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    Short Stories in Prose and Verse
    Short Stories in Prose and Verse
    Short Stories in Prose and Verse
    Ebook81 pages1 hour

    Short Stories in Prose and Verse

    By Henry Lawson

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    "Short Stories in Prose and Verse" by Henry Lawson. Published by Good Press. Good Press publishes a wide range of titles that encompasses every genre. From well-known classics & literary fiction and non-fiction to forgotten−or yet undiscovered gems−of world literature, we issue the books that need to be read. Each Good Press edition has been meticulously edited and formatted to boost readability for all e-readers and devices. Our goal is to produce eBooks that are user-friendly and accessible to everyone in a high-quality digital format.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherGood Press
    Release dateNov 9, 2021
    ISBN4066338081735
    Short Stories in Prose and Verse
    Author

    Henry Lawson

    Henry Lawson was born in Grenfell, NSW, in 1867. At 14 he became totally deaf, an affliction which many have suggested rendered his world all the more vivid and subsequently enlivened his later writing. After a stint of coach painting, he edited a periodical, The Republican, and began writing verse and short stories. His first work of short fiction appeared in the Bulletin in 1888. He travelled and wrote short fiction and poetry throughout his life and published numerous collections of both even as his marriage collapsed and he descended into poverty and mental illness. He died in 1922, leaving his wife and two children.

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      Book preview

      Short Stories in Prose and Verse - Henry Lawson

      Henry Lawson

      Short Stories in Prose and Verse

      Published by Good Press, 2022

      goodpress@okpublishing.info

      EAN 4066338081735

      Table of Contents

      Preface

      Rats

      A Narrow Escape

      We Called Him Ally For Short

      Bush Cats

      Johnson, Alias Crow

      The Drover’s Wife

      The Fire At Ross’s Farm

      The Union Buries Its Dead

      A Typical Bush Yarn

      The Bush Undertaker

      The Legend Of Coo-ee. Gully

      Macquarie’s Mate

      When the Children Come Home

      The Mystery of Dave Regan

      A Derry On A Cove

      Trouble On The Selection

      THE END

      "

      Preface

      Table of Contents

      This is an attempt to publish, in Australia, a collection of sketches and stories at a time when everything Australian, in the shape of a book, must bear the imprint of a London publishing firm before our critics will condescend to notice it, and before the reading public will think it worth its while to buy nearly so many copies as will pay for the mere cost of printing a presentable volume.

      The Australian writer, until he gets a London hearing, is only accepted as an imitator of some recognised English or American author; and, so soon as he shows signs of coming to the front, he is labelled The Australian Southey, The Australian Burns, or The Australian Bret Harte, and, lately, The Australian Kipling. Thus, no matter how original he may be, he is branded, at the very start, as a plagiarist, and by his own country, which thinks, no doubt, that it is paying him a compliment and encouraging him, while it is really doing him a cruel and an almost irreparable injury.

      But, mark! So soon as the Southern writer goes home and gets some recognition in England, he is So-and-So, the well-known Australian author whose work has attracted so much attention in London lately; and we first hear of him by cable, even though he might have been writing at his best for ten years in Australia.

      The same paltry spirit tried to dispose of the greatest of modern short story writers as The Californian Dickens, but America wasn’t built that way—neither was Bret Harte!

      To illustrate the above growl: a Sydney daily paper, reviewing the Bulletin’s Golden Shanty when the first edition came out, said of my story, His Father’s Mate, that it stood out distinctly as an excellent specimen of that kind of writing which Bret Harte set the world imitating in vain, and, being full of local colour, it was no unworthy copy of the great master. That critic evidently hadn’t studied the great master any more than he did my yarn, of Australian goldfield life.

      Then he spoke of another story as also having the Californian flavour. For the other writers I can say that I feel sure they could point out their scenery, and name, or, in some cases, introduce the reader to their characters in the flesh. The first seventeen years of my life were spent on the goldfields, and therefore, I didn’t need to go back, in imagination, to a time before I was born, and to a country I had never seen, for literary material.

      * * * *

      This pamphlet—I can scarcely call it a volume—contains some of my earliest efforts, and they are sufficiently crude and faulty. They have been collected and printed hurriedly, with an eye to Xmas, and without experienced editorial assistance, which last, I begin to think, was sadly necessary.

      However, we all hope to do better in future, and I shall have more confidence in my first volume of verse, which will probably be published some time next year. The stories and sketches were originally written for the Bulletin, Worker, Truth, Antipodean Magazine, and the Brisbane Boomerang, which last was one of the many Australian publications which were starved to death because they tried to be original, to be honest, to pay for and encourage Australian literature, and, above all, to be Australian, while the high average intelligence of the Australians preferred to patronise thievish imported rags of the Faked-Bits order.

      Rats

      Table of Contents

      Why, there’s two of them, and they’re having a fight! Come on.

      It seemed a strange place for a fight—that hot, lonely, cotton-bush plain. And yet not more than half a mile ahead there were apparently two men struggling together on the track.

      The three travellers postponed their smoke-ho and hurried on. They were shearers—a little man and a big man, known respectively as Sunlight and Macquarie, and a tall, thin, young jackeroo whom they called Milky.

      I wonder where the other man sprang from? I didn’t see him before, said Sunlight.

      He muster bin layin’ down in the bushes, said Macquarie. They’re goin’ at it proper, too. Come on! Hurry up and see the fun!

      They hurried on.

      It’s a funny-lookin’ feller, the other feller, panted Milky. He don’t seem to have no head. Look! he’s down—they’re both down! They must ha’ clinched on the ground. No! they’re up an’ at it again.... Why, good Lord! I think the other’s a woman!

      My oath! so it is! yelled Sunlight. Look! the brute’s got her down again! He’s kickin’ her. Come on, chaps; come on, or he’ll do for her!

      They dropped swags, water-bags and all, and raced forward; but presently Sunlight, who had the best

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