The Book Of The Bush - George Dunderdale (tharntype novel english .txt) 📗

Philip,  Or Else They Will Turn You Out."

 

Mr. Philip's Lips Closed With A Snap.  He Said,  "It Is My Duty To

Educate Them; Turning Them Out Of School Is Not Education.  We Will

See What Can Be Done."

 

As Everyone Knows,  The Twelve Virtues Of A Good Master Are Gravity,

Silence,  Humility,  Prudence,  Wisdom,  Patience,  Discretion,  Meekness,

Zeal,  Vigilance,  Piety,  And Generosity.  I Don't Suppose Any Teacher

Was Ever Quite Perfect In The Practice Of Them,  But A Sincere

Endeavour Is Often Useful.  On Reflection,  Philip Thought It Best To

Add Two Other Virtues To The Catalogue--Viz.,  Firmness,  And A Strap

Of Sole-Leather.

 

There Was A Full Attendance Of Scholars The First Morning,  And When

All The Names Had Been Entered On The Roll,  Philip Observed That The

Boyles And The Blakes Were All There; They Were Expecting Some New

Kind Of Fun With The New Master.  In Order That The Fun Might Be

Inside The School And Not All Over The Paddocks,  Philip Placed His

Chair Near The Door,  And Locked It.  Then Education Began; The

Scholars Were All Repeating Their Lessons,  Talking To One Another

Aloud And Quarrelling.

 

"Please,  Sir,  Josh Blake's A-Pinching Me."  "Please,  Sir,  Hugh Boyle

Is A-Scroodgin."  "Please,  Sir,  Nancy Toomey Is Making Faces At Me."

 

Story 4 (Among The Diggers In 1853.) Pg 85

 

It Was A Pandemonium Of Little Devils,  To Be Changed,  If Possible,

Into Little Angels.  The Master Rose From The Chair,  Put Up One Hand,

And Said:  "Silence!"

 

Every Eye Was On Him,  Every Tongue Was Silent,  And Every Ear Was

Listening,  "Joseph Blake And Hugh Boyle,  Come This Way."  They Did So.

 

"No One Here Is To Shout Or Talk,  Or Read In A Loud Voice.  If Any Of

You Want To Speak To Me You Must Hold Up Your Hand,  So.  When I Nod

You Can Come To Me.  If You Don't Do Everything I Tell You,  You Will

Be Slapped On The Hand,  Or Somewhere Else,  With This Strap."

 

He Held It Up To View.  It Was Eighteen Inches Long,  Three Inches

Broad,  Heavy,  And Pliant.  The Sight Of It Made Tommy Traddles And

Many Other Little Boys And Girls Good All At Once; But Joseph And

Hugh Went Back To Their Seats Grinning At One Another.  Mr. Foy Had

Often Talked That Way,  But It Always Came To Nothing.

 

Hugh Was The Hero Of The School,  Or Rather The Leading Villain.  In

About Two Minutes He Called Out,  "Please,  Sir,  Josh Blake Is

A-Shoving Me With His Elbow."

 

"Hugh Boyle,  Come This Way."  He Came.

 

"Now,  Hugh,  I Told You That There Must Be No Speaking Or Reading

Aloud.  Of Course You Forgot What I Said; You Should Have Put Up Your

Hand."

 

In The Course Of The Day Hugh Received Two Slaps,  Then Three,  Then

Four.  He Began To Fear The Strap As Well As To Feel It.  That Was

The Beginning Of Wisdom.

 

Nancy Toomey Was Naughty,  And Was Sent Into A Corner.  She Was Sulky

And Rebellious When Told To Return To Her Seat.  She Said,  In The

Hearing Of Tommy Traddles,  "The Master Is A Carroty-Headed Crawler."

 

It Is As Well To Remark That Philip's Hair Was Red; A Man With Red

Hair Is Apt To Be Of A Hasty Temper,  And,  As A Matter Of Fact,  I Had

Seen Philip's Fist Fly Out Very Rapidly On Several Occasions Before

He Began To Practise The Twelve Virtues.

 

Tommy Put Up His Hand,  And,  At A Nod,  Went Up To The Master.

 

"Well,  Tommy,  What Is The Matter?"

 

"Please,  Sir,  Nancy Toomey Has Been Calling You A Carroty-Headed Crawler."

 

Tommy's Eyebrows Were Raised,  His Eyes And Mouth Wide Open.  Philip

Looked Over His Head At Nancy,  Whose Face Was On Fire.  He Slowly

Repeated:

 

"Nancy Toomey Has Been Calling Me A Carroty-Headed Crawler,  Has She?"

 

Story 4 (Among The Diggers In 1853.) Pg 86

"Yes,  Sir.  That's What She Called You.  I Heard Her."

 

"Well,  Tommy,  Go To Your Seat Like A Good Boy.  Nancy Won't Call

Names Any More."

 

In A Little More Than A Week Perfect Discipline And Good Order

Prevailed In The School.

 

 

 

Story 5 ( A Bush Hermit.) Pg 87

It Is Not Good For Man To Be Alone,  But Philip Became A Hermit.  Half

A Mile From The School And The Main Road There Was An Empty Slab Hut

Roofed With Shingles.  It Was On The Top Of A Long Sloping Hill,

Which Afforded A Beautiful View Over The Lake And The Distant Hills.

