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Ah! rare Ben Jonson! long peace to thy ashes for a scourge of the quacks of thy day! who expected to see them revive in our own?" Clause. You now shall know the king o' the beggars' treasure: Yes ere to-morrow you shall find your harbour Here, fail me not, for if I live I'll fit you. The Beggar's Bush.
"When you do, Vidac," said Strong grimly, "and he happens to be alive, make sure he stays that way, eh?" The Solar Guard captain wheeled and entered the Administration Building before Vidac could answer. Inside, he found the slidestairs and rode up to the seventh level. Taking the first corridor to the left, he rounded a corner to find Ed Bush standing in front of the door to the cadets' quarters.
For the Graphic, in 1873, I wrote a little story about Australia. Christmas at the antipodes is of course midsummer, and I was not loth to describe the troubles to which my own son had been subjected, by the mingled accidents of heat and bad neighbours, on his station in the bush. So I wrote Harry Heathcote of Gangoil, and was well through my labour on that occasion.
"A shout," in the parlance of the Australian bush, is an authority or request to the party in waiting in a public-house to supply the bibulous wants of the companions of the shouter, who of course bears the expense; and when a shout is proffered as an earnest of sociality, or as an obligation in a bet, it indicates the disposition, in the one case, to increase as much as possible the cost of the shout, while it involves the necessity, in the other, to provide whatever is required by the recipients.
Rather ragged, rather ancient are these coats, originally of very varied kinds. But the etiquette of the bush does not demand much in coats. So long as your shirt is clean and whole, your coat may be a little off colour, so to put it. People are not so particular about the coat. It is an excrescence, not an essential garment like the shirt and breeches.
A chicken; but your tricks are at an end. No more feeding young ravens here." "Better get to the nest, first, though," said the boy laughingly; and he leaned forward, quite out of the perpendicular, to look down below the bush which sheltered the nest. "Easy enough: I can do it. If Ralph Darley had been half a fellow, he would have taken it himself. Better take off my sword, though.
"But you will," was the stern reply. "Listen." An hour passed, and the voices of the two men had ceased. The howling of the animals had lessened with the paling of the fires, and a slow, melancholy ripple of breeze was passing through the bush and lapping the surface of the river. It was Von Ragastein who broke through what might almost have seemed a trance.
So confounded was the poor man, that is was some time before he could speak; at last turning to his wife, My dear, he said, did I not tell you that God could hear what we said? Here's the book I prayed for, when you and I kneeled under the bush: God then heard us, and now has sent it.
He was always Dick Sunshine to me, and I noticed that the children always called him Dick Sunshine, and children are not easily deceived. Besides, he was Dick Sunshine, so what is the use of beating about the bush? Who was Dick Sunshine? It is difficult to say. He was partly a grocer and party a consumptive. He spent half his time laughing, and half his time coughing.
He would force his way into it and, moving round and round, trample down the roots and loose earth and dead leaves with his heavy iron-shod boots until he broke into the nest or cell of the spiny little beast hidden away under the bush. He was a short, broad-faced man, with a brown skin, black hair, and intensely black eyes.
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