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The Songs They Used To Sing The Songs They Used To Sing

The Songs They Used To Sing
On the diggings up to twenty odd years ago--and as far back as I can remember--on Lambing Flat, the Pipe Clays, Gulgong, Home Rule, and so through the roaring list; in bark huts, tents, public-houses, sly grog shanties, and--well, the most glorious voice of all belonged to a bad girl. We were only children and didn't know why she was bad, but we weren't allowed to play near or go near the hut she lived in, and we were trained to believe firmly that something awful would happen to us if we stayed to answer a word, and didn't run away... Short Stories - Post by : eagle75 - Date : January 2011 - Author : Henry Lawson - Read : 1823

A Vision Of Sandy Blight A Vision Of Sandy Blight

A Vision Of Sandy Blight
I'd been humping my back, and crouching and groaning for an hour or so in the darkest corner of the travellers' hut, tortured by the demon of sandy blight. It was too hot to travel, and there was no one there except ourselves and Mitchell's cattle pup. We were waiting till after sundown, for I couldn't have travelled in the daylight, anyway. Mitchell had tied a wet towel round my eyes, and led me for the last mile or two by another towel--one end fastened to his belt behind, and the other in my hand as I walked in his tracks.... Short Stories - Post by : sixchute - Date : January 2011 - Author : Henry Lawson - Read : 2946

Andy Page's Rival Andy Page's Rival

Andy Page's Rival
Tall and freckled and sandy, Face of a country lout; That was the picture of Andy-- Middleton's rouseabout. On Middleton's wide dominions Plied the stock-whip and shears; Hadn't any opinions------And he hadn't any "ideers"--at least, he said so himself--except as regarded anything that looked to him like what he called "funny business", under which heading he catalogued tyranny, treachery, interference with the liberty of the subject by the subject, "blanky" lies, or swindles--all things, in short, that seemed to his slow understanding dishonest, mean or paltry; most especially, and above all, treachery to a mate. THAT he could never forget. Andy... Short Stories - Post by : Romerojr - Date : January 2011 - Author : Henry Lawson - Read : 1978

The Iron-bark Chip The Iron-bark Chip

The Iron-bark Chip
Dave Regan and party--bush-fencers, tank-sinkers, rough carpenters, &c.--were finishing the third and last culvert of their contract on the last section of the new railway line, and had already sent in their vouchers for the completed contract, so that there might be no excuse for extra delay in connection with the cheque.Now it had been expressly stipulated in the plans and specifications that the timber for certain beams and girders was to be iron-bark and no other, and Government inspectors were authorised to order the removal from the ground of any timber or material they might deem inferior, or not in... Short Stories - Post by : tramsguy - Date : January 2011 - Author : Henry Lawson - Read : 2261

'middleton's Peter' "middleton's Peter"

'middleton's Peter'
I.The First BornThe struggling squatter is to be found in Australia as well as the "struggling farmer". The Australian squatter is not always the mighty wool king that English and American authors and other uninformed people apparently imagine him to be. Squatting, at the best, is but a game of chance. It depends mainly on the weather, and that, in New South Wales at least, depends on nothing.Joe Middleton was a struggling squatter, with a station some distance to the westward of the furthest line reached by the ordinary "new chum". His run, at the time of our story, was only... Short Stories - Post by : carla - Date : January 2011 - Author : Henry Lawson - Read : 1986

The Mystery Of Dave Regan The Mystery Of Dave Regan

The Mystery Of Dave Regan
"And then there was Dave Regan," said the traveller. "Dave used to die oftener than any other bushman I knew. He was always being reported dead and turnin' up again. He seemed to like it--except once, when his brother drew his money and drank it all to drown his grief at what he called Dave's 'untimely end'. Well, Dave went up to Queensland once with cattle, and was away three years and reported dead, as usual. He was drowned in the Bogan this time while tryin' to swim his horse acrost a flood--and his sweetheart hurried up and got spliced to... Short Stories - Post by : Tumbarumba - Date : January 2011 - Author : Henry Lawson - Read : 2132

Mitchell On Matrimony Mitchell On Matrimony

Mitchell On Matrimony
"I suppose your wife will be glad to see you," said Mitchell to his mate in their camp by the dam at Hungerford. They were overhauling their swags, and throwing away the blankets, and calico, and old clothes, and rubbish they didn't want--everything, in fact, except their pocket-books and letters and portraits, things which men carry about with them always, that are found on them when they die, and sent to their relations if possible. Otherwise they are taken in charge by the constable who officiates at the inquest, and forwarded to the Minister of Justice along with the depositions.It was... Short Stories - Post by : dantzer - Date : January 2011 - Author : Henry Lawson - Read : 3562

