"THE VIRE-VLY CHAP."

Press, Volume LXVI, Issue 13870, 22 October 1910, Page 7

"THE VIRE-VLY CHAP."

Seventeen years ago I went to England. I spent a considerable time with friends in a fanning county—and talked Australia. People used to como from neighbouring counties to sco the Australian, in order to find out how their relations in Australia were looking the last time, I saw them. I retaliated with fact's and figures v and occasional yarns liko that of tho North Queensland" fireflies—co largo, so warm, thf.t when you travel in the bush, and

make tea, all you have to do is to catch a fire-fly, * hang the billy on his hind legs, and the water's boiling in

no time. Seven or eight years ago I went back to England, and my farmers, and passing along'a country road with a friend, 1 came to an old nian breaking stones by the roadside. Ho called my friend back and said something while I waited. Mv friond came up: "Dα you know -.vfiat ho said? .He said. 'Bo that the vire-vly chap?'" And I learned on enquiry that of all my Australian information only the fire-fly yarn remained. That had filtered down to the settles in all the* village inns of the neighbourhood, and had been debated for years—some holding that it was only a fairy-tale; others, that it was one* of tho reasonable "wonders of the Lord," and that anything might happen in a savage country like Australia. Finally, the yarn had been embedded in local traditions, which survive and are related for a hundred years—-you can find staple last-century tales in every village I have visited in England and Wales. So the ancient by the roadside, seeing the stranger, remembered the wonderful tale ljo had heard, and asked, "Bo that the virevly chap?" •-,»«> That is why I emphasise Mr Bean s cockatoos; oneo they reach rural England tnoy may never be forgotten— and their moral is obvious. (By. tne way, a simpler and more feasible explanation of the "cocky" farmer is i that he doesn't plough, but scratches the ground like a cockatoo in search of provender). For a looil reader, this need of better orientation will not, vitiate "On the Wool Track." and even the pastoral chestnuts that Mr Bean has gathered—among a lot of fresh fruit —will be new to msny people. Wo choose for quotation two or three extracts that are as f/»xl as the remainder of this capital book. THE SHEABERS' COOK. Tho chief thing * shearers' cook has to be r.ood at ia baking bread. The next thing fie has to be good at is fighting. Every shearer admits tha< it.is an advantage to a cook if he can use his hands. You know, there's always some in tho mess ready to grumble, however v;ell he cooks. And it just makes the difference if he's game to call them out and tan them." They tell of one ■very brawny cook who determined to put; thincs on » proptr footing from the start. At the first dinner he marched into tho hut with his sleeves rolled up and tho knots on hie arms well dismayed, and planted the dinner decisively on the table. it "There's your tucker, gentlemen. ne eaid. "You can have a pieco of that or have a piece of the cook." He folded his arms and waited. it was the tucker they chcee. THE CRAFTINESS OF CATTLE. The bullocky said:—"Oh. cattle are clever —dead crafty. You know tho noise they ordinarily make whep going along a road. Well, you'd think you cd hear them if they were anyways near you. wouldn't you? Do you know, I've known 'm steal past mo in camp not twenty yard? away, and mc no hear 'em? It's the truth. After I've camped at nifjht I've known them steal away, on their toes it must have b'n, just like men. , "But what gen'ly gave them away, though —each beast has got a mate. Theyd lose of their mate in the dark and start lowing to one another to find them. But even then it was no bellowing, like the way they bellow to one another at ordinary times. It was —mo-000 .. . maw-aw .. . muu-u . . . You know tho way they ordinarily answer ono another—one high, another low, only so , soft like you'd ecarcel? reckonise it. , _ "I've had 'em gi by not twenty yards off, with mc in my tent there not hearing them at all. But when I used to hear that moo-000 . . . maw-aw . . . muu-u ... I'd know it was time to get my 'orso quick and go after Cm ' THE EMGLISHIIAX. Jacob was an Englishman. For eorae reason ther seem 'ust to tolerate Englishmen in tho bush. They us? tho word almost as a mark for incapacty. ' - Ho can t nde. lie can graft a bit; bat he's not intelligence, oh no. He's an Englishman," they tell yon. Yet ono noticed that if thexo wore a particularly hard, thankless not over-remunera-tive piece of work to be done, something that wanted sticking to honestly, through a long day. with a good solid eboulder behind it, it'was somehow generally an Englishman that was set to it. Tins particular one. Jacob, was pure English from Somerset. He was not clever. He could wnto has nv.me it he were not inteirupted If he were diS- > turbed he had to go back and begin again. : But wo watched him loading those . P 0E ?« and I never saw anvono work like him. joe , "possts" were eno.-tnous twelve-inch bat - s Hfstacked under a lot of loose timber, co teal ■ they needed to be pushed out (dear before ■ he could get at tbem to parbuckle, them on to tho waggen. Jacob burrowed into tno > pile flat on his chest for all the . wor J*sj! l a rabbit with a dog after it; got his *?°£« - up to the butt of the post ho wanted, ana ' then wriggled, wrenched, tore, shoved, as

