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 
 
 /; 
 
 (^ 
 
 //. 
 
 <?. 
 
 Wf^* 
 
 
 o 
 
 /a 
 
 * '-'N 
 
 / 
 
 /A 
 
 Photographic 
 
 Sciences 
 Corporation 
 
 23 WEST MAIN STREET 
 
 WEBSTER, NY. 14580 
 
 (716) 872-4503 
 
 
 O' 
 
 €1" 
 
 % 
 
 n.^ 
 
 r^^< 
 
te 
 
 CIHM/ICMH 
 
 Microfiche 
 
 Series. 
 
 CIHM/ICMH 
 Collection de 
 microfiches. 
 
 Canadian Institute for Historical Microreproductions Institut Canadian de microreproductions historiques 
 
 1980 
 
Technical and Bibliographic Notes/Notes techniques et bibliographiques 
 
 The Institute has attempted to obtain the best 
 original copy available fc ilming. Features of this 
 copy which may be bibliographically unique, 
 which may alter any of the images in the 
 reproduction, or which may significantly change 
 the usual method of filming, are checked below. 
 
 □ 
 
 D 
 D 
 D 
 D 
 □ 
 D 
 D 
 □ 
 
 D 
 
 Coloured covers/ 
 Couverture i^e couleur 
 
 Covers damaged/ 
 Couverture endommagee 
 
 Covers restored and/or laminated/ 
 Couverture restaurde et/ou pellicul^e 
 
 Cover title missing/ 
 
 Le titre de couverture manque 
 
 Coloured maps/ 
 
 Cartes g^ographiques en couleur 
 
 Coloured ink (i.e. other than blue or black)/ 
 Encre de couleur (i.e. autre que bleue ou noire) 
 
 Coloured plates and/or illustrations/ 
 Planches et/ou illustrations en couleur 
 
 Bound with other material/ 
 Reli6 avec d'autres documents 
 
 Tight binding may cause shadows or distortion 
 along interior margin/ 
 
 La reliure serree peut causer de I'ombre ou de la 
 distortion le long de la marge int^rieure 
 
 Blank leaves added during restoration may 
 appear within the text. Whenever possible, these 
 have been omitted from filming/ 
 II se peut que certaines pages blanches ajout^es 
 lors d'une restauration apparaissent dans le texte, 
 mais, lorsque cela 6tait possible, ces pages n'ont 
 pas 6t6 filmSes. 
 
 Additional comments:/ 
 Commentaires suppl^mentaires: 
 
 L'Institut a microfilm^ le meilleur exemplaire 
 qu'il lui a 6t6 possible de se procurer. Les details 
 de cet exemplaire qui sont peut-dtre uniques du 
 point de vue bibliographique, qui peuvent modifier 
 une image reproduite, ou qui peuvent exiger une 
 modification dans la mdthode normale de filmage 
 sont indiqu^s ci-dessous. 
 
 I I Coloured pages/ 
 
 Pages de couleur 
 
 Pages damaged/ 
 Pages endommag^es 
 
 □ Pages restored and/or laminated/ 
 Pages restaur^es et/ou pelliculees 
 
 ~7\ Pages discoloured, stained or foxed/ 
 ::ZJ Pages d^colorees, tachet^es ou piquees 
 
 I I Pages detached/ 
 
 D 
 
 Pages detachees 
 
 Showthroughy 
 Transparence 
 
 Quality of prir 
 
 Qualite inegale de I'impression 
 
 Includes supplementary materic 
 Comprend du materiel supplementaire 
 
 Only edition available/ 
 Seule Edition disponible 
 
 I I Showthrough/ 
 
 I I Quality of print varies/ 
 
 I I Includes supplementary material/ 
 
 I I Only edition available/ 
 
 Pages wholly or partially obscured by errata 
 slips, tissues, etc., have been refilmed to 
 ensure the best possible image/ 
 Les pages totalement ou partiellement 
 obscurcies par un feuillet d'errata, une pelure, 
 etc., ont 6t6 film^es i nouveau de facon d 
 obtenir la meilleure image possible. 
 
 This item is filmed at the reduction ratio checked below/ 
 
 Ce document est film6 au taux de reduction indiqu§ ci-dessous. 
 
 10X 
 
 C 
 
 14X 
 
 18X 
 
 22X 
 
 J 
 
 12X 
 
 16X 
 
 20X 
 
 26X 
 
 30X 
 
 24X 
 
 28X 
 
 J 
 
 32X 
 
The copy filmed here has been reproduced thanks 
 to the generosity of: 
 
 Douglas Library 
 Queen's University 
 
 The images appearing here are the best quality 
 possible considering the condition and legibility 
 of the original copy and in keeping with the 
 filming contract specifications. 
 
 Original copies in printed paper covers are filmed 
 beginning with the frort cover and ending on 
 the last page with a printed or illustrated impres- 
 sion, or the back cov^r when appropriate. All 
 other original copies are filmed beginning on the 
 first page with a printed or illustrated impres- 
 sion, and ending on the last page with a printed 
 or illustrated imprassion. 
 
 The last recorded frame on each microfiche 
 shall contain the symbol —*► (meaning "CON- 
 TINUED"), or the symbo" V (meaning "END"), 
 whichever f/ppl:es. 
 
