR LITTLE FOLKS. Little grains of rhubarb, Spatala'd with skill, Make the mighty bolus And the little pill. Little pence and half-pence, Hoarded up by stealth, Make the mighty total Of the miser's wealth Little trips to Randwick, Taking six to three, Make the out-at-elbows Seedy swells we see. Little sprees on oysters, Bottled stout and ale, Lead but to the cloisters Of the gloomy gaol. I: i io8 SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. Little tracts and tractlets, Scattered here and there, Lead the sinner's footsteps To the house of prayer. Little bits of paper, Headed LO.U., Ever draw the Christian Closer to the Jew. Little chords and octaves, Little flats and sharps, Make the tunes the angels Play on golden harps. Little bouts with broom-sticks, Carving forks and knives. Make the stirring drama Of our married lives. Little flakes of soap-suds, Glenfield starch, and blue. Make the saint's white shirt-fronts And the sinner s too. -7W!|-| SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. Little tiny insects, Smaller than a flea, Make the coral islands In the southern sea. Little social falsehoods, Such as " Not at home," Lead to realms of darkness Where the wicked roam. Likewise little cuss words Such as " blast," and "blow," Quite as much as wuss words Fill the place below. 109 T* SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. Ill IL AN AMBITIOUS DREAM. I walked about in Wynyard Square At four one afternoon ; I saw a stately peeler there, He softly hummed a tune. The sun-rays lit his buttons bright ; He stalked with stately stride ; It was a fair and goodly sight — The peeler in his pride And padded was his manly breast, Such kingly mien had he, And such a chest, I thought how blest That peeler's lot must be. I noted well his martial air, And settled that of course He was the idol of the fair, The angel of the Force. « SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. 133 Then, Joe, when he his tactics knew, Attacked his other calf, And swamp-owls' echoed as they flew The spirit's ghastly laugh. And soon, beneath those stalwart knocks Which echo and resound, The demon's severed person rocks And topples to the ground " Go in and win," the spirit said — " Go in and win, old son ! " The demon he was nearly dead, So Joe went in and won. That ghost full many a ' spotted-gum' Had felled in life, you see, And so they felled that spotted one, For foul and fell was he. " Now fetch me wedges," quoth the ghost, '* For here, I guess, we'll camp ; We'll blast his trunk, split rails and posts, And fence Blackwattle Swamp ! " • • « • • f.| m i^- 134 SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. But Stay ! what means that sounding thwack ? That agonizing roar ? And how comes Joseph on his back Upon his bedroom floor ? Where's now the elevated head, The majesty and pomp Of him who slew the demon dread That lived in Wattle Swamp ? Mephitic odours filled the room, And, acting on his brain, These made him dream of blackest gloom, And deadly demons slain. 'Till, rolling from his couch, he broke The silence with a scream. He bumped upon the floor — then woke,^^ And found it all a dream ! Next morning, so tradition tells, His way to church Joe took, To curse the Corporation swells With candle, bell, and book. * Justice compels me to state that the condition of the swamp referred to has been materially improved of late, and it is no longer the all-powerful and putrifying nuisance it was. joutherly busters. 135 He prayed that they might cursed be Within the Council hall, At evening parties, breakfast, tea, — At dinner most of all. That they might feast in woe and grief, On chicken with the croup ; That pleuro might infect their beef. And flies invade their soup ; 1 136 SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. That turtles, though so often " turned," Might some day turn on them, And that at last they might be burned, And fricasseed in hem ! And ne'er this curse shall lifted be From Aldermanic back, Until from odours foul set free Is Wattle Swamp the Black. SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. 137 CHRISTMAS. By a New Chum. What means that merry clanging chime Which fills the air with melody ? They tell me that 'tis Christmas time, But that I think can scarcely be. This explanation is, I say, A little bit too thin for me, While fiercely strikes the solar ray Tirough hat of straw and puggaree. The centigrade, I grieve to see, Stands up at figures past belief, And naught but frequent S and B Gives my perspiring soul relief. No veil of snow enwraps the lea, And as for skating in the Park, Or sledging, one as well might be On Ararat in Noah's ark. t' I h 1 ! 4M nil s 1 1.- i 138 SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. Where is the icy blast, and where The white hoar frost, and driving sleet ? At night I suffocate and swear With nothing on me but a sheet. Mosquitoes hum the whole night through, And flies salute me when I wake In numbers anything but few, And yesterday I saw a snake. No leaf decays ; no flower dies ; All nature seems as fair and bright As, when beneath Judean skies. The shepherds watched their flocks by night. [In fair Judea's sunny clime. Among its mountain gorges lone, Those shepherds had a rosy time, For wire-fencing wasn't known. They were not prone to " knocking-down" Of cheques or going on the spree. For " pubs" and " shanties" were not found Beside the Lake of Galilee. If SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. They groaned not 'neath the squatter's yoke ; A h'fe of pure arcadian ease Was theirs -ah ! happy, happy blokes ! For this digression, pardon, please.] Those Christmas chimes, indeed ! their notes Awake no passing thought in me, Of flannel vests, and Ulster coats, So Christmas chimes they cannot be. A drowsy hum is in the air — There's perspiration on my skin ; The locusts eat the grass-plots bare. And deafen with their noisy din. The folks were drinking summer drinks When first I landed here last " fall ;" 'Tis summer still, alas ! methinks They have no Christmas here at all. But stay ! that paper pile sublime— Of I O.U. and unpaid bill- Breathes somewhat of the festive time Of "peace on earth— to man good- will. '^ 139 ■ii; ,1 f ■ ^11 HO SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. There's Starkey's bill for lemonade, And Peape's and Shaw's for summer suits, A host of others, all unpaid, For ice, and cubas, and cheroots. Enough ! 'tis proof enough for me — Proof stronger far than Christmas chime ; Your pardon, friend, for doubting thee, Beyond a doubt 'tis Christmas time. -^. SOUTHERLV BUSTERS. 141 "THE CATARACT."