IF I COULD PAINT.

Press, Volume LVI, Issue 10333, 29 April 1899, Page 2

IF I COULD PAINT.

'Tin. here, nurse; I've only come to get Hjkby Lawsok, » Stokct Buttsxcr. sbmetWoutof fathers room jhe said I _. j and we still• in could have it v ., 6 Australia, I would not worry too «* J^^ ?w l 0^ P F S jS £7a«KiS ***«*» or even horses; you can study and -the stady, like to have it with Je _ _,__, _, day __, _„__ -took and mc in the kitchen. anywhere—in University Padt for preference 'I'm. just n.ot going to have it in, the and convenience .. an d Australia 5s already kitchen; put it m the study ?»d **£»- said. amotbired b y & Q hotse> Sunlight- and I could have some chicken if I liked. gee milm are-plenty to.paint The steps retreated agam, to the accom r thfim blltt -p eßaild classes are passing away panunent of muttered remarks and Teddy, w ift AustraliaTTd be having routed the enemy, led the way : va^P'o f tk picture like "Breaking the .triumphantly to his fathers room; • thm of * hundred ejqufejto aSeged "Nurse*, is so,cross,' he explained, trying ____. in „__ noo d"—which, as theyare,at the same time to drag a. heavy box for- __. legs satisfactory than a study in ward. 'Tm too old for a nurse now. Bob the _£_£ p aris fashion be. The mpst Smith says it's rediclns- When we go'home- ;j betHI _ M studies jn v the nude axe of children; I shall be eight, and Jthen 111 ask father if but>go to Manly Beach any summer day for. I can do without one." - ' tha r real thing—with the moving grace and "Isn't this your home? asked Borradaile, thrown in. his eyes glancing quickly round the dimly- My ambition WO uld be to paint Australia lighted, untidy bedroom. ._ it iS) ,_ d it changes: pictures that One of em, replied Teddy; the other s Augfrajjana cou i d through—and through ever so much bigger;- but I had fever, and a of teara> perhaps—bock into their the doctor said I was to come here for * pasts . 'pictures that Australians could-look change. Hasn't my hair grown? You look through ail( j onward to a brighter and nobler ,as if you'd had fever, yours is 'so short." future. Pictures that the "careless" joker Borradaile-Teddened, and passed his hand m s g ht stand in front of chuckling comfortably over his close-cropped head.. - ; - J " -. to himself, and. feel less lonely and cynical "I like short hair, Theodore." j n hfe heart than careless jokers are apt to Teddy began to laugh again, -but" fortu-. fee j > Pictures Qiat might soften hard ©yes nately, both ill his utterances and his mirth, and mo uths, and so ease' hard hearts. Piche kept up the role of burglar, and was very tureS showing the' best and noblest sides of mysterious and silent.. human nature, so that the world might keep "So does father and Uncle Jack. Uncle its faith in it, and love it, or, failing that, Jack wears his nearly as short as you. But, De more-charitable and tolerant towards it. I saj, everybody except the servants, and Pictures showing the worst side of humanity, ; even some of them, call mc Teddy." . , the poverty, misery, and squalid vice, that Ks had opened the trunk and now dis- men might hate the greed and selfishness that 1 played its contents, a heterogenous collec- cause it all. Pictures that would bring, hot ; tion of costumes, for Teddy's, father was tears to the eyes and fire the'hearts of men. . great; at theatricals, and in his time had And pictures that would make men laugh and played many'parts. i There was a box of be cheerful in our time, i cosmetics, at sight of which Borradaile's And if I went to Europe it would bo "to lace brightened. Luck seemed superlatively learn to. paint Australia—not old-world good, so far ; surely it would not desert him scenes: those who are old-world born can do now. Teddy, who had been watching his' that'better-than we. A Dutch tavern-scene facfe, chuckled silently with pleasure. looks' picturesque to us—prouably on ac- " Choose. whatever you like," he said, count "of the costumes;' but a real Dutch smoothing a laced satin coat that lay upper-. tavern-scene mightn't be any more picturmost, "then, when you're ready, we*ll pre- esque than our own haggard threepenny-bar. tend." Borradaile had already made his Pictures of our threepenny-bar might set men choice. wishing for a different style of pub and a "Go down and wait for mc, Teddy; you different fashion in drinking, 'xue narrow see I want to.surprise you," as the boy's face bar-~for most things made by men. are narlengthened. "Don't say a word to anyone, row and haggard in this thin, faded time "and I'll be with you in "ho time." oi ours; no seat.except perhaps a ledge under Teddy nodded, and ran off cheerfully the window-(for seats -also, like verandahs, enough, his parti-coloured raiment flapping have narrowed and disappeared: it is only round him as he ran • intended that men should stand in front of a In that other life which seemed so far . drink'as long as-they can pay, for away, Geoffrey'BorcadaUe had- also taken it, and rJhsn go away.) . , « part in 'amateur theatricals. ' He changed d %& humorous side of it, "Breaking characters now-with he had never ?» Law » _r instance: A group represent, 'attained to in those days, donning the entire ™g or B 2B_*n , «' ■» ™W sort* and con-' costume of a country which he d }* Ol>3 ° f ordlJ f i y « ni **s » V™*®** & a found lying upon the lied just as his host had ado-entrance of a cross-street hotel, on flung it, and leaving in exchange under the da J or ■***« J*""' 1 doWn - to raiment in the trunk a suit of |rey adorned J ,ston , or , **»£ through the keyhole, or givwith the broad arrow. There waVa loaded ™S J 6 make a study-of his facerevolver lying upon a side-table; he looked the face ° f a b^i^ OT m isch, . rf f at it longingly, hesitated, then put ib in his The atmosphere of school-boyish pocket. Yhen he to the Wof the S?