HOW A CLAIM WAS JUMPED.

Globe, Volume XXI, Issue 1794, 20 November 1879, Page 4

HOW A CLAIM WAS JUMPED.

So your sweetheart's given you up, rny boy, And you're taking it much to heart, That that new chum chap should cut you out Who were favorite at the start. Well, it's lucky she's changed her mind in time, For I think it must be bad, To find, after marriage, one's not the man One's wife would rather have had. It happens that way sometimes, yon know, 1 And, if one finds it out, Afl one's apt to do, there's not much good Left in one's life, I doubt. For although the lady may not bolt, But is willing at homo to stay, The old man, I guess, must often feel That he's rather in the way. And so, as I said before, 'tis well That the new chum wasn't too late ; His taking the girl from you now perhaps Has spared you a far worse fate, Bnt you needn't look so savage at me, Don't get mad at my bit of chaff ! Come, I know that this disappointment, mate, Is a bitter draught to quaff. But don't cave in : keep up your pluck 1 You're not the only one Whose hopes have been withered up by a gi rl . Like grass by the summer s sun. Sit down and I'll tell you a bit of a yarn, Whila the billy boils for tea; I'll tell yon how my claim was jumped, And how it affected me. When I came to this country first, my boy, I was just such a chap as youj Full of life and the love of life, Quite as good looking too. Too needn't grin I I know I'm not Excessively handsome now, But drink plays the devil with looks, old man, And I've drunk my whack, I'll allow. Well, my first location was Bendigo, And there I met with a girl, As handsome as paint, and good as gold, A regular genuine pearl. I wasn't long about falling in love, Nor in telling her of the fact, Though I stammered a bit, for the gift of gab Is a gift I always lacked. But she seemed to take, to me well enough, And said she would marry me when I was ready for her; bless her heart ! How jolly I felt 1 So then I went to work with a will to raise The money to build a bouse; I worked two shifts a day for months, And lived as cheap as a mouse.

Well, there was a chap in the claim with me, A pale-faced delicate lad, With soft, fair hair, and deep bine eyes, And a smile ao sweet and sad ! He knew no more about hard work Than this bit of wattle stick; His slender fingers were not the sort For grasping the shovel and pick, Bnt still he did his best, and I Took a mighty fancy to him. I used to think how over the sea Some loving old eyes would grow dim, As a loving mother's heart would ache With yearning for her son, Who was likely the pet of all her flock— Or perhaps her only one. Well, one night we two were at work in the drive When the timber above gave way; I shall never forget it, Ned, if I live A thousand years and a day ! The horrid sound of the earth as it fell, The closeness that stifled my breath, The darkness—for both the lanterns were out— God 1 it seemed an awful death. But soon I found that my limbs were free, And I'd space to move about; And then I grew plucky again, for I knew Our mates would dig us out. I hollered to Jim (he'd a very swell name, But we all of us called him Jim) I said, " Where are you mate ? Sing out ! " But there came no answer from him. I groped about; and at last I felt His face and his hands and chest; He was right enough as far as the waist, But tee earth covered all the rest. I had just two matches left in my box (That's just a fellow's luck; Just when he has most need of a thing For that thing he's sure to be stuck I) But anyhow, they served my turn, And I saw by their glimmering light That Jim was gone off in a stone-dead faint, Through the hurt and the sudden fright; I worked and scratched away with my hands Till I got his legs near free, Though I knew all the while the risk I ran Of bringing the eaith down on me.

