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[Registered at the General Post Office, Brisbane, for transmission as a newspaper.]

New Series—Vol. VII. BRISBANE.    April, 1916.


By courtesy of Editor Journal of the R.M.C. of Australia.

Anzac—I.Egypt and the Landing

By E. W. H. Fowles, M.A., LL.B.








re-con-nai-sance im-pro-vised pre-ea-ri-ous ca-pri-cious dis-sem-i-nate sil-hou-et-ted

dis-guise rendez-vous


Albany was farewellecl by the first convoy 1 on November 1st, 1914, the low blue line of Australian coast had slipped beneath the horizon, and they were fairly launched on their task —the future Anzacs. Whence came they? and whither going? Gathered from bush and township, office-desk and camp fire, shearers’ shed and suburban villa, strong, brave fellows, they represented every occupation in Australasia, eager to strike a blow for freedom and “to do their bit” worthily in the greatest war of all the centuries. For the call had come to the Dominions overseas, and enthusiasm ran high through every State and province. Three months after war broke out, the Commonwealth had 33,000 men equipped and ready to sail ; 15,000 were training in camp; and thousands more were enlisting. (By February, 1916, the Australian force abroad for active service had grown to 150,043—more than twice Wellington’s army at Waterloo. The number scheduled for June next is 270,000 men. And still they go, and will go, till the task be over.) But in that November no one dreamed yet of Mena and Mudros, of Shrapnel Gully and Lone Pine. Even their name was not yet given, the name that flashed into being and stays in history like a star in the firmament. At that time fame had not yet garlanded their brows, they were just loyal Britishers, sons of the Southern Seas, hastening to the front.


Half-way on their 3,300-mile run from Albany to Colombo is Cocos Island, where, on 9th November, 1914, in one hour and forty minutes after the firing of the first shot, H.M.A.S. ‘ ‘ Sydney ’ ’ put an end to the raiding cruiser ‘ ‘ Emden. ’ ’ Onward the convoy steams, nearing that great Empire possession with its 315,000,000 souls, loyal from the Himalayan snows to the sea —many of the gallant Gurkhas 2 and Sikhs3 had a share in

Gallipoli, too! An hour or two in Ceylon, with its glimpses of towering hills draped in never-failing green, its sea of sapphire lapping the yellow beaches, its palm-groves and temples and laughing multitudinous natives—then weigh anchor and on across the Arabian Gulf, missing the monsoons and steadily, night and day, nearing Suez. The Canal, the Nile, the Pyramids,


Commander of the Australian and New Zealand Army Corps.

Cairo, the illimitable Libyan desert—here is the environment where the plucky Anzacs    are

toughened and trained to the acme of fitness.

Their company drill and musketry courses they had learned in Australasia. But it was in Egypt, under the shadow of the Sphinx, that they became soldiers.

The desert made them. Mena and Heliopolis, the morning’s tramp, tramp, tramp over endless sandhills, the lecture work of afternoons, the long watchings while sharp winter nights mellowed into summer, the daily ordeal of labour under iron regime—all were needed before the first 30,000 men from Australia and 10,000 from New Zealand could be shaped and welded into that famous army corps. “Anzacs at Mena” would afford material for a hundred novels. The tented lines, the streets and kitchens, the big white wooden mess-huts, the thousand letters from loving homes, the stirring masses of khaki, the Light Horse Camp, and the Cairo background—all formed a unique chapter in the world-drama. Lieutenant-General Birdwood, “ the soul of Anzac, ” was their commander, chosen by Lord Kitchener. Troopship after troopship landed new drafts from Australasia, and the army grew into three divisions—all trained with the same rigour. Irksome it was at first, almost to breaking-point, but the men went so loyally and cheerfully through it all that General Bridges declared that “the Australians had won their first victory on the sands of Egypt.”


At last the day came—the day to embark for Gallipoli. General Bridges commanded the First Australian Division, and he proved “a leader possessing in rare strength the greatest qualities of a soldier.” (They knighted him after his death, and his body, taken from its Egyptian grave, now rests at Canberra, in the bush near the Royal Australian Military College, which he himself had founded.) The mixed Australian and New Zealand Division was led by Major-General Sir A. Godley, of the Irish Guards. In his division were Generals Russell (N.Z.) and Monash (Melbourne). Two divisional and six brigade staffs organised the landing. After General Bridges’ death, BrigadierGeneral AYalker, an Indian Army soldier, took over the First Division. General Legge, who organised and commanded the Second Australian Division, brought them from Egypt to Gallipoli in September. General Bridges’ headquarters staff included Colonels L. B. White (Chief), Brand, Blarney, and Cass. Eleven Brigadier-Generals had been appointed to the four Light Horse and seven Infantry Brigades, and nine reached the front. General Linton was lost when the 1 ‘ Sutherland ’ ’ transport was torpedoed on its way from Alexandria to Mudros. General J. W. McCay, who went through the great Krithia charge, had to return, twice wounded. General Sinclair Maclagan was worthily given the most responsible work on April 25th. And when the hour came for deeds, the Anzac generals, no less than the men, were ready for their part.


The peninsula has been termed a natural citadel. The sea cliffs rise sheer from the water two or three hundred feet. ‘ ‘ The face of these cliffs is a mixture of sandstone and clay. They are extremely irregular and, for the most part, difficult of ascent. Their sides are dotted irregularly with heavy brushwood and sometimes crowned with the same growth. This brushwood


(Quantities of stores are stacked on the beach.)

affords the defenders admirable cover. It is also a formidable natural obstacle.” And beyond the shore line the land is “a jumble of hill, ravine, gully, cleft, tableland, valley, and mountain. It is as if Nature has stored here all the odds anti ends of contours not used in other parts of the earth. The hills have no system, and the nullahs 4 wander in and out, crossing and turning aimlessly. Yet the slopes of the hills provide exceptional fields of fire. It would seem as if the whole peninsula had been hastily built as an improvised fortress. Every summit, every chasm makes for impregnability.” And this bulwark of Nature was made even stronger by every device that military engineers could conceive—a network of barbed-wire entanglements, trenches flung in all directions, machine guns concealed at all points of vantage —so that every ridge was turned into a fort, every valley was a trap full of obstacles. Add to this the scarcity of water (especially during summer), the inferiority of our maps, the precarious line of supplies, the enormous difficulties of transport, and one can gather some faint notion of the herculean 5 task that faced the Anzacs when, outnumbered by two to one, they flung themselves into the impossible, and earned more by death there than by an easy victory elsewhere. ‘ ‘ They never fail who die in a great cause.”


The main events leading up to the landing may be briefly told. On March 18th the fierce battle between the Allies’ warships and the land fortresses showed that any attempt at landing anywhere would be met with the fiercest and most powerful opposition. A preliminary telescopic reconnaissance by Sir Ian Hamilton in March disclosed lines of wire entanglements, gun emplacements, infantry redoubts,0 and beach preparations, all so systematic and thorough that the whole coast seemed a garrisoned stronghold, and nothing but a rapid and simultaneous descent in different spots upon the shore could hope to succeed, and then only if boatload after boatload of reinforcements were following to hold what we took. Even the capricious weather had to be considered, for there were days of storm when not a man could be put ashore.

Finally, five beaches were chosen, S, V, W, X, and Y. Of these, Y, W, and X were to be the main landings, timed for 5.30 on the morning of the 25th, after half an hour’s bombardment from the fleet. Landings at S and Y were to be at dawn, and were for the purpose of protecting the flanks, to disseminate the


forces of the enemy, and to interrupt the arrival of his reinforcements. What the 2nd South Wales Borderers (under LieutenantColonel Casson) did at S beach, and Lieutenant-Colonel Koe with his detachment did at Y, the prowess of the Royal Fusiliers at X, the heroism of the Munster and Dublin Fusiliers at V (where, amid scenes of great bravery, the “River Clyde” was run ashore to pour forth her living freight), the dazzling feat of arms accomplished by the Lancashire Fusiliers at W beach (which junctioned with X on Hill 114 before 10 in the morning) —all this is a story of blood and bravery, of fury and fire, that must be told elsewhere.

destiny’s dawn.

Our present tale is of the Anzacs. What part did they play ? Read the record, stirring in its simplicity, from Sir Ian Hamilton’s first despatch (dated May 20th) :—

“The Australian and New Zealand Army Corps” (the initials give “Anzac, ” a new word for a new chapter in history) “sailed out of Mudros Bay on the afternoon of 24th April, escorted by the 2nd Squadron of the Fleet under Rear-Admiral Thursby. The rendezvous was reached just after half-past one in the morning of 25th April, and there the 1,500 men who had been placed on board H.M. ships before leaving Mudros were transferred to their boats. This operation was carried out with remarkable expedition, and in absolute silence. Simultaneously the remaining 2,500 men of the covering force were transferred from their transports to six destroyers.

“At 2.30 a.m., H.M. ships, together with the tows and the destroyers, proceeded to within some four miles of the coast, H.M.S. “ Queen” (flying Rear-Admiral Thursby’s flag) directing on a point about a mile north of Gaba Tepe. At 3.30 a.m., orders to go ahead and land were given to the tows, and at 4.10 a.m. the destroyers were ordered to follow.

“All these arrangements worked without a hitch, and were carried out in complete orderliness and silence. No breath of wind ruffled the surface of the sea, and every condition was favourable save for the moon, which, sinking behind the ships, may have silhouetted them against its orb, betraying them thus to watchers on the shore.

“A rugged and difficult part of the coast had been selected for the landing, so difficult and rugged that I considered the Turks were not at all likely to anticipate such a descent. Indeed owing to the tows having failed to maintain their exact direction,

the actual point of disembarkation was rather more than a mile north of that which I had selected, and was more closely overhung by steeper cliffs.

“Although this accident increased the initial difficulty of driving the enemy off the heights inland, it has since proved itself to have been a blessing in disguise, inasmuch as the actual base of the force of occupation has been much better defiladed from shell fire.

“The beach on which the landing was actually effected is a very narrow strip of sand, about 1,000 yards in length, bounded on the north and the south by two small promontories. At its southern extremity a deep ravine with exceedingly steep, scrub-clad sides, runs inland in a north-easterly direction. Near the northern end of the beach a small but steep gully runs up into the hills at right angles to the shore.

“The boats approached the land in the silence and the darkness, and they were close to the shore before the enemy stirred. Then about one battalion of Turks was seen running along the beach to intercept the lines of boats. At this so critical a moment the conduct of all ranks was most praiseworthy. Not a word was spoken—everyone remained perfectly orderly and quiet, awaiting the enemy’s fire, which sure enough opened, causing many casualties.


“The moment the boats touched land, the Australians’ turn had come. Like lightning, they leapt ashore, and each man as he did so went straight as his bayonet at the enemy. So vigorous was the onslaught that the Turks made no attempt to withstand it, and fled from ridge to ridge pursued by the Australian infantry.

“This attack was carried out by the 3rd Australian Brigade, under Major (temporary Colonel) Sinclair Maclagan, D.S.O. The 1st and 2nd Brigades followed promptly, and were all disembarked by 2 p.m., by which time 12,000 men and two batteries of Indian Mountain Artillery had been landed. The disembarkation of further artillery was delayed owing to the fact that the enemy’s heavy guns opened on the anchorage and forced the transports, which had been subjected to continuous shelling from his field guns, to stand further out to sea.

“The broken ground, the thick scrub, the necessity for sending any formed detachments post haste as they landed to the critical point of the moment, the headlong valour of scattered

groups of the men who had pressed far farther into the peninsula than had been intended—all this led to confusion and mixing up of units. Eventually the mixed crowd of fighting men, some advancing from the beach, others falling back before the oncoming Turkish supports, solidified into a semi-circular position, with its right about a mile north of Gapa Tepe and its left on the    high


ground    over

Fisherman’s Hut.

‘ ‘ During this period parties of the 9th and 10th Battalions charged, and put out of action three of the enemy’s Krupp guns. During this period also the disembarkation of the Australian Division was being followed by that of the mixed New Zealand and Australian Division (two brigades only).

((„    Who succeeded Vice-Admiral Carden as commander

r rom 11 a.111.    of Allied Fleet in the Dardanelles.

to 3 p.m. the

enemy, now reinforced to a strength of 20,000 men, attacked the whole line, making a specially strong effort against the 3rd Brigade and the left of the 2nd Brigade. This counterattack was, however, handsomely repulsed with the help of the guns of H.M. ships. Between 5 and 6.30 p.m. a third most determined counter-attack was made against the 3rd Brigade, who held their ground with more than equivalent stubbornness.

“During the night, again the Turks made constant attacks, and the 8th Battalion repelled a bayonet charge; but in spite of all the line held firm. The troops had had practically no rest on the night of 24th to 25th April; they had been fighting hard all day over most difficult country, and they had been subjected to heavy shrapnel7 fire in the open. Their casualties had been deplorably heavy. But, despite their losses and in spite of their fatigue, the morning of 26th April found them still in good heart and as full of fight as ever.”


