At a camp of the Native Mounted Police the sergeant reported a trooper for beating his gin.  “What you bin doing, Paddy?” asked the sub-inspector.  “You bin hammer ’em Topsy?” Paddy, at the salute—­“Yes, sir, please sir, me bin hammer ’em that fella.  That fella too flash; me no bin hammer ’em all asame black-fella.  Hammer ’em all asame white man, alonga strap.”  Considering the customary means a black adopts to correct the indiscretions of his spouse, Paddy’s offence was judged far too trivial for punishment.  Topsy, too, was quite vain that Paddy had chastised her with all dignity and indulgence of a white man.

“And you too”

Two ladies, who were wont to meet at infrequent intervals, spent the delightful morning in the settlement of arrears of gossip, while two black gins sat in the shade of a mango-tree, smoked incessantly and did nothing placidly.  At dinner-time the latter began to chatter volubly, and the mistress of the house, in an outburst of vicarious energy, called from the verandah—­“Come, Topsy—­come, Rosey.  You do nothing all day.  You two fella talk all the time.”

Rosey—­“Yes; me fella yabber, yabber, plenty—­all asame white woman.”

PARADISE

The beliefs of blacks on the subject of “the otherwhere” seem to be varied and adjustable to individual likes and predilections.  Some indeed have no faith whatever in statements as to existence following upon death.  Others assert that a delightful country is reached after a long and pleasant journey, that there reunion with relatives and friends takes place, and happiness is in store for all, good and bad alike.

An intelligent boy was asked if after death all went along the same road to the aboriginal paradise.  He was reminded that he was a good fellow, and that one of the members of the camp was notoriously a rogue.

“Mootee go along a you, all asame place?  That fella no good.  You good fella.”

“Yes,” he answered.  “All one track me fella go.  Good track—­blenty tchugar-bag, blenty hegg, blenty wallaby, close up.  You no wan’ run about.  Catch ’em blenty close up.  Bi’mby me go long way.  Me come more better country—­blenty everything.  Father belonga me sit down.  He got two good young fella gins.  My word, good one gins.  He say—­’Hello! you come up?  You sit down here altogether.  Two fella good gins belonga you!’”

This was paradise!

CHAPTER IV

AND THIS OUR LIFE

“I would admonish the world that all persons, indifferently, are not fit for this sort of diversion.”