* I stood by the trunk of a giant box And watched the Cataract down the rocks With ceaseless thunder go. The boiling waters seethed and hissed, And glittering clouds of gleaming mist Ascended from below. The fading glow of the sunlight slants O'er the frowning cliff which the creeping plants, And moss, and lichens drape. The mist spread forth on the sultry air — 'Twas wreathed in figures, some foul, some fair ; I traced the form of a spectre there Of weird and ghastly shape. There was silence, save for the summer breeze Which swayed the tops of the mess-mate trees, And the torrent's noisy flow. Awhile the figure seemed to stand, Then waved a shadowy, spectral hand, And pointed down below. * Written for the Tinon and Country Journal, March 25th, 1876, with reference to the well-known Cataract near Berrima. np^ i fp III H With wild vague thoughts my fancy strove Of hidden riches, and treasure trove, And gems and jewels bright ; And what, thought I, if the omen's true ? And thick and fast such fancies grew Till rock, and torrent, and spectre too All faded from my sight I saw the crust of the earth removed — Each wild conjecture fairly proved — I saw, 'twas even so. Peerless gems of price untold, Piles on piles of glittering gold. And the moon-beams glinted clear and cold On the wealth that lay below. Ere long men came to that valley fair ; They sought for coal-black diamonds there, And they dragged them from below : And the furnace fires, the hiss of steam. And the whirr of fly-wheel, belt, and beam Fulfilled that shadowy, golden dream I dreamt so long ago. THE STOCKMAN'S GRAVE. Tom the stockman's gone — he'll never Use again his supple thong, Or, dashing madly through the mulga, Urge the scattered herd along. O'er for Tom is life's hard battle ! Well he rode, and nothing feared ; Never more among the cattle Shall his cheery voice be heard. Liked he was with' all his failings ; Let no idle hand efface That rude ring of rough split palings, Marking'out his resting place. Sadly have his comrades left him Where the cane-grass, gently stirred By the north wind, bends and quivers — Where the bell-bird's note is heard ; M HI T Where the tangled " boree" blossoms. Where the *' gidya" thickets wave, And the tall yapunyah's* shadow Rests upon the stockman's grave. is '■i 1^" SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. 145 II' < i EPITAPH ON A CONVIVIAL SHEARER. Here Thompson lies— good worthy man- Come, gentle reader, nearer ; He's now as quiet as a lamb Though once he was a shearer. Though many sheep in life he shore, He's now beyond retrieving ! He's sheered off to that other shore Which surely there's no leaving. Though he o'er ewes and wethers too Was often bent, I'm thinking Rough weather o'er him bends the yew- He killed himself with drinking. No more in shed, or yard, or hut Will Thompson be appearing ! On wings of down his soul flew «/— He's gone where there's no shearing. i; 146 SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. He often handled " Ward and Payne's,"* For he was often shearing ! Alas ! the pains of death reward His everlaGcingbeering. And from his fingers dropped the shears, For nature's debt was pressing ; Death nailed his body for arrears — His spirit effervescing. Though at his jokes we often roared, He's now a soundish sleeper ! His crop of chaff at length is floored By Death, thdi mighty reaper. -)r * Note.— Ward and Payne's sheep shears are or were most in use in the Australian colonies when the above was written. SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. 147 Ml A CANDIDATE FOR AN EARLY GRAVE. What makes me wear my boots so tight, And much pomatum buy, Toss restless on my bed at night, And like an earthquake sigh ? I've seen a maid, I'd fain persuade That girl to fancy me ; Thrice happy fate with such a mate For life as Polly C ! But then I can't without her aunt That damsel ever see ; Why must there always be a " but" Between my hopes and me ? And Polly C has got to be Between me and my peace, For though I can't endure the aunt, I idolize the neice. H-IU iiT ■ - ! «HPrra 148 SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. The aunt is forty-three at least, The neice but seventeen ; For her I pine, for her so greased My hair of late has been. For her my feet are close compressed In boots a deal too tight ; For her I sacrifice my rest, And get no sleep at night ; For her I run that tailor's bill That makes my father swear. A nd to the grave I fear it will Bring down his grizzled hair. • • « • * We met, but 'twas not in a crowd, It was not at a ball. Nor where cascades with thunder loud N From precipices fall ; Nor where the mountain torrents rush, Or ocean billows heave ; Nor at the railway terminus 'Mid cries of *' by'r leave ; " SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. 149 It was not in the forest wild, Nor on the silent sea — Romantic reader don't be riled- 'Twas at a " spelling-bee." i ( b ISO SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. 'Twas there I marked the jetty coil That crowned her classic head- The perfumes of macassar oil Were all around her shed. And o'er the meaner spirits there Her mighty soul arose ; Her intellect and genius were Aspiring — like her nose. And Polly was the fairest there — The goddess of the class — Among the ^o/)/syllables Unscathed I saw her pass. Examiners with piercing eye, And terror-striking frown In vain to trip her up might try — In vain to take her down. She triumphs, and the loud applause From roof to basement rings — Each other girl with envy gnaws Her hat and boiinet strings. SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. 151 Sometimes (regardless of expense) I dressed and went to church ; One glimpse of her would recompense My eager longing search. And, while the swelling organ rent The air with solemn tunes, On spelling-bees my thoughts were bent And happy honeymoons. And where I brooding sat alone The wildest dreams I dreamt, And swore to win her for my own Or " bust" in the attempt. * * * * We met at parties, and our toes Whirl in the dreamy waltz, And if at times a thought arose— Could hair like that be false ? I sniffed the reassuring coil That shamed the damask rose, And could not breathe a thought disloyal While that was near my nose. * i i Pl 152 SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. ^^ ^^ — I ■-:^='^W/ •"^ {■:^ A (\ ^r^T n f /A '6 go o At length her aunt — the summer gone- The influenza got ; To see my Polly to her home It oft became my lot. SOUTHERLV BUSTERS And if I took the longest way The fraud was never known, For organ of "locality" My darling she had none. One night, about the supper hour, Thanks to some kindly fate, We reached the entrance to her bower I mean the garden gate. It was a gloomy night and wet With rain and driving sleet, And more than common risk beset Pedestrians in the street. From harm from wheel of cab or cart Fd kept my darling free, And in the fulness of her heart She asked me in to tea. Her aunt, that stately dame and grand. Looked knives and forks at me; She'd "Butter's Spelling "in her hand, And " Webster" on her knee. 154 SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. Her bead-like eyes gleamed bright behind The spectacles she wore ; Of intellect and strength of mind She had enough for four. And tall her figure was, and spare, And bony were her joints ; Orthography and grammar were The strongest of her points. A morbid taste this virgin chaste For dictionaries had ; Though Polly C. might perfect be, Her aunt was spelling mad. I felt that if an angel bright To earth from OEther fell, She'd either give that Son of Light Some heavy word to spell, Or else she'd get him on to parse, 'Till sick of earthly things, He'd work his passage to the stars Upon his downy wings. li SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. 