The Fremont weekly journal. [volume] (Fremont, Sandusky County, Ohio) 1867-1877, 1870-07-29
MistelIaneons SeIections.
LOST IN THE SCRUB.
AN AUSTRALIANS ADVENTURE
From Cassell's Magazine.l

It might have been at home here
in one of the midland counties, the
scene was so calm and peaceful.
The roughly-built cottage, with here
and there its familiar objects-the
loud-ticking Dutch clock, the clean
ly scrubbed three-legged table, the
big old family Bible, the cage of
white wicker, with its ragged tailed
thrush hopping from perch to perch;
while seated in the middle of the
humble room, before a tin bucket of
water, was an elderly man with En-
glishman written boldly in every
feature of his rugged, ruddy, sun
tanned face as he bent to his task
that of washing out the barrel of an
old rife, and making the water play
fountain-lke from the nipple as he
forced down the cleaning rod. to the
intense delight Of a couple Of A'asy
children. It might have been here
in some sunny county, butthere was
something about the brightness :of
the afternoon sun which streamed in
therblueness Of the sky, the clearness
of the air, and the scenery apound,
EtEat was not, English. The flowers
that clustered about the door and
nodded round the rough wlndoR
frame, and the objects that peeped
here and there from some corner,
too, told Of foreign land while the
huge pines that shot up arrow-like
toward the sky were such as could
be seen nowhere but in Australia
"The poor brutes have been call
ling you, lass, for the last half hour"
said the man, looking up, as a tall,
fair-haired girl entered the room
where he was busy, milking-pail in
hand, and stood to watch the task
with as much interest as the child
rem.
"They shan't wait any longer,
father" said the girl, and she passed
slowly through the door, humming
CHEEKY old-country ditty, and was
gone. "a
The gun barrel was taken from
the water, and wiped out, and then
Samson Harris, who had left the old
country and settled in the wide, free
lands of Australia, set to work oiling.
the clock.
"Hallo, what are you back for?"
he exclaimed as roughly dressed,
heavy-faced man came up to his hat
door at trot, his forehead stream
ing with Precipitation, which had
marked its course in lighter lines
through his dust grimed face. Di-
rectly behind him came, at an easy
Looping swing, a tall, thin, feshless
looking native, whose dingy skin
did not even shine as he came into
the hut after his companion.
"Blacks out, Tom" said Samson;
"blacks out? 'Pon my word, Tom 1
never saw coward in my life. Now
what in the world were you Jagged
for that your conscience must see
niggerin his paint behind every
tree or peeping up above every scrub
Blacks! Poor, inofensive beggars.
Why, you had your rifle, hadn't you,
ready to scare off a hundred? This
makes six times you've run home to
cry wolf. And you've left those
sheep to take care of themselves
he continued, forcing the ramrod in
to its place as he rose as if to leave
the hut.
"'Taint wolf this time, MASTER;
'taint, indeed" cried the man earn
estly; and then, seeing his masters
smile of incredulity, he relapsed in
to look of sullen injury, and stood
leaning upon his rifle barrel.
"Here, come along, said.Samson.
load up first, master, said Tom
'"Tis true, indeed" he exclaimed,
once more seeking to obtain Gre
dence for his story. Il saw scores.
Ask Teddy here"
Now Teddy-or, as he was known
in his tribe, Bidgee-b -bidgee-stood
spear in hand, showing his white
teeth, and apparently listening in
tently, from the way in which his
nostrils expanded and twitched.
That something was a miss was evi-
dent, for leaning his spear against
the wall, he now took off his ragged
blue shirt he wore, unfastened his
girdle, and set free a formidable
looking waddy, or club, before
throwing himself fat upon the
ground to listen.
Samson paused startled, and
though unchanged, he involuntarily
cooked his piece as Teddy, the black
shepherd, leaped up and exclaimed: ::
"Black fellows all a-coming-one