 Maps, plares, charts, etc., may be filmed at 
 different reduction ratios. Those too large to be 
 entirely included in one exposure are filmed 
 beginning in the upper left hand corner, left to 
 right ar/d top to bottom, as many frames as 
 requirf/d. The following diagrams illustrate the 
 methf/d: 
 
 L'exemplaire filrn^ fut reproduit grdce d la 
 g6n6rosit6 de: 
 
 Douglas Library 
 Queen's University 
 
 Les image^i suivantes ont 6t6 reproduites avec le 
 plus grand soin, compte tenu de la condition et 
 de la nettetd de l'exemplaire filmd, et en 
 conformity avec les conditions du contrat de 
 filmago. 
 
 Les c/xemplaires originaux dont la couverture en 
 papier est imprim6e sont filmds en commenpant 
 par le premier plat et en terminant soit par la 
 dernidre page qui comporte une empreinte 
 d'impression ou d'illustration, soit par la second 
 plat, selon le cas. Tous les autres exemplaires 
 originaux sont film6s en commenpant par la 
 premidre page qui comporte une empreinte 
 d'impression ou d'illustration et en terminant par 
 la dernidre page qui comporte une telle 
 empreinte. 
 
 Un des symboles suivants apparaitra sur la 
 dernidre image de cheque microfiche, selon le 
 cas: le symbole — ♦► signifie "A SUIVRE ", le 
 symbole V signifie "FIN". 
 
 Les cartes, planches, tableaux, etc., peuvent etre 
 filmds d des taux de reduction diffdrents. 
 Lorsque le document est trop grand pour §tre 
 reproduit en un seul clichd, il est filmd d partir 
 de Tangle supdrieur gauche, de gauche d droite, 
 et de haut en bas, en prenant le nombre 
 d'images ndcessaire. Les diagrammes suivants 
 illustrent la mdthode. 
 
 1 
 
 2 
 
 3 
 
 1 2 3 
 
 4 5 6 
 
f 
 
 » 
 
 T 
 
 I 
 
r 
 
 
 
 m 
 
 < 
 
 I 
 
 t 
 
 C^ibs 
 
 on 
 
 //. 
 
 SOUTHERLY BUSTERS, 
 
 BY 
 
 IRONBARK, 
 
 ^RO 
 
 FUSELY 
 
 JlLUSTF^TED by y^tLFR^D ClINT, 
 
 WITH 
 jgLoDITIONAL 3ElLUSTRATIONS BY ^itlONTAGU @"c 
 
 )COTT. 
 
 -*— c* 
 
 Jlanrj of these Scraps were originally oontributed hy the Jluthor to 
 
 " The Town and Cou. :ry Journal/' "Sydney Punch," " The Illustrated Sydney News," 
 
 and other j^ustralian J^ewnpapers and _Mag-azinea. 
 
 JOHN SANDS, PRINTER, 392 GEORGE STREET, 
 
 1878. 
 
 
 i 
 
 Mi 
 
P^ ^oiB.Xii^ S<. 
 
 n 
 
:f 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 f 
 
 Author's Preface. 
 
 A Night Jar (after " The Raven ") 
 
 Lines by a (Pawn)rroken-hearted Youth 
 
 The Ancient Shepherd - - . . 
 
 Where is P'reedom - - . . . 
 
 The Free Selector's Daughter 
 
 The Cattle-Muster - - . . . 
 
 A Wail o'er a Whaleman - - . . 
 
 Christmas in Australia - . . 
 
 Echo Verses --..._ 
 
 The Shepherd's Vengeance 
 
 Social Evils -...._ 
 
 Moral Philosophy for Little Folks 
 
 An Ambitious Dream 
 
 Supernatural Revelations of a Fancv-C loons Man 
 
 Christmas, by a New Chum 
 
 The Cataract - - - - . 
 
 The Stockman's Grave - . 
 
 Epitaph on a Convivial Shearer - 
 
 A Candidate for an Early Grave - 
 
 A Peeler's Appeal - . . . . 
 
 The "Old Hand" 
 
 The Picnic Papers - 
 
 The Butchers' Picnic - - - . 
 
 The Oystermens' Picnic • - . . 
 
 The Wheelwrights' Picnic - - . . 
 
 The Undertakers' Picnic - - . . 
 
 The Hairdressers' Picnic - - . . 
 
 The Great Cricket Match - - - . 
 
 Concluding Remarks- - . . . 
 
 Page. 
 
 I 
 
 9 
 
 ■ 17 
 
 ■ 36 
 42 
 
 55 
 62 
 
 71 
 78 
 84 
 102 
 107 
 1 1 1 
 121 
 
 137 
 141 
 
 143 
 
 145 
 
 147 
 168 
 
 176 
 
 183 
 
 185 
 189 
 
 193 
 196,. 
 
 200 
 
 203 
 
 208 
 
 III 
 
 in 
 
 1C81253 
 
NOTES. 
 
 »-TS2r-r~— 
 
 a. •• Billy," a tin pot for making tea in. 
 
 b. Young gentlemen getting their -'colonial experience" in the bush are called 
 
 " jackeroos " by the station-hands. The term is seldom heard except in the remote 
 "back-blocks " of the interior. 
 
 0. It was formerly the practice of squatters to give a ration of flour, mutton, and. occa- 
 sionally, tea and sugar, to all persons travelling ostensibly in search of work. The 
 custom, however, as might have been expected, became frightfully abused by loafers, 
 and has of late fallen into disuse, to the intense disgust of the tramping fraternity in 
 general, 
 
 d. The Yanko is a noted sheep-station in the Murrumbidge district (the Paradise of loafers) , 
 
 where travellers were, and, I believe, still are, feasted at the expense of the owners,' 
 on a scale of great magnificence, and somewhat mistaken liberality. 
 
 e. The utterly refined and unsophisticated reader is informed that to "whip the cat " 
 
 signifies, in nautical parlance, to weep or lament. 
 
 iU^ 
 
 I 
 
SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. 
 
