| Show cs aim 11 jsu insi III III A long narrow track curls in and out amongst the forest trees like a great dirty yellow ribbon the sun pours down upon it all day long and the unceasing glare adds to its uell ness there is no sign of moisture an where within sight not a drop of water has fallen from the blue skies tor six months past the wheels of wagons and the hoofs of horses have churned and kicked the surface of the track into fine red blust so fine that every passing breeze picks up the powdered earth and plays with it on the straight stretches of the for est trail the breeze carries the dust in a filmy haze like the dun colored mist one meets with at eventide in the china seas where the trail bends suddenly to right or left the playful winds catch up the dust and whirl it round and round in swiftly revolving circles lifting it higher and mining camp in time tor the christ mas revels that are certain to take place the great camp comes in sight A long narrow gully flanked on both sides by low hills dotted all over with dirty tents that look too hot to shield even a dog on such a blistering day in front ot nearly every business place no matter whether it be made of galvan zed iron wood or bag and canvas the owners have tied a liberal amount of fresh green foliage all day long men have been busy bring ing in great wagon loads of young trees and green branches cut in the forest close by and the business folk have purchased liberally camels are kneeling in the high way whilst their afghan drovers un load them and they and cluck and groan dismally as though loth to and saffron colored robe looking out of place amidst the whirl of australian life the chinaman gets no comell ments he is not welcome on a gold field and he knows it and what Is more he has no legal bigit there a fact which he also knows as well as his neighbors the sun sinks in a blood red bank of clouds in the west there is a great glow on all the earth and the glory of the everlasting skies fills the world with splendor the crimson flame flickers for a moment then dies out and the clouds turn purple then black and the night is mistress of he mining camp A myriad lights leap into being chinese lanterns glow in every bunch of greenery they flutter across the track in long gleaming strings then women and boys ride down the highway on the horses on on camels and all carry achl along the causeway comes the lit tie band of carol singers at their head a wandering preacher who with his daughter goes wherever the spirit calls him the man carries his hat in his hand and sings in a deep bass that Is almost a roar the girl with hands folded in front of her with her bonnet pushed back almost on to her neck fills the street with melody glory glory glor glory glor to the new born king the halt dozen disciples who follow the preacher and his daughter take up the words and send the old old message ringing proudly joyously into the very heart of the night the music the words touch and stir the crowds they cease to shout and yell they cease to dance and drink they cease to curse and gamble out from the drinking dens they pour into the street out from the gambling hells higher until its topmost spirals seem to melt into the very skies all along the track the trees on both sides are covered with dust it lies thickly upon the trunks it clings to the boughs it bows down the leaves giving a strange unnatural appearance to everything that grows if you were not a bushman you could not tell one tree from another under that summer mantle half a dozen horsemen come along the track each rider leading a pack horse by a halter long of limb are these men bearded tor the most part with dry thin weather tanned faces they wear their broad brimmed soft felt hats pulled far down over their brows to keep the dust out of their ees they sit loosely in the saddle with a slovenly careless seat and look to an untrained eyo as it it would not take much to shift them should a horse buck suddenly or stumble yet most of them could ride a whirlwind it they could only sad die it for they are australian pio making their way into the big part with their burdens mules with ears laid flat back and big dir ty yellow teeth laid bare step quick iv through the throng drawing carts da ly decorated and covered with qua nt devices planned by the differ ent tradesmen to whom they belong auctioneers and cheap jacks are hold ing impromptu sales in the open air little squads of horsemen dash in from the outside camps wearing white soft slouch hats blue or red shirts breeches and spurred boots they sing and shout merrily and get and return chaff with careless tree dom all is noise and motion all is merriment and reckless freedom for the diggers are out to spend their gold and spend it they will though the heavens tall little brown men and women too from japan dressed in all their oriental finery jostle their way amidst the eager crowd the jap women smiling gaily as the bronz ed diggers toss them playful comell ments A serious faced chinaman now and then puts in an appearance his big plaited straw hat long pigtail I 1 nese lanterns that dodge and dance and glisten joyously old comrades who have been sundered for ears meet and clasp hands in the sturdy grip the digger loves they shou der their way to the nearest bar and drink to the memory of comrades burled and comrades bankrupt and liap again through the scenes that made them friends As the night wears on men reel out of the drinking hells flushed hot eager for quarrels groups link arm la arm and go reeling down the cause way shouting singing capering laughing ripe for fun or mischief hark a bell rings out loud and high above the din a bell that tells that christmas day has come hark yet again A young girls voice comes stealing sweetly through the warm night air other voices join in and blend with it strange sounds to catch the listening ear amidst such surroundings hark the herald angels sing glory to the new born king glory glory glory glory glory to the new born king out from the dancing saloons A mighty hush falls on the camp I 1 hughie the baker chief probes gambler in the camp leans his elbows on the window sill of his hotel and quietly tears his cards across the middle one by one and drops his dice box out amongst the feet of the crowd then just as some of the baser spirits in the throng try to drown the choir voices with a ribald shout the gambler thinking of his far off home am ast dst the green english lanes raises his deep rich voice a voice that every digger knew and blending perfectly with the voice of the preachers daughter sings hark the herald angels eing glory to the new born king glory glory glory glory glory to the new born king then the whole street bursts into one great glad song of praise and adoration and christmas came to the camp A G hales in montreal her aid |
