The Rising of the Court | Page 5

it. It is such women as
Mrs Johnson and One-Eyed Kate and their sisters who will lead a
greater Paris to a greater Versailles some day, and many "Trust" kings
and queens, and their princes and princesses shall die for it. And that
reminds me of two reports in a recent great daily:
Miss Angelina De Tapps, the youngest daughter of the well-known
great family of brewers, was united in the holy bonds of matrimony to
Mr Reginald Wells--(here follows a long account of the smart society
wedding). The happy pair leave en route for Europe per the --- next
Friday.
Jane Johnson, an old offender, again faced the music before Mr Isaacs,
S.M., at the Central yesterday morning--(here follows a "humorous"
report of the case).
Next time poor Mrs Johnson will leave en route for "Th' Island" and
stay there three months.
The sisters join Mrs Johnson, who has some money and takes them to a
favourite haunt and shouts for them--as she does for the boys
sometimes. Their opinions on civilization are not to be printed.
Ginger and Wingy get off with the option, and, though the fine is heavy,
it is paid. They adjourn with Boko Bill, and their politics are lurid.
Squinny Peters (plain drunk--five bob or the risin'), who is peculiar for
always paying his fine, elects to take it out this time. It appears that the
last time Squinny got five bob or the risin' he ante'd up the splosh like a
man, and the court rose immediately, to Squinny's intense disgust. He

isn't taking any chances this time.
Wild-Flowers-Charley, who recently did a fortnight, and has been out
on bail, has had a few this morning, and, in spite of warnings from and
promises to friends, insists on making a statement, though by simply
pleading guilty he might get off easily. The statement lasts some ten
minutes. Mr Isaacs listens patiently and politely and remarks:
"Fourteen days."
Charley saw the humour of it afterwards, he says.
But what good does it all do?
I had no wish to treat drunkenness frivolously in beginning this sketch;
I have seen women in the horrors--that ought to be enough.

"ROLL UP AT TALBRAGAR"
Jack Denver died at Talbragar when Christmas Eve began, And there
was sorrow round the place, for Denver was a man; Jack Denver's wife
bowed down her head--her daughter's grief was wild, And big Ben
Duggan by the bed stood sobbing like a child. But big Ben Duggan
saddled up, and galloped fast and far, To raise the longest funeral ever
seen on Talbragar.
-Ben Duggan.
Both funerals belonged to Big Ben Duggan in a way, though Jack
Denver was indirectly the cause of both.
Jack Denver was reckoned the most popular man in the district (outside
the principal township)--a white man and a straight man--a white boss
and a straight sportsman. He was a squatter, though a small one; a real
squatter who lived on his run and worked with his men--no dummy,
super, manager for a bank, or swollen cockatoo about Jack Denver. He
was on the committees at agricultural shows and sports, great at picnics
and dances, beloved by school children at school feasts (I wonder if
they call them feasts still), giver of extra or special prizes, mostly sovs.
and half-sovs., for foot races, etc.; leading spirit for the scrub district in
electioneering campaigns--they went as right as men could go in the
politics of those days who watched and went the way Jack Denver went;
header of subscription lists for burnt-out, flooded-out, sick, hurt, dead
or killed or otherwise knocked-out selectors and others, or their
families; barracker and agitator for new provisional schools, assister of
his Reverence and little bush chapels, friend of all manner of

wanderers--careless, good-hearted scamps in trouble, broken-hearted
new chums, wrecks and failures and outcasts of any colour or creed,
and especially of old King Jimmy and the swiftly vanishing remnant of
his tribe. His big slab-and-shingle and brick-floored kitchen, with its
skillions, built on more generous plans and specifications than even the
house itself, was the wanderer's goal and home in bad weather.
And--yes, owner, on a small scale, of racehorses, and a keen sportsman.
Jack Denver and Big Ben Duggan were boys together on the old
selections, and at the new provisional bark school at Pipeclay; they
went into the Great North-West together "where all the rovers
go"--stock-riding and droving and overlanding, and came back after a
few years bronzed and seasoned and with wild yarns.
Jack married and settled down on a small run his father had bought near
Talbragar, and his generous family of tall, straight bush boys and tall,
straight bush girls grew up and had their sweethearts. But, when Jack
married, Big Ben Duggan went back again, up into