 I T 
 
 m 
 
 AUTHOR'S PREFACE. 
 
 ^ AM assured that something in the way of an apologetic 
 ■^ preface is always expected from a " new-chum " author 
 * who has had the hardihood to jump his Pegasus over the 
 paddock fence (so to speak), and drop, uninvited, into the 
 field of letters ; and so, having induced a publisher, in a 
 moment of weakness, to bring me before the public, it behoves 
 me to conciliate that long-suffering body by conforming to all 
 established rules. I am aware that my excuse for inflicting 
 this work on mankind is somewhat "thin" but, such as it 
 is, I will proceed to state it, as a " plea in bar " against all 
 active and offensive expressions of indignation on the part 
 of outraged humanity. 
 
 Having "got me some ideas," as Mr Emmett says in the 
 character of " Fritz," and feeling the necessity for inflicting 
 them on somebody imminent, I tried their effect on my own 
 immediate circle of friends. It was not satisfactory. They 
 listened, indeed, for a while, thinking that I was suffering from a 
 slight mental derangement which would be best treated by 
 
 \l 
 
 ^fi: 
 
 ,1 
 
12 
 
 SOUTHERLY IJUSTKRS. 
 
 judicious humouring. Some even affected to be entertained, 
 and laughed (what a hollow mockery of merriment it was ! ) at 
 atrocious puns ; but I could see the look of hate steal over 
 countenances which had hitherto beamed on me with interest 
 and affection, and was not deceived. 
 
 I saw that friendship would not long survive such a test 
 and desisted ; but it was too late. They perceived I had what 
 Artemus Ward calls the '' poetry disease ; " feared that it 
 might be infectious ; knew that it was an insufferable bore to 
 the afflicted party's circle of acquaintances ; and — forgot to 
 visit me. 
 
 When their familiar knocks no longer resounded on the 
 
 door of my lodging in street, and their familiar footsteps 
 
 ceased to crush the cockroaches on the dark and winding stair- 
 case leading to my apartment, I bethought me of that 
 institution which I had always heard alluded to as the " kind 
 and generous public." Here, I thought (for I was unsophisti- 
 cated), is the very friend I am in need of, which will receive 
 me with its thousand arms, laugh with me with its thousand 
 mouths, weep with me with its thousand eyes, and whose 
 thousand hearts will beat in unison with mine whether my 
 mood be one of sadness or of joy ; behave itself, in fact, like 
 a species of benevolent and sympathetic Hydra, shorn of its 
 terrors, and fit to take part in the innocent and arcadian 
 
Lll 
 
 SOUTIIEKLY HUSTERS. 
 
 13 
 
 recreations of ihc millciiiiim, when the (literary) lion shall lie 
 clown with the critic, and newspapers shall not lie any more — 
 even for money. 
 
 During my hunt for that all essential auxiliary, a pub- 
 lisher, without whom the first step on the road to literary 
 distinction (or ^;t:tinction) cannot be taken, I learnt a few plain 
 truths about my hydra-headed friend ; amongst others that he 
 was not to be hoodwinked, and would neither laugh, weep, 
 nor sympathise unless he saw good and sufficient cause. I 
 am in consequence not quite so sanguine as I was. However, 
 I have gone too far to recede, and have concluded to throw 
 myself on the bosom or bosoms of that animal and take my 
 chances of annihilation. 
 
 One of my unsympathising friends assured me the other 
 day that my book would certainly send anyone to sleep who 
 should attempt its perusal. I gave him a ballad to read, and 
 watched him anxiously while he skimmed a page or two. He 
 did not sleep — not he, but a raging thirst overcame him at the 
 fourteenth verse, and he begged me to send for a jug of 
 " half-and-half" with such earnestness that a new and dreadful 
 apprehension filled my breast. If this was to be the effect of 
 my work on the Public at large, I should empty the Temperance 
 Hall, and fill the Inebriate Asylum in six months! As I had 
 hitherto prided myself that my work was entirely free from 
 
 
H 
 
 SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. 
 
 any immoral tendency, I earnestly hoped that his organization 
 was a peculiar one, and that its effect on him was exceptional, 
 and not: likely to happen again. 
 
 Sleep, ''ndeed ! Would that these pages might be found 
 to possess the subtle power of inducing ** tired Nature's sweet 
 restorer" to visit the weary eyelids of knocked-up humanity ; 
 that they might become a domestic necessity, like VVinslow's 
 "soothing-syrup," and "a blessing to mothers;" that the 
 critic — pausing midway in a burst of scathing invective against 
 their literary and metrical deficiencies — overcome by their 
 drowsy influence — might sink in dreamless slumber, and wake 
 to sing in praise of their narcotic properties, and chaunt their 
 merits as a soporific. 
 
 ^ In conclusion, I would fain ask thee, gentlest of gentle 
 readers, to look with leniency on the many defects and short- 
 comings of this volume, and to remem.ber that the writer was 
 long, if not an outcast, a homeless wanderer among the salt- 
 bush plains and arid sandhills of Australia, and the kauri and 
 pouriri forests of New Zealand ; that, for seven years, the 
 prototypes of " Ancient Bill," hereinafter mentioned, were his 
 associates ; and that, if these experiences have enabled him to 
 touch with some degree of accuracy on matters relating to the 
 Bush, they have at the same time militated against the 
 cultivation of those refinements of style and language which 
 
SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. 
 