Admiral de Robeck, reporting the landing at Gaba Tepe, wrote:—‘‘The beach here was very narrow and continuously under shell fire. The difficulties of disembarkation were accentuated by the necessity of removing the wounded; both operations proceeded simultaneously. The service was one which called for great determination and coolness under fire, and the success achieved indicates the spirit animating ail concerned. In this respect I would specially mention the extraordinary gallantry and dash shown by the 3rd Australian Infantry Brigade (Colonel Sinclair Maclagan, D.S.O.), who formed the covering force. .    .    . On the 26th the landing of troops, guns, and

stores continued throughout the day; this was a most trying service, as the enemy kept up an incessant shrapnel fire, and it was extremely difficult to locate the well-concealed guns of the enemy. ... At Gaba Tepe the landing and the dash of the Australian Brigade for the cliffs were magnificent; nothing could stop such men. The Australian and New Zealand Army Corps in this, their first battle, set a standard as high as that of any army in history, and one of which their countrymen have every reason to be proud. ’ ’


1.    First convoy—Arrived at Colombo, November 16th ; landed in

Egypt, December 5th. The second convoy left Australia

December 28th, and landed in Egypt February 1st, 1915.

The third convoy embarked February 2nd-25th.

2.    Gurkhas—Soldiers from the race of hardy mountaineers of Nepal,


3.    Sikhs—Soldiers of a warlike race in the N.W. of India.

4.    Nullahs—(A corruption of Hind, nala, a brook) ; dry water-courses.

5.    Herculean (From Hercules, the strong man, or “ Samson ” of

Greek story, who performed wonderful labours)—Requiring

immense labour, or strength ; very difficult.

6.    Redoubts—Military outworks (in fortification).

7.    Shrapnel—An explosive shell filled with bullets. (Named after

General H. Shrapnel, 1761-1842, who invented the shell in 1803).

( The illustrations in this and the succeeding Anzac articles are taken, for the most part from “ The Times History ol the War.)

The Sailing of the Long-Ships.

bea-cons    an-cient    hin-drance    van-quished

They saw the cables loosened, they saw the gangway cleared, They heard the women weeping, they heard the men that cheered.

Far off, far off, the tumult faded and died away,

And all alone the sea-wind came singing up the Bay.

“I came by Cape St. Vincent, I came by Trafalgar,

I swept from Torres Vedras1 to golden Vigo Bar,2 I saw the beacons blazing that fired the world with light When down their ancient highway your fathers passed to fight.

“O race of tireless fighters, flushed with a youth renewed, Right well the wars of Freedom befit the Sea-kings’ brood; Yet as ye go forget not the fame of yonder shore,

The fame ye owe your fathers and the old time before.

“Long-suffering were the Sea-kings, they were not swift to kill, But when the sands had fallen they waited no man’s will; Though all the world forbade them, they counted not nor cared, They weighed not help or hindrance, they did the thing they dared.

“The Sea-kings loved not boasting, they cursed not him that cursed,

They honoured all men duly, and him that faced them, first; They strove and knew not hatred, they smote and toiled to save, They tended whom they vanquished, they praised the fallen brave.

“Their fame’s on Torres Vedras, their fame’s on Vigo Bar,

Par-flashed to Cape St. Vincent, it burns from Trafalgar; Mark as ye go the beacons that woke the world with light, When down their ancient highway your fathers passed to fight. ’ ’

—Henry Newbolt. (By kind permission of the Author.)


[Newbolt, Henry (1862—-—■),barrister and author, excels as a writer of stirring ballads on the naval and military glories of the Empire. See note, p. 7 of School Paper for Classes V. and VI., Jan., 1912.]

1.    Torres Vedras—A town of Portugal, N.W. of Lisbon. Near Torres

Vedras were the Duke of Wellington’s famous lines of defence in the Peninsular War.

2.    Vigo—A port in the N.W. of Spain. Here, in 1712, Sir George Rooke

destroyed a fleet of galleons that had just arrived with treasure from Amerioa.

Anzac—II. The Months of Battle.







how-it-zers sim-ul-ta-ne-ous-ly dis-ap-point-ment phys -i-caldy ac-cu-mu-late

pro-pi-tious in-er-ti-a scar-oi-ty in-es-cap-a-ble ex-tra-or-di-na-ri- ly

And what of the eight long months that followed that irresistible landing? No pen or tongue can adequately tell their story. The reorganisation of the breathless lines, the fight for

“Fir Clump” on 7th May, the advance on Krithia, the sorties from Quinn’s P o s t—it was here, on 15th May, that the beloved General Bridges received his fatal wound— the desperate assaults on Quinn’s a n d Courtney’s (19th May to 5th June), with awful cost both to the foe and our own forces, the straightening and consolidation of a new line, the continued attacks at Cape Hellas and the Lone Pine trenches, where the rain of shells and whizz of bullets seemed everlasting, the storming of Tasman Post on 31st July, the gallant but fruitless Suvla plunge on 7th August, the fierce fighting at Sari Bair, and at Chanuk Bair ridge, the laborious and constant tunnelling and barricading and sapmaking—all this and more, with pages of brightest heroism and terrible toll of the dead, was wrapped up in the first four months.

May itself was red with engagements, British and French at grips with the foe in constant attacks from 10th May to 4th June. And the Anzacs ? Turn for a moment to where they were perched upon the cliffs at Sari Bair, and take Sir Ian Hamilton’s own account of what they faced, and how they fared in that desperate assault by the Turks:—

‘ ‘ I must begin by explaining that their role at this stage of the operations was—first, to keep open a door leading to the vitals of the Turkish position; secondly, to hold up as large a body as possible of the enemy in front of them, so as to lessen the strain at Cape Hellas. Anzac, in fact, was cast to play second fiddle to Cape Hellas, a part out of harmony with the dare-devil spirit animating those warriors from the South, and so it has come about that, as your Lordship 8 will now see, the defensive of the Australians and New Zealanders has always tended to take on the character of an attack.


“The line held during the period under review by the Australian and New Zealand Army Corps formed a rough semicircle inland from the beach of Anzac Cove, with a diameter of about 1,100 yards. The firing line is everywhere close to the enemy’s trenches, and in all sections of the position sapping,counter-sapping, and bomb attacks have been incessant. The shelling both of the trenches and beaches has been impartial and liberal. As many as 1,400 shells have fallen on Anzac within the hour, and these of all calibres 10 from 11 in. to field shrapnel. Around Quinn’s Post, both above and below ground, the contest has been particularly severe. This section of the line is situated on the circumference of the Anzac semi-circle at the furthest point from its diameter. Here our fire trenches are mere ledges on the brink of a sheer precipice falling 200 ft. into the valley below. The enemy’s trenches are only a few feet distant.

“On 9th May a night assault, supported by enfilade fire, was delivered on the enemy’s trenches in front of Quinn’s Post. The trenches were carried at the point of the bayonet, troops established in them, and reinforcements sent up.

“At dawn on 10th May a strong counter-attack forced our troops to evacuate the trenches and fall back on Quinn’s Post. In opposing this counter-attack our guns did great execution, as we discovered later from a Turkish officer’s diary that two Turkish regiments on this date lost 600 killed and 2,000 wounded.

“On the night of 14th to 15th May, a sortie 11 was made from

Quinn’s Post with the object of filling in Turkish trenches in which bomb-throwers were active. The sortie, which cost us some seventy casualties, was not successful.


“On 14th May, Lieutenant-General Sir W. R. Birdwood was slightly wounded, but I am glad to say he was not obliged to relinquish the command of his corps.

“On 15th May, I deeply regret to say, Major-General W. T. Bridges, commanding the Australian Division, received a severe wound, which proved fatal a few days later. Sincere and singleminded in his devotion to Australia and to duty, his loss still stands out even amidst the hundreds of other brave officers who have gone.

“On 18th May Anzac was subjected to a heavy bombardment from large calibre guns and howitzers.12 At midnight on the 18th to 19th the most violent rifle and machine-gun tire yet experienced broke out along the front. Slackening from 3 a.m. to 4 a.m., it then broke out again, and a heavy Turkish column assaulted the left of No. 2 section. This assault was beaten off with loss. Another attack was delivered before daylight on the centre of this section; it was repeated four times and repulsed each time with very serious losses to the enemy. Simultaneously, a heavy attack was delivered on the north-east salient of No. 4 section, which was repulsed and followed up, but the pressing of the counter-attack was prevented by shrapnel. Attacks were also delivered on Quinn’s Post, Courtney’s Post, and along the front of our right section.

“the last post.”

“At about 5 a.m. the battle was fairly joined, and a furious cannonade was begun by a large number of enemy guns, including 12-in. and 9-2-in. and other artillery that had not till then opened. By 9.30 a.m. the Turks were pressing hard against the left of Courtney’s and the right of Quinn’s Post. At 10 a.m. this attack, unable to face fire from the right, swung round to the left, where it was severely handled by our guns and the machine guns of our left section. By 11 a.m. the enemy, who were crowded together in the trenches beyond Quinn’s Post, were giving way under their heavy losses.

“According to prisoners’ reports, 30,000 troops, including five fresh regiments, were used against us. General Liman von Sanders was himself in command.

“ The enemy’s casualties were heavy, as may be judged from the fact that over 3,000 dead were lying in the open in view of our trenches. A large proportion of these losses was due to our artillery fire. Our casualties amounted to about 100 killed and 500 wounded, including nine officers wounded.”

In the armistice on 24th May, for the burial of the dead, 3,000 Turkish bodies were removed or buried in the area between the opposing lines. Beach raids, attacks, and counter-attacks followed day by day. On one evening after sunset (4th June), the Anzacs themselves were entrusted with three separate enterprises—a demonstration in the direction of Gaba Tepe, the Navy co-operating by bombarding the Turkish trenches, a sortie at 11 p.m. towards a trench 200 yards from Quinn’s Post, and an assault at Quinn’s Post itself.

And so the almost superhuman struggle went on, the Anzacs abating not a jot of their grim tenacity and courage. Perhaps the fiercest fighting of all—and the deepest disappointment—was the attempted coup13 at Suvla Bay.


The plan was to smuggle large numbers of troops into Anzac, land a large force at Suvla, and make a combined dash for the Narrows. The moonless second week of August was chosen for the venture. At Anzac great preparations had to be made by General Birdwood and his staff for the coming reinforcements. The Australians and New Zealanders toiled like slaves to accumulate food, drink, and munitions. Concealed bivouacs and interior communications had to be prepared, and of all the work not an hour could be done in the daylight. There was never a complaint. “These efforts of these much-tried troops,’’ writes Sir Ian Hamilton, “are as much to their credit as their heroism in the following battles. The reinforcing troops were shipped into Anzac very silently in the darkest hours of the 4th, 5th, and 6th. Still silently, they were tucked away from the enemy aeroplanes and observatories in prepared hiding-places. The scheme was carried out without a hitch. I have much doubt whether a more pregnant enterprise than the landing of so large a force under the very eyes of the enemy and keeping them concealed for three days is recorded in the annals of war. ’ ’


On the night of the 6th, the Lone Pine entrenchment was stormed. The assault was entrusted to General Smyth, of the First Brigade, and was carried out by the 2nd, 3rd, and 4th Australian Battalions. “The first rush across the open’’ (so reads the record) “was a regular race against death. Then came a terrible moment, when it seemed physically impossible to penetrate the trenches. The overhead cover of stout pine beams resisted all individual efforts, yet the loopholes continued to spit fire. Groups of men bodily lifted up the beams, and individual soldiers leaped down into the semi-darkened galleries among the Turks. Within seven minutes the 3rd and 4th Battalions were well within the enemy’s vitals. The reserve of the 2nd Battalion advanced over their parapets, and made good the whole of the trenches. The Turks organised a violent counter-attack. Wave upon wave of the enemy swept forward, a bayonet battle continuing until 12th August. The Turks were in great force, and very full of fight, yet a weak Australian brigade, numbering 2,000, supported by two weak battalions, carried Lone Pine under the eyes of the whole enemy. The division maintained its grip like a vice during six days’ successive counter-attacks.

“The Anzacs, assisted by the destroyer “Colne,” had been educating the Turks in how to lose a redoubt near Table Top. Every night at 9 o’clock the “Colne” threw a searchlight and bombarded the redoubt for 10 minutes. Then there was a 10 minutes’ interval, and a second illumination and bombardment, concluding precisely at 9.30. The idea was that the enemy would get into the habit of taking the searchlight as a hint to clear out until the shelling ended. On the night of the 6th the searchlight was switched off at 9.30. Instantly our men poured out of the scrub and jungle into the empty redoubt. The whole series of entrenchments were carried by 11. The attack at Chanak Dere was less cleanly carried out; indeed, it made as ugly a start as any of the enemy could wish. The little column of stormers was held up by barbed wire, unexampled in height, depth, and solidity, which completely closed the ravine.

“Here a splendid body of men of the Otago Mounted Rifles lost some of their bravest and best, but when things were desperate a passage was forced by the most conspicuous cool courage of Captain Shera and a party of New Zealand Engineers, supported by Maoris who were descendants of the Maori warriors. Simultaneously the attack at Table Top was launched under cover of the ‘ ‘ Colne’s ’ ’ heavy bombardment. The ascent was so steep that Table Top gave an impression of a mushroom summit bulging over at the stem; but as faith moves mountains, so valour carries them. The Turks fought bravely. The angle of Table Top’s ascent was recognised in the regulations as impracticable for infantry, but neither the Turks nor the angles of ascent were destined to stop Russell and his New Zealanders that night.


“There are moments in battle when men become supermen. 14 This was one of these moments. The scraped heights were scaled, and the plateau carried at midnight. With this brilliant feat the task of the right covering force was ended. The attacks were made with the bayonet and bomb only, the magazines 15 being empty by order. No words can do justice to the achievements of Russell and the New Zealand Mounted Rifles, the Otago Rifles, the Maoris, and the New Zealand field troops. Meanwhile the right assaulting column, under Colonel Johnston, with the New Zealand Infantry Brigade, an Indian mounted battery, and a company of New Zealand Engineers, entered the southerly ravines at midnight, and commenced a hotly-contested fight for the' trenches in the lower part of Rhododendron Spur, whilst the Chalak Dere column pressed up the valley.

