and I'd be up and into their room like a shot, only to find them

sleeping peacefully. Then I'd feel Jim's head and his breathing
for signs of convulsions, see to the fire and water,

and go back to bed and try to sleep. For the first few nights
I was like that all night, and I'd feel relieved when daylight came.

I'd be in first thing to see if they were all right;
then I'd sleep till dinner-time if it was Sunday or I had no work.

But then I was run down about that time: I was worried about some money
for a wool-shed I put up and never got paid for; and, besides,

I'd been pretty wild before I met Mary.
I was fighting hard then -- struggling for something better.

Both Mary and I were born to better things, and that's what made the life
so hard for us.

Jim got on all right for a while: we used to watch him well,
and have his teeth lanced in time.

It used to hurt and worry me to see how -- just as he was getting fat and rosy
and like a natural happy child, and I'd feel proud to take him out --

a tooth would come along, and he'd get thin and white and pale
and bigger-eyed and old-fashioned. We'd say, `He'll be safe

when he gets his eye-teeth': but he didn't get them till he was two;
then, `He'll be safe when he gets his two-year-old teeth':

they didn't come till he was going on for three.
He was a wonderful little chap -- Yes, I know all about parents thinking

that their child is the best in the world. If your boy is small for his age,
friends will say that small children make big men; that he's a very bright,

intelligent child, and that it's better to have a bright, intelligent child
than a big, sleepy lump of fat. And if your boy is dull and sleepy,

they say that the dullest boys make the cleverest men --
and all the rest of it. I never took any notice of that sort of clatter --

took it for what it was worth; but, all the same, I don't think I ever saw
such a child as Jim was when he turned two. He was everybody's favourite.

They spoilt him rather. I had my own ideas about bringing up a child.
I reckoned Mary was too soft with Jim. She'd say, `Put that'

(whatever it was) `out of Jim's reach, will you, Joe?' and I'd say,
`No! leave it there, and make him understand he's not to have it.

Make him have his meals without any nonsense, and go to bed
at a regular hour,' I'd say. Mary and I had many a breeze over Jim.

She'd say that I forgot he was only a baby: but I held that a baby
could be trained from the first week; and I believe I was right.

But, after all, what are you to do? You'll see a boy that was
brought up strict turn out a scamp; and another that was dragged up anyhow

(by the hair of the head, as the saying is) turn out well.
Then, again, when a child is delicate -- and you might lose him any day --

you don't like to spank him, though he might be turning out a little fiend,
as delicate children often do. Suppose you gave a child a hammering,

and the same night he took convulsions, or something, and died --
how'd you feel about it? You never know what a child is going to take,

any more than you can tell what some women are going to say or do.
I was very fond of Jim, and we were great chums. Sometimes I'd sit and wonder

what the deuce he was thinking about, and often, the way he talked,
he'd make me uneasy. When he was two he wanted a pipe above all things,

and I'd get him a clean new clay and he'd sit by my side,
on the edge of the verandah, or on a log of the wood-heap,

in the cool of the evening, and suck away at his pipe, and try to spit
when he saw me do it. He seemed to understand that a cold empty pipe

wasn't quite the thing, yet to have the sense to know that he couldn't
smoke tobacco yet: he made the best he could of things.

And if he broke a clay pipe he wouldn't have a new one, and there'd be a row;
the old one had to be mended up, somehow, with string or wire.

If I got my hair cut, he'd want his cut too; and it always troubled him
to see me shave -- as if he thought there must be something wrong somewhere,

else he ought to have to be shaved too. I lathered him one day,
and pretended to shave him: he sat through it as solemn as an owl,

but didn't seem to appreciate it -- perhaps he had sense enough to know
that it couldn't possibly be the real thing. He felt his face,

looked very hard at the lather I scraped off, and whimpered,
`No blood, daddy!'

I used to cut myself a good deal: I was always impatient over shaving.
Then he went in to interview his mother about it. She understood his lingo

better than I did.
But I wasn't always at ease with him. Sometimes he'd sit

looking into the fire, with his head on one side, and I'd watch him and wonder
what he was thinking about (I might as well have wondered what a Chinaman

was thinking about) till he seemed at least twenty years older than me:
sometimes, when I moved or spoke, he'd glance round just as if to see

what that old fool of a dadda of his was doing now.
I used to have a fancy that there was something Eastern, or Asiatic --

something older than our civilisation or religion --
about old-fashioned children. Once I started to explain my idea

to a woman I thought would understand -- and as it happened
she had an old-fashioned child, with very slant eyes --

a little tartar he was too. I suppose it was the sight of him
that unconsciously reminded me of my infernal theory, and set me off on it,

without warning me. Anyhow, it got me mixed up in an awful row
with the woman and her husband -- and all their tribe.