 15 
 
 commend the modern author to his reader, and which are 
 only to be acquired in the civiHzed atmosphere of a city. 
 
 N.B.— I desire here to thank my friend, Mr. Henry Wise, 
 of Sydney, to whom I am indebted for the design which 
 adorns the cover of the book. 
 
 ■r 
 
 f' 
 
 m 
 
A NIGHT-JAR 
 
 After ''The Raven." 
 
 I Once upon a midnight dreary, as I 
 staggered — somewhat beery — 
 
 Over many a rough obstruction to my 
 home at number four, 
 
SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. 
 
 I beheld a shadow dodging, on the pavement 'neath my 
 
 lodging, 
 
 'Neath my unpretending lodging— opposite the very door: 
 
 "'Tis that prodigal," 1 muttered, "who enjoys the second 
 
 floor — 
 
 He it is, and nothing more." 
 
 Answering my thoughts, I stated, "'Tis the artist that's located 
 
 Here, returning home belated, seeking entrance at the door — 
 
 Coming back from where he's revelled, and, like me, with locks 
 
 dishevelled, 
 
 Wits besotted and bedevilled, oft I've seen him so before ; 
 
 'Tis no rare unknown occurrence, but a customed thing of 
 
 yore — 
 
 Jones it is, and nothing more." 
 
 Certain then 'twas no illusion, "Sir," I said, in some 
 
 confusion, 
 "Pardon my abrupt intrusion — Mr. Jones, we've met before ; 
 Potent drinks have o'er me bubbled, and the fact is I was 
 
 troubled, 
 For your form seemed strangely doubled, and my brain is sick 
 
 and sore — 
 Let us seek my room and cupboard, and its mystery explore — 
 
 There is gin, if nothing more." 
 
SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. 
 
 ^i 
 
 ^1 
 
 
 '1 
 
 -a 
 
 Deep into the darkness glaring, I beheld a radiance flaring, 
 And a pair of eyes were staring — eyes I'd never seen before — 
 And, my fear and dread enhancing, towards me came a form 
 
 advancing, 
 And the rays of light were dancing from a lantern which it 
 
 bore — 
 
 'Twas a regulation bull's-eye — "'Tis a (something) Trap," I 
 
 swore — 
 
 "'Tis a Trap, and nothing more." 
 
 Glittering with the P. C. button, redolent of recent mutton, 
 (Fitting raiment for a glutton) was the garment which he 
 
 wore ; 
 And his vast colossal figure, in the pride of manly vigour, 
 Looming larger, looming bigger, came betwixt me and the 
 
 door — 
 Cutting off my hopes of entrance to my home at number four — 
 
 Stood, and stared, and nothing more. 
 
 And his features, grimly smiling, calm, unmoved, (intensely 
 
 riling) 
 I betake me to reviling, and a stream of chaff out-pour — 
 "Say, thou grim and stately brother, has thy fond and doting 
 
 mother 
 Got at home like thee another? Art thou really one of four? 
 
 i 
 
 ii 
 
i' I 
 
 II 
 
 SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. 
 
 Did she, did she sell the mangle ? Tell me truly, I implore ! " 
 
 Quoth the Peeler, "Hold your jawr!" 
 
 Long I stood there fiercely glaring, most profanely cursing, 
 
 swearing — 
 And my right arm I was baring, meaning thus the Trap to 
 
 floor — 
 
 \ X 
 
 Straight he grabbed me by the collar, said 'twas worse than 
 
 vain to holler. 
 That his person I must foller to the gloomy prison door ; 
 "Tell me, Robert," said I sadly, "must I go the Bench 
 
 before ? " 
 
 Quoth the Peeler, "'Tis the lawr!" 
 
■,■»■ 
 ■7* 
 
 >> 
 
 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 
 
 <? 
 
 /2 
 
 ^/ 
 
 
 "^ r>: 
 
 *^ '.s!'-' 
 
 
 c- 
 
 ^% 
 
 (P 
 
 / 
 
 Photographic 
 
 Sciences 
 Corporation 
 
 iV 
 
 ^v 
 
 ^^ 
 
 i\ 
 
 \ 
 
 LV 
 
 ^\y^ 
 
 23 WEST MAIN STREET 
 
 WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 
 
 (716) 872-4503 
 
 
L<P 
 
 6*. 
 
 W. 
 
ill 
 
 80 
 
 SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. 
 
 Thou would'st not speak thus, wert thou now before 'em : 
 
 Why do I heed, why listen to thy tale ? 
 Can'st purchase, then, the honour of the Forum ? 
 
 '• For rum ! " 
 
 And what would blind Dame Justice with her scale ? 
 
 "A/e/" 
 
 Beware ! the fame of Senators thou'rt crushing ! 
 
 Too flippantly thou givest each retort. 
 What are they doing while for their shame I'm blushing ? ' 
 
 " Lushing ! " 
 
 And drinking ? — pray continue thy report — 
 
 " Port:' 
 
 Curse on these seeds of death, and those who sow them 
 
 But there's another thing I'd fain be told — 
 What of the masses, the canaille below them ? 
 
 " B-low them ! " 
 Thou flippant one ! how is the mob consoled ? 
 
 ''Sold!'' 
 
 Now, by stout Alexander's sword, or 
 Rather by his Holiness the Pope ! 
 
f^^'fll 
 
 SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. 
 
 8i 
 
 By what means keep they matters in this order ? 
 
 With what do they sustain the people's hope ? 
 
 " Sawder / " 
 
 ''Soap.'" 
 
 Take they indeed no passing thought, no care or 
 
 Heed of what for safety should be done ? 
 What brought about this modern Reign of Terror ? 
 