155 K^ffl i w^^S^ fM w v^> m , iM'i i« Ml At Dr. Blank's academy, 1 never took the lead ; My grammar and orthography Were very weak indeed, And oft those academic walls Have echoed to my howls, Responsive to the Doctor's calls For consonants and vow'ls. His rules respecting " Q's" and " P's" Were graven on our backs, And though we had no spelling-bees, I got my share of whacks. For what the Doctor failed to see Impressed upon the mind, Was certain very soon to be Impressed in full behind. But still, despite the scathing look. And cane of Dr. Blank, My spelling powers never took An elevated rank. And if my hopes of Polly hung Upon so frail a thread. My life was blighted ere begun — My hopes, scarce born, were dead. SOUTHERLV BUSTERS. All silent through that evening meal I sat with bended head, And now and then a glance I steal At Polly while she fed ; But though her eyes I often seek, I only look at most ; My heart's too full of love to speak My mouth too full of toast. Oh I sweet love-feast .'—too sweet to last- Oh ! bitter after-cud ! Oh ! spinster grim why did'st thou blast Love's blossom in the bud ? For, 'ere one happy hour could pass, That virgin grim and fell Invited me to join the class Where Polly went to spell ; And though I trembled in my shoes. In hopeless agony, Could I the aunt of her refuse Whose spell was over me ? 157 '!( 158 SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. I \i I At length arrived the dreaded hour, And primed with eau de vie^ I sought that orthographic bower Where met the spelHng-bee. No hope of prizes lured me toward Those hundred gleaming eyes, For me there was but one reward, And Polly was the prize. For her my dull ambition leapt, In literary lists To cope with lunatics who slept With "Webster" in their fists. Vague dread forebodings cloud my brow, And make my cheek grow pale, Oh ! Dr. Johnson help me now — My hopes are in the scale ! My frame with apprehension shook; To nerve me for the task. With tender, longing, yearning look I eyed my pocket-flask, '"^sft SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. 159 And tempted by the spirit bright That dwelt within its h*ps, I put the contents out of sight In two convulsive sips. A stony-eyed examiner Came in and took the chair; I knew a place that's spelt with "H," And wished that he was there. I softly cursed his form erect— His "specs" with golden rim, And prayed that doctors might dissect His body limb from limb. But soon the spirit's subtle fume Obfusticates my view; The common objects of the room Seem multiplied by two. My breast, the late abode of funk, With courage was embued ; I was a little less than drunk, And something more than screwed. i! r 1 60 SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. And while my heart beat loud and fast With wild convulsive pants, I saw /wo Pollys, and alas ! A pair of Polly's Aunts ! I fail to solve the mystery Which Polly I prefer. But thought I'd like Po/ygsimy With duplicates of her. Involved in intellectual gloom, i found the A. B. C. Had vanished, vanquished by the fumes Of Henessey's P. B. And when that stony-looking one Applied at length to me, I spelt "consumption" with a "K," And "kangaroo" with "C"! I will not paint these harrowing scenes, Nor keep thee, reader, long. Nor tell thee how I shocked the "Bee" By breaking 'brth in song. ft' f l62 SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. Two orthographic youths arose, And dragged me from the room, Despite my wild and aimless blows, Into the outer gloom. SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. With force, and tender soothing tones They led me from the hall, And laid me on the cold, cold stones Beneath the bare brick wall. They spread for me no blanket warm, No cloak or possum-rug, And peelers bore my helpless form In triumph to the "Jug." Next day I found the "summons-j^^^/" A blanket cold indeed ; I felt that liberty was sweet, I wanted to be freed : But peelers' hearts are solid rock, They wouldn't hear me speak, They dragged me to the felon's dock Before a hook-nosed "beak." He offered me— that hook-nosed "beak"- The option of a fine. In place of many a weary week Of punishment condign. 163 W 164 SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. I mutely pointed to my Sire, The fount of my supplies, And then bereft of joy I left The court with tearful eyes. I could not read again and live The note I got 'ere long, From Polly's single relative Anent my goings on. She told me it would be as well Our intercourse should cease — That one who drank, and couldn't spell Should never have her niece. She recommended frugal fare, And I'^xicons, and pumps. But when I think of Polly's hair My own comes out in lumps ! Oh! tell me not a "spelling-bee's" A swe;., and pleasant thing; I've drunk of sorrow's bitter lees — I've felt that insect's sting. .1 "'"''teh SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. 165 My hopes are dead, despair hath spread O'er me its blackest pall; The honey and the wine of life Are turned to bitter gall. Although I'm barely twenty-one My crop of care is ripe ! No joy have I in moon or sun. Or in my meerchaum pipe. Oh ! where are now the happy days, When first I learnt to smoke.? When life seemed one long holiday- Existence but a joke ? When I'd no other thought or care Except my cane to gnaw. And train the soft incipient hair That grew upon my jaw.? They've passed away those happy days And now I only crave A brief, brief life— an early death, A requiem, and a grave. m 1 66 SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. And billiards now I never play; Not long my father will Be troubled by me to defray That tailor's lenp-thened bill. I never wink at bar-maids now, But soberly I tread As walketh one whose home's among The cold and silent dead. One debt lies heavy on my breast I'd like to pay but can't; I'd like, before I go to rest, To settle Polly's aunt. I hope they'll take her where the time Counts not by days and weeks — The place of which 'tis wrong to rhyme, And no one ever speaks ! 'Tis where the letters that she loves — The consonants and vow'ls — Are melted down in paltnt stoves, And moulded into howls I SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. 167 ..vjv v:. 'rii'^^I*^^^^-'^ :Wm. mr- •?l i68 SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. A PEELER'S APPEAL Against the Helmet of Modern Times, I was a peeler of a kind That's seldom met with now ; I used to part my hair behind, It clustered o'er my brow , In glossy ringlets, crisp and dark ; I had a massive chest, And oft I lit lo ^'s fatal spark Within the female breast. The buttons on my coat of blue Shone with effulgent light, And cooks with eyes of dazzling hue Fell prostrate at the sight. 