Half An Acre Of Garden Ground Was Fenced In With The Hut,  And It Was

Part Of The Farm Of A Man From Hampshire,  England,  Who Lived With His

Wife Near The Main Road.  A Man From  Hampshire Is An Englishman,  And

Should Speak English; But,  When Philip Tried To Make A Bargain About

The Hut,  He Could Not Understand The Hampshire Language,  And The

Farmer's Wife Had To Interpret.  And That Farmer Lived To The Age Of

Eighty Years,  And Never Learned To Speak English.  He Was Not A Fool

By Any Means; Knew All About Farming; Worked Twelve Or Fourteen Hours

A Day All The Year Round,  Having Never Heard Of The Eight Hours

System; But He Talked,  And Prayed,  And Swore All His Life In The

Hampshire Dialect.  Whenever He Spoke To The Neighbours A Look Of

Pain And Misery Came Over Them.  Sometimes He Went To Meetings,  And

Made A Speech,  But He Was Told To Go And Fetch A Chinaman To

Interpret.

 

Philip Entered Into Possession Of The Hut.  It Had Two Rooms,  And The

Furniture Did Not Cost Much.  At Adams' Store He Bought A Camp Oven,

An Earthenware Stew-Pot,  A Milk Pan,  A Billy,  Two Pannikins,  Two

Spoons,  A Whittle,  And A Fork.  The Extra Pannikin And Spoon Were For

The Use Of Visitors,  For Philip's Idea Was That A Hermit,  If Not

Holy,  Should Be At Least Hospitable.  With An Axe And Saw He Made His

Own Furniture--Viz.,  Two Hardwood Stools,  One Of Which Would Seat

Two Men; For A Table He Sawed Off The Butt End Of A Messmate,  Rolled

It Inside The Hut,  And Nailed On The Top Of It A Piece Of A Pine

Packing Case.  His Bedstead Was A Frame Of Saplings,  With Strong

Canvas Nailed Over It,  And His Mattress Was A Sheet Of Stringy Bark,

Which Soon Curled Up At The Sides And Fitted Him Like A Coffin.  His

Pillow Was A Linen Bag Filled With Spare Shirts And Socks,  And Under

It He Placed His Revolver,  In Case He Might Want It For Unwelcome

Visitors.

 

Patrick Duggan's Wife Did The Laundry Work,  And Refused To Take

Payment In Cash.  But She Made A Curious Bargain About It.  A Priest

Visited Nyalong Only Once A Month; He Lived Fifty Miles Away; When

Mrs. Duggan Was In Her Last Sickness He Might Be Unable To Administer

To Her The Rites Of The Church.  So Her Bargain Was,  That In Case The

Priest Should Be Absent,  The Schoolmaster,  As Next Best Man,  Was To

Story 5 ( A Bush Hermit.) Pg 88

Read Prayers Over Her Grave.  Philip Thought There Was Something

Strange,  Perhaps Simoniacal,  About The Bargain.  Twice Mrs. Duggan,

Thinking She Was On The Point Of Death,  Sent A Messenger To Remind

Him Of His Duty; And When At Last She Did Die,  He Was Present At The

Funeral,  And Read The Prayers For The Dead Over Her Grave.

 

Avarice Is A Vice So Base That I Never Heard Of Any Man Who Would

Confess That He Had Ever Been Guilty Of It.  Philip Was My Best

Friend,  And I Was Always Loath To Think Unkindly Of Him,  But At This

Time I Really Think He Began To Be Rather Penurious--Not

Avaricious,  Certainly Not.  But He Was Not A Hermit Of The Holiest

Kind.  He Began To Save Money And Acquire Stock.  He Had Not Been

Long On The Hill Before He Owned A Horse,  Two Dogs,  A Cat,  A Native

Bear,  A Magpie,  And A Parrot,  And He Paid Nothing For Any Of Them

Except The Horse.  One Day He Met Mr. Mccarthy Talking To Bob Atkins,

A Station Hand,  Who Had A Horse To Sell--A Filly,  Rising Three.

Mccarthy Was A Good Judge Of Horses,  And After Inspecting The Filly,

He Said:  "She Will Just Suit You,  Mr. Philip,  You Ought To Buy Her."

So The Bargain Was Made; The Price Was Ten Pounds,  Bob Giving In The

Saddle,  Bridle,  A Pair Of Hobbles,  And A Tether Rope.  He Was Proud

Of His Deal.

 

Two Years Afterwards,  When Philip Was Riding Through The Bush,  Bob

Rode Up Alongside,  And After A While Said:

 

"Well,  Mister,  How Do You Like That Filly I Sold You?"

 

"Very Well Indeed.  She Is A Capital Roadster And Stockhorse."

 

"Does She Ever Throw You?"

 

"Never.  What Makes You Ask?"

 

"Well,  That's Queer.  The Fact Is I Sold Her To You Because I Could

Not Ride Her.  Every Time I Mounted,  She Slung Me A Buster."

 

"I See,  Bob,  You Meant Well,  Didn't You?  But She Never Yet Slung Me

A Buster; She Is Quieter Than A Lamb,  And She Will Come To Me

Whenever I Whistle,  And Follow Me Like A Dog."

 

Philip's First Dog Was Named Sam.  He Was Half Collie And Half Bull

Dog,  And Was Therefore Both Brave And Full Of Sagacity.  He Guarded

The Hut And The Other Domestics During School Hours,  And When He Saw

Philip Coming Up The Hill,  He Ran To Meet Him,  Smiling And Wagging

His Tail,  And Reported All Well.  The Other Dog Was Only A Small Pup,

A Skye Terrier,  Like A Bunch Of Tow,  A Present From Tommy Traddles.

Pup's Early Days Were Made Very Miserable By Maggie,  The Magpie.

That Wicked Bird Used To Strut