 "Error/" 
 Is there no hope for thee, my land, mine own ? 
 
 ''None f' 
 
 Base love of liquor, ease, and lucre, this it 
 Is which coileth round her, link on link ; 
 Dark is her hope, e'en as the grave we visit ! 
 
 Is it?" 
 ' Ink ! " 
 
 Of what black illustration can I think ? 
 
 Alas my country ! shall I not undeceive her ? 
 
 Shall I not strike one patriotic blow ? 
 I'd help her had I but the means, the lever— 
 
 "Leave her !'' 
 May we not hope ? speak Echo, thou must know— 
 
 " No ! " 
 
82 
 
 SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. 
 
 Then shall be heard — when, round us slowly creeping, 
 
 Shall come this adverse blast to fill our sails — 
 Instead of mirth, while hope aside 'tis sweeping — 
 
 " Weeping ! " 
 Instead of songs of praise in New South Wales — 
 
 " IVaz/s ! " 
 
f 
 
 
 ill 
 
 i 
 
84 
 
 SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. 
 
 llplHE following ballad suggested itself to the Author while 
 
 "^^ in the remote interior and suffering from a severe attack 
 *|^ of indigestion, he having rashly partaken of some damper 
 made by a remorseless and inexperienced new-chum. Those 
 who do not know what ponderous fare this particular species 
 of bush-luxury is when ill-made may possibly think the sub- 
 joined incidents a Httle over-drawn. 
 
 If a somewhat gloomy atmosphere be found pervading 
 the narrative, it is to be attributed to the fact that all the 
 horrors of dyspepsia shadowed the Author's soul at the time 
 it was written, and, if further extenuation be required, it may 
 be stated that he had previously been going through a course 
 of gloomy and marrow-freezing literature, commencing with 
 Edgar Poe's " Raven," and winding up with the crowning 
 atrocity (or «/^atrossity) which saddened the declining years 
 of Coleridge's Ancient Mariner. 
 
 THE SHEPHERD'S VENGEANCE. 
 Fytte the First. 
 
 The squatter kings of New South Wales- 
 The squatter kings who reign 
 
SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. 
 
 85 
 
 O'er rocky hill, and scrubby ridge, 
 
 O'er swamp, and salt-bush plain- 
 Fenced in their runs, and coves applied 
 For shepherding in vain. 
 
 The squatters said that closed should be 
 To tramps each station-store ; 
 
 That parties on the " cadging suit " 
 Should ne'er have succour more ; 
 
 And when Bill the shepherd heard the same 
 He bowed his neck and swore. 
 
 Now, though that ancient shepherd felt 
 
 So mad he couldn't speak, 
 No sighs escape his breast, no tears 
 
 From out his eyelids leak. 
 But he swore upon the human race 
 
 A black revenge to wreak. 
 
 He brooded long, and a fiendish light 
 
 Lit up the face of Bill ; 
 He saw the way to work on men 
 
 A dark and grievous ill. 
 And place them far beyond the aid 
 
 Of senna, salts, or pill. 
 
86 
 
 SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. 
 
 He hied him to his lonely hut 
 
 By a deep dark, lakelet's shore ; 
 
 He passed beneath Its lowly roof — 
 He shut and locked the door ; 
 
 And he emptied out his flour bag 
 Upon the hard clay floor. 
 
 Awhile he eyed the mighty mound 
 
 With dark, malignant zeal, 
 And then, a shovel having found, 
 
 " Their fates," said he, " I'll seal "; 
 And he made a " damper " broad and round 
 
 As a Roman chariot- wheel. 
 
 He soddened it with water drawn 
 
 From out that black lagoon, 
 And he smiled to think that those who ate 
 
 A piece of it would soon 
 Be where they'd neither see the light 
 
 Of sun, nor stars, nor moon. 
 
 For when that damper came to be 
 Dug from its glowing bed, 
 
SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. 
 
 87 
 
 Its fell specific gravity 
 
 Was far o'er gold or lead, 
 
 And a look of satisfaction o'er 
 
 That shepherd's features spread. 
 
 Fytte the Second. 
 
 The shepherd sat by the gloomy shore 
 Of the black and dark lagoon ; 
 
 His face was lit, and his elf-locks hoar 
 By the rays of the rising moon. 
 
 ii 
 
 t; I 
 
 
fifr 
 
 I ''i , 
 
 •}\''\ 
 
 I v.. 
 
 
 88 
 
 SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. 
 
 His hand was clenched, and his visage wore 
 
 A deadly frown and black, 
 And his eye-balls glare, for a stranger fair 
 
 Is wending down the track. 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 The shepherd hath bidden the stranger halt 
 
 With courtesy and zeal, 
 And hath welcomed him to his low roof-tree, 
 
 And a share of his evening meal. 
 
 As the fare he pressed on his hungry guest, 
 And thought of its deadly weight. 
 
 With savage glee he smiled for he 
 Imagined his after fate. 
 
 The stranger hath eaten his fill I ween 
 
 Of that fell and gruesome cake. 
 And hath hied him away in the moon-light's sheen 
 
 For a stroll by the deep, dark lake ; 
 
 For he thought he'd lave each stalwart limb 
 
 In the wavelet's curling crest, 
 And take a dive and a pleasant swim 
 
 'Ere he laid him down to rest. 
 
'urt 
 
 SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. 
 
 89 
 
 The coat that covered his ample chest 
 On the lakelet's marge he threw ; 
 
 His hat, his boots, and his flannel-vest, 
 And his moleskin trowsers too. 
 
