Australian Tales - Setis

“THAT'S a raal jintleman, God bless him!” exclaimed Micky, after he
had in some degree recovered from the emotion which had overcome
him on the departure of his kind friend Mr. Hopewell. “A raal, out-andout
jintleman, every bit ov him; an I'll niver forgit him, so long as I've
got sinse enough in me to think of anythin at all. An sure I'll take his
advice, an maybe this 'll turn out the luckiest cruize I iver took in me life.
I feel a mortial sight aisier in me mind than I iver felt since I crossed over
the sea from owld Ireland. Troth, an I don't think I iver felt so plazed,
like, even in that same darlint little green isle, which bates the other
green isles in the world, all to pebbles an brick-dust. Me heart feels rale
glad, so it does; an I could hop about wid delight — if I'd got me boots
on — an if it wasn't for the sorrow I feel at partin wid me bist frind: I'm
afear'd I shall niver see the dear cratur any more. Oh, yis, I shall, though;
I'm forgettin what he tould me already. Yes, I shall see him agin in
heaven, so I shall; an wid the help ov God I mane to get there, soh. I
know the way there now, an that's worth more nor all the other
knowledge I iver had in me head, iver since I owned a head at all; be the
same token — I believe a head isn't worth ownin, if it hasn't got that
same knowledge in it.”
Micky then arose from his seat on the ground, picked up the old pistol
which was lying near, and put it into the pocket of his cloak, remarking,
as he did so, that he might swop it for a pair of new boots, or a new hat.
He then tied his books carefully up in his neckerchief, and with his
precious little bundle in one hand, and his shillelah in the other, he
resumed his journey homewards.
He trudged along for several hours, pleasingly engaged with his
reflections on the last night's conversation with his kind instructor, and
occasionally expressing his grateful feelings in loud exclamations, and
pithy encomiums, on the “Good frind who had helped to make him feel
as happy as a parson.” As the sun rose higher in the cloudless sky, its
fierce beams began to attack poor Micky's head through its dilapidated
covering; and, withal, being rather footsore and weary, he seated himself,
about noon, at the foot of a large tree to rest, and at the same time opened
his little bundle to gaze again at the treasures therein, which he was so
proud of possessing. He had sat for some time pondering over the
passages in his Bible, which Mr. Hopewell had specially directed him to
study, and was unconscious of the proximity of any human being, until
he heard a shuffling noise close to him, and on looking round, saw a
stout old man, genteelly dressed, lying in the road, and his horse
galloping away through the bush. Micky immediately arose and ran to
the assistance of the fallen man, when his ears were assailed with a
volley of oaths and curses.
“What do you mean by squatting your ugly carcase right in the road, to
frighten people's horses, and break their necks, you blundering baboon,”