It wasn't an easy thing to explain myself out of it, and the row
hasn't been fixed up yet. There were some Chinamen in the district.

I took a good-size fencing contract, the frontage of a ten-mile paddock,
near Gulgong, and did well out of it. The railway had got

as far as the Cudgeegong river -- some twenty miles from Gulgong
and two hundred from the coast -- and `carrying' was good then.

I had a couple of draught-horses, that I worked in the tip-drays
when I was tank-sinking, and one or two others running in the Bush.

I bought a broken-down waggon cheap, tinkered it up myself --
christened it `The Same Old Thing' -- and started carrying

from the railway terminus through Gulgong and along the bush roads and tracks
that branch out fanlike through the scrubs to the one-pub towns

and sheep and cattle stations out there in the howling wilderness.
It wasn't much of a team. There were the two heavy horses for `shafters';

a stunted colt, that I'd bought out of the pound for thirty shillings;
a light, spring-cart horse; an old grey mare, with points

like a big red-and-white Australian store bullock, and with
the grit of an old washerwoman to work; and a horse that had spanked along

in Cob & Co.'s mail-coach in his time. I had a couple there that didn't
belong to me: I worked them for the feeding of them in the dry weather.

And I had all sorts of harness, that I mended and fixed up myself.
It was a mixed team, but I took light stuff, got through pretty quick,

and freight rates were high. So I got along.
Before this, whenever I made a few pounds I'd sink a shaft somewhere,

prospecting for gold; but Mary never let me rest till she talked me
out of that.

I made up my mind to take on a small selection farm --
that an old mate of mine had fenced in and cleared, and afterwards

chucked up -- about thirty miles out west of Gulgong, at a place
called Lahey's Creek. (The places were all called Lahey's Creek,

or Spicer's Flat, or Murphy's Flat, or Ryan's Crossing, or some such name --
round there.) I reckoned I'd have a run for the horses and be able to grow

a bit of feed. I always had a dread of taking Mary and the children
too far away from a doctor -- or a good woman neighbour;

but there were some people came to live on Lahey's Creek,
and besides, there was a young brother of Mary's -- a young scamp

(his name was Jim, too, and we called him `Jimmy' at first
to make room for our Jim -- he hated the name `Jimmy' or James).

He came to live with us -- without asking -- and I thought he'd find
enough work at Lahey's Creek to keep him out of mischief.

He wasn't to be depended on much -- he thought nothing of riding off,
five hundred miles or so, `to have a look at the country' --

but he was fond of Mary, and he'd stay by her till I got some one else
to keep her company while I was on the road. He would be a protection

against `sundowners' or any shearers who happened to wander that way
in the `D.T.'s' after a spree. Mary had a married sister come to live

at Gulgong just before we left, and nothing would suit her and her husband
but we must leave little Jim with them for a month or so --

till we got settled down at Lahey's Creek. They were newly married.
Mary was to have driven into Gulgong, in the spring-cart,

at the end of the month, and taken Jim home; but when the time came
she wasn't too well -- and, besides, the tyres of the cart were loose,

and I hadn't time to get them cut, so we let Jim's time run on
a week or so longer, till I happened to come out through Gulgong

from the river with a small load of flour for Lahey's Creek way.
The roads were good, the weather grand -- no chance of it raining,

and I had a spare tarpaulin if it did -- I would only camp out one night;
so I decided to take Jim home with me.

Jim was turning three then, and he was a cure. He was so old-fashioned
that he used to frighten me sometimes -- I'd almost think that there was

something supernatural about him; though, of course, I never took
any notice of that rot about some children being too old-fashioned to live.

There's always the ghoulish old hag (and some not so old nor haggish either)
who'll come round and shake up young parents with such croaks as,

`You'll never rear that child -- he's too bright for his age.'
To the devil with them! I say.

But I really thought that Jim was too intelligent for his age,
and I often told Mary that he ought to be kept back, and not let

talk too much to old diggers and long lanky jokers of Bushmen
who rode in and hung their horses outside my place on Sunday afternoons.

I don't believe in parents talking about their own children everlastingly --
you get sick of hearing them; and their kids are generally little devils,

and turn out larrikins as likely as not.
But, for all that, I really think that Jim, when he was three years old,

was the most wonderful little chap, in every way, that I ever saw.
For the first hour or so, along the road, he was telling me

all about his adventures at his auntie's.
`But they spoilt me too much, dad,' he said, as solemn as a native bear.

`An' besides, a boy ought to stick to his parrans!'
I was taking out a cattle-pup for a drover I knew, and the pup took up

a good deal of Jim's time.
Sometimes he'd jolt me, the way he talked; and other times

I'd have to turn away my head and cough, or shout at the horses,
to keep from laughing outright. And once, when I was taken that way,

he said --
`What are you jerking your shoulders and coughing, and grunting,

and going on that way for, dad? Why don't you tell me something?'
`Tell you what, Jim?'