 He hummed a tune, and he paused awhile 
 
 To hear the night-owl sing ; 
 His ears were cocked, and his palms were locked, 
 
 Prepared for the final spring. 
 
 An unsuspecting look he cast 
 
 At the objects on the shore — 
 A splash ! a thud ! and beneath the flood 
 
 He sank to rise no more ! 
 
 The shepherd saw from his lonely hut 
 
 The dread catastrophe ; 
 A notch on a withered stick he cut — 
 
 " That's number one," said he, 
 
 " But, if I live 'till to-morrow's sun 
 
 " Shall gild the blue-gum tree, 
 " With more, I'll stake my soul, that cake 
 
 " Of mine will disagree." 
 
iF^ 
 
 90 
 
 SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. 
 
 Then down he sat by his lonely hut 
 That stood by the lonely track, 
 
 To the lakelet nigh, and a horse came by 
 With a horse-man on his back. 
 
 And lean and lank was the traveller's frame 
 That sat on that horse's crup : 
 
 'Twas long I ween since the wight had seen 
 The ghost of a bite or sup. 
 
 " Oh ! give me food ! " to the shepherd old 
 
 With plaintive cry he cried ; 
 A mildewed crust or a pint o'dust* 
 
 Or a mutton cutlet fried. 
 
 "In sooth in evil case am I, 
 
 Fatigue and hunger too 
 Have played the deuce with my gastric juice, 
 
 It's 'got no work to do.' 
 
 "I've come o'er ridges of burning sand 
 That gasp for the cooling rain, 
 
 Where the orb of day with his blinding ray 
 Glares down on the salt-bush plain 
 
SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. 
 
 91 
 
 *' O'er steaming valley, lagoon, and marsh 
 Where the Sun strikes down 'till, phew ! 
 
 The very eels in the water feels 
 A foretaste of a stew. 
 
 " I hungered long 'till my wasting form 
 Was a hideous sight to view ; 
 
 But fit on a settler's fence to sit 
 To scare the cockatoo. 
 
 *• My hair grew rank, and my eyeballs sank 
 'Till — wasted, withered, and thin — 
 
 The ends and points of my jarring joints 
 Stuck out through my parched up skin. 
 
 " Shrunk limb and thew, 'till at length I grew 
 
 As thin as a gum-tree rail ; 
 At the horrid sight of my hideous plight 
 
 Each settler's face turned pale : 
 
 " And as I travelled the mulga scrubs. 
 And forced a passage through 
 
 I scared the soul of the native black 
 A gathering his ' nardoo.' 
 
 •Kil 
 
 i 
 
 ill 
 
 1'' 
 
 
 , . 1'. 1, ■■. 
 
 
 
92 
 
 SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. 
 
 "On snake or lizard I'd fain have fed, 
 
 But piteous was my plight, 
 And the whole of the brute creation fled 
 
 In horror at the sight. 
 
 " Scrub turkeys, emus, I appall ; 
 
 Their eggs I longed to poach, 
 But they collared their eggs, their nests and all, 
 
 Andfied at my approach I 
 
 \ 
 
 ..^^^}l^^^\^^,^JZrM^ 
 
 W"'m. ,.v^^ >'■• — ^- ■*^^- 
 
 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. 
 
 «<Kr 
 
112 
 
 SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. 
 
 No cook or house-maid could resist, 
 
 I felt, by any chance. 
 That dark moustache with cork-screw twist, 
 
 That marrow-searching glance. 
 
 And o'er each little news-boy's head 
 
 He towered like a mast ; 
 His voice, to match that stately tread, 
 
 Should shame a trumpet-blast ! 
 
 I pondered on the matter much 
 
 And thought I'd like to be 
 Escorted to the " dock " by such 
 
 A demi-god as he, 
 
 I gazed upon his form entranced — 
 
 He never noticed me. 
 For visions through his fancy danced 
 
 Of mutton cold for tea. 
 
 He knew he hadn't long to stand 
 'Till — Mary's labours o'er — 
 
 She'd lead him gently by the hand 
 Inside the kitchen door. 
 
■■»lll,,l^^ 
 
 ; i 
 
 SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. 
 
 113 
 
 Ensconced in some snug vantage-coign 
 At ease he'd stretch each limb, 
 
 And feast on cutlet and sirloin, 
 Purloined for love of him. 
 
 I leant against a scaffold-beam — 
 I must have had a nap 
 
 I think, because I had a dream — 
 I dreamt I was a 'trap'! 
 
 \m 
 
 H 
 
! I 
 
 IT4 
 
 SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. 
 
 I thought I had allegiance sworn 
 And that there was for me 
 
 The regulation tile that's worn 
 By every trap you see ; 
 
 The coat and thingumbobs as well, 
 What joy could equal this ? 
 
 No Gillott's patent pens could tell 
 My wild ecstatic bliss ! 
 
 I thought they portioned out my beat- 
 
 A foot I'm sure I grew, 
 And as I walked up Hunter Street 
 
 I felt a match for two. 
 
 I felt my bosom throb behind 
 
 My coat of azure blue, 
 And trembled for the peace of mind 
 
 Of every girl I knew. 
 
 I saw myself in future fights 
 
 The populace enthrall, 
 While brightly blaze the city lights 
 
 I cry '* come one, come all ! " 
 
SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. 
 
 115 
 
 To grab their leader see me try 
 (Though rent my lovely coat) 
 
 The light of battle in my eye, 
 My hand upon his throat ! 
 
 The truncheon used with practised skill 
 
 Requites him for his sin, 
 In such a hand as mine it will 
 
 Abraise his rebel skin. 
 