fiercely as a terrier in a dog-hght, on til the pest gradually emerged from Us brothers and after it—head to foot in duet, dropping ■ ■with sweat, his huge brown musclee ; trembling like a frightened child's—four cubic feet of cast-iron Englishman. '•How'd you IJK it if ono of them fell on you, Jacob?" asked (somebody. "I spec I'd dint it," ho paid. Perhaps ho would have. SELLING WOOL. The President of 'he Chamber sits high on his seat like a judjre on the bench facing his deputies. On either ride oi him—a man scribblins. Below in the placo of tho Clerk of the House—other men with pens. In » box on tho right a crosvd cf reporters. This half of the Chamber mute, impassive, intent. The other—a dog-tight An elderly German in the whito suit and cummerbund of an operatic colonist, waves his hands rranticaL'y ' He bawls "One —One —One—One,' like the foghorn c!j steamer backing against trailic An American below, posed like an crator. frowning like Napoleon. melodramatically hypnotises the President with ono hand. "*Vahu—wahn—wahn," ho cries. Above, a chubby French boy, '"Won —won —wen —won—won " always shooting out his hand intent to pierce tho President. A second elderly German ft.!ds all his fingers over his face. Hi opens them periodically like tho awell-box of n:i organ and roars. Tho foghorn answere, "One —one —one-." The deputies occupy an ampitheatro opposite the President. There." eeom about ninety present: eighty of them silent behind their'littlo desks. The rest leap like Jacks-in-the-bo::, stand sbeming, waving, gesticulating like fanatics. Imagine this all at once: "Eight a half." "Throe—three—three —three." _ >t Nine —Nine. "Nino—Nine—Ni.•» " _. f| "NeyNeyNey— A -y—Nine—Nino—Nine. "WonWonW onWonWonWon." " 'alf." A Frenchman nay* " 'alf." and it ends n» suddenly as it They all sit down led in the face, mop Ding their foreheads. Then iv a flash .ne mystery explains it; solf. The. Presiden , says quietly, "Nine nn a half—Rougineau,' and taps his desk witb a small hammer. . It is not the Chamber of Deputies. It is the Sydney wool sales. It may have been a lot of first pieces— greasy—that was when wo came in. Tho broker's price in the catalogue (for one pound of wool) B*d. Tho salts po by farthing rises. Tlie meaning of tho h\eroglyphics printed above is as follows: — A German first offered SJd. What he faid was "eight a half" (that is halipcnny). Another German raise.-] tho prico to Pjd. Hβ said ''three -, (thrc-farthinfrs). A Frenchman cut in tho next moment with the same offer "three." Seen? the German had beaten him he raised his bid to -nine" (Od). A. German and Beisrian struck in simultaneously with "nine. All three and more shouted ""nine, until the elderly minute sun roared "one, one, one" (one fartmng, 91d). The Frenchman rose neck and neck with him—"won, won, won " That uproar continued till the Frenchman said " 'n-H." Ho had raised it to 9Wt. Tho limit which the others had noted on their catalogues was 9}d. So they stopped The wool, instead of going to Hamburg or Antwerp, went to Havre.