``A _blanket_ cold indeed;
`I felt that liberty was sweet,
``I wanted to be freed:=
`But peelers' hearts are solid rock,
``They wouldn't hear me speak,
`They dragged me to the felon's dock
``Before a hook-nosed "beak."=
`He offered me--that hook-nosed "beak"--
``The option of a fine,
`In place of many a weary week
``Of punishment condign.=
`I mutely pointed to my Sire,
``The fount of my supplies,
`And then bereft of joy I left
``The court with tearful eyes.=
`I could not read again and live
``The note I got 'ere long,
`From Polly's single relative
``Anent my goings on.=
`She told me it would be as well
``Our intercourse should cease--
`That one who drank, and couldn't spell
``Should never have her niece.=
`She recommended frugal fare,
``And lexicons, and pumps,
`But when I think of Polly's hair
``My own comes out in lumps!=
`Oh! tell me not a "spelling-bee's"
``A sweet and pleasant thing;
`I've drunk of sorrow's bitter lees--
``I've felt that insect's sting.=
`My hopes are dead, despair hath spread
``O'er me its blackest pall;
`The honey and the wine of life.
``Are turned to bitter gall.=
`Although I'm barely twenty-one
``My crop of care is ripe!
`No joy have I in moon or sun,
``Or in my meerchaum pipe.=
`Oh! where are now the happy days,
``When first I learnt to smoke?
`When life seemed one long holiday--
``Existence but a joke?=
`When I'd no other thought or care
``Except my cane to gnaw,
`And train the soft incipient hair
``That grew upon my jaw?=
`They've passed away those happy day
``And now I only crave
`A brief, brief life--an early death,
``A requiem, and a grave.=
`And billiards now I never play;
``Not long my father will
`Be troubled by me to defray
``That tailor's lengthened bill.=
`I never wink at bar-maids now,
``But soberly I tread
`As walketh one whose home's among
``The cold and silent dead.=
`One debt lies heavy on my breast
``I'd like to pay but can't;
`I'd like, before I go to rest,
``To settle Polly's aunt.=
`I hope they'll take her where the time
``Counts not by days and weeks--
`The place of which 'tis wrong to rhyme,
``And no one ever speaks!=
`'Tis where the letters that she loves--
``The consonants and vow'ls--
`Are _melted down in patent stoves,
``And moulded into howls!_=
[Illustration: 186]
[Illustration: 187]
A PEELER'S APPEAL
Against the Helmet of Modern Times.
|I was a peeler of a kind
`That's seldom met with now;
``I used to part my hair behind,
```It clustered o'er my brow=
``In glossy ringlets, crisp and dark;
```I had a massive chest,
``And oft I lit love's fatal spark
```Within the female breast.=
``The buttons on my coat of blue
```Shone with effulgent light,
``And cooks with eyes of dazzling hue
```Fell prostrate at the sight.
[Illustration: 188]
``At almost every kitchen door
```They met me with a smile;
``But then in modest pride I wore
```The regulation tile.=
``No more they come with outstretched arms
```My person to enwrap;
``No more they hold the mutton cold
```As sacred to the trap.=
``They never asks me into sup;
```No smoking joints they bile;
``They hates this cursed new-come-up--
```This 'elmet mean and vile.=
[Illustration: 189]
``The boys what vends the "Evenin' News,'"
```When I comes stalkin' by,
``Awakes each alley, lane and mews,
```With, "Crikey! 'ere's a guy!"=
``The cabbies stare so hard at me,
```No wonder I gets huffed;
``They grins, and axes who I be,
```And if I'm "real or stuffed"=
[Illustration: 190]
``And when I walks about my beat
```The hosses dreads the sight;
``They stands up endways in the street
```A snortin' with affright.=
``The 'bus-conductors winks and leers,
```And holds their sides and splits;
``And kids of very tender years
```I frightens into fits.=
``I once was right at forty-four
```For supper, lunch, and tea;
``Upon this bosom Susan swore
```She'd never love but me.=
``Alas! for that inconstant cook
```The 'elmet 'ad no charms;
``A most sanguineous butcher took
```My Susan to his arms.=
``My Susan's cheeks were fair and sleek--
```So were the chops she cooked;
``But on her chops, and on her cheek,
```My last I fear I've looked.=
[Illustration: 192]
``That butcher said as how 'twas _meat_
```That me and she should part,
``And never more for me will beat
```That culinary 'eart.=
``Now listen you who've got to fix
```What bobbies is to wear,
``And if your 'earts aim 'ard as bricks,
```Oh! 'ear a peelers prayer.=
[Illustration: 195]
``Oh! take the elmet from my brow--
```The curse from off my 'ed;
``You aint no sort o' notion ow
```I wishes I wos dead.=
``There's nothing calculated more
```A cove's good looks to spile;
``Oh! if you've 'carts, restore, restore,
```The regulation tile!=
``You can't give back that cook's fond 'eart--
```Her chops, her cheek, her smile;
``But if you'd make amends in part,
```Restore, restore my tile!