 I thought of each bush-ranging chap, 
 And for a moment sighed 
 
 That I was not a mounted trap 
 
 Through tea-tree scrub to ride. 
 
 But soon the notion I dismiss, 
 
 For I can plainly see 
 That such a line of life as this 
 
 Much harder lines would be. 
 
 Beneath a bushel in the bush 
 
 My shining light to hide, 
 I felt would be a gross misuse 
 
 Of Sydney's hope and pride. 
 
 m 
 
 !l 
 
ii6 
 
 SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. 
 
 My look alone would petrify 
 
 A breaker of the peace, 
 And where I turned my searching eye 
 
 Dishonesty would cease. 
 
 Police reports my name should state, 
 Each deed of mine should be 
 
 A deed for traps to emulate, 
 And try to be like me. 
 
 My blushing honours should be worn 
 
 With unobtrusive grace, 
 And energy and zeal adorn 
 
 My calm heroic face. 
 
 My beat was not in nasty slums 
 Where vulgar rowdies meet ; 
 
 But see ! the conquering hero comes— 
 The pride of George's Street ! 
 
 I thought he'd be a hardy boy 
 
 Who'd shout in accents coarse 
 
 " Who stole the mutton-pie, ahoy !" 
 Now I was in the force. 
 
Or should a cabby ere presume 
 To overcharge a fare, 
 
 My eagle glance it would consume 
 That cabby then and there. 
 
 Now mercy light on yonder boy 
 Who blows the sportive pea ! 
 
 His visage lit with fiendish joy— 
 For he'll get none from me. 
 
 Some power save him from my care, 
 Preserve him from my clutch, 
 
 Or mutilated past repair 
 
 He'll have to use a crutch. 
 
 His form, though supple as an eel, 
 His mother wouldn't know 
 
 Again if I'd a chance to deal 
 
 One stiffening truncheon blow i 
 
 No more his little idle hands 
 Will scatter orange peel 
 
 When fast enclosed in iron bands, 
 Or brightly polished steel. 
 
 nif 
 
 wr 
 
ii8 
 
 SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. 
 
 I'd marked a nice secluded seat, 
 'Twas somewhere in the park, 
 
 Where I could slumber long and sweet 
 As soon as it got dark. 
 
 I spotted out each servant gal 
 
 I'd let make love to me. 
 The houses where I'd take a "spell," 
 
 And call and have my tea. 
 
 ■ 
 
 I took the bearings of the doors. 
 And windows front and back 
 
 Where I, unseen, by vulgar boors. 
 Could go and have a " snack." 
 
 Fond, foolish women, at my feet 
 In yearning worship fell, 
 
 And one, she was uncommon sweet, 
 Her name I'll never tell. 
 
 I thought I'd never lived 'till now, 
 Or that I'd lived in vain ; 
 
 It was a hardish rub, I vow, 
 That I should wake again. 
 
SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. 
 
 119 
 
 Fulfilment of a nobler plan 
 
 Ambition couldn't crav" — 
 
 I was a trap ! — each common man 
 Seemed born to be my slave ! 
 
 But stay — whose hand is on me now ? 
 
 Who dares to clutch m\' cape ? 
 What light is this, and who art thou, 
 
 Thou shadowy, ghastl) shape ? 
 
 A fearful light is shed around, 
 I quake and dare not stir — 
 
 A voice ! and husky is its sound — 
 It says,— "'Ullo! you. Sir !" 
 
 Before me was the man I'd praised. 
 
 And my illusion fled 
 When his infernal truncheon raised 
 
 A blister on my head. 
 
 * « « # • 
 
 Sometimes at midnight's solemn hour 
 I dream this dream again, 
 
 And, thinking its her form once more, 
 The pillow tightly strain ; 
 
120 
 
 SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. 
 
 Or fiercely to the door I spring, 
 And firmly grip the hasp, 
 
 And smile to think I've got again 
 The truncheon in my grasp. 
 
 The beads of sweat they gather fast, 
 And from my nose they fall, 
 
 I wake, and find, alas ! alas ! 
 I'm not a trap at all ! 
 
SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. 
 
 121 
 
 SUPERNATURAL REVELATIONS OF A 
 ' FANCY-GOODS MAN, 
 
 OR 
 
 THE DI.^BOHCAL DEMON OF THE DEADLY DRAIN. 
 
 There lived in Parramatta Street 
 A cove — his name was Joe — 
 
 Who nightly sniffed its odours sweet 
 (Not very long ago.) 
 
 Its every scent right well he knew, 
 They often made him frown, 
 
 And he was fancy-goods-man to 
 A big lirm here in town. 
 
 * Originally contributed to Sydney Punch, 
 
 \\ 
 
 • 
 
 riv 
 
 ifPi* 
 
122 
 
 SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. 
 
 As Joe lay down one night — he slept 
 In summer far from from well — 
 
 A nameless horror o'er him crept, 
 Of what he couldn't tell ; 
 
 His hair was rising up he knew, 
 He felt his blood grow cold ; 
 
 He felt a little frightened, too, 
 For Joseph wasn't bold. 
 
SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. 
 
 And while he. vainly seeking rest, 
 
 Lay tossing to and fro, 
 By name he heard himself addressed — 
 
 The unknown voice said, "Joe!" 
 
 " Arise, Oh Joseph ! from thy bed — 
 
 Arise, and follow me ! 
 Hush ! not a word," the spirit said, 
 
 " For I'm a ghost, d'ye see ? 
 
