Mitchell: A Character Sketch
Henry Lawson


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IT was a very mean station, and Mitchell thought he had better go himself and beard the overseer for tucker. His mates were for waiting till the overseer went out on the run, and then trying their luck with the cook; but the self-assertive and diplomatic Mitchell decided to go.
“Good day,” said Mitchell.

“Good day,” said the manager.

“It’s hot,” said Mitchell.

“Yes, it’s hot.”

“I don’t suppose,” said Mitchell; “I don’t suppose it’s any use asking you for a job?”

“ Naw.”

“Well, I won’t ask you,” said Mitchell, “but I don’t suppose you want any fencing done!”

“Naw.”

“Nor boundary-riding?”

“Naw.”

“You ain’t likely to want a man to knock round?”

“Naw.”

“I thought not. Things are pretty bad just now.”

“Na—yes—they are.”

“Ah, well; there’s a lot to be said on the squatter’s side as well as the men’s. I suppose I can get a bit of rations?”

“Ye-yes.” (Shortly)—“Wot d’yer want?”

“Well, let’s see; we want a bit of meat and flour—I think that’s all. Got enough tea and sugar to carry us on.”

“All right. Cook! have you got any meat?” “No!”

To Mitchell: “Can you kill a sheep?”

“Rather!”

To the cook: “Give this man a cloth and knife and steel, and let him go up to the yard and kill a sheep.” (To Mitchell) “You can take a fore-quarter and get a bit of flour.”

Half an hour later Mitchell came back with the carcass wrapped in the cloth.

“Here yer are; here’s your sheep,” he said to the cook.

“That’s all right; hang it in there. Did you take a forequarter?

“No.”

“Well, why didn’t you? The boss told you to.”

“I didn’t want a fore-quarter. I don’t like it. I took a hind-quarter.”

So he had.

The cook scratched his head; he seemed to have nothing to say. He thought about trying to think, perhaps, but gave it best. It was too hot and he was out of practice.

“Here, fill these up, will you?” said Mitchell. “That’s the tea-bag, and that’s the sugar-bag, and that’s the flour-bag.”

He had taken them from the front of his shirt.

“Don’t be frightened to stretch ’em a little, old man. I’ve got two mates to feed.”

The cook took the bags mechanically and filled them well before he knew what he was doing. Mitchell talked all the time.

“Thank you,” said he—“got a bit of baking-powder?”

“Ye—yes, here you are.”

“Thank you. Find it dull here, don’t you?”

“Well, yes, pretty dull. There’s a bit of cooked beef and some bread and cake there, if you want it!”

“Thanks,” said Mitchell, sweeping the broken victuals into an old pillow-slip which he carried on his person for such an emergency. “I s’pose you find it dull round here.”

“Yes, pretty dull.”

“No one to talk to much?”

“No, not many.”

“Tongue gets rusty?”

“Ye—es, sometimes.”

“Well, so long, and thank yer.”

“So long,” said the cook (he nearly added “thank yer”).

“Well, good day; I’ll see you again.”

“Good day.”

Mitchell shouldered his spoil and left.

The cook scratched his head; he had a chat with the overseer afterwards, and they agreed that the traveller was a bit gone.

But Mitchell’s head wasn’t gone—not much: he had been round a bit—that was all.


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Wow, Skippy1.

You're a source of nice, long stories. Sadly I don't understand much of them, because translated stories often lose their meaning ( and jokes ) .

BTW : How much time do you spent to type in such a huge topic ? :D

Hi Loudhy,

Glad you enjoy them, wasn't sure if many people read them or not.

This one is about another Swagman called Mitchell. It tells how he manages to swindle the local Station (Large Farm) owner out of some food, without paying for it or doing any work for it.

In the early white history of Australia, the Swagmen had a reputation for this sort of thing. Not all were quite so blatant about it though. You notice that he arrives at the farm without his mates, and the farmer and his cook never once lay eyes on these "mates". :D But he has enough food off them to feed three. Also the way he talks the farmer into saying "yes" is classic.

Anyway, if there is anything in particular you don't understand, just post it and I'll do my best to interpret it for you. Bear in mind though that these stories all come from the late 1800's to the early 1900's, and the language is some what archaic.

Cheers, Skip.

You know what is really weird? My name is Mitch [img]graemlins/biglaugh.gif[/img]