*}* 1 "* 8 with rae&ng stairs and-listened. The house was very of the bom of matore cauton or r£ m *r* d^™*7h ~ SSOi *' 2u^w^t\h^^ He made his way to'the study, and held °* *}» f or ' T ' JS .up his hand just inW the boy's Pj«* ****** for them^vea-hanjring exclamation '' r about the opposite corner with a poor show "You're so like Uncle Jack," -he said, bf . neutrality, and ready either to stroll on walking'round his- guest, "and he just has & f aswmpfaon of mdifference at the that brlwny look. But why-did you choose a l ht £ » P_"»m«i or to slip across and in such a stupid gottup? JLet's have some ter * he spn-its as soon as a breach supper, though, and then you'll teach mc the 1S «»*«■ - l»pulatic-n of the alley m won't!you? Nurse is all right, 5™P»%. and aiding and abetting, maybe, bacauee one"of Farmer Giles's men has come with advice and signals. All human m our in. The, she •likes.. Do be quick." times. And, as a companion picture, the There, was chicken on the ,-tible, and barlighted dw powt of ma, or.w^ the bread-and-butiter and new milk. Teddy was dusk behind drawn bunoa. ab air as of far top excited to eat, and at no time had he school-boys safe in hiding and enjoying a large appetite, yet to this day nurse tells f™ l * 3 ■*•*•* «•» orchard-robbmg expehowt little boy of seven disposed of haU a yet alert and ready for a surprise; chicken and unlimited bread-and-butter at the rrrepressible wink and the souUulgnn one meal - < l ; of the jokers." The one or two dead : earnest, Geoffrey Borradaile ate hastily. There warf .matter-pf-fact • the somersault instruction to he MveV, ancl contractors or bosses, .^^.JWJW he had a code of honour still winch 'made il «*£"* included) as seriously as they do .their difficult'to disappoint and break-faith with a jobs the men. -■ - child. Yet it was madness 1 to stay. He rose . ;■■■'•• v " v« «»♦« .wehtto ttegto*, and listened., i subdued J The-Saturday afternoon drunk yhog*» chatter, broken- byf shcnit of laughter, came d™** n b 7 a f cld t ent r!f c*" d °' * f -71™ frdm the kitchen. He returned to Teddy; »* l ~^°'*?* l °t hlS °o'^W who had watched his movements with in- porarily parted from them.andhaspassedthe tereat ■ point-when, hell either go home with the "I believe von'ra afeaid of her i"* bulk of his wages,or make a night'of it; on.the tin of hiinose; "she's a bedst to me; . f_fi™« 0 rfo* o?S_SI P la f ,d the spoon on the taWe, and sitting ifso InToh down drew the boy to his knee.. He seemed hnm ' sympathy in drinking, to have taken another character with, his , ~ .A But change to Paddy's tweeds and immaculate linen, and something' Market world of types, in' his expression reduced Teddy, to preter- y^qi' *o& tragedy there. The usual hagnatural gravity gard-featurea mother going from one en» bee here, Teddy, one man ought to help | unce _ Q f the markets; a boarding anoOier out of a fix? .'■.'" „- house keeper with two. or three grown-up, Teddy nodded, his eyes fastened on the w jute-«hirted, sfcand-up-and-turn-down-col-handSome, haggard face near his .own. ' }axed (mother does all their linen herself) That's what father said one day to Uncle jftraw-hatted, cigarette-smoking sons (boardJack, only he said a tight place. . It's" the in _ at home and paying 12s or 15s a week), same as a fix, perhaps?" • apeing men-about-town in King street to"Exactly the same. Well, Tm in a tight n fg a t. She has the ordinary load of Sunday place, a very tight place, my boy, and you're dinner-stuff on one arm, and a great, peetho man to help mc out of it." ; ,brat on the other, two or three trailing Teddy's grey eyes darkened with pride; he behind or hanging on her skirts. She turns nodded. .... ■' . .-., sharply, at last, goaded to it, and, in a shriU "N"ow," resumed Borradaile,'"l don't want half-shriek: "Be quiet, blast ye 1 (that I Anybody to" know I've been here, not even ghould say. such' a thing) where am Ito get your father if you can help it, for a few days, hokey-pokey money from?" I'd like to paint I'm afraid hell hive to, though, on account b, er a nd,£he children—and the "nan-nan N of .his clothes.' Bowever, in a'few hours I' son a hurrying 1 past in the -background. Id hope'to be with friends. It is nothing" that j ft" "Nit! there's Mother." Where was can harm your father, Teddy, or it wouldn't' sne - to get hokey-pokey money from? be fair to ask you—but Tm in danger. What Then, in' the face of Mother Grundy and is your father's name, by the way?" ' to the advancement of Australia—the :slums "Brooke," Captain BrooteV' '" ' -.'"