'SlOHS or THE PAST At almost every kitchen door They met me with a smile ; But then in modest pride I wore The regulation tile. No more they come with outstretched arms My person to enwrap ; No more they hold the mutton cold As sacred to the trap. ii i I70 SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. They never asks me into sup ; No smoking joints they bile ; They hates this cursed new-come-up- This 'elmet mean and vile. "f-'t-ntS OfTHtPM**"^ The boys what vends the " Evenin' News,*' When I comes stalkin' by, Awakes each alley, lane and mews. With, *' Crikey ! 'ere's a guy !" The cabbies stare so hard at me. No wonder I gets huffed ; They grins, and axes wj.o I be. And if I'm " real or stuffed " I 172 SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. And when I walks about my beat The hosses dreads the sight ; They stands up endways in the street A snortin* with affright. The 'bus-conductors winks and leers, And holds their sides and splits ; And kids of very tender years I frightens into fits. I once was right at forty-four For supper, lunch, and tea ; Upon this bosom Susan swore She'd never lo^^e but me. Alas ! for that inconstant cook The 'elmet 'ad no charms ; A most sanguineous butcher took My Susan to his arms. My Susan's cheeks were fair and sleek- So were the chops she cooked ; But on her chops, and on her cheek, My last I fear I've looked. SOUTHERLV BUSTERS. ^7Z ^ : That butcher said as how 'twas meat That me and she should part, And never more for me will beat That culinary 'eart. Now listen you who've got to fix What bobbies is to wear, And if your 'earts aint. 'ard as bricks, Oh ! 'ear a peeler's prayer. IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) / o {•/ ,<" WJ'.. 7 ^ fe &?/ ^. :/- 1.0 I.I ^" IIIIM IIIIM ■'■ ilM IIIIIZ2 I2J 40 12.0 1.8 1.25 1.4 1.6 ^4 6" ► ^» (^ ^, % '' ^;. /; / O 7 Photographic Sciences Corporation 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 (716) 872-4503 '^Aj fV '<^\^ % V "^ o ^ '^ ^V"- % V ^^ i" c^ xP w- IP< Wr t$> r 174 SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. Oh ! take the 'elmet from my brow— The curse from off my 'ed ; You aint no sort o' notion 'ow I wishes I wos dead. There's nothing calculated more A cove's good looks to spile ; Oh ! if you've 'earts, restore, restore, The reoulation tile ! I If! SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. 175 You can't give back that cook's fond 'eart- Her chops, her cheek, her smile ; But if you'd make amends in part, Restore, restore my tile ! |HE following verses will probably be more Intelligible to the bush reader than the metropolitan one. The latter is at liberty to " pass " : — i| I. I'm forty years in New South Wales, And knows a thing or two ; X ^^^^ build a hut, and train a slut, And chaff a " Jackeroo."* * See reference b. SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. I chiefly sticks to spHttin' rails — It's contract work, d'ye see ; I hates to 'ave a station-boss A-overlookin' me. I left my country for its good, But not my own, I fear ; 1 makes big cheques a splittin' wood, And knocks 'em down in beer. 177 I knows the Murrumbidgee's bends, Though not a " whaler"* now. And many a score of sheep I've shore For good old Jacky Dow. I used to knock about on farms, And plough a " land " or two ; But now for me that has no charms— I hates a " Cockatoo, "t I » Murrumbidgee whalers are a class of loafers who work for aboiu six months in the year-..,., dm\ug shearing and harvest, ami c.mp the rest of the time in bends of rivers, and live by fishing and begging. t A small farmer. H 178 SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. I'm spllttin' for a squatter now Down here upon the creek ; He often says as how I've got A sight too much o' cheek. They've got a new-chum over there- I hates new-chums, I do ; I often tries to take a rise Out of that Jackeroo. One day when we was in the yard A draftin' out some ewes, We axed him for to lend a hand, He couldn't well refuse. I watched 'un for a minute just To see what he would do ; Bless'd if he warn't a chuckin' out A lot o' wethers too ! He keeps the store and sarves the "dust"- I only wish he'd slope ; I knows he often books to me Too many bars o' soap. ■■ ■ .■■■-■ I. * Serves out the flour. SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. 179 In them it ain't no sort o' use Instruction to infuse ; There ain't a gleam o' intellect In new-chum Jackeroos. As soon as July fogs is gone I chucks my axe up there, And gets a stock of Ward and Payne's^ At six and six a pair. I've been a shearin' off an' on For such a precious while, I knows most every shearin' shed, And each partickler style. I'm able for to shear 'em clean, And level as a die ; But I prefers to '< tommy-hawk," And make the " daggers " fly. They mostly says that to the skin They means to have 'em shore ; I alius knocks off skin an' all When they begins to jawr. ' Ward and Payne's sheep-sliears. i8o SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. ^W ft My tally's eighty-five a day — A hundred I could go, If coves would let me " open out " And take a bigger " blow." I alius roughs 'em when the boss Ain't on the shearin' floor ; It wouldn't pay to shear 'em clean For three and six a score. But when I see the super come Paradin' down the " board," I looks as meek as any lamb That ever yet was shored. For, though by knockin' sheep about You're causin' him a loss. It's 'ard to have a squatter come And mark 'em with a cross.* They say us shearers sulks and growls- I'm swearing half the day. Because them blasted " pickers-up " Won't take the wool away. SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. i8i At sundown to the hut we goes ; The young 'uns lark and fun ; The cook and I exchanges blows If supper isn't done. And when the tea and mutton's gone, And each has had enough, We shoves the plates and pints away, And has a game o' " bluff."* I works a little "on the cross," I never trusts to luck ; I hates to have to " ante-up," And likes to " pass the buck. " I've got a way of dealin' cards As ain't exactly square ; I does some things with jacks and kings As makes the young 'uns stare. I've mostly got four aces though, Or else a " routine flush ;" I wins their cash and 'bacca, and They pays for all my lush. * *' Poker." «i 182 SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. I likes to get 'em in my debt For what their cheque '11 clear ; I've got a sort o' interest then In every sheep they shear. I'm cunnin', and my little games They never does detect ; But I never was partickler green As I can recollect. SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. 