Joe Wilson and His Mates [41]
them.
But the effect was often spoilt by her screaming at the children
to `Drive out them fowls, karnt yer,' or `Take yer maulies [hands]
outer the sugar,' or `Don't touch Mrs Wilson's baby with them dirty maulies,'
or `Don't stand starin' at Mrs Wilson with yer mouth an' ears
in that vulgar way.'
Poor woman! she seemed everlastingly nagging at the children. It was a habit,
but they didn't seem to mind. Most Bushwomen get the nagging habit.
I remember one, who had the prettiest, dearest, sweetest, most willing,
and affectionate little girl I think I ever saw, and she nagged that child
from daylight till dark -- and after it. Taking it all round,
I think that the nagging habit in a mother is often worse
on ordinary children, and more deadly on sensitive youngsters,
than the drinking habit in a father.
One of the yarns Mrs Spicer told us was about a squatter she knew
who used to go wrong in his head every now and again,
and try to commit suicide. Once, when the station-hand, who was watching him,
had his eye off him for a minute, he hanged himself to a beam in the stable.
The men ran in and found him hanging and kicking. `They let him hang
for a while,' said Mrs Spicer, `till he went black in the face
and stopped kicking. Then they cut him down and threw a bucket of water
over him.'
`Why! what on earth did they let the man hang for?' asked Mary.
`To give him a good bellyful of it: they thought it would cure him
of tryin' to hang himself again.'
`Well, that's the coolest thing I ever heard of,' said Mary.
`That's jist what the magistrate said, Mrs Wilson,' said Mrs Spicer.
`One morning,' said Mrs Spicer, `Spicer had gone off on his horse somewhere,
and I was alone with the children, when a man came to the door and said --
`"For God's sake, woman, give me a drink!"
`Lord only knows where he came from! He was dressed like a new chum --
his clothes was good, but he looked as if he'd been sleepin' in them
in the Bush for a month. He was very shaky. I had some coffee that mornin',
so I gave him some in a pint pot; he drank it, and then he stood on his head
till he tumbled over, and then he stood up on his feet and said,
"Thenk yer, mum."
`I was so surprised that I didn't know what to say, so I jist said,
"Would you like some more coffee?"
`"Yes, thenk yer," he said -- "about two quarts."
`I nearly filled the pint pot, and he drank it and stood on his head
as long as he could, and when he got right end up he said,
"Thenk yer, mum -- it's a fine day," and then he walked off.
He had two saddle-straps in his hands.'
`Why, what did he stand on his head for?' asked Mary.
`To wash it up and down, I suppose, to get twice as much taste of the coffee.
He had no hat. I sent Tommy across to Wall's to tell them
that there was a man wanderin' about the Bush in the horrors of drink,
and to get some one to ride for the police. But they was too late,
for he hanged himself that night.'
`O Lord!' cried Mary.
`Yes, right close to here, jist down the creek where the track to Wall's
branches off. Tommy found him while he was out after the cows.
Hangin' to the branch of a tree with the two saddle-straps.'
Mary stared at her, speechless.
`Tommy came home yellin' with fright. I sent him over to Wall's at once.
After breakfast, the minute my eyes was off them, the children slipped away
and went down there. They came back screamin' at the tops of their voices.
I did give it to them. I reckon they won't want ter see a dead body again
in a hurry. Every time I'd mention it they'd huddle together,
or ketch hold of me skirts and howl.
`"Yer'll go agen when I tell yer not to," I'd say.
`"Oh no, mother," they'd howl.
`"Yer wanted ter see a man hangin'," I said.
`"Oh, don't, mother! Don't talk about it."
`"Yer wouldn't be satisfied till yer see it," I'd say;
"yer had to see it or burst. Yer satisfied now, ain't yer?"
`"Oh, don't, mother!"
`"Yer run all the way there, I s'pose?"
`"Don't, mother!"
`"But yer run faster back, didn't
But the effect was often spoilt by her screaming at the children
to `Drive out them fowls, karnt yer,' or `Take yer maulies [hands]
outer the sugar,' or `Don't touch Mrs Wilson's baby with them dirty maulies,'
or `Don't stand starin' at Mrs Wilson with yer mouth an' ears
in that vulgar way.'
Poor woman! she seemed everlastingly nagging at the children. It was a habit,
but they didn't seem to mind. Most Bushwomen get the nagging habit.
I remember one, who had the prettiest, dearest, sweetest, most willing,
and affectionate little girl I think I ever saw, and she nagged that child
from daylight till dark -- and after it. Taking it all round,
I think that the nagging habit in a mother is often worse
on ordinary children, and more deadly on sensitive youngsters,
than the drinking habit in a father.
One of the yarns Mrs Spicer told us was about a squatter she knew
who used to go wrong in his head every now and again,
and try to commit suicide. Once, when the station-hand, who was watching him,
had his eye off him for a minute, he hanged himself to a beam in the stable.
The men ran in and found him hanging and kicking. `They let him hang
for a while,' said Mrs Spicer, `till he went black in the face
and stopped kicking. Then they cut him down and threw a bucket of water
over him.'
`Why! what on earth did they let the man hang for?' asked Mary.
`To give him a good bellyful of it: they thought it would cure him
of tryin' to hang himself again.'
`Well, that's the coolest thing I ever heard of,' said Mary.
`That's jist what the magistrate said, Mrs Wilson,' said Mrs Spicer.
`One morning,' said Mrs Spicer, `Spicer had gone off on his horse somewhere,
and I was alone with the children, when a man came to the door and said --
`"For God's sake, woman, give me a drink!"
`Lord only knows where he came from! He was dressed like a new chum --
his clothes was good, but he looked as if he'd been sleepin' in them
in the Bush for a month. He was very shaky. I had some coffee that mornin',
so I gave him some in a pint pot; he drank it, and then he stood on his head
till he tumbled over, and then he stood up on his feet and said,
"Thenk yer, mum."
`I was so surprised that I didn't know what to say, so I jist said,
"Would you like some more coffee?"
`"Yes, thenk yer," he said -- "about two quarts."
`I nearly filled the pint pot, and he drank it and stood on his head
as long as he could, and when he got right end up he said,
"Thenk yer, mum -- it's a fine day," and then he walked off.
He had two saddle-straps in his hands.'
`Why, what did he stand on his head for?' asked Mary.
`To wash it up and down, I suppose, to get twice as much taste of the coffee.
He had no hat. I sent Tommy across to Wall's to tell them
that there was a man wanderin' about the Bush in the horrors of drink,
and to get some one to ride for the police. But they was too late,
for he hanged himself that night.'
`O Lord!' cried Mary.
`Yes, right close to here, jist down the creek where the track to Wall's
branches off. Tommy found him while he was out after the cows.
Hangin' to the branch of a tree with the two saddle-straps.'
Mary stared at her, speechless.
`Tommy came home yellin' with fright. I sent him over to Wall's at once.
After breakfast, the minute my eyes was off them, the children slipped away
and went down there. They came back screamin' at the tops of their voices.
I did give it to them. I reckon they won't want ter see a dead body again
in a hurry. Every time I'd mention it they'd huddle together,
or ketch hold of me skirts and howl.
`"Yer'll go agen when I tell yer not to," I'd say.
`"Oh no, mother," they'd howl.
`"Yer wanted ter see a man hangin'," I said.
`"Oh, don't, mother! Don't talk about it."
`"Yer wouldn't be satisfied till yer see it," I'd say;
"yer had to see it or burst. Yer satisfied now, ain't yer?"
`"Oh, don't, mother!"
`"Yer run all the way there, I s'pose?"
`"Don't, mother!"
`"But yer run faster back, didn't