■• —there are miles of 'em now—and the poor "Ronald Brooke, of the—tli?"' G f Sydney. ... "Yes, he's not in the Army now. Do you The drovers, the teamsters ,the shearers, know him?",- " ' " ' the station hands, the cockies, the diggers— • Borradaile's face hsd' grown rigid and and the acts and scenes "of their lives—what stern. Ha half put the boy away from him. place have these in our- galleries?- I would "I ihet him—once," he said, in a strained ! paint the shearing shed v as it is; the sw^S' . hard voice that made Teddy tremble; "what j man -tramping through the heat, and the was your" mother's name?" ' '"'' swagman tramping through the ram (paint, spoke almost timidly;" ] but not hang in Australia); the swagmens "isn't it pretty?" ' ' : " i camps and- the selectors' homes ; the[ bushBut the-listener was ligtening.no longer. | women; the drovers riding home with their I His thoughts-hftd flown ba,ck over the space i dogs and packrhorses after a long.tnpof. a decade, to the time when his life had' on wiry, ungroomed stock-horses and burned been bounded by a Theodora, the only girl brown, and ragged and dusty, and with the Ihe ever loved. She wonldTiive"been faithful patient weariness of 500 miles.of dry coun--1 enough to the young lover whose'wild o;(ts try in their eyes. . . . ihe M»ctorwere so ptentifura'cron, but Ronald Brooke take a scene at random-. *The Last.Tree on | was steady, though he had the ; Our Slection.' A great gum out I temper of a devil, and Theodora* constancy and that moment fallen; the cfond of dust wafe overruled ~" ' " i from the branches; the hard, caked clay jHe broke in upon his own thoughts by flying from the,butte of the roots; the great 1 taking-Teddy's face between his hands ana W™*" 1 * *™* h ' & ™Sw TrC longing-eyes for a.. head of the treej afleria colony of pcsJt;„ii„j,i,;« i sums longi left undisturbed in the hollows , trace of resenAlance. Teddy wriggled shim- \J» bra^ches . | Th e selector standing back, Wri«sw 9 OTradaUe roseto axe and wiping his forehead.' hnrriedly. ■ - _ '; . .fOr a long-ago abandoned goldfield "I must go, Teddy Do you mind post, ! n d the s^rit of _ c t pomng the somersault^' fm sorry, but I jfi . . Two old diggers - workhave so far to go to-iught .. S |6 m 1 '?^i r"* , ,« mew (as tfl e/ wou ls gave been said Teddy, tto go. , d fe n c nrsj . kce had di _ rs We ye ha 4 suchto, , _» M _ the ground), fabBorradade forced a smile. .After-all, what fe . dowa shafta and f oUo wing workings had been fnn to the boy might mean death , aeir _ dcx on the table—Gulto him, and. he could not agree very heartily. I■ or of thes % in t v, Roaring Days. BB uS Be^L aB J'SS a Z t S ' * , „ We have the dresses, ready to "Good-bye, Teddy,' ha said; "I shall - onr haad but faiti'ful old water-col-never forget . I 0 done on spo t. And wild and strange But Teddy was fumbling in n corner of « a n d "foreign" enough for anythe cupboard, and only nodded over his .'thing SU ch a scene would look. Do you shoulder in response. Borradaile made way J tnat men wore hats with ribbons to rapidly down the drive, and had reached ; them, and capes.and other outlandish things, the gate, when he.Beard quick, pattering days in Australia? And well-greased footsteps hastening after him, ringlets and earrings were common. And It was Teddy, out of breath. He thrust stockmen wore strapped trousers. Do you aorriething into Borradaile's hnnd. know what strapped parte are? Weil rip "Herei—l want' you—jto take this—you the side and 'tween-ieg seams of a pair of might be short. When''Uncle-Jack's in a ] pants, take the. back out altogether, and tight place—he means he-hasn't any money put a new one in of a different colour, that —and I thought—you mightn't either. It's will give you some idea—no, it's not that; mine—every bit, to do as I like with." g«t on a horse, draw a chalk-line in curves Teddy felt himself swung up into a pair all round the spaces of contact between you of "strong arms and literally hugged, and in and the saddle and horse, get a woman to his surprise at "finding something wet upon t cut out and sew neatly over the spaces enhis cheek forgot to wish that his visitor's face \ closed, a length of good saddle tweed, takhad been leas prickly. ' \ ing dare that the colours are something in He was glad he" had remembered what a ; harmony. Then you'll have a pair of tight place meant, but he Btood for a moment * strapped trousers, and if you've got good somewhat forlornly in the drive swallowing a " legs and the trousers fit close as ridmg"pante lump in his thoat before turning to face ' should, very natty they'll look. What were nurse's probable scolding. What did he care - they for? Why, for riding in, of course, for a* scolding, when he had helped another The old poverty-adverrising ashamed patch man out of a tight place with his pillar-post •' carried to extremes and made fashionable, money-box? ' Would be a grand thing nowadays when Geoffrey Borradaile had said he would not a well-made pair of pants go behind premaforget, and he never did. Each year there turely, through too much thinking.