 "Bring kerosene, and bring thy lamp. 
 And arm thee to the teeth, 
 
 For thou in yonder gloomy swamp 
 Shalt win a laurel wreath." 
 
 123 
 
 ;;f \ 
 
 ^^^N.1( 
 
 !t , 
 
124 
 
 SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. 
 
 " Now follow me," the spirit said, 
 ** For well I know the track. 
 
 And thou shak slay the demon dread 
 Of Wattle Swamp the Black." 
 
 Then toward the demon's dread abode 
 The ghastly goblin flits — 
 
 The spirit was to show the road, 
 And Joe to give him "fits." 
 
 And silently they followed all 
 The windings of the creek ; 
 
 At times they heard a night-bird call- 
 At times a tom-cat shriek. 
 
SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. 
 
 But of the voices of the night 
 They took no heed as yet ; 
 
 The ghost said, " Joseph, are you right ?" 
 And Joseph said, " You bet !" 
 
 And thus began the demon-hunt : 
 The road was dark and drear ; 
 
 The ghost was mostly on in front, 
 And Joseph in the rear. 
 
 At times they crawled along a trench 
 That held Joe's feet like glue ; 
 
 And there was many a stifling stench. 
 And many a cast off shoe. 
 
 125 
 
 * 
 
 m 
 
 I 
 
 ^ I I 
 
I 
 
 And oft they waded deep in slime 
 Where rotting herbage grev.- ; 
 
 The ghost said, "Joseph, take your time,' 
 And Joseph murmured, "ph — ew!" 
 
 At length a dark and gloomy pond 
 Appeared to block the track ; 
 
 The spirit was for goin' on. 
 And Joe for goin' back. 
 
 Before the breeze his shirt-tails blow, 
 And though he's sore distressed, 
 
 The spirit said he had to go. 
 And Joseph gave him best. 
 
 " Young man ! " the spirit said, " 'tis vain 
 To bandy words with me ; 
 
 Just stretch those bandy legs again, 
 For I'm a ghost, d'ye see ?" 
 
 And Joseph, making answer soft. 
 They thus resumed the track — 
 
 The spirit bore the lamp aloft, 
 And Joseph on his back. 
 
y u 
 
 i%^/ 
 
 The ghost explained the shrieks which rose 
 
 From out the inky tides 
 Were made by disembodied coves 
 
 With pains in their insides. 
 
 " Yon demon dread," the spirit said, 
 "Has reaped his human crops, 
 
 And feasted, battened on the dead 
 
 Too long — we'll give him slops ! " 
 
 (i 
 
V i l^'i 
 
 m 
 
 128 
 
 SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. 
 
 E'en while he spoke a horrid smoke 
 
 Belched forth upon the air, 
 And forth fresh yells and shriekings broke, 
 
 And up went Joseph's hair. 
 
 The spirit slid him from his back, 
 
 But Joseph trembled so, 
 And wished devoutly he was back 
 
 With Messrs. Blank & Co. 
 
 " Stand firm ! " the spirit said, " drink this 
 'Tis strength and courage too ; 
 
 We'll awe this great metropolis 
 With deeds of 'derring-do.' " 
 
 v«^/v*V,. 
 
SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. 
 
 129 
 
 Then straightway rose before their sight 
 The demon's war-like crest ; 
 
 He's green and blue, and black and white, 
 With plague-spots on his breast. 
 
 I could not paint the demon's form — 
 Distraught, convulsed with ire — 
 
 His voice was like the thunder-storm, 
 His eyes like lakes of fire. 
 
 He breathed forth typhoid, boils and croup 
 With every breath he drew ; 
 
 His touch meant measles, whooping-cough 
 And scarlatina too. 
 
 He comes with measured steps and slow — 
 Earth groaned beneath his tramp — 
 
 And with one grinding, crashing blow, 
 He shivered Joseph's lamp! 
 
 He glared around him, and his eyes 
 
 Shone with a baleful light : 
 " Who, who are ye," the demon cries. 
 
 That wander through the night ? 
 
 n 
 
^ 
 
" Who, who are ye, that dare to come 
 My fair domain to haunt ? 
 
 Go, seek some more congenial slum, 
 Avaunt ! d'ye hear ? Avaunt ! " 
 
 Now Joseph felt his courage rise 
 From out his blucher boots, 
 
 And while the cautious curlew cries. 
 And while the swamp-owl hoots — 
 
 Despite a lingering touch of cramp — 
 
 His muscles he did brace, 
 And hurled the fragments of the lamp 
 
 Slap in the demon's face ! 
 
 ** Who's this ? " the demon said, said he, 
 ** A stalwart knight, I ween ! 
 
 My eyes are blind, I cannot see. 
 They're full of kero^^^;^." 
 
 Then Joseph's heart within him leapt — 
 The demon being blind — 
 
 Right gingerly he crawled and crept, 
 And gave him one behind. 
 
 f 
 
 r'! !^ 
 
 Ml 
 
132 SOUTHERLY BUSTERS. 
 
 Thus, thu ' "y close, that warlike pair, 
 
 Upon iie slimy beach, 
 
 And Joseph poked him here and there, 
 
 Wherever he could reach. 
 
 And while the giant squirmeth from 
 
 The toasting-fork of Joe, 
 
 The ghost (clean peeled) came grimly on 
 
 To strike the final blow. 
 
 The spirit used a two-edged sword 
 (He used it like an axe) 
 
 And while that outraged giant roared, 
 His right leg he attacks. 
 
 '> 
 
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. 
 
 -<e>)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 ! " 
 
 <z:iQ^^:z> 
 
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.