Australian Tales - Setis

chicken and a brown loaf; a plum pudding, a pumpkin pie, a tincan full
of new milk, and a bottle of Colonial rum. Half-an-hour afterwards they
had all embarked in the boat, and Mr. Knipps was steadily pulling down
the river with the tide, while his wife was singing “hey diddle diddle” to
the baby, and Polly and Billy were towing little toy ships from the stern
of the boat.
In course of time they arrived at Bandicoot brush, where they landed,
and fastened the boat to a mangrove bush. It was a very retired place, and
the thick vines overhead formed a pleasant shade from the sun's fierce
rays. Mrs. Knipps first of all spread a blanket on the ground, and laid her
baby down to amuse himself with his new rattle. She then spread a tablecloth
on the ground close by, and placed the contents of the bushel basket
upon it. In the meantime Mr. Knipps had uncorked the bottle of rum, and
refreshed himself with a strong dram after his long pull. They then all
squatted in Turkish style round the table cloth, and made a hearty meal;
the young ones paying special court to the plum pudding, and the new
milk.
After the feasting was over, Mr. Knipps mixed himself some more rum
and water in a pannikin, then lighted his pipe, and seated himself with his
back to the trunk of a wild fig-tree, and began, as he said, to make
himself happy. Mrs. Knipps sat down on the blanket, and played bo-peep
with the baby. Billy went fishing from the boat, and Polly rambled about
the brush, picking wild flowers and native gooseberries. The greatest
drawbacks to their comfort were the myriads of grey mosquitos, and
soldier ants; the latter waggish little insects more than once made Mr.
and Mrs. Knipps suddenly jump up and dance, without music; and the
former raised innumerable lumps on the baby as large as grey peas.
Nevertheless, so far from regretting their position, Mrs. Knipps smilingly
observed “that she would rather be tickled by all the insects in the bush,
than be bothered with the Boozems,” and she ever and anon chuckled out
her satisfaction, that she had so cleverly managed to give her hungry
neighbours the cut, without appearing to be mean.
Mr. Knipps's eyes twinkled, and his nose glowed with gastric glory, as
he sat beneath the fig-tree, puffing his pipe. Under ordinary
circumstances, he was a man of few words and slow of action, but rum
usually made an alteration in him. On this occasion it wrought an
extraordinary change — perhaps it was extra strong — for he grew quite
funny, and after his third pannikin he got up and danced the “nervous
cure,” while his wife (who had some musical talent) played an
appropriate air on one of her side combs with a piece of paper over it. In
the midst of his comical fandango, which astonished the baby, he was
suddenly struck serious by the shrieks of Polly in the adjacent brush. He
hurried away, as fast as he could stagger, in the direction of the cries,
when he was shocked at seeing his daughter hanging head downwards