Then, again s The Rescue Party "packing waiter" and fighting out .across the plains in the furnace-blast of the terrible drought. The "Death of Thirst" for the sake of Wool, Tallow, Hides and, Co. . • - "The Ride for the Doctor.** Take an „or* dinery plain bush girl—the brave nwthcrsister of the family, riding, (man's, saddle, perhaps—shabby old apology for a riding skirt) on a rough track through the lonely bush, under dark brooding ridges, on the "oltt grey horse"—broken-winded, but settled down to it and running bullock-hke j f&e'ghTs.face drawn andjaaggard through anxiety and want of sleep, and all but hopeless—whiter in the ghostly daybreak, but brave; and in it the fixed purpose of unconscious heroism. Thin lips dry and set, great tears of fear, pain and weariness dropping from the wide-open eyes that seem to, have lost the power of ever closing in sleep again, fixed on the distant ridge beside which lie tho town, hope and the doctor- Thirty miles from home. Paint the picture! Or "The Bush Doctor" in the hut. . . "The Crisis." . . . The parting between the bu&hman and the doctor after the danger has passed. And a picture thsfc should be painted.' Plain girl again: "Sweet ugly woman of the past." The only one with a trace of refinement in a rough bush family, too proud or too sensitive tq live at home, she studies at night-school; she is slave to the brats, cows, "poddy calves" and selection generally ajll day, and eventually. she is appointed teacher to some gut-back Starte-school or two half-time schools maybe, and "boards" in such homes ,as I have sketched, where every sight, sound, smell—every word almost—is repellent to her nature.- This girl, by a slab, school-house in a dusty patch in the eternal, God-forgotten, body-mind-and- > soul-destroying scrub, "msfrking time" before a row of half-savage children, of whom the youngest might be aa tall as herself. Paint her in school; paint her at home— and the mrrrouadings. Paint her. kneeling by her bed, or in school after hours, arms thrown out on the desk, aching head down, in utter loneliness, hopelessness and weariness of life. The angry diggers and the soldiers face-, to face on Lambing Flat, and the Commissioner on the stump speaking to the. diggers after the first shot had been fired! . . . Way back of it all the Roll-Up, on Ballarat. "The Night before Eureka,"; the diggers kneeling under the flag. The day-dawn fight at Eureka, Stockade. Thomas Kennedy marching from Creswick at the head of his men, through the night-storm, flourishing his sword and singing a wild rebel song—marching to battle and fighting in imagination, no doubt, for his own country, and striking, indirectly, the grandest blow that was ever struck for Australia. The meeting called "to strengthen the hands of the Government,"' and the doom of bad governments written in stern faces. The scene outside the court-house where -justice was dona ' ■ * , And for scenery, the lung-filling depths and disfcrnces of hundreds' of. unknown places like M'DonaldV Hole and Oapertree. Valley. "Grim grey coasts and sea-boards ghastly." The Darling River rising' from far-off Queensland rains; drought blazing down to a na-rrow dark band of soakage between the water and ashen banks. The yellow water rising in the branches of trees, and over high levels where the grass will sprout fresh and green—phantom or unreallooking sheets of water spreading through the , broiling scrubs. ... A camp on the sea beach, jogged edges and gums softened in the moonlight, mountain streams running down and spreading over the sands to the sea—all the world far and faint— faint and far, mates dreaming, smoking;' and yarning lazily round camp-fire. And—rest and peace for awhile.