“The grand attack was now in full swing, but the country gave new sensations in cliff-climbing. Even officers and men who

had graduated over goat tracks at Anzac, in the darkness of night and density of scrub, made slow progress on their hands and knees up the spurs. The sheer physical fatigue and exhaustion of spirit was due to repeated hairbreadth escapes. All these combined to take the edge off the energies of the troops. The Fourth Australian Brigade, with the left assaulting column, under Colonel Cox, struggled, fighting hard as they went, making for Hill 305. The crest of the line was uncaptured at dawn, although, considering all things, Colonel Cox’s column made a marvellous advance, the enemy being flung from ridge to ridge. An excellent line for the renewal of the attack was secured. The auspices were propitious, except for the exhaustion of the troops.”


The 4th Australian Brigade, advancing from Asmath Dere on the left, was meanwhile held up by cunningly placed machine guns. Heavy columns of Turkish reinforcements cut down over 1,000 men, but the remainder “ though half-dead from thirst and fatigue, bloodily repulsed attack after attack. .    .    . The first

Australian Brigade was now reduced from 2,000 to 1,000. The total casualties on the evening of the 9th were 8,500. The troops were still in extraordinarily good heart, and nothing

could damp the keenness of the New Zealanders.....”

The Turks delivered their grand assault at daybreak on the 10th and by sheer weight of numbers forced the allies back with widespread slaughter. On they swept over the crest of the hill, and at last came within range of the warships. It was our turn now. The New Zealand and Australian artillery got to work. “ Ten machine guns and the New Zealand Infantry played on the serried ranks at close range until the barrels were red hot. Only a handful straggled back to their own side at Chanuk Bair.” At Suvla Bay disaster had come. The'divisional commanders overbore the plans of General Stopford, and the priceless daylight hours of 8th August were squandered in inertia.16 The grand coup had failed. The Narrows were beyond field gun range. By the evening of the 10th, General Birdwood’s casualties were 12,000.


And through it all, the Anzacs held on and held on, laughing at disaster. Costly? On one evening, the 9th August, the Suvla casualties exceeded 8,500. The Anzacs’ own losses were grim enough—3,000 in three days; 15 out of 17 officers and 442 out of 500 men in ten minutes, 4,500 reduced to 2,800 in fifteen minutes—but mere figures only dimly reflect that eight months’ race with death. The scarcity of water—it was often carried up rope ladders—the monotony of food (bully beef, biscuits, and onions were the staple diet), the indescribable plague of flies, the diseases that preyed on waning strength, the incessant bombing (little Anzac Cove itself once received 1,000 shells in one hour, and was the scene of 3,000 wounded), the difficulties that dogged the fearless ambulances and stretcher-bearers and hospitals—all this Crimean 17 hardship was faced with superb fortitude by the Anzacs. Finally came the four days of a winter’s blizzard, thinning the ranks so that the trenches could scarcely be manned, while the Turks were elated at successes in Serbia, and Austrian 14 in. howitzers were crowding to their further aid. Why hold on further, when extinction seemed inescapable? General Munro recommended the removal; Lord Kitchener himself visited Suvla and Anzac, saw the twisted battle-front amid the tangle of hills, noted the disparity of forces, counted the cost of success, and the die was cast.


8.    Lordship—The despatch was forwarded to Lord Kitchener.

9.    Sapping—Constructing trenches to give cover to the attacking


10.    Calibre Ihe diameter of the bore of a gun ; hence, the diameter of

a shell. (The word, by analogy, means also the “ diameter of the mind,” i.e. mental capacity). 1


The Grey Mother.


heath-er    for-got-ten    veiled

Lo, how they come to me,

Long through the night I call them,— Ah, how they turn to me.

East and South my children scatter,

North and West the world they wander,.

Yet they come back to me,

Come, with their brave hearts beating, Longing to die for me,

Me, the grey, old, weary mother,

Throned amid the Northern waters,

Where they have died for me,

Died with their songs around me, Girding1 my shores for me.

Narrow was my dwelling for them,

Homes they builded o’er the ocean,

Yet they leave all for me,

Hearing their mother calling,

Bringing their lives for me.

Up from South seas swiftly sailing,

Out from under stars I know not,

Come they to fight for me,

Sons of the sons I nurtured;2 God keep them safe for me!

Long ago their fathers saved me,

Died for me among the heather,

Now they come back to me,

Come, in their children’s children— Brave of the brave for me.

1916.    CLASSES Y. AND VI.

In the wilds and waves they slumber,

Deep they slumber in the deserts,

Rise they from graves for me,

Graves where they lay forgotten,

Shades of the brave for me.3 .    .    .

Yet my soul is veiled in sadness,

For I see them fall and perish,

Strewing the hills for me,

Claiming the world in dying.

Bought with their blood for me.

Hear the grey, old, Northern mother,

Blessing now her dying children,—

God keep you safe for me,

Christ watch you in your sleeping,

Where ye have died for me.

And when God’s own slogan4 soundeth,

All the dead wrorld’s dust awaking,

Ah, will ye look for me?

Bravely we ’ll stand together—-I and my sons with me.

—Lauchlan MacLean Watt.

(From “ The Grey Mother and Songs of Empire.” Messrs. J. M. Dent and Co., London.)


[The metaphor in the poem is a simple and homely one. The “ grey mother ” is Great Britain, and her children are the numerous colonies and dependencies of the British Empire.]

1.    Girding—Girdling; surrounding as with a girdle.

2.    Nurtured—- (Fr. from L. nutrió, I nourish)—Nursed ; nourished.

3.    Rise they .    .    . for me—Compare with the well-known lines—

“ The spirits of your fathers Shall start from every wave,

For the deck it was their field of fame.

And Ocean was their grave.”

4.    Slogan—Gathering cry ; call to assemble.

Anzac—III.The Return.

mem-o-ra- ble un-par-al-leled







right -eous -ness con-tro-ver-sy vol-un-ta-ry ef-fer-vesce


So it came to pass that the last memorable scene in Australia’s Iliad18 was the evacuation of Anzac—a feat unparalleled in history. For the Australians alone it meant the removal of 45,000 men, 3,000 mules, guns, and machine guns by


the score, and millions of pounds’ worth of stores; and at Suvla the allied host had to be spirited away from under the very nose of 85,000 Turks. It was all done on five successive nights. Commanders feared it might cost 20,000 lives. So perfect was the discipline, so secret and thorough the organisation, it cost not one. When this, “ the biggest bluff of all time,” was over, not a man was missing; and a small quantity of bully-beef, biscuits, and rice was the sole legacy for the astounded Turks.

For three weeks the Anzacs rehearsed their parts, though only one or two knew the secret of all the preparations. Nothing was left to chance. Every man was provided for, every horse, every gun. Every unit had its place, including the Army Medical Corps, which throughout the whole weary campaign had done such yeoman, unselfish, brilliant work. Times, positions, forces, routes, and speed—all were arranged in closest detail. When the moon was waxing to full, the men left, in successive batches, on the tick of the watch, crept in silence to their meeting points, swung in marching columns to the separate piers, filled the waiting picket boats and were steaming away on transports long before the Turks discovered that the Anzacs had gone! The last act in the drama was the demolition of Walker’s Ridge at 3.30 a.m. Forty feet underground, in a tunnel right beneath the key of the Turkish position, our men had placed two tons of amonol, a most powerful explosive. When all was safe, this mine was fired. It was as though a sleeping volcano had burst forth on that dark morning. The sky was lurid with sheets of flame, and masses of bodies shot through the air. Nothing could have lived within a hundred yards. Such was the fierce good-bye. The whole departure was dramatic soldiery, scientific and complete. The officer supervising the embarkation inscribed this on a commemorative golden coin—

Anzac, 20th December, 1915.

No Casualties.

The only day with such a clean record for eight long months!


And what of the acts of individual bravery? They are innumerable. Eight Australasian V.C.’s have already been announced—Lance-Corporal Jacka (14th Batt., Vic.), Lieut. Frederick Harold Tubb (7th Batt., Vic.), Captain Alfred John Shout (1st Batt., N.S.W.), Lieut, Hugo Throssell (10th L.H., W.A.), Lieut. W. J. Symons (7th Bati., Vic.), Private Leonard Keysor (1st Batt., N.S.W.), Corporal Bassett (N.Z.), Private William Hamilton (3rd Batt., N.S.W.). Eleven received the distinction of C.B., 13 C.M.G., 18 D.S.O., 10 Military Cross, and 80 Distinguished Conduct Medals—all testifying to the spirit that animated all ranks of the Anzacs from first to last. And the army of the unobserved! How can mere words worthily describe the grit and gallantry of the brave fellows who, unnoticed, performed countless acts of valour; who, when duty called or danger, were never wanting there, who gave their last ounce of strength cheerfully, and who, even when life was flickering out and bush and rock and sky were growing dim as they lay wounded, still found time to fling a cheering wrord or point the stretcher-bearers to some stricken comrade who had a better chance to live!

Their record of patience and sacrifice and dogged endurance, their electrical dash with its fine contempt of death,

\ ir m ▼

** ■ ’


makes one believe what each V.C. hero declared when his "wounds -were dressed—“ Everjr man in the battalions, he saifi, “ has done work as good!” In the Turks they had redoubtable opponents. In numbers, in reinforcements, in line of supplies and nearness to bases, in quantity of bombs and guns and bullets, in detailed knowledge of the country, in choice of positions—in all these points the Anzacs found themselves at a disadvantage. Only once during that long unequal struggle—early in August it was, and from the tops of ridges when the Lone Pine fight was

paging_did our men catch sight of the blue Narrows and the

forbidden Straits stretching far beneath them. And never a murmur went forth during that eight months’ carnage in the wilderness.


What remains of it all to-day? Empty trenches, scarred cliffs that had dripped with blood, rows of simple crosses (ah! how tenderly fixed!) in mountain cemeteries, a hulk or two on the beach, shattered piers, a wilderness of rugged heights still jealously guarded by unsleeping forts, and the Narrows sown thick with mines. But there is more. Every ridge is a stone monument to heroes, every valley rings with imperishable memories. Those hill-graves will be wet with the tears of unfailing dew; sunrise and sunset will gild them with glory; night with its thousand glittering eyes will keep vigil upon them. It was there that the white heat of battle fused T oung Australasia and the old Homeland into one fighting force; it was there that comradeship and kinship soared to their highest; it was there that the Commonwealth and Dominion stepped out of domestic into national history and made their foes marvel what new champions of right were springing from soil of the Southern Cross, and what spiritual ideals were these that could defy distance and despise death. The Turks had slain their thousands, but the spirit of the Anzacs lived on, unquenchable. Voices from those brush-clad hills will speak for all time. Blood and iron may waste and rust, but honour and righteousness are for ever.


There is little to be added now. Many books will be written of Anzac, and stories told, and songs sung. One mind suggests Anzac to replace Canberra as the name of the Commonwealth capital. Another would rechristen the five stars of the Southern Cross with the five letters. The word has already passed the nation’s lips to the nation’s heart, and the world will not willingly forget it. But we are too near the smoke and blaze and babel of it all (and the poignancy,19 too!) to make any just comment. Controversy may be left to strategists.20 This great adventure was honourable as hazardous, and the glory outlives the cost. The dead were 6,145 ; the wounded 31,259; the missing, over 2,000. By November last 11,000 sick and wounded Australians, and 5,000 New Zealanders were in hospitals and homes in Great Britain. News of the losses was slow in filtering through to these shores. But the casualty lists grew more frequent, and soon it was seen that there was scarcely a family in this Commonwealth but had sacrificed a relative or friend over there. Was Australasia downhearted? Not for a moment did the British pluck and faith of these filial lands falter. “ Anzac” became a new watchword, baptised in blood, but tingling with life. Gallipoli’s sacrifice only redoubled Australasia’s efforts, and thrilled the island continent with renewed impetus—in munition factories, in patriotic funds, in war finance, in voluntary offering of increased men and means to help towards victory. Nor must this national impulse be suffered to effervesce as soon as the trumpets of war are stilled. The living have a duty to those who fought and died; this debt of gratitude is one for ourselves and our children to honour.

1 So greet thee well thy dead Across the homeless sea,

And be thou comforted

Because they died for thee.

Far off they served, but now their deed is done For evermore their life and thine are one.”

We in Australasia celebrate Anzac Day not vaingloriously, nor with shouting and shallowness, but in a spirit of silent sorrow that so many have fallen, in a spirit of just pride that our own flesh and blood have proved so brave in life and death, and in a spirit of set inflexible purpose, our hearts aflame for freedom and right as were the hearts of Anzac.


18.    Iliad—The famous epic poem, said to have been written by the

great Greek poet, Homer (d. about 850 b.c.) It tells the story

of the siege of Ilium (the ancient city of Troy.)

19.    Poignancy (Fr. from L. pungo, I prick)—Bitter grief

20.    Strategists (Grk. strategos, a general)—Experts in the art of

directing the movements of an army.

The tumult and the shouting dies,—

The Captains and the Kings depart,— Still stands Thine ancient sacrifice,

An humble and a contrite heart.

Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet,

Lest we forget—lest we forget!


Pro Patria.

con-fi-dent    scutch-eon    con-se-crate    sub-dued

England, in this great fight to which you go Because, where Honour calls you, go you must,

Be glad, whatever comes, at least to know You have your quarrel just.

Peace was your care; before the nations’ Bar

Her cause you pleaded and her ends you sought;

But not for her sake, being what you are,

Could you be bribed and bought.

Others may spurn the pledge of land to land,

May with the brute sword stain a gallant past;

But by the seal to which you set your hand,

Thank God, you still stand fast!

Forth, then, to front that peril of the deep With smiling lips and in your eyes the light,

Steadfast and confident, of those who keep Their storied scutcheon1 bright.

And we, whose burden is to ivatch and wait, High-hearted ever, strong in faith and prayer,

We ask what offering we may consecrate,

What humble service share.

To steel our souls against the lust of ease;

To find our welfare in the general good;

To hold together, merging all degrees In one wide brotherhood;

To teach that he who saves himself is lost;

To bear in silence though our hearts may bleed;

To spend ourselves, and never count the cost,

For others’ greater need;

To go our quiet ways, subdued and sane;

To hush all vulgar clamour of the street;

With level calm to face alike the strain Of triumph or defeat;

This be our part, for so we serve you best,

So best confirm their prowess2 and their pride,

Your warrior sons, to whom in this high test Our fortunes we confide.

O.S. in London “Punch


1.    Scutcheon (L. scutum, a shield)—An emblazoned shield.

2.    Prowess—Valour ; great bravery.

It is for us, the living, rather to be dedicated here to the unfinished work, which they have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us that from these honoured dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion; that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain.

—Abraham Lincoln.

The Victoria Cross

By E. W. H. Fowles, M.A., LL.B.

Part II.

(Concluded from. February issue.)









i-so-la-ted dis-tinc-tion in-ci-dents in-stinc-tive-ly

Corporal F. W. Holmes, Y.C., continues his story:—

“When she saw my burden she said, ‘Put him in here,’ and I did so. I rested a few minutes, and then went back towards the firing line. At first I saw nobody, but very soon I made out the enemy coming on in extended order. All the time shells were shrieking from their batteries behind. I reached a hill crest, and saw a gun with its team of horses isolated. All around the gunners were lying—dead, as far as I could see. But another man, a trumpeter, was not dead, so I took him up and stuck him on the limber.1 Then I started to drive off the gun. By this time the enemy had seen me. On they came, potting at me. I banged at the horses with my bayonet, and off we went, and I never slackened till the sound of the enemy guns had died down. Then my horses dropped from exhaustion, and I found that the trumpeter was gone. I have never heard of him again. At the moment a few artillerymen came up, and I handed over the gun, and they took charge of me, too! And that’s all there is in it. Lots of others deserve the Victoria Cross as much as ever I did, and a good deal more!”

On 7tli June last a Zeppelin 2 airship, after taking part in a raid on the English coast, was returning to Belgium. A British airman caught sight of it, pursued it, and attacked it. Dexterously manoeuvring so as to rise above the Zeppelin, he suddenly descended and dropped bombs. There was a deafening explosion, and in a few minutes the Zeppelin lay a mass of blazing wreckage in a field near Ghent. The airman was Flight Sublieutenant Warneford. He endeavoured to ascend, but was caught in the whirlwind following the explosion. His machine “looped the loop” accidentally, and emptied the forward petrol tank. Warneford coolly came to earth—with enemy troops all around him—partially filled one tank from the other, and escaped

1916.    CLASSES Y. AND VI.

to safety and fame. The exploit won him the Victoria Cross. The sadness of it is that soon afterwards, while experimenting with a new aeroplane, he lost his life—daring in death itself. But his name brings a thrill to his comrades of the Flying Corps.

Captain Arthur Martin-Leake, of the Royal Army Medical Corps, is one of the very few who have the honour of twice winning the coveted distinction. In May, 1902, during the Boer war, he won the Cross for conspicuous gallantry in tending the wounded under severe fire. (He is a surgeon.) At Vlakfontein he was shot three times and recovered. In the present war, at Zonnebeke 3 (during October and November of 1914), he rescued a large number of wounded who were lying close to the enemy’s trenches exposed to heavy fire.

At the Coronation ceremonies in India (1910-1911), native officers and men were included among those eligible for the award of the Victoria Cross. The pension (given in rupees4) is continued to the widow of an Indian native recipient until her death or remarriage. Up to November of 1914 no Indian soldier had been awarded the Victoria Cross. The Indian Order of Merit had been the “blue ribbon” of gallantry for the native trooper. But during the night of 23rd and 24th November, Naik (i.e., Corporal) Darwan Sing Negi faced death a dozen times in a hand-to-hand bayonet job while recapturing some trenches near Festubert, in France. Though badly wounded, he kept on leading the charges of his undaunted men, pluckily fighting his way foot by foot till dawn came with victory, and the brave naik had to be packed off to the hospital. When His Majesty went to France he decorated the corporal with his own hands. Not less brave was the deed of Sepoy Khudadad Khan, the Baluchi hero, who on 31st October, at Hollobeke, in Belgium, stuck to his machine-gun till he was the sole survivor of his team, then rendered the gun valueless to the enemy, and himself escaped as by a miracle. There was great rejoicing in India when the news of these two Victoria Crosses was made known.

Private George Wilson, of the 2nd Battalion, Highland Light Infantry, was selling newspapers outside the castle at Edinburgh, his native city, just before the war broke out. He had previously tried soldiering, and for a time had worked in the coal pits, but came back to the newspaper stand. As a reservisthe was called up, went to the front, captured a machine-gun single-handed—with the odds seven to one—at Verneuil, on 14th September, 1914, and now wears the Victoria Cross.

Lieutenant James Leach, only 21 years of age, and Sergeant Hogan, who saw service in the South African war, are two notable Victoria Cross heroes in the same Manchester regiment.


Their tale is one of the trenches—close hand-to-hand fighting amid a rain of bullets from rifles and machine-guns, and finally a brilliant recapture of positions at the bayonet’s point.

In 1869, New Zealand instituted a “Victoria Cross” of her own. The then Governor, Sir G. F. Bowen, issued it, in excess of his authority, and nineteen Victoria Crosses were awarded. These were ratified, but the practice was discontinued.

The first Australian to receive the Y.C. in this war is Lance-Corporal Jacka, No. 4 Company, 14th Battalion, A.I.F. He is a young Bendigo miner, a native of Wedderburn, V ictoria. About 5 a.m. on May 19th he was the sole survivor at one end of a trench in which seven Turks had secured a footing. Jacka sprang to a sniping post and covered the enemy’s line of advance. An attempt was made to bayonet-rush the Turks from the rear, but the first Australian round the trench was shot. ‘ ‘ Send a large bombing party,” called Jacka, nothing daunted, though death was to be expected every minute from other bands of reinforcing Turks. The bombing party was got ready, and cautiously they stole down the trench. They found seven dead men. Jacka had leapt across the trench, got behind the foe, shot five 1 urks, and bayoneted two. The trench was ours again.

Nine Anzac6 Victoria Crosses were awarded on 22nd October, 1915. Six were given for various acts of conspicuous bravery during fighting in trenches at Lone Pine, Gallipoli, on 9th August. The winners, all of the Australian Force, are—Captain A. J. Shout, 1st Battalion; Lieutenant W. J. Symons, 7th Battalion; Lieutenant F. H. Tubb, 7th Battalion; Corporal A. S. Burton, 7th Battalion; Corporal W. Dunstan, 7th Battalion; ajid Private J. Hamilton, 1st Battalion. Tubb, Burton, and Dunstan twice beat the enemy back and rebuilt a barricade that the Turks had exploded. Shout charged down trenches occupied by the enemy, threw four bombs, killed eight men, and routed the rest. Symons retook an isolated position which was under fire from three sides. Hamilton’s coolness saved some trenches that were heavily bombed.

Two other awards were for brave deeds on 7th August. Corporal Bassett (New Zealand Divisional Signal Company) laid a telephone line under heavy fire; and Private Keysor at Lone Pine trenches picked up and hurled back live bombs. Though wounded, he carried on ” bomb-throwing next day. Lieutenant H. V. IT. Throssell (10th Light Horse, Australian Force), at Hill 60, on 29th and 30th August, though wounded, kept his position during a counter-attack till all danger was passed, and thus won another Victoria Cross for Australia. Captain Shout and Corporal Burton paid for glory with their lives.

Tubb, Throssell, Symons, and Hamilton were decorated by the King himself at Buckingham Palace 7 last 4th December. Singly they were ushered in. ‘‘I am proud to meet you,” said His

Majesty, warmly shaking each hero by the hand, “ I have over 2,000,000 of men fighting in the navy and army, and only 138 Victoria Crosses have been awarded.


I tell you that so that you will appreciate how rare is this distinction among my brave men.”

One of the touching incidents of the war was the way in which the King, while lying ill in the hospital train in France, decorated Lance-Sergeant Oliver Brookes, a young fellow, 26 years, of the 3rd Coldstream Guards, with the Victoria Cross. Brookes led a bombing party on 8th October, and recaptured a trench held by Germans. His Majesty expressly wished to confer the honour before leaving for England.

Brookes was led to the bedside, and kneeling down bent over the bed. But the King had overrated his strength. He tried pluckily to push the pin through the stiff khaki, but could not complete the task unaided.

Away at Maktau, in German East Africa, on 3rd September last, an Australian won a Victoria Cross. He was Lieutenant Dartnell, a member of the League of Frontiersmen. During a mounted infantry engagement, the enemy’s black troops were murdering our wounded, and Dartnell, himself wounded, insisted on being left behind in the hope of saving the rest, but he lost his life in a gallant attempt to rescue his comrades. Originally an actor, he is believed to be the first of his profession to win the Victoria Cross.

One of the recent Loos recipients was a piper, Daniel Laidlaw, and this is how the music helped:—‘11 had the pipes going, and the lads gave a cheer as they started over the enemy’s lines near Loos. As soon as they showed themselves over the trench tops they began to fall very fast, hut they never wavered. Straight on they dashed as I played the old air they all knew, ‘Blue Bonnets Over the Border.’ My! but there’s some fire in the old tune! Piping for all I knew, I ran forward with them. Just as we were getting near the German lines shrapnel caught


me in the left ankle and leg. I was too excited to feel the pain just then, but stumbled along as best I could. I changed the tune to ‘The Standard on the Braes o’ Mar.’ What a grand tune for charging on ! I kept on piping and piping and hobbling along after the laddies until I could go no more.”

The war is not yet over, nor is the tale of its heroic deeds ended. Newspapers throb daily with the record of gallantry. Australia has already won an honoured name through her noble sons. The book of their deeds will be one to make every patriot’s heart beat with a just pride. Some of our soldiers already wear the Victoria Cross. Others will win the Distinguished Service Order; others again will be ‘ ‘ mentioned in despatches. ’ ’ On land and sea—in Flanders, or Egypt, or the Balkans, in the Aegean, or at the Cocos Islands—Australians may be relied on to do their part and never flinch.

Not all the brave deeds that deserve it win the Victoria Cross. Perhaps the hero himself perishes in the crowd, or passes away too soon for fame to overtake him; or his deed was not seen or recorded, and he was too modest to boast of it; or his part in it, though essential, was hidden. Nor does every soldier who aims to wdn the Victoria Cross get it, or even have the chance to get it. It comes, like many a great reward, to him who is not looking for it. An ordinary soldier, eager for duty


only, and ready to face all, is suddenly confronted with a blazing and great opportunity. Instinctively he leaps at fate’s door and “wins through.” And the Victoria Cross is his for ever. But there are thousands of heroes on the field of battle who never win the Victoria Cross because the chance never came their way. They may be heroes all the same.


1.    Limber—The fore-part of the carriage of a field gun or cannon,

consisting of two wheels end an axle, with a framework and shafts for the horses.

2.    Zeppelin—A type of huge rigid dirigible balloons ; so called from

their inventor and constructor, Count Zeppelin (a German General, born 1840).

3.    Zonnebeke—A village near Ypres, in north of France.

4.    Rupees—The rupee is a silver coin forming the standard unit of value

in India. Worth about Is. 4d.

5.    Reservist—A member of the “ reserve ” forces, i.e. those who have

already had military service, but are temporarily out of the active lists, and are liable to be called up to serve in war time.

6.    Anzac—A now famous word, coined in the Gallipoli campaign, and

formed from the initial letters of Australian New Zealand Army Corps.

7.    Buckingham Palace—The Royal residence in London. It was built

in 1703 by the Duke of Buckingham. Queen Victoria resided there. King Edward was born there 9th November, 1841, and died there 6th May, 1910.

Garnered Grain.

To live in hearts we leave behind Is not to die.


The surest pledge of a deathless fame Is the silent homage of thoughts unspoken.


We live in deeds, not years; in thoughts, not breaths;

In feelings, not in figures on a dial.

P. J. Bailey.

Sound, sound the clarion, fill the fife!

To all the sensual world proclaim,

One crowded hour of glorious life Is worth an age without a name.


Oh yet we trust that somehow good Will be the final goal of ill.


Not once or twice in our rough island story The path of duty was the way to glory.


Cowards die many times before their deaths;

The valiant never taste of death but once.


And for our country ’tis a bliss to die.


How sleep the brave who sink to rest By all their country’s wishes blest!


The glory dies not, and the grief is past.