[Illustration: 196]
|THE following verses will probably be more intelligible to the bush
reader than the metropolitan one. The latter is at liberty to "pass":--
[Illustration: 197]
THE OLD HAND.
|I'm forty years in New South Wales,
`And knows a thing or two;
``Can build a hut, and train a slut,
```And chaff a "Jackeroo." *
````* See reference b.
``I chiefly sticks to splittin' rails--
```It's contract work, d'ye see;
``I hates to ave a station-boss
```A-overlookin' me.=
``I left my country for its good,
```But not my own, I fear;
``I makes big cheques a splittin' wood,
```And knocks 'em down in beer.=
``I knows the Murrumbidgee's bends,
```Though not a "whaler" * now,
``And many a score of sheep I've shore
```For good old Jacky Dow.=
``I used to knock about on farms,
```And plough a "land" or two;
``But now for me that has no charms--
```I hates a "Cockatoo." **=
* Murrumbidgee whalers are a class of loafers who work for
about six months in the year--i.e. during shearing and
harvest, and camp the rest of the time in bends of rivers,
and live by fishing and begging.
** A small farmer.
``I'm splittin' for a squatter now
```Down here upon the creek;
``He often says as how I've got
```A sight too much o' cheek.=
``They've got a new-chum over there--
```I hates new-chums, I do;
``I often tries to take a rise
```Out of that Jackeroo.=
``One day when we was in the yard
```A draftin' out some ewes,
``We axed him for to lend a hand,
```He couldn't well refuse.=
``I watched 'un for a minute just
```To see what he would do;
``Bless'd if he warn't a chuckin' out
```A lot o' wethers too!=
``He keeps the store and sarves the "dust"--*
```I only wish he'd slope;
``I knows he often books to me
```Too many bars o' soap.=
``In them it ain't no sort o' use
```Instruction to infuse;
``There ain t a gleam o' intellect
```In new-chum Jackeroos.=
``As soon as July fogs is gone
```I chucks my axe up there,
``And gets a stock of Ward and Payne's*
```At six and six a pair.=
``I've been a shearin' off an' on
```For such a precious while,
``I knows most every shearin' shed,
```And each partickler style.=
``I'm able for to shear 'em clean,
```And level as a die;
``But I prefers to 'tommy-hawk,"
```And make the "daggers" fly.=
``They mostly says that to the skin
```They means to have 'em shore;
``I alius knocks off skin an' all
```When they begins to jawr.=
* Ward and Payne's sheep-shears.
``My tally's eighty-five a day--
```A hundred I could go,
``If coves would let me "open out"
```And take a bigger "blow."=
``I allus roughs 'em when the boss
```Ain't on the shearin' floor;
``It wouldn't pay to shear 'em clean
```For three and six a score.=
``But when I see the super come
```Paradin' down the "board,"
``I looks as meek as any lamb
```That ever yet was shored.
``For, though by knockin' sheep about
```You're causin' him a loss,
``It's 'ard to have a squatter come
``And mark 'em with a cross. *=
``They say us shearers sulks and growls--
```I'm swearing half the day,
``Because them blasted "pickers-up"
```Won't take the wool away.=
* Sheep badly shorn are marked with a cross in red chalk,
and are not paid for
``At sundown to the hut we goes;
```The young 'uns lark and fun;
``The cook and I exchanges blows
```If supper isn't done.=
``And when the tea and mutton's gone,
```And each has had enough,
``We shoves the plates and pints away,
```And has a game o' "bluff." *=
``I works a little "on the cross,"
```I never trusts to luck;
``I hates to have to "ante-up,"
```And likes to "pass the buck."=
``I've got a way of dealin' cards
```As ain't exactly square;
``I does some things with jacks and kings
```As makes the young 'uns stare.=
``I've mostly got four aces though,
```Or else a "routine flush
``I wins their cash and 'bacca, and
```They pays for all my lush.=
* "Poker."
