SPROGGINS AND COSMIC COSMOS.

Observer, Volume XL, Issue 13, 29 November 1919, Page 19

SPROGGINS AND COSMIC COSMOS.

(By F. E. BAUME.)

SPROGGINS ceased the rather sanguinary operation of cleansing a pole axe. It was a sweltering afternoon in June, and the nor'-wester was roaring across the Canterbury plains, scorching wayfarer and plant alike in its torrid blast. And considering that Sproggins' face and brawny bare arms were covered in cattle \\<pod and perspiration, the former of which was commencing, to congeal, he was a hard-looking specimen. . Five of us were in the a b batonthat day. Monty Duke,, Bill Palmer, two Maoris from way north of Auckland, and myself. Sproggins did not count in with us—he was a personality on his own. This hot afternoon we were just realising how terrible it was to be thirty miles from a pub. And the thought ot a long brown glass of frothing ale made us sweat uncomfortably, and chew our parched tongues between teeth that stuck to dry lips. Sproggins finished cleaning tne pole axe. ' ' . "Why, the these — abbatoirs can't sport a keg o' beer these hot days. I'm—if I know," he remarked casually, and bit a huge chunk out of a black stick of Piper Heidseck. , Then he regarded the carcase of a sheep, and then one of a bullock, and spat reflectively. It was just after this that Monty Duke the fool, started everything. "Sprogg.," he said, "Do you believe in re-incarnation?" Sproggins looked first at the speaker, and then at the ground. Perceiving a suitable spot, he expectorated at his invisible target. "Here," he exclaimed, "I'm not—a hardener. Ask this ■ bloke"—pointing to me—"if you* want to know anything about flowers." Monty Duke smiled a sickly smile and breathed deeply. ' st Er—Sprogg, old fellow"— Monty had a lurid past and a family tradition. I mean to say is, when you see that dead bullock there, do you believe that he is born again somewhere, perhaps in human shape?" , A great light seemed to dawn on Sproggins* After two or three copious streams of tobacco juice had been emptied on the blood-stained floor, he spoke:— "So that's what you're after, is if- vSo the blokes in Barton's told yer—did they. Well. I won't bash yer "head in, but I'll tell yer the strength of things:— "Me and this cove," pointing to me, "was toilin' on old man Barton's farm near Middlemarch, one shearin' time".- -We was a hard crowd, as shearers goes, and our digs wasn't like the Midland 'otel, f'r instance. There was a good poker school going in ther hut, and the boys generally 'ad a good time during the night. We didn't never sleep." . . "One night a little bloke with sandy-coloured "air and a pensive kinder look, blew inter old man Barton's, and asked for a job. Said he'd been classin' 'and somewheres or other, but whatever he said it fooled old man Barton." "So'the little bloke got the job. and blew inter the digs. Most of the boys were well oiled. Sinky John was lyin' in the top bunk, and was too tight -to do anythin' 'cept shy a blinkin' boot at the little cove, but he didn't seem to mind. No, by hell, 'c just stood Tip in ther middle of the floor, and said kinder recitin a pome like "Don' tempt me. Oh, Cosmic Cosmos." "That's all right. In the mornin' ,'c goes out ter work, and does it well: So we think, nuff said on the haze racket. In the afternoon I dropped a big pair o'

Author of "In Chinatown," Etc.

shears on. me foot, and the points stuck in the cow. So I went inter the hut, and strike me yellow! 'op should I see but our new friend standin' stark naked in. the middle of the room, with 'is arms up in the air."

"What ther blazes are yer doin' of?" I asks him.

"Man," he says ter me, "I am a spirit incarnate. Do you know that when you die you'll probably change inter a pig or a sheep fer yer misdeeds?" I walks over ter 'im, standing there in his nakedness." "Ere," I says, "never come at that. Don't you go a sayin' Bill Sproggins is going ter change inter a pig er a sheep. I don't say many prayers, .but, -by gum, I.ain't no carnation of a pig," I says. "Ah," he says, "let me explain. I am gifted with powers from the Cosmic . Cosmos, ter , tell you and ter show you what's goin' ter 'appen to.yer;. When.yer die, there ain't goin' tor be no 'eaven. or 'ell. And you, Mister Sproggins, I can see you crawlin' round the planet er Neptune in the shape of a spider." "I went for ter lay the little blighter out, but 'im being only an ant as yer might say, I didn't want ter do no bullyin'. So I says, "Proceed!" and tell me what's goin ? ter happen." All of a sudden 'c gives a yell, and balances 'imself on one foot, then falls on ther ground, with 'is ear ter the. floor. He turns ter me solemn like:— x "Mister Sproggins, I'm sorry fer yer. . I done me best with the Cosmic Cosmos, but 'c wasn't 'avin' any. Yer don't believe in reincarnation, and yer'e lost. I can 'ear now what's going ter 'appen to you. Yes, Bill Sproggins. yer'e going ter come back in the. blinkin' form of a temperance lecturer." I was gettin' interested now, 'cause I'd- heard er some spiritualists or somethhi' such, what 'ad been playin' games with spooks and them things, so I told ther little bloke ter goon. "Ah," he says, "me lips is tied— but, stay, 'arf a minute—bend down 'ere—and ver can 'ear the Cosmic Cosmos talkin' about yer. E's talkin' ter some of 'is warders an' clerks!" "So I, like a fool, bends down in front of the little naked bloke J oo was balancin' 'imself on his left foot, and puts me 'ear ter the boards. "Now," he says, "repeat arter me these words." "Righto, mate," I says, "let.'er go." And 'c did let 'er go, and in arf a minute I got the 'ardest smack on the back o' me 'cad as I've ever 'ad in me life."

When I woke up arf an hour ter the little bloke was gone, and the mob was standin' round the door of the ; 'ut grinnin' and larfin' fit ter die."

I rub* me 'cad, and s.its un ter think, and then looks down an' finds me trousers gone, with me last month's cheque—and a note pinned on the tail er me shirt:—

"Dear- Mister Sproggins, I 'aye decided' that the Cosmic Cosmos like you—'c will fix up your incarnation all right. I 'aye nist taken the loan of yer trousis fer the sake of my old ones. Yours X. P.S.— Doiv't worry if you ? iv> incarnation don't work out correctly."

I never 'card the last of the affair. 'Owever. the little bloke was found two days later mnkin' a speech of welcome to a, bull in the next bloke's vjaddock. The bull didn't know who* ter do—even too frightened even to 'orn the bloke {

The little bloke's in Porirua now, where he should 'a been ten years before. Now yer know why I went crook! j "Thanks, Bill," said Monty Duke. "Yer tell a good tale." But Sproggins was not listening. "It's Gawd's truth," he called out. " 'Ere's a bloke bringin' cattle ter be slaughtered this time o' day. Let's down tools! I could not allow a suitable occasion to pass without a lesson to liars. "Sproggins," I said, "Why not get the Cosmic Cosmos—l managed to dodge the sheep's pluck he threw at me." .