183 PREFACE TO THE PIC-NIC PAPERS. i^F I were asked to state the most noticeable feature of the social economy of Sydney — the th'mcr which pre-eminently distinguishes her from other metropolises — I should, un- hesitatingly, say pic-nics. I once held the proud position of occasional reporter to a weekly paper, and my mental calibre not being considered heavy enough, or my temperament sufficiently stolid to do justice to parliamentary debates, I was sent to report the pic-nics. In Sydney every trade gives one, and every private family about six in the course of the summer. Carpenters, butchers, barbers, blacksmiths, undertakers, even grave-diggers, all give their pic-nic during the season ; and why should they not ? Is it for me to ridicule the practice ? Shall I, who have been received as au honoured guest at all (and retired to make three half-pence a line out of an account of the proceedings), splinter my puny lance of satire against a firmly-rooted and meritorious custom ? I who have hob- nobbed with the publicans, waltzed with the wheelwrights, done the lard i da with the pork-butchers' wives and daugh- ters, danced ^^a^illions with the tailors, and indulged in soo^ahlQ amusements with the sweeps ? Never ! fur 184 SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. I have retired from the pic-nic business now, and though my reports were not masterpieces of descriptive writing, and never wrung even the smallest tribute of gratitude from those they were intended to immortalize, I give a specimen or two to serve as models to those who hereafter may be called upon to report pic-nics for journals, religious or otherwise. SOUTHERLV BUSTERS. 185 THE BUTCHER'S PIC-NIC. |HIS event came off with an unusual amount of eclat; merchants, members of parliament, and people of all kinds, were present ; and if they were not all butchers, they all became squatters when the grassy plateaux of Coi rey's Gardens were reached. The pic-nic took place appropriately under a ewe-tree, and fortunately the wether was remarkably fine. Saws (wise ones excepted), axes, steels, and all other implements used in the trade, were, by common consent, left behind, and the only killing done was that accomplished by several fascinating young slaughter-men, whose hair and accents were oily not to say greasy in the extreme. One of these, who went in heavily for euphuism, told his inamorata that her heart was harder than his father's block, and the satire of her tongue keener than the edge of a certain cleaver in his parent's possession. Sir Loin Oxborough, Fifth Baron (of beef), estates strictly entailed, was unanimously voted to a deserted " ball-dog's " nest, which did duty for a chair. He occupied this position with dignity, and made a speech, mterlaramg his discourse with several choice atts from Steel and other poets ; e.g.^ w 11 i86 SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. " Reveal, reveal the light of truth to me !" " Slea^ not thine all upon the die!" &c. He said they were met to enjoy themselves, and by their jot'nl exertions to banish dull care ; adversity might come, but what of that f He had always found that a round of afflic- tions, or a dark cloud had a silver lining, or rather a " silver- side," like a round of beef He had often been in trouble himself — cut down, as it were, by the cleaver of adversity ; re- duced, he rr'ght say, to mincemeat by the sausage-machine of ill-luck ; and he and his family had been once or twice regu • larly salted down in the harness-cask of fate ; but, thanks to his natural buoyancy, or (duic/ier J -hoy -a.ncy of spirits, he had risen like a bladder to the surface of the sea of derpondency, and lived to pluck the skewers of affliction from his heart. He advocated morality and sobriety. He might say he had lived a moral and sober life, for though he had been a free and generous It'ver, he had always done his duty to his fellow- men according to his lights. His motto was " live and let live," except where dumb animals were concerned — those he killed on principle, as a matter of business ; and he respected all religious sects, except vegetarians. He had been cut up by sorrow, and cast down by depression of trade as often as most men. He had seen beef at tuppence a pound, hides at 23. 6d. each, and tallow at nothing at all (warm weather, and no colds in the head prevalent), but he had never lost heart ; from a boy, hopefulness had always been a meat-tray (he begged pardon, he meant a sweet trait) in his character ; he had persevered, worked hard, and had eventually carved his way to wealth, fame, and fortune, through bone, gristle, flesh, skin, sinew and all. He was prosperous, but he owed his rise more to shoulders of mutton than the shoulders of his friends. He had been self-reliant, just, and generous ; and though he had flayed many a beast, he had never yet attempted to skin a Jiint. (Cheers.) He was not democratic, and he believed more in the horny-headed monsters than the horny-handed masses ; still he liked to see a man rise by his own exertions ; and, inasmuch as a king — Charles the First to wit — had shewn how easy was the transition from the throne to the block, he did not see why an ascent from the block to the throne might not be equally possible. In conclusion, he recommended his friends to take the fat with the lean through life, and not to grumble because some one else appeared to have all the prime-cuts of fortune, and all the rich fat of prosperty, and they only the fag-end and the bone. He sat down (on the deserted ant's nest) amid loud and reiterated applause. Festivities then commenced The guests sat on their haunches and drank the blood of the grape out of hogs' heads. 1 88 SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. The toasts drunk were the " Gallus " — not the gallows ; the block and cleaver, &c. The juniors played " round^vs" and (raw) " hide and seek." Dancing was kept up with animation until a late hour. Old Tommy Hawk danced a porka, and his peculiar shambling gait called forth rounds of applause. Several games of chance were played for beef stakes. A butcher who dealt largely in goat's flesh sang the touch- ing Scotch ballad, '* Oh, Nanny, wilt thou gang wi me," and old Pork Chops sang "Those evening chines'' in a most affecting manner. The festivities continued until they could not very well continue any longer, and every body returned home perfectly satisfied. SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. 