Over the Sliprails by Henry Lawson Preface Of the stories in this volume many have already appear...
2011-11-25
And after tea you have to sit still while the precious minutes are wasted, and listen and sympathiz...
"Was his missus sick at all?" "I dunno," replied the driver. "She might have been. He said so, anyw...
"S'posin' it's a girl, Ernie." Stowsher flung himself round impatiently. "Oh, for God's sake, stow...
Smith saw. He had been sitting on the bed with a studiously vacant expression. It was Smith's polic...
which I sneaked from the cook and hid under my bunk and had the foresight to refill from the cask l...
on Peter's account, until the arrival of a later bulletin removed his anxiety, and ours. It must h...
. . . . . "Tell me, Dave, who was the feller? That's all I want to know." "I can't tell you that. ...
a steep iron roof in front, and fell on a respected townsman that knew my people. We were awfully f...
(which was too big to go in his pocket) on top of it, got through the fence, and was now walking ba...
"He's a-comin'." He then replaced the pipe, and smoked on as before. All listened, but not one of ...
"`Oh, I ain't been home yet,' says he, holdin' out his hand; but, afore I could grip it, the cussed...
. . . . . "You should have made a good husband, Jack," said his mate, in a softened tone. "Ah, we...
At last he sat down on his heel to it, in the centre of the clear floor, resting his wrist on his k...
but very rarely, he'd invite the swagman back to the hut for a pint of tea, or a bit of meat, flour...