``I likes to get 'em in my debt
```For what their cheque '11 clear;
``I've got a sort o' interest then
```In every sheep they shear.=
``I'm cunnin', and my little games
```They never does detect;
``But I never was partickler green
```As I can recollect.=
&PREFACE TO THE PIC-NIC PAPERS,
|IF I were asked to state the most noticeable feature of the social
economy of Sydney--the thing which pre-eminently distinguishes her from
other metropolises--I should, unhesitatingly, say pic-nics. I once held
the proud position of occasional reporter to a weekly paper, and my
mental calibre not being considered heavy enough, or my temperament
sufficiently stolid to do justice to parliamentary debates, I was sent
to report the pic-nics. In Sydney every trade gives one, and every
private family about six in the course of the summer. Carpenters,
butchers, barbers, blacksmiths, undertakers, even grave-diggers, all
give their pic-nic during the season; and why should they not? Is it
for me to ridicule the practice? Shall I, who have been received as an
honoured guest at all (and retired to make three half-pence a line out
of an account of the proceedings), splinter my puny lance of satire
against a firmly-rooted and meritorious custom? I who have hobnobbed
with the publicans, waltzed with the wheelwrights, done the _lard_ i da
with the pork-butchers' wives and daughters, danced _coat_illions with
the tailors, and indulged in _soot_able amusements with the sweeps?
Never!
I have retired from the pic-nic business now, and though my reports
were not masterpieces of descriptive writing, and never wrung even
the smallest tribute of gratitude from those they were intended to
immortalize, I give a specimen or two to serve as models to those who
hereafter may be called upon to report pic-nics for journals, religious
or otherwise.
THE BUTCHER'S PIC-NIC.
|THIS event came off with an unusual amount of eclat; merchants, members
of parliament, and people of all kinds, were present; and if they were
not all butchers, they all became squatters when the grassy plateaux
of Correy's Gardens were reached. The pic-nic took place appropriately
under a _ewe_-tree, and fortunately the _wether_ was remarkably fine.
Saws (wise ones excepted), axes, steels, and all other implements used
in the trade, were, by common consent, left behind, and the only killing
done was that accomplished by several fascinating young slaughter-men,
whose hair and accents were oily not to say greasy in the extreme. One
of these, who went in heavily for euphuism, told his inamorata that her
heart was harder than his father's block, and the satire of her tongue
keener than the edge of a certain cleaver in his parent's possession.
Sir Loin Oxborough, Fifth Baron (of beef), estates strictly _entailed_,
was unanimously voted to a deserted "bull-dog's" nest, which did duty
for a chair. He occupied this position with dignity, and made a speech,
_interlarding_ his discourse with several choice _cuts_ from _Steel_ and
other poets; e.g.,
"_Reveal, reveal_ the light of truth to me!"
"_Steak_ not thine all upon the die!" &c.
He said they were met to enjoy themselves, and by their _joint_
exertions to banish dull care; adversity might come, but what of that?
He had always found that a round of afflictions, or a dark cloud had a
silver lining, or rather a "silver-side," like a round of beef. He had
often been in trouble himself--cut down, as it were, by the cleaver of
adversity; reduced, he might say, to mince-meat by the sausage-machine
of ill-luck; and he and his family had been once or twice regularly
salted down in the harness-cask of fate; but, thanks to his natural
buoyancy, or (_butcher_)-boy-ancy of spirits, he had risen like a
bladder to the surface of the sea of despondency, and lived to pluck the
skewers of affliction from his heart.
He advocated morality and sobriety. He might say he had lived a moral
and sober life, for though he had been a free and generous _liver_, he
had always done his duty to his fellow-men according to his _lights_.
His motto was "live and let live," except where dumb animals were
concerned--those he killed on principle, as a matter of business; and he
respected all religious sects, except vegetarians. He had been cut up
by sorrow, and cast down by depression of trade as often as most men. He
had seen beef at tuppence a pound, hides at 2s. 6d. each, and tallow at
nothing at all (warm weather, and no colds in the head prevalent),
but he had never lost heart; from a boy, hopefulness had always been a
meat-tray (he begged pardon, he meant a _sweet_ trait) in his character;
he had persevered, worked hard, and had eventually carved his way to
wealth, fame, and fortune, through bone, gristle, flesh, skin, sinew and
all. He was prosperous, but he owed his rise more to shoulders of mutton
than the shoulders of his friends. He had been self-reliant, just,
and generous; and though he had flayed many a beast, he had never yet
attempted to _skin a flint_. (Cheers.) He was not democratic, and he
believed more in the horny-headed monsters than the horny-handed masses;
still he liked to see a man rise by his own exertions; and, inasmuch as
a king--Charles the First to wit--had shewn how easy was the transition
from the throne to the block, he did not see why an ascent from the
block to the throne might not be equally possible.