Mitchell On Women Mitchell On Women

Mitchell On Women
"All the same," said Mitchell's mate, continuing an argument by the camp-fire; "all the same, I think that a woman can stand cold water better than a man. Why, when I was staying in a boarding-house in Dunedin, one very cold winter, there was a lady lodger who went down to the shower-bath first thing every morning; never missed one; sometimes went in freezing weather when I wouldn't go into a cold bath for a fiver; and sometimes she'd stay under the shower for ten minutes at a time.""How'd you know?""Why, my room was near the bath-room, and I could hear... Short Stories - Post by : chrisfuchs - Date : January 2011 - Author : Henry Lawson - Read : 3534

No Place For A Woman No Place For A Woman

No Place For A Woman
He had a selection on a long box-scrub siding of the ridges, about half a mile back and up from the coach road. There were no neighbours that I ever heard of, and the nearest "town" was thirty miles away. He grew wheat among the stumps of his clearing, sold the crop standing to a Cockie who lived ten miles away, and had some surplus sons; or, some seasons, he reaped it by hand, had it thrashed by travelling "steamer" (portable steam engine and machine), and carried the grain, a few bags at a time, into the mill on his rickety... Short Stories - Post by : ozventures - Date : January 2011 - Author : Henry Lawson - Read : 4786

Mitchell's Jobs Mitchell's Jobs

Mitchell's Jobs
"I'm going to knock off work and try to make some money," said Mitchell, as he jerked the tea-leaves out of his pannikin and reached for the billy. "It's been the great mistake of my life--if I hadn't wasted all my time and energy working and looking for work I might have been an independent man to-day.""Joe!" he added in a louder voice, condescendingly adapting his language to my bushed comprehension. "I'm going to sling graft and try and get some stuff together."I didn't feel in a responsive humour, but I lit up and settled back comfortably against the tree, and... Short Stories - Post by : cdmpro - Date : January 2011 - Author : Henry Lawson - Read : 3105

Bill, The Ventriloquial Rooster Bill, The Ventriloquial Rooster

Bill, The Ventriloquial Rooster
"When we were up country on the selection, we had a rooster at our place, named Bill," said Mitchell; "a big mongrel of no particular breed, though the old lady said he was a 'brammer'--and many an argument she had with the old man about it too; she was just as stubborn and obstinate in her opinion as the governor was in his. But, anyway, we called him Bill, and didn't take any particular notice of him till a cousin of some of us came from Sydney on a visit to the country, and stayed at our place because it was... Short Stories - Post by : freespirit - Date : January 2011 - Author : Henry Lawson - Read : 3105

Bush Cats Bush Cats

Bush Cats
"Domestic cats" we mean--the descendants of cats who came from the northern world during the last hundred odd years. We do not know the name of the vessel in which the first Thomas and his Maria came out to Australia, but we suppose that it was one of the ships of the First Fleet. Most likely Maria had kittens on the voyage--two lots, perhaps--the majority of which were buried at sea; and no doubt the disembarkation caused her much maternal anxiety.. . . . .The feline race has not altered much in Australia, from a physical point of view--not yet. The... Short Stories - Post by : kellymonaghan - Date : January 2011 - Author : Henry Lawson - Read : 4972

Meeting Old Mates Meeting Old Mates

Meeting Old Mates
I.Tom SmithYou are getting well on in the thirties, and haven't left off being a fool yet. You have been away in another colony or country for a year or so, and have now come back again. Most of your chums have gone away or got married, or, worse still, signed the pledge--settled down and got steady; and you feel lonely and desolate and left-behind enough for anything. While drifting aimlessly round town with an eye out for some chance acquaintance to have a knock round with, you run against an old chum whom you never dreamt of meeting, or whom... Short Stories - Post by : kzvans - Date : January 2011 - Author : Henry Lawson - Read : 4363