How can man die better Than facing fearful odds,

For the ashes of his fathers,

And the temples of his gods,

And for the tender mother Who dandled him to rest,

And for the wife who nurses His baby at her breast ?


Well have we held our fathers’ creed. No call has passed us by; We faced and fought the wilderness, we sent our sons to die.

—Essex Evans.

What matter, so long as you played the game?

What matter, provided you filled your place,

And took the fall, the kick, the blow,

And tackled the foeman clean and low—

Blind sun in your eyes, wet wind in your face—■ What matter, so met ye the luck as it came ?

Sea/orth Mackenzie.

There are heroes brave at the Dardanelles, In deep, sweet slumber lying;

They’ll feel the morning winds no more, Nor hear the bugles crying.

Brothers and sons and husbands—Oh!

Does the sound of the women weeping Not bid you rise and march away With bounding pulses leaping?

The bugles, boy, the bugles Are calling clear to you,

“What are you going to do, boy,

W hat are you going to do ? ’ ’

Will Lawson.

Shakespeare, the Lover of his Country.


or-na-ment    mis-eel-Ia-ne-ous    de-fen-sive

sov-er-eign-ty    cor-res-pond-ing    af-fec-tion-ate

sym-pa-thies    dal-li-ance    con-quer-or

“Shakespeare is the grandest thing we (English) have ever done.” (So wrote Thomas Carlyle,1 76 years ago, in his Heroes and Hero-Worship). “For our honour among foreign nations, as an ornament to our English Household, what item is there that

we would not surrender rather than him?.....This

King Shakespeare, does not he shine, in crowned sovereignty over us all, as the noblest, gentlest, yet strongest of rallying-signs; indestructible; really more valuable in that point of view than any other means or appliance whatsoever? We can fancy him as radiant aloft over all the Nations of Englishmen, a thousand years hence. From Paramatta, from New York, wheresoever, under what sort of Parish-Constable soever2 English men and women are, they will say to one another: ‘Yes, this Shakespeare is ours; we produced him; we speak and think by him; we are of one blood and kind with him.’ ”

In April, 1564, the prince of dramatists was born; on April 23rd (St. George’s Day), 1616, he died—“the greatest and best interpreter of human nature, the poet of the widest sympathies, of the most delicate perceptions, of the profoundest knowledge of human nature .... he was buried in the town in which he was born, and his name has ever since filled the world.”

To Shakespeare, in the spacious days of Queen Elizabeth, England and Wales stood for the Empire. There was then no Greater Britain overseas. And when he sang of England his song was that of the intense patriot; the corresponding theme in this century would be the breadth and majesty, the duties and sacred trusts of the British Empire. And to-day, while Europe is in a welter of blood, and the titanic 3 clash of arms seems to drown all poets’ singing, what message of patriotism has Shakespeare for us in this, his tercentenary 4 year ?

Did Shakespeare foresee the England of to-day when he makes the chorus (in King Henry F.) sing?—

Now all the youth of England are on fire,

And silken dalliance5 in the wardrobe lies;

Now thrive the armourers, and honour’s thought Reigns solely in the breast of every man;

They sell the pasture now to buy the horse;

Following the mirror® of all Christian kings,

With winged heels, as English Mercuries.r

And later, in noble words, his burning patriotism chides the few disloyal waverers:—

O England!—model to thy inward greatness,

Like little body with a mighty heart—•

What mightst thou do, that honour would thee do,8 Were all thy children kind and natural!

No true soldiers could be unmoved at King Henry’s flaming appeal:—

Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more;

Or close the wall up 0 with our English dead!

In peace there’s nothing so becomes a man As modest stillness and humility:

But when the blast of war blows in our ears,

Then    ******

*    *    * set the teeth and stretch the nostril wide;

Hold hard the breath, and bend up 10 every spirit To his full height!—On, on, you noble English,

Whose blood is fet11 from fathers of war-proof!12 Fathers that, like so many Alexanders,

Have in these parts from morn till even fought,

And sheath’d their swords for lack of argument; ***** *

For there is none of you so mean and base That hath not noble lustre in your eyes.

I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips 13 Straining upon the start. The game’s afoot:

Follow your spirit;14 and upon this charge

Cry, “God for Harry! England! and Saint George!”

Nor could there be more touching words of loyal devotion to his sovereign than those which Shakespeare (in King Henry VIII.) put on the lips of Buckingham:—

*****    vowg aiK| prayers

Yet are the King’s; and, till my soul forsake,

Shall cry for blessings on him: may he live Longer than I have time to tell his years!

Ever belov’d and loving may his rule be!

And when old time shall lead him to his end,

Goodness and he fill up one monument!

Small in size as the British Isles seem, they are the heart of the Empire; and the encircling waters with the Navy that rides sleepless and triumphant on them have kept that heart “still secure, and confident from foreign purposes” since John of Gaunt thus broke into this happy description :—■

This royal throne of kings, this sceptred isle This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars,

This other Eden, demi-paradise;

This fortress built by Nature for herself Against infection15 and the hand of war;

This happy'breed of men, this little world;

This precious stone set in a silver sea,

Which serves it in the office 10 of a wall,

Or as a moat defensive to a house,

Against the envy of less happier17 lands;

This blessed plot; this earth, this realm, this England.

Bolingbroke’s affectionate lines (in King Richard II.) have echoed since in many a patriot’s heart:—

Then, England’s ground, farewell; sweet soil, adieu;

My mother, and my nurse, that bears me yet!

Where’er I wander, boast of this I can—

Though banished, yet a true-born Englishman.

King John closes with a ringing note :—

This England never did, nor never shall,

Lie at the proud foot of a conqueror,

But when it first did help to wound itself.

Now these her princes*8 are come home again,

Come the three corners of the world in arms,

And we shall shock10 them. Naught shall make us rue20 If England to itself do rest but true.


1.    Thomas Carlyle—(1795-1881)—Historian and moral teacher, and

one of the most distinguished of modern authors; born in Scotland, educated at Edinburgh, lived later at London (Chelsea). Wrote Sartor Resartus, The French Revolution, Heroes and Hero-Worship and other great works.

2. Under......soeveri.e., Whatever the ruler’s title may be.

3.    Titanic—Of, or relating to, the Titans, or fabulous giants of Greek

and Roman mythology; gigantic ; huge.

4.    Tercentenary (L. ter, three times ; centum, a hundred)—The 300th

anniversary of an event.

5.    Silken dalliance—i.e., The silken or fine garments, and the dallianoe

or easy life associated with them, are laid aside.

6.    Mirror—Henry is so called as “reflecting” in his person all the good

qualities of Christian Kings.

7.    Mercuries—Mercury was the attendant and messenger of the gods.

8.    That .... do—That honour would (have) thee do.

9.    Or close the wall up—-Either force your way through, or fill up the

breach with your dead bodies.

10.    Bend up, etc.—-Strain every nerve to the utmost.

11.    Fet —An old form of fetched.

12.    Fathers of war-proof—Fathers who have proved their prowess and

valour in war.

13.    Slips—Leashes for holding back a hound till let loose upon the game.

14.    Follow your spirit—Follow with your body where your spirit

already is.

15.    Infection—Pestilences were common in the Middle Ages.

16.    Office—Capacity.

17.    Less happier—A double comparative, not uncommon in Shakespeare

e.g. “ more elder ; ” see also “ most unkindest.”

18.    Princes—Her ohief nobles.

19.    Shock—Meet boldly.

20.    Rue—Suffer.

Failure or Fulfilment?

The Empire history of this century cannot yet be written in a book, for it is only now being written by the actions of Britons of to-day. It is well to bear in mind that it cannot be built by sceptre and sword alone. The honest labour of every citizen is needed; the farmer’s plough, the miner’s pick, the carpenter’s chisel, the mother’s needle, the schoolboy’s pencil, has its share in the work; and the success of the nation depends upon the duty of each being well and truly done. What will future ages be able to record as a name for this century? By our words and deeds, we are shaping out the fateful letters of that name. Is it to be the awful word Failure f Other great empires, like Caesar’s, Alexander’s, and Napoleon’s, disappeared in dishonour and shame. Their fall was due to inward decay more than to attacks from an outside enemy. Pride of power and selfish ambition, idle lives and evil habits, ended in ruin. Our Empire will also fail and fall if our lives are unworthy, our duties neglected, and our power wrongly used.

But if each citizen, young and old, in home, and school, and workshop, be thinking great thoughts, doing noble deeds, acting with honour towards others, faithfully carrying out every duty, and playing the great game of life by fair and honest effort, then we shall be securing the true success of our Empire, and writing out the character of the century in the great word Fulfilment—fulfilment of all the dreams of the century of Fancy,1 and of all the ideals of the great men of the past; and fulfilment of that dream which sees in the free British Empire the nucleus around which shall grow the nobler Empire of a United Humanity.

The British Empire by J. H. Roberts (in Macmillan & Co's. " Then and Now ” Stories.)


1. Century of Fancy—The 16th Century—the time of Drake, Gilbert, and Raleigh, who dreamed of a new England beyond the Seas.

Printed and Published by Anthony James Gumming, Government Printer, Brisbane.


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Jm morta!yarJanój crownjueh browj aj th^e,


They are thè óeaó who not inje/Fijh eaje.

r——--—--- ■ . , ----:------


Department of Public Instruction, Queensland.

[Registered at the General Post Office, Brisbane, for transmission as a newspaper.]

New Series—Vol. VII. BRISBANE.    April, 1916. 2

The Landing at Gallipoli.

Sunday, 25th April, 1915.

By No. 94, A Company, 9th Battalion.

bat-tal-ion    roy-al-Iy

e-quip-ment    con-fu-sion

oc-eu-panfc    con-tin-u-ous



fal-tered clam-bered pe -nin-su-la as-sis-iance

1.    After leaving Egypt, the 9th spent eight weeks at the Island of Lemnos, five of which were spent on shore, and the last three on the transport Malda, lying in the harbour. On the 24th April we were told by Sir Ian Hamilton 1 that the 9th had been chosen to make the landing for the 3rd Brigade, which was to be backed up by the 1st and 2nd Brigades.

2.    Filled with excitement, we bade farewell to the Malda and went on board the torpedo boat Scourge, which conveyed the battalion to H.M.S. Queen. The warship steamed to Tenedos, and lay off the island waiting for night to fall. The crew treated us right royally and supplied us with three hot meals. At midnight we were assembled on deck, and clambered down the ship’s side to the boats below.

3.    With as little noise as possible, the boats left the side of the warship, and no one who was in those boats will ever forget the silent cheer the British tars gave to the Australians, as the boats drew away—a frantic wave of their arms, nothing more, but enough to assure us that the men of the British Navy were proud of their Australian brothers in arms, the 9th Battalion of Queenslanders.

4.    As we left, we noticed other battleships lying grim and silent in the offing.2 We little dreamt that in less than two hours they would be belching forth flame and smoke, shot and shell. With scarce a ripple, our boats drew towards the shore, two hundred yards, one hundred, and there was a tightening of belts and fixing of equipment.3 Nearer and nearer we drew. We were in the first boat and about 50 yards from the landing when


a light flashed from the fort of Gaba Tepe, a whistle shrilled out upon the cliffs, and the rattle, clatter, and boom of machine gun and shrapnel 4 broke upon us from the shore.


(Sergeant Fowles was a teacher at Eagle Junction State School, and his name heads the Departmental Roll of Honour). 3

fourteen, yelled “Get ashore, men, and get at them!” A seaman seized an oar to push the boat further in, and, as he pushed, fell dead, shot through the head.

6.    Those that were able sprang into the water, helter-skelter, pell-mell out of the boats. The water was up to our necks, but stumbling and wading we reached the shore, and rushed for any bit of cover that was available.5

The first man ashore on the peninsula was Lieutenant Chapman of the 9th, followed closely by Colonel Lee, Major Robertson, Major Salisbury, Captain Ryder, Dr. Butler, and the men of the leading boat. In the darkness before the dawn, men gathered on the beach beneath the cliff. Packs were thrown off and bayonets fixed. All this time a machine gun on the cliff above us had been pouring a bail of bullets into the landing parties.

7.    Dr. Butler had lost some of his stretcher-bearers in that deadly fire, and this made him very angry. “Come on, men; we must take that gun,” he cried, and started climbing the cliff, his revolver in his hand. We stormed up the cliff behind him. Sergeant Fowles and Patrick Courtney were on either side of me as we climbed the cliff, and both were shot dead. We rushed the gun and bayoneted the Turks who formed the gun crew.

8.    Smashing the gun so that it could not be again used, we dashed forward to storm the next trench, the line growing stronger as the boys rushed up to reinforce. On and on we went right up the cliff to the summit, where we had to pause for sheer want of breath. Looking below, we saw the British ships shelling the Turkish positions, while the Turks replied by shrapnel over the landing place. Boat after boat was smashed under our eyes and the occupants mangled or drowned.

9.    The sight maddened us. “On Queenslanders!” came the cry, and with bayonets fixed we rushed for the Turkish position. We pressed forward till it seemed we must drop from exhaustion. Then we saw the enemy coming up in force. Taking advantage of every bit of cover available, we emptied our magazines into them again and again. The Turks fell like leaves, but still more

came on. Men dropped, and our numbers began to weaken.

M here are the others? Have we come too far?” were questions in the minds of all.