But I got him out and brought him to, And thankful enough was I; went on like a fool, when I heard him speak I began to bluhbgr and cry. ~**at I Boon stopped that, and as for him—•*"w i{_ T 'd always thought him a ohick, But he came out £•»«* k *»* «« air i He proved a regular brick! Not a groan i rom,hia lips, though I knew thtj pain In his legs must have been pretty bad; Bitting there in the dark, with death so close, Ned, I got to love that lad. Well, after several awful hours, We were dug out at last; How we felt I could never describe When we knew all the danger was past. Talk of coming back from the grave I Well, never mind, it's done; You've seen such thingß' yourself, and yon know The risk we diggers run. When Jim got better we shunted that claim, Started off on our own account, And—the very first prospecting—Btruck a patch That panned out a tidy a ount. And Jim I introduced to the girl Who was to be my wife, And he knew that, as soon as wo could, we two Were going in for married life. My good luck helped me to get to the house, And at last the day was Bet ; Ned, I was much too happy then—dream of it sometimes yet. Twas too good to last! One night after work I went over to Mary's place, Picturing to myself as I walked, My darling's sweet,'good face ;j And, just as I reached the open door I heard her talking to Jim, And the very first words tbat met my ear Told me that she loved him. Loved him more than she'd ever loved me ; Yet, purely for my sake She was driving him from her, and said she must Abide by her great mistake. 'Twas too late to tell me the truth she said, 'Twould be sure to break my heart; Therefore, and here she cried a bit, They mußt both be strong, and part. And through the chink in the door I saw Her stoop and kiss his hair ; Then she trembled and shut her pretty eyes And leaned againßt the chair ; Where he sat with his head bowed down in his hands ; Then he spoke, but his voice was low, So I only caught a word or two, But it seemed he consented to go. And he spoke of the love he had for me, In tones that were full of pain ; Then he rose to go, but earnestly begged She would see him just once again. I waited no longer, I turned away, And tramped for an hour or two, In a half-blind, stupid kind of way, Wondering what I should do. The night was hot; a thunderstorm Had been hanging long in the air ; It came on at last, with pelting rain And lightning's dazzling glare. During the heaviest of it I stood Sheltering under a tree ; Two limbs were wrenched off, and I cursed aloud , Because neither one fell on me. My time wasn't come it seemed, and so I set cff walking again, And found myself shortly back at the hut, All soaked and dripping with rain. The candle was burning, Jim was in bed, And asleep, but I heard him moan— And he stretched out his arms, and called her name In a pitiful kind of tone.

What did Ido ? O, jnat packed my twig, To clear oat of the field you know j I couldn't keep even a bird in a cage, I£ I knew that it wanted to go, I wrote a few lines to her to say That, though she might think mi uakind, I deemed it my duty to tell her that About marriage I'd changed my mind.

And thought that a single and roving life, Would likeiy suit me better, And I felt too ashamed to see her a^aia, So I'd say goodbye by letter, And there was the cottage and everything She'd accept the lot, I prayed, And I wished her well, and then—why then There was nothing more to be said.

To him I addressed a note as well, Telling him just the same, And hoping that he would look after her, And take my share in the claim. Then I took my swag and left the hut, With a pain in my heart like a knife, It seemed as if all the sunshine was gone For ever out of my life.

And that's the way my claim was jumped, And no one to blame, you see ; It's all in a fellow's luek, I think 1 But it took such a hold on me That I knocked about from pillar to post, Took to gambliag and drink at last.; Did everything that was likely to help Me along to the devil fast.

Did I ever see her again ? Why, yes. It was given to her to save Me from going, as I should have gone long ago. Blind-drunk, no doubt, to the grave. Onca, when I hadn't a tanner left, And couldn't raise even a shout — 'Twas in Melbourne, I thought I'd make for the bush, So from the town cleared out.

I tramped and begged for three or four days, Then came on a " cockatoo ; " To the house I went to ask for food And a bit of work to do, Two youngsters were playing about the door, — One, a tiny girl, so fair That I couldn't help stooping over to touch The curls of her Bhining hair. Then the mother cime to the door, and lo ! It was Mary, not altered a bit, Except to look handsomer than of old .; Dp she catches the baby-chit. And asks me what I please to want, And, before I could stop to think, I stuttered out that I'd only turned Out of my track for a diink. She offered to make me a cup of tea, Bade me sit down and rest; But I said I'd a long way yet to go, And must lose no time I guessed. She didn't know me, so off I went, And soon I caught sight of Jim On horseback, and spying a shepherd-boy, I goes np, and says I to him : " What place is this, mate 7 and who's yon chap ? " Says he, " What, him on the hoes ? 0, this is Moorambarra Home, And him, why he's the boss 1" Well, I made another station that night, And got a job there at last, And took time to consider what a fool I'd been for some seven years past. They were both happy, and thanks to me ; Well, that was all fair and right, But for me to go drinking myself to death Seemed the meanest kind of spite. So I altered my ways, Ned, and p'rhaps some day, In that world where there's none of the pain, Of longings denied —hope's shattered—l may See my darling's sweet face again. Thorpe Talbot. Christchurch.