189 THE OYSTERMEN'S AND FISHMONGERS' PIC-NIC. jONDAY was a great day. Though the bosom of the ^^ ocean was apparently unruffled by a zephyr, terror and excitement raged beneath its surface. Influential mem- bers of the finny tribe darted hither and thither in a manner which indicated that something unusual was afloat, and the piscatorial republic was shaken to its very centre. The mili- tary (that is, the sword-fish) were under arms, or rather fins, at an early hour, and formed a roe in martial arr«_y. The less warlike betrayed their agitation in a variety of ways. Saw- fish from the Gulf of Carpentaria left their usual occupation of cutting the water, rose to the surface, and sawed the air in an agony of mtench excitement ; mercantile fish abandoned their scales and took their weigh to places of security ; limpets, be- coming enervated, relaxed their hold upon the rock ; oysters tossed restlessly on their beds, and even the jelly-fish trembled. Nor was this surprising ; for were not the fishmongers and oystermen about to hold carnival — to celebrate the rites and ceremonies of their order ? and, knowing this, could any mem- ber of the finny tribe remain unmoved, or even a molusc be calm ? % 1 1 190 SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. In Spite, perhaps unconscious, of all this, the jubilant fish- mongers proceeded to the enjoyment of their pic-nic with light hearts. The oystermen, most of whom were natives, were ap- propriately clothed in j/i:^//-jackets, and wore barnacles. Miss Kwnet Snappertovi, resplendent in a sea-green fishx, with cochin^^/ trimmings, and a sea-anemone in her hair, proved an irresistible bait to young Codlington, a susceptible periwinkler and oysterman. He swore by the beard of the sacred oyster that she was an angel — called her his turtle and his pet {limpet, in fact) — and, while he besought her to fly with him and share a " grotter of hyster shells," he stated his intention of adhering to her heart like a limpet to its native rock, or the teeth of a skate to the finger of a too-confiding fisherman At the con- clusion of the banquet a speech was called for, and old Gram- pus rose. He said : — " Fishmongers and Fellow-oystermen (hear, hear), to meat you here on this blus/is/ious occasion " [he lisped a bit after eating salmon] " ee/s the wounded spirit and warms the cockles of this heart. Star-fish and stingarees ! May I be scolloped if this aint the proudest moment of my life!" (Cheers.) He proceeded to state his views on things in general — regretted that a more able speaker had not been chosen to of/fi"//iate — hoped they wouldn't expect along speech from him, as he wasn't a parson — in fact he understood more about the curing oUierri?i£s, than the cure oi soles — and the only SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. 191 school he ever attended was a " school " of mackerel which appeared off the coast one Sunday morning when he was a boy at home. His father had on that occasion taken him by the hand, and together they attended that Simday -school. Subsequent proceedings made such an impression on his mind that he henceforth resolved to become a fish-dealer, and be- came one accordingly. He had read his Bible, and had heard about the " miraculous draught of fishes" — thought it must have been a hx2iVidiy-p{r)awnee — always thought fish were something to eat before, though lie had known fishermen drink their whole week's catch on Saturday night — was a sober man him- self, and didn't go in for mackare\o\x% •' draughts " of that kind. If not a religious man, he always strove to do his duty! Though he had been a fisherman in his time, he had never been 2i plaice hunter, and, ^cod ! he thought few M.P's. could say that. What were his religious principles ? Well, he wasn't a 7nussle-man, and though he dealt , in shell-fish, he abhorred shellfishness. He had heard about some all-fired heathens who worshipped Zorooyster {} Zoroaster) ; he couldn't say as he was acquainted with that mollusc, and wouldn't wor- ship him if he were. Oysters was good things if you didn't put brandy a top of 'em, and he believed in cockles (the mol- luscs, not the pills), but worship a hoyster ! Thank 'eaven, he wasn't so far gone as that ! Such ideas was n\coHoero\xs He sat down amid applause, and musical and terpstchorean festivities commenced. Somebody danced the fishmongers' hornpipe. " Sets " were formed, and the {s)caly-donians gone through with great spirit. A gloomy looking fish-dealer, with a bass voice, sang " My sole is dark ;" and a blighted-looking young oyster-opener gave them, " Shells of the Ocean," and " Oh, shell we never part," alluding to the monotony of his occupation Youug Codlington sang " (T)winkle, (t)winkle, little Star-fish " with great taste and feeling. Fun and frolic became general, and it was late ere the {v)oysterQ.rs returned home, thoroughly wearied, but happy. SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. 193 THE WHEELWRIGHTS' PIC-NIC. iffiiHE man who cannot sympathize with a wheelwright in "^k^ his joys and sorrows ought to be treated to a taste of ^^ lynch (or lynch-pin) law. No one with a properly re- gulated mind can fail to admire their round-about way of doing things, and their un/mng energy; and no rightly thinking person could be otherwise than rejoiced on hearing the other day that these jolly good felleys had made up their minds to have a trundle down the harbour, and an afternoon's enjoy- ment Of course the party started from the Circular Quay, and took with them a plentiful supply of weal and ham pies and roly-poly puddings. They reached their destination in safety, and after a short walk along the beach, the order was given to " right-wheel," and they found themselves in a de- lightful glade, where the blue gum waved its giant branches in the summer air, and the luxuriant axel-tree cast a grateful shade over the holiday-keepers. The ladies — with complexions of a smoothness only to be attained by sand-paper in experienced hands — looked as fresh as paint, and shone like varnish. They were 2Xtired in elegant and becoming costumes. Spokes was nearly missing the affair N altogether, as he woke late, and then had to dress, wash, and (spoke)-^\2M^ himself in a hurry. Old Wheels — and a wide- awake oldy^^-wheel he was — drove down in his buggy with Mrs. Wheels and the four Miss Wheels, and, what with the front and hind wheels of the trap, the wheals inflicted by the avenging hand of Old Wheels on the horse's behind, and the young Wheels — segments of the parent Wheels — clinging on wherever they could get hand or foot-hold, it was estimated that there couldn't have been less than sixty or seventy wheels to the turn-out. Talking of traps, the four Miss Wheels con- stituted a four-wheeled trap for the hearts of men of a most dangerous description ; and, after they had all partaken plen- tifully of the weal pies, there was weal within Wheels, and a complicated state of things which set mathematical and diges- tive theories at defiance. Old Wheels delivered an address, in which he stated that a bond of unity was the best tire for the public weal, and that if the felleys in the House wern't such a lot of i^naves, they'd run truer, stick closer together, and endeavour to axelierate public business more than they did. He was proceeding to demonstrate that was no more use in the House than the " fifth wheel of a coach," when one of the younger Wheels began to squeak in an agonizing manner. It was immediately greased with some strawberrys and cream, and its {s)creams SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. 