10.    Then the order came to retire steadily; bullets flicked all around us; many of the boys fell, and we had to leave them. Slowly and steadily we fell back to the shelter of the captured trenches. Then the battleships began to open out on the advancing Turkish hordes. The Queen Elizabeth, Triumph, London, ( anopus, Swiftsure, Majestic, a Russian battleship, and a number of destroyers poured an avalanche of shell, and the Turks crumpled up.

11.    All that day, and all through the night the awful din continued. Water was scarce, wounded and dying men were all around us, and our rifle-barrels grew red-hot with the continuous firing. On the Tuesday afternoon the enemy renewed the attack with vigour, and things looked very black for us. We had been without sleep for nearly sixty hours, and the water was all gone. AVe felt that the end was near, and many of us shook hands, as we thought, for the last time. There was no word of retiring; we were resolved to die where we stood.

12.    All this time we were pouring a rapid fire into the advancing Turks. Fate was on our side; the Turks faltered,and then fell back. Had they but known what a thin line held the trenches it would have been good-bye for all of us. On Wednesday we managed to remove some of the wounded to the beach, but it was risky work for the stretcher-bearers, and many of the Army Medical Corps fell beside their stretchers as they tried to cross the beach towards the hospital ship.

13.    In the afternoon word came that the Australians were to be relieved, and never was a message more welcome. About two o’clock on Thursday morning a large force of British marines took our places. Staggering with weariness, some crawling on hands and knees, others unable to move without the assistance of their comrades, we reached the beach, threw ourselves down, and slept for hours.

14.    On the Friday we had a muster7 and the roll was called. The diminished numbers of the 9th were enough to sadden the

stoutest heart. Stragglers who came in from time to time were greeted with cheers and hearty handshakes; but when all were told there were but some 420 officers and men effective8 out of our battalion of 1,100.

15. In this account I am dealing only with my own battalion; but there can be no doubt that all regiments and corps that took part in that memorable landing did their duty equally well. Such was the capture of the position now known as Anzac, a name formed from the initial letters of the Australian and New Zealand Army Corps.

Times History of the War.



1.    Sir Ian Hamilton—-The Commander-in-Chief of the British forces in


2.    The offing—A portion of the sea within sight of land, but remote

from the shore.

3.    Equipment—-That part of his outfit carried by the soldier—-pack,

water-bottle, cartridge-belt, &c.

4.    Shrapnel—-A shell filled with round bullets, which scatter when the

shell bursts.

5.    Available—-Within reach.

6.    Faltered—Hesitated.

7.    Muster—An assembly of the regiment.

8.    Effective—Fit for duty.

At School with Shakespeare.

[On the 23rd April, 1616—-three hundred years ago—the world lost Shakespeare. He passed away to that “ bourne from which no traveller returns,” leaving behind the greatest name in all our literature.

Very little is known of his boyhood except that he attended the Free Grammar School at Stratford-on-Avon.]







school-fel-lows rev-er-ence bus-i-ness

1.    The shadow on the dial lies midway between five and six on a sunny July morning in the year of grace 1575. A square-built active lad of eleven, brown-eyed, chestnut-haired, and rosy-cheeked, with satchel in hand, is about to step into Henley Street from the house of his father, Master John Shakespeare.

2. The lad is good to look upon. His hazel eyes are deep and ever changing, one moment twinkling gaily with fun, the

Shakespeare’s birthplace.

next sad and serious. His forehead is white and high, fitted for great thoughts, and his mouth is sweet as a girl’s. It is a face that you will turn again to observe as you pass him by.

3. As he stands beneath the porch, lithe and trim in doublet1 and hose, pressing his flat cap on his curls, his face is somewhat clouded, for he finds school a dreary place, and his master’s hand very heavy. How sweet, he thinks, to play the truant to-day, to wander by the riverside where the willows droop to the water and the pigeons coo in the branches; where the feathery reeds sway in the summer breeze, and the swans glide by like stately ships!

4.    How delicious it would be, he thinks, to roam through the woods, where the squirrels are leaping from bough to bough, and the deer stand watchful in the shade! A vision flits across his mind of a mirror-like pool on the Avon where the fat trout lie waiting to be caught! Wood and field and stream attract him like a magnet.

5.    But, better still, how glorious it would be to set off on a

twelve mile walk to Kenilworth.2 The boy sighs, and recalls with flashing eyes the wondrous scenes which he gazed upon only a week ago, when his father took him to the castle to see the revels.

6. Oh, how wonderful they were! Plow well he remembers the drums and the trumpets, the giants, the dwarfs, the heathen gods, and the ancient heroes! It was a glimpse of fairyland itself! But best of all he remembers the play. It was by no means the first play that he had seen. Four years ago, when his


father was chief alderman of Stratford, London players came to the town. He was but seven when his father took him to see them perform.

7.    Though he was then little more than a baby, he has never forgotten that play. He remembers that he hung upon every word; his eyes were glued to the stage. It was all real to him, as real as the life of the street which he now looks upon. Some day, he thinks to himself, he too will fashion such stirring scenes for the delight of thousands. Yes, this dreamy boy, “creeping like snail unwillingly to school,” will one day become the greatest play-writer that the world has ever seen.

8.    But there is no time now for day dreaming. The hour of

six draws nigh, and the school door is open. So, dismissing his wandering thoughts, he turns the corner of Henley Street and passes into High Street. Here he meets his schoolfellows, and on they troop to the Grammar School hard by the Guild Chapel.


(The Avon at Stratford, Warwick Castle, Kenilworth Castle.)

9. The lads race up the outer staircase into the schoolroom, with black oaken beams, and small high windows. The satchels are opened on the rough desks, and the boys begin to prepare their lessons. They are scarcely completed before a knocking on the door is heard, and stern Master Roche, clad in a rusty black gown, advances to his desk.

10.    Master Roche begins by bearing the exercises, and it is not long before the sounds of weeping are beard. The schoolmaster firmly believes with Solomon, that be who spares the rod spoils the child. So school is a woeful3 place, and young Will Shakespeare’s mind does not turn gladly to his book. He is dreaming of the plays which he has seen in the Guild Hall down below, when he ought to be learning his Latin from Lilly’s Grammar, and working problems in arethmetike. ” He will probably feel the master’s rod before the day is over.

11.    The morning drags on until nine sounds from the tower of the Guild Chapel, and the boys clatter down the steps for the breakfast half-hour. Then school begins again, and continues until half-past eleven, when the boys disperse until one. Morning school has thus lasted a full five hours.

12.    Arriving home for dinner, Will salutes his elders with reverence, says grace, and wishes ‘ ‘ much good may your dinner do you.” Then he waits on his parents, and after they have finished he is free to take his wooden platter and begin his own meal.

13.    Back he goes to school at one, and lessons proceed until three, when half an hour’s play is allowed. The boys spend the time in wrestling, playing hand-ball, and leaping. Once more

' they return to their books, and continue their studies until halfpast five, when the day’s work concludes with a reading from the Bible, the singing of two staves of a psalm, and evening prayer.

14.    ’Tis a long business this schooling—nearly ten hours of study, and nothing in all the livelong day to touch the lad’s heart and stir his fancy. But out of doors on the Thursday halfholiday things are quite different. Then, the happiest boy in all the world, he roams in the forest or amidst the fields, where

“Daisies pied4 and violets blue And lady smocks5 all silver-white,

And cuckoo buds0 of yellow hue,

Do paint the meadows with delight.”

—Highroads of Literature.


1.    Doublet—A loose fitting coat.

2.    Kenilworth—A famous castle in Warwickshire.

3.    Woeful—Sad.

4.    Pied—Spotted with different colours.

5.    Lady smocks—Wild flowers, sometimes called ragged robins.

6.    Cuckoo buds—Buttercups.

Battery L ot the Royal Horse Artillery.




fin the retreat from Mons, Battery L of the Royal Horse Artillery was surprised in the early morning by a battery of German Artillery, and five out of six guns were put out of action.

The remaining gun continued the unequal duel till, one by one, the guns of the German battery were destroyed. When the last gun was silenced the sole survivors of Battery L were Darrell, Derbyshire, and Osborne, a mere lad of twenty. All three were awarded the V.C.

1.    Battery L of tlie R.H.A.

—Oh, the cold grey light o ’ the dawn— Woke as the mists were wreathing 1 pale, Woke to the moan of the shrapnel hail2— Battery L of the R.H.A.

Sprang to their guns in the dawn.

2.    Six guns all at the break o’ day

—Oh, the crash of the shells at dawn—

And out of the six guns only one Left for the fight ere the fight’s begun—• Battery L of the R.H.A.

Swung her round in the dawn.

3.    They swung her clear and they blazed away —Oh, the blood-red light o’ the dawn— Osborne, Derbyshire, brave Darrell,

These are the heroes of Battery L,

These are the men of the R.H.A.

Who fought that gun in the dawn.

4.    Ay, that was a fight that was fought that day, As the grey mists fled from the dawn,

Till they broke up the enemy one by one, Silenced him steadily gun by gun—

Battery L of the R.H.A.,

One lone gun in the dawn.


1.    Wreathing—Rising from the ground in circles.

2.    Shrapnel hail—The rush of bullets from the bursting of shrapnel shell.


The Sick Schoolboy.

nour-ish-ment    re-lapse    won-der-ful

1.    At nine, poor Tom was sick in bed,

A towel wrapped about his head.

2.    At ten, the pain was somewhat less,

But still he felt too ill to dress.

3.    Eleven, Thomas thinks that he May possibly get up for tea.

4.    He takes some nourishment4 at noon,

And hopes he may feel better soon.

5.    At one he groans, and says “perhaps He may be getting a relapse.2

6.    “ ’Tis wonderful,” he says at two,

“What good fresh air will sometimes do.”

7.    N.B.—This illness I’ve heard say,

Need not be feared on Saturday.


1.    Nourishment—Food.

2.    Relapse—A return of the sickness.

Saint George and the Dragon.

pic-tured    de-voured    shoul-der    de-ter-mined

pros-per-ous    threat-ened    belch-ing    de-liv-ered

glit-ter-ing    poised    van-quished    crumbled

2.    Long, long, ago, the city of Silene stood perched upon a hillside by the seashore in a far Afric land. The city was guarded by high walls and strong towers, for its merchants were rich and prosperous, and its wealth must needs be protected from robber bands.

The King’s palace was a noble building, whose glittering spires could be seen for miles across the sea. Around it stood many great houses, the homes of the merchants. The city appeared to be fair and thriving; but for the people who lived in it there was nothing but sorrow and tears.

3.    Outside the walls of the city dwelt a fearful dragon. On his back were two great wings, ribbed and pointed with sharp spikes. His body was like a lion’s; his feet ended in long claws. His head was dreadful to look upon; the jaws were full of strong teeth, the eyes were like burning coals; and he could breathe forth tire and smoke at will. His tail was as long as a great serpent and ended in a sharp sting.

4.    The dragon had lived there so many years that he had devoured all the sheep and oxen of the country, and now he demanded a child each day to appease his hunger. Should this meal not be forthcoming, he threatened to poison all the folk in the city.

The people were in despair. Some of their bravest had gone forth to slay the monster but had never returned. To save their city from ruin the people who had children drew lots, and, day after day, the child upon whom the lot fell was led out of the city, and left upon a high rock outside the walls, there to be torn in pieces by the dragon.

5.    At last the lot fell upon the King’s only child, the Princess Sabra. As no one was free from the lot, the King, almost mad with grief, had to lead his lovely daughter to the sacrifice. So stately and beautiful was she, that when the townsfolk saw her a great cry of grief and despair went up from the crowd.

She was led forth to the rock, and there, after kissing her and shedding many tears, the poor old King left her alone in that dreadful place.

6.    Now, on that very day, there passed by a noble young knight, whose name was George. He was clad in a suit of armour shining with steel and silver. He carried his helmet on his saddle-bow, for the day was hot. He was mounted on a great brown horse, and bore a mighty lance, twelve feet long.

As he rode toward the city, he saw a fair lady, dressed in rich garments, sitting on a rock and sobbing as though her heart would break. So he rode up to her and said, ‘ ‘ Noble lady! Why are you crying all alone in this dreadful place?”

7.    Princess Sabra dried her tears and, looking up at the noble young man, cried in fear, “Ply, fly, before it is too late, Sir Knight!”

“I fly before no mortal foe,” said St. George; “tell me why you are here. ’ ’

The Princess clasped her hands in grief and replied, “Oh, Sir Knight! Do not waste time in talk, hut go. ’ ’

Still St. George would not go, and the Princess told him why she was there, and the whole story of the fearful dragon.

When he had heard it he smiled, for he loved to fight against evil. “Fear not, fair lady!” said he, “the dragon shall do you no harm. ”

8.    Even as he spoke there was a sudden roar like a herd of bulls rushing together, and the dragon was upon them.

When St. George saw the evil beast, he prayed, “Now God be my helper,” and sat firmly in his saddle with his long lance poised. As the dragon came against him, St. George rode forward at speed, pointing his lance downward, that he might strike the beast in the head.

Biit, partly because there was such a cloud of smoke from the dragon’s jaws, and partly because the beast moved his head to one side, the point of the spear struck him on the shoulders, and where it struck the scales on the dragon’s body, sparks of fire flew forth.

9.    So great was the shock when they met, that the dragon rolled over, and the knight was nearly thrown from his horse, which went rushing on till St. George pulled it up on its haunches.

Then the knight turned and the dragon came on again, flapping with its horrid wings and belching forth fire and smoke.

Once more St. George prayed, so that he felt no fear, nor did the flames burn him nor the poison choke him.