In conclusion, he recommended his friends to take the fat with the lean
through life, and not to grumble because some one else appeared to have
all the prime-cuts of fortune, and all the rich fat of prosperity, and
they only the fag-end and the bone. He sat down (on the deserted ant's
nest) amid loud and reiterated applause.
Festivities then commenced The guests sat on their haunches and drank
the blood of the grape out of hogs' heads.
The toasts drunk were the "Gallus"--not the gallows; the block and
cleaver, &c. The juniors played "_round_ers," and (_raw_) "_hide_ and
seek." Dancing was kept up with animation until a late hour. Old Tommy
Hawk danced a _porka_, and his peculiar _shambling_ gait called forth
rounds of applause. Several games of chance were played for beef
_stakes_.
A butcher who dealt largely in _goat's_ flesh sang the touching Scotch
ballad, "Oh, Nanny, wilt thou gang wi me," and old Pork Chops sang
"Those evening _chines_" in a most affecting manner. The festivities
continued until they could not very well continue any longer, and every
body returned home perfectly satisfied.
THE OYSTERMEN'S AND FISHMONGERS' PIC-NIC.
|MON DAY was a great day. Though the bosom of the ocean was apparently
unruffled by a zephyr, terror and excitement raged beneath its surface.
Influential members of the finny tribe darted hither and thither in
a manner which indicated that something unusual was afloat, and the
piscatorial republic was shaken to its very centre. The military (that
is, the sword-fish) were under arms, or rather fins, at an early hour,
and formed a roe in martial array. The less warlike betrayed their
agitation in a variety of ways. Sawfish from the Gulf of Carpentaria
left their usual occupation of cutting the water, rose to the surface,
and sawed the air in an agony of in tench excitement; mercantile fish
abandoned their scales and took their weigh to places of security;
limpets, becoming enervated, relaxed their hold upon the rock; oysters
tossed restlessly on their beds, and even the jelly-fish trembled. Nor
was this surprising; for were not the fishmongers and oystermen about
to hold carnival--to celebrate the rites and ceremonies of their order?
and, knowing this, could any member of the finny tribe remain unmoved,
or even a molusc be calm?
In spite, perhaps unconscious, of all this, the jubilant fishmongers
proceeded to the enjoyment of their pic-nic with light hearts. The
oystermen, most of whom were natives, were appropriately clothed in
shell-jackets, and wore barnacles. Miss Annet Snapperton, resplendent
in a sea-green fishu, with cochineel trimmings, and a sea-anemone in
her hair, proved an irresistible bait to young Codlington, a susceptible
periwinkler and oysterman. He swore by the beard of the sacred oyster
that she was an angel--called her his turtle and his pet (limpet, in
fact)--and, while he besought her to fly with him and share a "grotter
of hyster shells," he stated his intention of adhering to her heart like
a limpet to its native rock, or the teeth of a skate to the finger of a
too-confiding fisherman. At the conclusion of the banquet a speech
was called for, and old Grampus rose. He said:--"Fishmongers and
Fellow-oystermen (hear, hear), to meat you here on this ausfishous
occasion" [he lisped a bit after eating salmon] "eels the wounded spirit
and warms the cockles of this heart. Star-fish and stingarees! May I
be scolloped if this aint the proudest moment of my life!" (Cheers.) He
proceeded to state his views on things in general--regretted that a
more able speaker had not been chosen to offishiate--hoped they
wouldn't expect along speech from him, as he wasn't a parson--in fact
he understood more about the curing of herrings, than the cure of
soles--and the only school he ever attended was a "school" of mackerel
which appeared off the coast one Sunday morning when he was a boy
at home. His father had on that occasion taken him by the hand, and
together they attended that Sunday-school. Subsequent proceedings made
such an impression on his mind that he henceforth resolved to become a
fish-dealer, and became one accordingly. He had read his Bible, and had
heard about the "miraculous draught of fishes"--thought it must have
been a brandy-p(r)awnee--always thought fish were something to eat
before, though lie had known fishermen drink their whole week's catch
on Saturday night--was a sober man himself, and didn't go in for
mackarelous "draughts" of that kind. If not a religious man, he always
strove to do his duty! Though he had been a fisherman in his time, he
had never been a plaice hunter, and, Ecod! he thought few M.P's.
could say that. What were his religious principles? Well, he wasn't
a mussle-man, and though he dealt, in shell-fish, he abhorred
shellfishness. He had heard about some all-fired heathens who worshipped
Zorooyster (? Zoroaster); he couldn't say as he was acquainted with that
mollusc, and wouldn't worship him if he were. Oysters was good things
if you didn't put brandy a top of 'em, and he believed in cockles (the
molluscs, not the pills), but worship a hoyster! Thank'eaven, he wasn't
so far gone as that! Such ideas was incongerous.