195 subsided into chuckles of gratification. Dancing, of the " turn- about, and wheel-about, and jump Jim Crow " order, then commenced, and kiss-in-the-ring, rounders, and other circular amusements, became general. A musical young wheelwright, on being called on for a song, suspended his occupation of picking his teeth with a lynch-pin, and gave them " IVeel may the keel row," and ^^ Axeiciorr Spokes proved himself a capital speaker, and made the speech of the day, full of beauti- fully rounded sentences and quotations from Spokeshave. But all things must have an end uniortunately, and when at length the whisde of the steam-boat sounded for departure, the wheel- wrights took their way homeward, happy, but thoroughly tired out ! I ■: fll i'ljiil 196 SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. THE UNDERTAKER'S PIC-NIC. ^E have a special regard for undertakers. Watching ^ ' funerals was the first species of dissipation we indulged '»'" in in early youth. We have witnessed Shakesperian tragedies since with less satisfaction, and have respected un- dertakers proportionately in consequence. But for them we should never have known how much of the latent spirit of tragedy there is in horses' tails and feathers, and we especially admire the dramatic style in which they proclaim to the world the fact that another saint has gone to occupy his reserved seat in the celestial dress circle, or another sinner sneaked into his place in that " pit " which is notoriously bottomless, and where the free-list is by no means "confined to gentlemen of the Press." Holding these views, we were naturally pleased to hear that our friends meditated a picnic, and we are still more gratified to be able to lay before the public the only reliable report of the proceedings in existence. The day was every- thing that could be desired. Huge masses of black cloud lay piled away to the south'ard, imparting a sombre and funereal aspect to everything, and the spirits of the excursionists rose SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. 197 in proportion. The picturesque cemetery of Haslem's Creek was the spot chosen for the celebration of the festivities, and the cheerful recesses of its cypress-shaded labyrinths that day re-echoed outbursts of merriment which must have been par- ticularly trying to misanthropic ghosts. Every available hearse and mourning-coach was pressed into the service to convey the holiday-keepers to the mortuary railway station, from which a special train was to start at nine sharp, and the party in full gala costume — hat-bands, gloves, plumes and feathers — presented quite a lively appearance as the cortege moved down Brickfield Hill, the band playing " The dead march in Saul." Arrived at the scene of the intended festivities, a luxurious al fresco banquet was set forth, the numerous marble slabs in the vicinity making the most delightful substitutes for tables imaginable, and the epitaphs and inscriptions forming an agreeable mental repast after the grosser bodily appetites had been subdued. Messrs. Compagnoni, on this occasion, surpassed them- selves, and the 3/(a;^/^-puddings, and other funereal delicacies — served on (brass)-plates — were decorated with "In memory of," " Requiescat in pace," and other appropriate mottoes calculated to raise the spirits of the party, and promote hilarity in the highest degree. Old Elmplank said he hadn't had such a lively time, or felt in such good spirits, since the measles I 198 SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. were around that time three years. Meanwhile the young folks were enjoying themselves, and fun and flirtation were carried on in a decorous manner, out of respect to the emblems of mortality by which they were surrounded. An amiable young coffin-maker, with the most fascinating Acarse-suit appendages, made great inroads on the heart of Miss Grace Bugles. He requested her to enter his heart, which he compared to an unoccupied tomb, and reside there rent free. Should love like his, he asked, be "coffined, cribbed, confined" within the narrow limits of a flannel waistcoat? No ; he invited her to come to his arms, s/irottcil herself in his bosom, and stop the process of cremation which was going on in his heart. Songs and recitations were in the programme. Miss Bugles sang " Those funeral bells," and " The old elm tree," and her admirer gave them a Bacchanalian, or rather a coffin- nai/'mn ditty, with a chorus of "■Bier, bier, beautiful bier," and a skull and thigh-bones accompaniment, which provoked thun- ders of applause ; and when old Tassels, of the mourning livery-stables sang, '• But one golden tress of her hair I'll twine In my hearse's sable plume," there was scarcely a dry eye in the assembly. SOUTHERLY HUSTKKS. 199 There were no healths drunk, such a custom being con- sidered out of character with the proceedings, and not con- ducive to the prosperity of business generally. Undertakers who were sociably disposed took each other's measures, com- posed epitaphs, and talked about cremation. Old Elmplank, in his speech, said that any allusion to such a mode of disposing of the dead wounded him to the quick. *' Introduce that process," he said, " and the whole romance of a funeral was done away with. The invention," he added, " was worthy of a cove as was mean enough to drink another cove's 'ealth." But even undertakers cannot keep up at the high-pressure pitch of hilarity for ever, and as evening drew on, the rain having been falling heavily for several hours, the cemetery was by common consent voted damp, and a general move was made for the railway station. The party returned to Sydney, well satisfied with their outing, and the number of colds caught must have made business lively for the next six months. qq^^l::? 200 SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. THE HAIRDRESSERS' PIC-NIC. (ivjT-j'f'-nj pjIPVEN barbers require change of (h)air occasionally; f|^ consequently there were no dissentient voices when %^ Potts proposed an excursion, and suggested the Gap, where the "yesty waves" seem never to tire of their monoton- ous occupation of shampooing the South Head. The pic-nic took place eventually among the romantic glades in the immediate vicinity of Pearl (-powder) Bay, where the " maiden- hair" {^capillis veneris) grew luxuriantly — having been neither cut by the north-east wind, nor brushed by machinery — while the rabbit and false-hare frisked fearlessly among solitudes seldom disturbed by the presence of man, and that beautiful bird the antimacassowary flew with well-oiled pinions from branch to branch of the Eucalipsalve. It might be imagined by ignorant people that hair- dressers, who pay so much attention to the adornment of the outward man, would be apt to forget the requirements of the inner entirely ; this, however, was not the case, jugged hairs and dardcrcues being among the least of the delicacies provided. Of course there were speeches. That old demagogue- SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. 