10. Six times did St. George charge the dragon with his lance, and at the sixth time the point of the lance went into the dragon’s mouth and out at the back of his head, making a fearful wound, so that there was no more fight left in the great beast.

All this time the Princess Sabra had watched the combat with fear and trembling. When at length she saw that the knight was safe her joy was boundless, and she ran down the hill to greet him.

11.    St. George called to her, “Brave and noble lady, the evil beast is now vanquished,3 but I have no chain to bind him. Lend me your girdle and we will lead him to the city.' ’

The Princess took off her silver girdle, and St. George fastened it round the monster’s neck. The dragon did not try to escape, for there was no more spirit in him. Thus they came to the city, the Princess leading the dragon and St. George riding beside her.

12.    When the men-at-arms who guarded the city saw the dragon coming, they did not wait to look at him twice, but fled into the town crying, “The dragon is here. Fly! Save yourselves! ’ ’

All fled for shelter except the King. He mounted his great white horse and rode towards the city gates, determined to drive off the dragon or to die in the attempt.

13.    Imagine his surprise and joy when he saw the dreadful creature crawling after the Princess, and held in leash4 by her girdle, while riding beside her was a noble knight.

When the King learned of the combat he offered the knight rich gifts, and begged him to stay and govern the city of Silene. But St. George would not accept any reward. “I am a soldier,” he said, “and serve the Emperor of Rome. Some day, perhaps, I may return; till then give thanks to the true God, O King! who has this day delivered you from the dragon by my hand.”

14.    Year after year the people of Silene waited for St. George, but he came not again. At last they built a noble church in his honour, and from the topmost tower floated a great flag, bearing a red cross on a white ground—the banner of St. George.



On the left is the city of Silene, and on the right the Princess Sabra is seen anxiously watching the fight

15. The church and palace of Silene have long since crumbled to dust, but St. George is not forgotten.

Prom the masts of the proudest ships 5 in the British Navy flies the flag of St. George, and as long as there are English men and English women in the world, the Red Cross of St. George will hold pride of place in the Union Jack.

—Adapted fromThe Saints in Story.”


1.    Patron saintA guardian saint ; one who is said to be the special

protector of some country.

2.    Lion-hearted Richard—Richard I., 1189-1199.

3.    Vanquished—Overthrown ; conquered.

4.    Held in leash—Bound.

5.    Proudest ships—The flag-ships of the fleet. The Flag of St. George

is flown by Admirals, Vice-Admirals, and Rear-Admirals.

The Old Battle Cry.

re -sound -ing



The old Battle-cry is resounding,

“To Arms!” all ye ends of the earth,

The Dragon-oppressor5 moves forward—

“To Arms!” all ye Freemen by birth,

The Destroyer has summoned his forces,

The Dragon is leaving his lair,

Breathing out death and destruction On a peaceful world passingly fair.

“God and St. George for England!”

Fiery Cross on the banner of white.

Britain marshals her manhood,

For God! The King! and The Right.

—Bertha Pasmore [adapted)


1. The Dragon-oppressor—The Central Alliance—Germany, Austria, Turkey, and Bulgaria, who are likened to the Dragon of the story.

The Legend of the Days.

Part III.

con-stant-ly    gar-den-ing    grace-ful-ly    re-al-ized

grad-u-al-ly    anx-ious-ly    dis-ap-peared    bril-liant

galloped    re-joic-ing    woolden    show-ered

2.    Tommy was so overcome with delight at the thought of such a feast of corn in store for him that he rolled over and over, knocking down shock 1 after shock of corn.

The field was full of happy, merry men, women, and children. Nobody seemed to mind in the least what Tommy did. He brayed and kicked, rolled, and galloped to his heart’s content; but Freda joined the happy throng of reapers. She picked up a shining hook and began to cut the golden corn.

3.    For a few minutes she reaped busily; but her little hand soon grew tired. She dropped her hook and, sitting down on a large sheaf which lay near, she watched the busy scene. Men and women, old and young, girls and boys and tiny children, were all there, reaping, binding, loading waggons, talking, laughing, singing, and playing.


She was just making up her mind to go to them, when she felt a hand laid gently on her shoulder.

She looked round, and there, behind her, stood a kindlooking man, who held in his hand a crooked pruning-knife. His clothing consisted of a loose but graceful woollen garment, and his feet were bound with sandals of woollen ribbon.

Freda felt sure that this must be somebody important. She jumped up and politely held out her hand.

“I wonder whether you are Saturday?” she asked timidly.

4.    “Yes, of course I am!” answered Saturn, for it was he. “But how did you guess my name, child?’’ asked he, seating himself on the sheaf, and drawing Freda gently towards him.

“Well, you see-. Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday have all told me their story, so I thought you would come next. I have been wondering wrhat you would be like. You have been a long time coming. It must be nearly the end of Saturday now!’’ said Freda. “But, oh!’’ exclaimed she,

‘ ‘ what a lovely day you are giving us! ”

5.    Saturday smiled at the child. “This is truly a glorious Saturday, but it is nearly ended,’’ said he, gazing at the glow of the setting sun.

“Friday’s child is free in giving,

But Saturday’s child works hard for its living!’’ sang some children near by.

“Little rascals!’’ laughed Saturday. “They know I am here, and that when the harvest is all gathered in they are going to have a great feast, so they are trying to remind me that they deserve a good time. Work hard, children!’’ cried he, “and you will have a splendid holiday later on.”

At the sound of Saturday’s voice most of the reapers looked round for a moment, and then they set to work with renewed energy.

6.    “Saturday, please tell me a little about yourself: the time is getting short,” said Freda.

“In the far-way ages,” began Saturday, “my name was Cronus. Cronus was the god of time. I was exiled from my country, and wandered into Italy, where the people gave me the name of Saturnus.

“I taught the Italian people farming and gardening, and improved their condition very much. They were all so grateful to me that they called the whole country Saturnia, or the land of plenty, and the age in which I lived was the Golden Age.”

7.    “But what about the holidays?” asked Freda, anxiously.

“ Oh! the reapers will have their rejoicings, but they must wait for another Saturday, when the harvest is all over, because look, child, the sun is setting fast, and the corn is not yet carried! ’ ’

“What a pity!” sighed Freda. “I would like to see the games.”

“Another Saturday, child,” said Saturday, rising to take leave of his little friend.

8.    “Tell me, please, before you go: are you called Saturday after the god Saturn and the planet Saturn, too?”

But Freda got no answer to her question.

Once more the eight little moons seemed to be jumping over Saturn’s rings, and faintly came the sound of voices in the night breeze,

“Saturday’s child works hard for its living!”

‘ ‘ I think Saturday’s child has a lovely time! ’ ’ said Freda to Tommy, who came trotting up to his little mistress at that moment.

9.    “I wonder how it is that Sunday comes last! I always thought it was the first day in the week,” said Freda, as she stood rubbing Tommy’s nose. “I can’t quite understand it!” she continued.

“Listen, Tommy!” she cried, as the sound of singing reached her ear.

What she heard was a most beautiful quartette,2 and the voices, male and female, blended in perfect harmony:

“Seven days in the week are we,

Six to work, and the seventh to pray.”

The words of the quartette rang out clear and distinct.

Freda looked in the direction of the sound, and there, for just a short space of time, standing in a group on the cliff, she saw Lady Monday, the fiery god of war, King Woden, the god of thunder, graceful Friday, and kind-hearted Saturday.

“Seven days in the week are we,

Six to work, and the seventh to pray.”

chanted they again.

10.    Their singing was perfect, and

“The seventh to pray,” echoed out over land and sea in full, rich tones.

Slowly and gracefully the figures disappeared, and gradually the sound died away.

Freda stood spellbound. For some minutes she gazed out over the wide expanse of water. Then at last she realised that she and Tommy were alone.

“Oh, come back, come back! Sing that lovely song again!” she cried, stretching out her hands in pleading gestures.

The days did not come back; but Freda thought she heard far, far away the faint, yet rich tones. 6

Peg Away.

staunch    tack-le    naught.

1.    Come lasses and lads, let me sing to-night

A straight little simple song,

A song that is neither of love’s delight,

Nor of war with its hate and wrong,

A song with a motto for ev-ry one,

A motto for peasant or king,

A song that will do for any of you,

And this is the song I sing:

Peg away, lad! never look sad,

Whatever you have to do—

Don’t be afraid, sweet little maid,

That the load is too heavy for you—

Peg away, lass!

Peg away, lad!

Cheery and staunch1 and gay—

If a thing’s to be won,

There’s naught to be done But just keep pegging away!

3. And whether, at last, the prize you’ve won,

Or whether you lose the day,

You ’ll be the better for what you’ve done,

The better for pegging away;

Life will be brighter in ev-ry part,

And the world a happier place,

And though you’ve an ache deep down in your heart, You can still keep a smiling face!

Stick to it, lad! never look sad,

Whatever you have to do.

Don’t be afraid, sweet little maid,

You can stick to it too;

Peg away, lass!

Peg away, lad!

And then in your hearts you ’ll say—

Whatever has worth In this blessed old Earth,

’Tis won by pegging away !


1.    Staunch—Steadfast ; firm.

2.    Tackle it—Do your best to overcome the difficulty.

Stories of the Breakfast Table,


Written Specially for The School Paper.

fra-grant    tra-velled    sit-u-a-ted    earth-en

de-scend-ants    plan-ta-tion    pro-tect-ed    de-lie-ious

sep-a-ra-ted    an-cient    spoon-fuls    rel-a-tions 7 8


We have relations in the East and the West Indies, and a small branch of the family is rooted in Queensland. But none of these are quite of the same class as the ancient stock in Arabia.

3. “We were born from a cluster of white, star-like blossoms growing on a shrub some 16 feet in height. This was one of many


hundreds in a large plantation standing on a mountain slope, quite 2,000 feet above sea-level. The plantation was situated in the province of Yemen, in South Arabia. The plants were grown in terraces, and were shaded by larger trees. Far below us, we could see the dark green fronds2 of date palms for which this province is famous, and far awray on the horizon3 was a faint blue line marking the waters of the Red Sea.

4.    “Our parent flowers were protected from the fierce heat of the sun by broad smooth leaves, about 6 inches long. Our wind-rocked cradle was a small berry, the size of a cherry. At first this cradle was green and hard, but under the kindly influence of the sun and the warm rains, the colour changed to a deep red, and the berry became round and soft. By this time we were fully grown and ready to go out into the world.

5.    “Like most young folk we were eager for a change, and were quite pleased when a pair of brown fingers plucked the berry from its parent stem, and tossed it into a basket in which were some hundreds of other berries. The basket was carried to a shed upon the plantation, and the berries were spread upon a large wooden tray. This was set out in the full glare of the sun, but was carried into the shed at the first sign of rain.

6.    “For several days Arab children turned the heaps of berries with wooden shovels. As our cradle dried, the space in which we lay grew smaller, and we were crushed closer together.

“But this was only the beginning of our troubles. The Arabs wished to free us from our cradles, and their way of doing this was by smashing the cradles to small pieces while we were in them.

7.    “Imagine our feelings when the berries were placed in great earthern pots and pounded with stout poles till the outer husk was broken to atoms. It is true that we were freed from our narrow cradles, but the treatment had left us bruised and sore.

‘ ‘ Once again we were set out on trays and exposed to the heat of the sun till we were all quite dry. Then the whole heap was picked over, and seeds that were broken or not fully grown were separated from the others.

8.    “We were placed with the seeds of the very best quality, and packed into stout canvas bags. These bags were taken in a covered cart to the sea-coast and shipped at the port of Mocha to be carried to Egypt and Turkey. We heard that we might be sent to the palace of the Sultan.

‘ ‘ However, this great honour was not for us. When the ship reached the port of Suez, Egypt and Turkey were at war, so that we got no further. We were taken from the ship and carried to a roasting-mill.

9.    “Here we had a trying time. We were emptied into a long, steel vessel shaped somewhat like a barrel, which turned round and round over a fire. As it turned we were shaken and tossed hither and thither, till at last the heat became so great that our bodies swelled and burst with a sharp crack.

10.    “But wTorse was to follow. From the roaster we were taken to a mill whose sharp teeth crushed our bodies to a coarse powder. We were r.o longer berries, but ground coffee. We were


then packed in air-tight tins. The tin in which we were placed was bought by an officer in charge of some troops returning to Australia.

11. “After a long voyage we reached Queensland. The tin in which we were packed was opened and several spoonfuls of coffee were taken out and placed in this coffee-pot. Boiling water was poured over us and we were left to soak for a few minutes. We heard someone say that the water in which we were soaked


made a delicious4 cup of coffee. We wonder what will happen to us next. Perhaps we may be sent on a visit to our Queensland relations. Who knows?”


1.    Fragrant—Sweet-scented.

2.    Fronds—The leaves of palms or ferns.

3.    Horizon—The boundary line where earth and sky seem to meet.

4.    Delicious—Very pleasing to the taste.

Printed and Published by Anthony James Cumming, Government Printer. Brisbane.

On FamOj eternal camping-ground Their ¿¡lent tentg are spread,

And Glory yuardg withgolemn round The bivouac oh the dead.

7heo4ore OHara.

A N zacTre Da w/v, 25 7-? Arr/l . A9/5.