`Tell me some talk.'
So I told him all the talk I could think of. And I had to brighten up,

I can tell you, and not draw too much on my imagination --
for Jim was a terror at cross-examination when the fit took him;

and he didn't think twice about telling you when he thought
you were talking nonsense. Once he said --

`I'm glad you took me home with you, dad. You'll get to know Jim.'
`What!' I said.

`You'll get to know Jim.'
`But don't I know you already?'

`No, you don't. You never has time to know Jim at home.'
And, looking back, I saw that it was cruel true. I had known in my heart

all along that this was the truth; but it came to me like a blow from Jim.
You see, it had been a hard struggle for the last year or so;

and when I was home for a day or two I was generally too busy,
or too tired and worried, or full of schemes for the future,

to take much notice of Jim. Mary used to speak to me about it sometimes.
`You never take notice of the child,' she'd say. `You could surely find

a few minutes of an evening. What's the use of always worrying and brooding?
Your brain will go with a snap some day, and, if you get over it,

it will teach you a lesson. You'll be an old man, and Jim a young one,
before you realise that you had a child once. Then it will be too late.'

This sort of talk from Mary always bored me and made me impatient with her,
because I knew it all too well. I never worried for myself --

only for Mary and the children. And often, as the days went by,
I said to myself, `I'll take more notice of Jim and give Mary more of my time,

just as soon as I can see things clear ahead a bit.' And the hard days
went on, and the weeks, and the months, and the years ---- Ah, well!

• daylight [´deilait] n.日光；黎明 (初中英语单词)
• old-fashioned [´əuld´feʃənd] a.老式的；过时的 (初中英语单词)
• intelligent [in´telidʒənt] a.聪明的；理智的 (初中英语单词)
• breeze [bri:z] n.微风；不费力的事 (初中英语单词)
• delicate [´delikət] a.精美的；微妙的 (初中英语单词)
• tobacco [tə´bækəu] n.烟草(叶)；卷烟 (初中英语单词)
• solemn [´sɔləm] a.严肃的；隆重的 (初中英语单词)
• appreciate [ə´pri:ʃieit] v.评价；珍惜；感激 (初中英语单词)
• interview [´intəvju:] n.&vt.接见；会见；交谈 (初中英语单词)
• running [´rʌniŋ] a.奔跑的；流动的 (初中英语单词)
• waggon [´wægən] n.运货马车；货车 (初中英语单词)
• harness [´hɑ:nis] vt.上马具 n.马具 (初中英语单词)
• freight [freit] n.运货 vt.运送；充满 (初中英语单词)
• whenever [wen´evə] conj.&ad.无论何时 (初中英语单词)
• wander [´wɔndə, ´wɑ:n:dər] v.徘徊；流浪 (初中英语单词)
• driven [´driv(ə)n] drive 的过去分词 (初中英语单词)
• frighten [´fraitn] vt.吓唬，使惊惧 (初中英语单词)
• imagination [i,mædʒi´neiʃən] n.想象(力) (初中英语单词)
• terror [´terə] n.恐怖；惊骇 (初中英语单词)
• sleepy [´sli:pi] a.困的，想睡的 (高中英语单词)
• clatter [´klætə] n.&v.喧嚷；骚动 (高中英语单词)
• nonsense [´nɔnsəns] n.胡说 int.胡说!废话 (高中英语单词)
• strict [strikt] a.严厉的；精确的 (高中英语单词)
• saying [´seiŋ, ´sei-iŋ] n.言语；言论；格言 (高中英语单词)
• uneasy [ʌn´i:zi] a.不安的；不自在的 (高中英语单词)
• impatient [im´peiʃənt] a.不耐烦的，急躁的 (高中英语单词)
• fencing [´fensiŋ] n.击剑；栅栏；搪塞 (高中英语单词)
• selection [si´lekʃən] n.选择；选拔；精选物 (高中英语单词)
• decided [di´saidid] a.明显的；决定的 (高中英语单词)
• hearing [´hiəriŋ] n.听力；听证会；审讯 (高中英语单词)
• brighten [´braitn] v.(使)明亮；(使)愉快 (高中英语单词)
• asiatic [,eiʃi´ætik ,eizi´ætik] a.亚洲(人)的 n.亚洲人 (英语四级单词)
• unconsciously [ʌn´kɔʃəsli] ad.无意识地；不觉察地 (英语四级单词)
• warning [´wɔ:niŋ] n.警告；前兆 a.预告的 (英语四级单词)
• peacefully [´pisfuli] ad.平静地；安宁地 (英语六级单词)
• infernal [in´fə:nəl] a.地狱的，恶魔似的 (英语六级单词)
• taking [´teikiŋ] a.迷人的 n.捕获物 (英语六级单词)