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Updated: May 16, 2025
"It's a sack of some kind, isn't it?" she asked. "Yes," Hawtrey answered, "it's a couple of three-bushel bags. Some special seed Lorton sent to Winnipeg for. Ormond brought them out from the railroad. I promised I'd take them along to him." "You should have told me. It's most a league round by Lorton's place," Sally returned with reproach in her voice. "That won't take long with this team.
Filthy blue blanket, patched with squares of red and calico. Half of "white blanket" nearly black now, patched with pieces of various material and sewn to half of red blanket. Three-bushel sack slit open. Pieces of sacking. Part of a woman's skirt. Two rotten old pairs of moleskin trousers. One leg of a pair of trousers. Back of a shirt. Half a waistcoat.
I've ridden past the place on bitter black rainy mornings in June or July, and seen her trudging about the yard that was ankle-deep in black liquid filth with an old pair of Blucher boots on, and an old coat of her husband's, or maybe a three-bushel bag over her shoulders.
Mrs Spicer had an old patchwork quilt, in rags, and the remains of a white one, and Mary said it was pitiful to see how these things would be spread over the beds to hide them as much as possible when she went down there. There were a couple of gin-cases for a wardrobe. The boys' beds were three-bushel bags stretched between poles fastened to uprights.
His name was Jack Gunther, he said, and he'd come to Sydney to try to get something done to his eyes. He had a portmanteau, a carpet bag, some things in a three-bushel bag, and a tin bog. I sat beside him on his bed, and struck up an acquaintance, and he told me all about it. First he asked me would I mind shifting round to the other side, as he was rather deaf in that ear.
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