Australian Tales - Setis

niver fear — that is iv he's able to do it; and if he isn't, why dash it all,
we can help ourselves and no thanks to nobody, as the rats sed whin they
got into ould Mulligan's granary.’
“ ‘In what part of Australia does your brother reside?’ I asked.
“ ‘Shure an I don't know where he is at all, sir; I whish I did know.
Teddy ran away from home many years agone, when he was a gossoon
not much bigger nor my bhoy Mike. He sint us a letther soon afterwards,
to tell us that he wasn't drowned on the voyage to Sydney, and that he
wos goin' up the counthry to some outlandish place wid a long whuzzy
buzzy name that I cud niver spake widout coughin', and which I've clane
forgot years agone. That's all I know about Teddy; but maybe I'll find
him one of these days, an he'll be plaised enough to see me, I'll wager,
for it's twins we were whin we were bhoys, and as much alike as two
wild rabbits, only he'd got a dale more gumption nor meself, which was
plain enough from his rinnin' away from poverty, while I stopped in it till
it pritty nigh ate the heart clane out ov me. Och hone! an thire's a mighty
lot ov poor hungry souls in ould Ireland, so there is, wus luck.’
“Soon after the Walrus's arrival in Melbourne I took steamer for
Sydney, intending to stay there a month or two, in order to secure the
best season of the year for returning home by way of Cape Horn. I went
to stay with my old college friend, Grant, who was living in tolerably
good style, in a pleasant part of Sydney. The day before Christmas I had
been strolling about the city, looking at the numerous well-stocked
provision shops, and the fruit market, and contrasting the sultry, dusty
atmosphere with Christmas weather at the antipodes. I returned in the
afternoon, weary, warm, and dusty to my friend's house, and stretching
myself on a sofa in his sanctum, was watching the pertinacious attempts
of a grey mosquito to tap my nose, when Grant walked in, with a letter in
his hand. ‘I have been looking for you Mac. Here is an invitation for you
to accompany me to a dinner party to-morrow, at my friend O'Grady's. I
hope you are not otherwise engaged,’ he said, tossing the letter to me to
read.
“ ‘Your friend, O'Grady, is not a scholar,’ said I, smiling, as I returned
the quaintly worded note of invitation, ‘However, he may be a clever
fellow for all that, and I am sure he is a respectable man or you would
not own his acquaintance. I will go with pleasure.’
“ ‘O'Grady is certainly not a scholar, as you remark,’ said Grant, ‘still
he has a large share of good practical sense, with general information,
and a vein of native humour which the most prosy savant in the land
would appreciate; in short, he is a capital fellow, and you will enjoy his
company — for I know you love thorough men, whatever their condition
in life may be. His wife is a high-bred lady; perhaps a little too stately
beside her uncultured spouse, but withal a kind-hearted woman.
O'Grady's history is rather an amusing one. He came to this colony thirty