He sat down amid applause, and musical and terpsichorean festivities
commenced. Somebody danced the fishmongers' hornpipe. "Sets" were
formed, and the (s)caly-donians gone through with great spirit. A
gloomy-looking fish-dealer, with a bass voice, sang "My sole is dark and
a blighted-looking young oyster-opener gave them, "Shells of the
Ocean," and "Oh, shell we never part," alluding to the monotony of
his occupation. Young Codlington sang "(T)winkle, (t)winkle, little
Star-fish" with great taste and feeling. Fun and frolic became general,
and it was late ere the (r)oysterers returned home, thoroughly wearied,
but happy.
&THE WHEELWRIGHTS' PIC-NIC.
|THE man who cannot sympathize with a wheelwright in his joys and
sorrows ought to be treated to a taste of lynch (or lynch-pin) law. No
one with a properly regulated mind can fail to admire their round-about
way of doing things, and their untiring energy; and no rightly thinking
person could be otherwise than rejoiced on hearing the other day that
these jolly good felleys had made up their minds to have a trundle down
the harbour, and an afternoon's enjoyment Of course the party started
from the Circular Quay, and took with them a plentiful supply of weal
and ham pies and roly-poly puddings. They reached their destination in
safety, and after a short walk along the beach, the order was given to
"right-wheel," and they found themselves in a delightful glade, where
the blue gum waved its giant branches in the summer air, and the
luxuriant axel-tree cast a grateful shade over the holiday-keepers.
The ladies--with complexions of a smoothness only to be attained by
sand-paper in experienced hands--looked as fresh as paint, and shone
like varnish. They were at tired, in elegant and becoming costumes.
Spokes was nearly missing the affair altogether, as he woke late, and
then had to dress, wash, and (spoke)-shave himself in a hurry. Old
Wheels--and a wideawake old fly-wheel he was--drove down in his buggy
with Mrs. Wheels and the four Miss Wheels, and, what with the front and
hind wheels of the trap, the wheals inflicted by the avenging hand of
Old Wheels on the horse's behind, and the young Wheels--segments of the
parent Wheels--clinging on wherever they could get hand or foot-hold, it
was estimated that there couldn't have been less than sixty or
seventy wheels to the turn-out. Talking of traps, the four Miss
Wheels constituted a four-wheeled trap for the hearts of men of a most
dangerous description; and, after they had all partaken plentifully of
the weal pies, there was weal within Wheels, and a complicated state of
things which set mathematical and digestive theories at defiance.
Old Wheels delivered an address, in which he stated that a bond of unity
was the best tire for the public weal, and that if the felleys in the
House wern't such a lot of (k)naves, they'd run truer, stick closer
together, and endeavour to axelerate public business more than they
did. He was proceeding to demonstrate that ------ was no more use in the
House than the "fifth wheel of a coach," when one of the younger Wheels
began to squeak in an agonizing manner. It was immediately greased with
some strawberrys and cream, and its (s)creams subsided into chuckles of
gratification. Dancing, of the "turnabout, and wheel-about, and jump Jim
Crow" order, then commenced, and kiss-in-the-ring, rounders, and other
circular amusements, became general. A musical young wheelwright, on
being called on for a song, suspended his occupation of picking his
teeth with a lynch-pin, and gave them "Weel may the keel row," and
Axelcior." Spokes proved himself a capital speaker, and made the
speech of the day, full of beautifully rounded sentences and quotations
from Spokeshave. But all things must have an end unfortunately, and
when at length the whistle of the steam-boat sounded for departure, the
wheelwrights took their way homeward, happy, but thoroughly tired.
THE UNDERTAKER'S PIC-NIC.
|WE have a special regard for undertakers. Watching funerals was the
first species of dissipation we indulged in in early youth. We have
witnessed Shakesperian tragedies since with less satisfaction, and have
respected undertakers proportionately in consequence. But for them we
should never have known how much of the latent spirit of tragedy there
is in horses' tails and feathers, and we especially admire the dramatic
style in which they proclaim to the world the fact that another saint
has gone to occupy his reserved seat in the celestial dress circle, or
another sinner sneaked into his place in that "pit" which is notoriously
bottomless, and where the free-list is by no means "confined to
gentlemen of the Press."