20I Bearsgrease, shampooed, no, pooh ! poohed everything every, body else said. Being a wig-maker, it was natural that in politics he should be a Whig ; and though, as he said, he had never appeared as a candidate for Parliamentary honors, or been at the head of an electioneering poll, he knew as much about heads and polls as some who had. But why enlarge on all this ? Can we not imagine how young Potts led Miss Glycerina Crimpington for a stroll by the sounding sea, and directed her attention to the magnificent crests of the billows, fresh from the curling-tongs of Nature, tumbling over one another, and doubling themselves into such exquisite "frizettes" and "waterfalls" that they were enough to excite envy in the breast of any young lady, especially if she happened to be a hair-dresser's daughter. Can we not picture to ourselves the thousand and one incidents which go to make up what is called a pic-nic ? How some were stricken hungry, and others sentimental ; how some satisfied their cravings with kisses, others with pie ; how Potts charmed the ear of his adored Crimpington with recitations from ''LocMey Hall." and the " Hair of Redcliffe ;" how the young folks danced the ATa/ydorhns (arranged by Rowlands) ; and last, not least, how the old folks got maudlin on limejuice and glycerine, and talked of the days wherj||heir feet were as light, and their chevleures as heavy as those of any young 202 SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. scalp-lock tnmmer present. We can, I think, imagine all this so .t will not be necessary to say more than that the whole thmg was a thorough success, especially Potts's song of H)a,ry sp.nts round us hover," with a comb accompanim'ent, after which a general stampede was made for the boats i SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. THE GREAT CRICKET MATCH. BREWERS V. PUBLICANS. The day was wet, down poured the rain In torrents from the sky ; Great coats, umbrellas, were in vain But every lip was dry. The clouds seemed disinclined to part. The wind was from the PFes^, Yet worked each brewer's manly heart Like (y) eas^ within his breast. Along the road each brewer spent His coin in frequent drains, For mere external moisture went Against those brewers' grains. And with a bright triumphant flush. Their Captain, Mr. Staves, Swore they should crush those sons of lush Who dealt in " tidal-waves "* 203 i J 204 SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. For, speaking of the L. V. A.,* The brewers said, and laughed, " A most efficient team were they For purposes of draughty 'Twas thus they talked upon the way Until they reached the ground ; But in their friends the L. V. A., Rum customers they found. I havn't space to speak of all The glories of the match — Of every well-delivered ball, And every well -caught catch. I fain would tell of Mr. Keggs (They spiled and bunged his eye) Of Barley-corn, and how his legs Got twisted all 2,rye ; How Stoups, the umpire, stood too near, And came to grief and harm ; How, when he fell they gave him beer, Which acted like a barm ; "^ Of Hope, who keeps the Anchor bar And vendeth flowing bowls (My feet have often been that far And anchored fast their soles) Mark how he bustles, snorts, and spits- Hi is brow he mops and wipes, And though I couldn't praise his hits, ril gladly praise his " swipes ;" Of Corks, who funked the second ball, And by a sudden turn Received the straightest one of all Upon his ample stern. He raised a loud and fearful roar — With fury he was blind, And, though they called it " \^g-before^' He felt it most behind ! Of Marks, the scorer — best of men ! Sure everybody talks ; He chalked the runs correctly when He couldn't walk his chalks. 206 SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. Despite the flasks of monstrous size He'd emptied to the dregs, He scored " wides," " overthrows," " leg-byes," And runs attained by legs. For all the ceaseless rain which flows, The rival teams care naught ; Though runs were made by many a nose. And many a cold was caught. Inside and out they all got wet — Each drank what he could hold ; I'm sure a bowl was overset For every over bowled. The daylight fails ; at length 'tis gone : There's little left to tell ; For as the shades of eve drew on The stumps were drawn as well. Then to the tent each man resorts : On food intent were they. Who won the sports ? the pints and quarts — The gallant L. V. A. SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. 207 Beneath the canvas let us pass — Old Bottle-brush was there, And well he filled his empty glass, And well he filled the " chair." At length the Maltsters cleared the tent, And several hops ensued ; But stay ! Both time and space are spent- In truth, I must conclude. A vict'ler rose amid the host — A burly man was he — " My lads," he said, " I'll give a toast, And here's my toast d'ye see : " John Barley-corn, the king of seeds ! " And round the glasses go, ** For that's a corn that ne'er impedes The light fantastic toe ! " 208 SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. \F any reader has conscientiously borne with me even unto the end, he may be ready to exclaim — " But where are the * Southerly Busters ? ' No allusion to them except in the title and frontispiece. It's been a dead calm all the way." Gentlest of a proverbially gentle class, what you say is perfectly true ; but I have excellent precedent for this inconsistency. No one, not even an evangelical parson, sticks to his text now-a-days ; and the gentleman who objected to being told " in mournful numbers " that " things are not what they seem," was a self-deceiving visionary who wanted to close his eyes to what everyone else knows to be an established fact. An M.P.'s speech on free trade seldom alludes to the subject ; the daring feats and marvellous situations depicted outside a circus are never seen inside ; light literature, adver- tised as such, is proverbially heavy ; 's " Vermin Destroyer" has rather a nutritious and invigorating effect on vermin than otherwise, according to my experience ; Young's '' Night Thoughts " were written in broad day-light ; and few can have failed to remark the absence of pork and the presence of cat in a restaurant pork-sausage. SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. 209 The author of the most confused piece of h'terary mechanism that ever was printed, calls it " Bradshj Guide." law s i Did it ever guide anyone anywhere except to outer darkness.? Did it ever awaken any other feeling in the bosom of a deluded traveller than a thirst for revenge ? Bradshaw merely followed the universal rule of contraries when he christened his mystifying treatise a " guide," for none o 2IO SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. knew better than he that '< throwing a hght on a subject " means involving it in gloom and obscurity, as surely as that "just one glass more, and then straight home," means twenty, and the most circuitous route the neighbourhood will admit of.' I trust I have said enough to vindicate the somewhat obscure and deceptive title of this book ; or, at any rate, to avert the worst catastrophe an author can dread— that of being blown to atoms by a Southerly Buster of Public Opinion. f INIS. a subject " ely as that ns twenty, 1 admit of. somewhat y rate, to It of bein^r nion.