Two Larrikins Two Larrikins

Two Larrikins
"Y'orter do something, Ernie. Yer know how I am. YOU don't seem to care. Y'orter to do something."Stowsher slouched at a greater angle to the greasy door-post, and scowled under his hat-brim. It was a little, low, frowsy room opening into Jones' Alley. She sat at the table, sewing--a thin, sallow girl with weak, colourless eyes. She looked as frowsy as her surroundings."Well, why don't you go to some of them women, and get fixed up?"She flicked the end of the table-cloth over some tiny, unfinished articles of clothing, and bent to her work."But you know very well I haven't got... Short Stories - Post by : saumil_p - Date : January 2011 - Author : Henry Lawson - Read : 2707

Mr. Smellingscheck Mr. Smellingscheck

Mr. Smellingscheck
I met him in a sixpenny restaurant--"All meals, 6d.--Good beds, 1s." That was before sixpenny restaurants rose to a third-class position, and became possibly respectable places to live in, through the establishment, beneath them, of fourpenny hash-houses (good beds, 6d.), and, beneath THEM again, of THREE-penny "dining-rooms--CLEAN beds, 4d."There were five beds in our apartment, the head of one against the foot of the next, and so on round the room, with a space where the door and washstand were. I chose the bed the head of which was near the foot of his, because he looked like a man who... Short Stories - Post by : Arcana_Media - Date : January 2011 - Author : Henry Lawson - Read : 1986

'a Rough Shed' "a Rough Shed"

'a Rough Shed'
A hot, breathless, blinding sunrise--the sun having appeared suddenly above the ragged edge of the barren scrub like a great disc of molten steel. No hint of a morning breeze before it, no sign on earth or sky to show that it is morning--save the position of the sun.A clearing in the scrub--bare as though the surface of the earth were ploughed and harrowed, and dusty as the road. Two oblong huts--one for the shearers and one for the rouseabouts--in about the centre of the clearing (as if even the mongrel scrub had shrunk away from them) built end-to-end, of weatherboards,... Short Stories - Post by : scottmal - Date : January 2011 - Author : Henry Lawson - Read : 2918

Payable Gold Payable Gold

Payable Gold
Among the crowds who left the Victorian side for New South Wales about the time Gulgong broke out was an old Ballarat digger named Peter McKenzie. He had married and retired from the mining some years previously and had made a home for himself and family at the village of St. Kilda, near Melbourne; but, as was often the case with old diggers, the gold fever never left him, and when the fields of New South Wales began to blaze he mortgaged his little property in order to raise funds for another campaign, leaving sufficient behind him to keep his wife... Short Stories - Post by : diveman - Date : January 2011 - Author : Henry Lawson - Read : 2070

An Oversight Of Steelman's An Oversight Of Steelman's

An Oversight Of Steelman's
Steelman and Smith--professional wanderers--were making back for Wellington, down through the wide and rather dreary-looking Hutt Valley. They were broke. They carried their few remaining belongings in two skimpy, amateurish-looking swags. Steelman had fourpence left. They were very tired and very thirsty--at least Steelman was, and he answered for both. It was Smith's policy to feel and think just exactly as Steelman did. Said Steelman:"The landlord of the next pub. is not a bad sort. I won't go in--he might remember me. You'd best go in. You've been tramping round in the Wairarapa district for the last six months, looking for... Short Stories - Post by : ebookwow - Date : January 2011 - Author : Henry Lawson - Read : 2731

How Steelman Told His Story How Steelman Told His Story

How Steelman Told His Story
It was Steelman's humour, in some of his moods, to take Smith into his confidence, as some old bushmen do their dogs."You're nearly as good as an intelligent sheep-dog to talk to, Smith--when a man gets tired of thinking to himself and wants a relief. You're a bit of a mug and a good deal of an idiot, and the chances are that you don't know what I'm driving at half the time--that's the main reason why I don't mind talking to you. You ought to consider yourself honoured; it ain't every man I take into my confidence, even that far."Smith... Short Stories - Post by : msbarbara - Date : January 2011 - Author : Henry Lawson - Read : 3697

Mateship In Shakespeare's Rome Mateship In Shakespeare's Rome

Mateship In Shakespeare's Rome
How we do misquote sayings, or misunderstand them when quoted rightly! For instance, we "wait for something to turn up, like Micawber," careless or ignorant of the fact that Micawber worked harder than all the rest put together for the leading characters' sakes; he was the chief or only instrument in straightening out of the sadly mixed state of things--and he held his tongue till the time came. Moreover--and "_Put a pin in that spot, young man_," as Dr "Yark" used to say--when there came a turn in the tide of the affairs of Micawber, he took it at the flood,... Short Stories - Post by : Harlow - Date : January 2011 - Author : Henry Lawson - Read : 1683