Part 7 (2/2)
PATRIOTIC SONG AND CHORUS.
Australia's sons are we, And the freest of the free, But Love enchains us still with fetters strong To the dear old land at Home, Far across the rolling foam-- The little isle to which our hearts belong.
It shall always be our boast, Our b.u.mper-honoured toast, That, should Britain bid us help her, we'll obey; Then, if e'er the call is made, And Old England needs our aid, These are the words Australia's sons will say--
There is not a strong right hand, Throughout this Southern land, But will draw a sword in dear old England's cause; Our numbers may be few, But we've loyal hearts and true, And the Lion's cubs have got the Lion's claws.
From our ocean-guarded strand, O'er the sunny plains inland, To the cloud-kissed mountain summits faint and far, Australians bred and born, Behold yon banner torn, And greet it with a l.u.s.ty-lunged hurrah!
'Tis the brave old Union Jack, That nothing can beat back-- Ever waving where the brunt of battle lies; For each frayed and faded thread Britain counts a hero dead, Who died to gain the liberties we prize.
Then there's not, &c.
The ever-honoured name On the bright bead-roll of Fame, That our fathers held through all the changing Past, In it we claim our share, And by Saint George we swear, We can keep that name untarnished to the last; Then, when the hour arrives, We will give our very lives For the dearest land of all the lands on earth, And, foremost in the fray, Show Britain's foes the way Australia's sons can prove their British birth.
Yes, there's not, &c.
Sons of the South, unite In federated might, The Champions of your Country and your Queen; From New Zealand's glacier throne To the burning Torrid Zone, We'll prove that welded steel is tough and keen.
The wide world shall be shown That we mean to hold our own In the home of our adoption, free and fair; And if the Lion needs, He shall see, by doughty deeds, How his Austral cubs can guard their father's lair.
For there's not, &c.
GARNET WALCH.
_THE LITTLE d.u.c.h.eSS._
BY ETHEL TURNER.
”The tale is as old as the Eden tree, And new as the new-cut tooth.”
He was the clerk of the cash tramway, and when the rolling b.a.l.l.s gave him a moment's leisure, used to look down from his high perch at the big shop beneath his feet, and, in his slow, quiet style, study the ways of the numberless a.s.sistants whose life-books thus opened to him so many of their pages.
Lately there had come to the place a slight, grey-eyed girl, who wore her black dress with such grace, and held her small head with such dignity, that he whimsically had named her to himself ”The Little d.u.c.h.ess.” He liked to look down and catch a glint of her hair's suns.h.i.+ne when his brain was dulled with calculating change, and his fingers ached with shutting cash-b.a.l.l.s and dispatching them on their journeys. And he used to wonder greatly how any customer could hesitate to buy silks and satins when their l.u.s.tre and sheen were displayed by her slim little fingers and the quality descanted on with so persuasive a smile. There were handsomer girls in the shop, girls with finer figures and better features; but, to the boy in his mid-air cage, there was none with the nameless dainty charms that made the little d.u.c.h.ess so lovable.
For, of course, he did love her. In less than two months he had begun to watch for her cash-ball with a trembling eagerness, to smooth out and stroke gently the bill her fingers had written, and to wrap it and its change up again with a careful tenderness that no one else's change and bill received. He had spoken to her half-a-dozen times in all; twice at the door on leaving--weather remarks, to which she had responded graciously; once or twice about bills that she had come to rectify at the desk, and once he had had the great good fortune to find and return a handkerchief she had dropped. Such a pretty, ridiculous atom of muslin it was, with a fanciful ”Nellie” taking up one quarter, and some delicate scent lending such subtle fascination that it was a real wrench for the lad to take the handkerchief from his breast-pocket and proffer it to her.
So great a wrench, indeed, that he profferred his love, too, humbly, but fervently, and received a very wondering look from the grey eyes, a badly-concealed smile, a ”Thank you” for the handkerchief, and a ”No, thank you” for the love.
He had kissed her, though, and that was some consolation afterwards to his sore spirit, kissed her right upon the sweet, scarlet lips which had said ”No” so decidedly, and then, bold no longer, had fled the shelter of the friendly packing-cases, and beaten a retreat to his desk aloft.
That was nearly a fortnight ago; not once since had she spoken to him, and to-day he was feeling desperate.
It had been a very busy morning, and he had found hardly a second to raise his eyes from his work. The one time he had looked down she had been busy with a customer--a girl prettily dressed and golden-headed like herself. That had been at about ten o'clock. Before twelve her cash-box, with the notch upon it that his penknife had made, rolled down its line, and he opened it as he had opened it twenty times that morning; but this time it bore his fate. With the bill was a little twisted note, on which ”John Walters, private,” was written, and the boy's very heart leaped at the sight. Down below, customers wearily waited for change, and anxiously watched for their own particular ball while the _deus ex machina_ read again and again, with eager eyes: ”Please will you meet me at lunch-time in the Strand? Do, if you can. I am in trouble. You said you loved me.” Then, as he began mechanically to manipulate the waiting b.a.l.l.s, he looked down to the accustomed place of the little d.u.c.h.ess. She was pale, he saw, and her lips trembled oddly now and again. There was a frightened look in her grey eyes, and once or twice he thought he noticed a sparkle as of tears.
At lunch-time he actually tore through the shop and away down to the appointed place. She was there--still pale, still nervous and fluttering.
”Let us go to the Gardens. It's quieter,” he said, putting a great restraint upon himself; then, when at last they were within the gates, ”G.o.d bless you for this, Nellie.”
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