A J. Ct/mmmy , Government" Pr»nher, önsbene. Queensland

A .1 \

£ Lt ¡S\ g

¿K jNî

Gr mié

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JVor /et ug ¿ned no of them $ s tagt or óeaà; > ¿//% g but brief at begfdnó' òeathg con fro/ Exfendg nof over the bero/e¿out. Immortalgarlands crowojueh browjag Iheje; They nre the óeaó who rot 'ri^e!frit) edge.

[Registered at the General Post Office, Brisbane, for transmission as a newspaper.]

New Series—Vol. VII. BRISBANE.    April, 1916.

[By courtesy of Editor Journal of the R.M.C. of Australia.









quar-rel    car-ried

eoun-tries    cer-tain

sol-diers    fa-mous

1.    There has been a great war ra-ging in Eu-rope since August, 1914.

2.    The quar-rel be-gan be-tween Aus-tri-a and Ser-bi-a.

3.    One by one the fol-low-ing coun-tries were drawn in-to the war, name-ly, Rus-sia, Ger-man-y, Bel-gium, France, En-gland, Ja-pan, It-a-ly, Tur-key, and Bul-ga-ri-a.

4.    En-gland, France, Rus-sia, Bel-gium, Ja-pan, It-a-ly, and Ser-bi-a are known as the Al-lies; while Ger-man-y, Aus-tri-a, Tur-key, and Bul-ga-ri-a are called en-em-y coun-tries.

5.    Ver-y soon af-ter the war broke out, a great call went through Aus-tra-li-a for her sons to join the Motli-er-land; New Zea-land al-so heard the call.

6.    Since the lat-ter part of the year 1914, thous-ands of brave men have been car-ried o-ver the sea to help to save the great Brit-isli Em-pire.

7.    They sailed in ships called trans-ports, and were first land-ed at E-gvpt. Here they un-derwent a cer-tain a-mount of train-ing in or-der to fit them for a sol-dier’s life.

8.    When Tur-key said she was a-gainst the Al-lies, the Brit-isli War Lords thought that it would be a good thing to send the Aus-tra-li-an and New Zea-land men to fight Tur-key.

9.    Thous-ands of these men, who so late-ly lived in peace in the land of the South-ern Cross, were a-gain placed on ships and car-ried to the shores of Tur-key.

10. It was on the morn-ing of 25tli April, 1915, that a land-ing was made in face of a lieav-y fire from the Turks, who ap-peared to be read-y to re-ceive them.

11. The land-ing was made a-bout 4 o’clock in the morn-ing, af-ter the moon had gone down.

12.    Our men took the first line of trencli-es in a-bout a min-ute, but in or-der to get to the sec-ond line they had to climb a great cliff.

13.    They did this with great skill, al-though they lost man-y men in do-ing so. They were soon firm-ly set-tied on Tur-kish ground.

14.    Nev-er be-fore has a hard-er task been giv-en to sol-diers than that of this now fa-mous land-ing.

15.    All the coun-tries which are friends of the Al-lies, soon rang with praise for the brave Aus-tra-li-ans and New Zea-land-ers.

16.    Our sol-diers thought they were land-ing at Ga-ba Te-pe, but they land-ed a lit-tle to the north of it. They saw their mis-take when daylight came.

17.    The land-ing place has been named Anzac, a word which is made up of the first let-ters of the words, Aus-tra-li-an and New Zea-land Ar-my Corps.

18.    Af-ter a-bout eight months they saw it was of no use to hold the place an-v lon-ger, and so they left it on the 19th and 20th December, 1915.

19. And their get-ting a-way from it was perhaps a more clev-er feat than their land-ing on it.

Little Foes of Little Children.

cow-ard    cheat    once

world    hon-ours    non-sense

trav-el    try-ing    suc-ceed

“By-and-by” is a ver-y bad boy,

Shun him at once and for ev-er;

For, those who trav-el with “By-and-by”

Soon come to the house of “Nev-er.”

“I can’t” is a mean lit-tle cow-ard,

A boy that is half a man;

Set on him a wee lit-tle dog-gie—

The world knows and hon-ours “I can.”

“No use in try-ing!” Oh, non-sense!

Keep try-ing, un-til you suc-ceed;

But, if you should meet ‘ ‘ I for-got ’ ’ by the way, He’s a cheat, and you’d bet-ter take heed.

aught    wreck    hon-our

car-ried    float    stain-less

stron-gest    de-ny    treat

There’s a flag that waves o’er ev-er-y sea,

No mat-ter when or where;

And to treat that flag as aught but free,

Is more than the stron-gest dare.

For the li-on spir-its that tread the deck Have car-ried the palm of the brave;

And that flag may sink with a shot-torn wreck, But nev-er float o’er a slave.

It’s hon-our is stain-less, de-ny it who can, The flag of a true-born En-glisli-man.

—Eliza Coole.

Yic-to-ri-a    reins








E-gypt    fierce

med-al    joined

1.    Some of our sol-diers and sail-ors have the right to put the let-ters Y.C. af-ter their names. This means that they have won the Yic-to-ri-a Cross.

2.    The Cross is a med-al which was first giv-en by Queen Vic-to-ri-a.


3.    Here is a pic-ture which shows each side of the Cross. In the mid-dle is a crown with a li-on a-bove it. Un-der the crown is a scroll, or rib-bon, on which are the words FOR YALOUR.

4.    This means that the medal is giv-en on-ly to a man who has done some-thing very brave. The man who wins it thinks a great deal of it.

5.    The first a-wards of these med-als were made in 1856, and the men who had won them had the hon-our of hav-ing the med-als giv-en them by the Queen, her-self.

6.    She rode to Hyde Park in Lon-don on a ver-y fine white horse. She wore a scar-let coat and a hat with featli-ers.

7.    The men were drawn up in a line, and were brought one by one be-fore the Queen. Then she stooped and pinned the med-al up-on each man’s left breast.

8.    Since that time a num-ber of sol-diers and sail-ors have won the Cross: Lord Rob-erts was one of them. He won his when he was a young sol-dier in In-di-a.

9.    At that time there was fight-ing go-ing on with some of our In-di-an sol-diers. One day Roberts saw two of them run-ning a-way with a Brit-ish flag.

10.    He at once rode af-ter them as fast as he could.

With his sword in his right hand he rushed at the man who had the flag.

11.    Then he let the reins fall up-on his horse’s neck, and with his left hand he caught hold of the flag, and tore it from the man’s grasp, while at the same time he knocked him to the ground.

12.    The oth-er man, who had a gun, now ran up. He placed the end of the gun close to Roberts ’ bod-y, and pulled the trig-ger. The brave of-fi-cer thought that his last hour had come.

13.    The gun, how-ev-er, did not go off, and

Roberts struck at the man with his sword, but he jumped to one side, and was a-ble to get a-way un-hurt.

14.    Now let us see how an-otli-er brave sol-dier won the Cross. His name was Mar-shall, and he went out to fight the Ar-abs in E-gypt.

15.    These men are ver-y wild and fierce, and it is on-lv brave sol-diers who can face them. They have no fear of shot and shell.

16.    Mar-shall was a liorse-sol-dier, and one day his troop came face to face with a large bod-y of Ar-abs.

The of-fi-cers gave the or-der to halt, and to get read-y for a fight.

17.    “ Sit firm in your sad-dles,” cried one. u Be read-y to move all at once. Keep a firm hand on your hors-es.”

18.    Then the word was giv-en, and the troop moved for-ward to meet the foe. They met, and the fight was fierce. The Arab spears came like hail a-mong the Brit-isli liorse-men. Twen-ty of them fell from their liors-es to the ground, and a-mong these was the lead-er of the troop, an of-fi-cer named Bar-row.

19.    Mar-shall saw his lead-er fall to the ground. Some-tiling must be done to help him! But all a-round the fall-en man the spears fell fast. To leave the troop and go near him meant to run great risk of death.

20.    But he did not stop to think of this. Not far a-way was a horse with-out a ri-der. Mar-shall rode up to it and caught hold of its bri-dle. Then he led it to the place where Bar-row was ly-ing.

21. He jumped down to the ground and helped him up-on the oth-er horse. And all the time the spears fell thick a-bout them. Strange to say, nei-ther man was hit. In a short time both had joined their com-rades.


22.    For this brave deed Mar-shall was giv-en the Vic-to-ri-a Cross.

23.    The first V.C. won at An-zac was gained by an Aus-tra-li-an named Jack-a.

24.    Cor-por-al Jack-a, a young Ben-di-go mi-ner, was the on-ly man left in a trench at An-zac, in which sev-en Turks had gained a foot-ing.

In-stead of run-ning a-way, as he could have done, he took shel-ter and kept the Turks at bay, un-til an of-fi-cer and some men came in sight.

25.    “It is not safe to come round there, sir,” he shout-ed to the of-fi-cer.

“ What is the best thing to do?” said the of-fi-cer.

Jack-a re-plied, “ Send a par-ty, and they and I will rush the Turks in the trench. ’ ’

26.    But the first man round the trench was shot, and it was then seen that in or-der to win, some otli-er way must be tried.

“ Send a bomb-ing par-ty,” cried Jack-a.

27.    The bomb-ing par-ty took some time to get to the place, and, when they ar-rived they found sev-en dead Turks, with Jack-a sit-ting on one of them, smo-king a cig-ar-ette.

28.    He had ta-ken the work in-to his own hands, and cleared the trench him-self.

29.    For this brave deed he was giv-en the Vic-to-ri-a Cross, and he is the first Aus-tra-li-an to win one.

—Gateways to History (adapted and enlarged).

Then will he strip his sleeve, and show his scars, And say, “These wounds I had on Cris-pin’s Day.”


The Home in the Clouds.

















1. Long,

long ago, boys and girls had

no books

to read, nor schools to go to. But still they learned some things a-bout their own land, and I will tell you how.

2.    When the men had done their work for the day, or when they had come back from liunt-ing, or fish-ing, they would sit round the tire in their huts, and tell sto-ries of days long gone by.

3.    Some-times, the old-est man in a vil-lage would ask the boys and girls to draw near him; he would then tell them tales which his fa-ther had told him, when he was young.

4.    These peo-ple lived in the cold coun-try in the far north of Eu-rope, and were known as the Northmen.

5.    They did not know an-y-thing a-bout the one God; they thought there were man-y gods. The sun, the moon, the stars, the clouds, were all gods to them.

6.    They said that their gods lived in grand pal-a-ces in the sky, and that they cared for men on earth in man-y ways.

7.    If you look at the sky when it is rain-ing, and the sun is al-so slii-ning, you will of-ten see a love-ly arch of man-y col-ours. This is called a rain-bow.

8.    The gods used the rain-bow as a bridge, when thev left their pal-a-ces and came down to the earth.

9.    The chief of the gods was called O-din. He was very hand-some, with a bright, cheer-y face.

10.    His hair and beard were long and grey, and he wore a cloak of bright blue, with dasli-es of white in it.

11.    When the Nortli-men looked up at the blue sky, and saw the lit-tle white clouds there, they said : “ See! that is O-din’s cloak blow-ing in the breeze.”

12.    O-din knew all that the peo-ple on the earth said and did. This is said to be how he found it out.

13.    He had two black ra-vens which he sent out ev-er-y morn-ing. They flew all round the world, and at night came back to him. They rest-ed, one on each shoul-der, and told him what they had seen and heard, while they had been a-way.

14.    Of all the peo-ple on the earth, O-din loved fight-ing men the best. So, to please him, the Northmen spent much of their time fight-ing bat-ties.

15.    In-deed, they all hoped to die in bat-tie at some time. They thought that they would then go straight o-ver the rain-bow bridge to O-din’s home in the sky.

16.    When they got there, they would pass their days hunt-ing, or fight-ing with each oth-er for sport, in O-din’s gar-den; and at night, they would feast in his pal-ace.

17.    If, when fight-ing, they hurt each oth-er, their wounds would be healed when they came back in-to the pal-ace.

18.    You will won-der what kind of a home O-din would need to find pla-ces for all the brave men who died in bat-tie.

19. It was ver-y, ver-y large. It was built on the top of the higli-est hill in the sky, and was as bright as the sun. The walls were made of shi-ning spears, and the roof of gold-en shields.

20. And what large doors it had! They were so wide that a whole ar-my of men could pass through at once. There were for-ty-five of these doors.

21.    Ev-er-y leaf on the trees and the plants in the gar-den was of gold; and, when the wind blew these leaves a-bout, the gar-den seemed to have hundreds of lit-tle vel-low lights dan-cing in the sun.

22.    In-side the pal-ace were great ta-bles, with meat and drink on them. Here the brave men feast-ed, and had a ver-y mer-ry time.

23.    O-din was some-times called Wo-den, and the North-men named one day in each week Wo-den’s day.

24.    We have the same name still for that day, but the word has been changed a lit-tle—which day is it ?

The “A.L.” Welcome Headers (adapted).

My Country.

coun-try    tru-est    true

sure    proud    ought

heart    no-ble    needs

I ought to love my eoun-try,

The land in which I live;

Yes, I am ver-y sure my heart Its tru-est love should give.

For, if I love my coun-try,

I’ll try to be a man My coun-try may be proud of;

And if I try, I can.

She wants men brave and no-ble,

She needs men true and kind.

My coun-try needs that I should be The best man she can find.

The Cost of Law













1.    Once up-on a time two cats found a nice piece of cheese. They car-ried it oft to a qui-et spot, where they could en-joy it.

2.    Here one of the cats took up the cheese to di-vide it, but the oth-er cat laid hold of it, and said that she would di-vide it.

3.    And so they be-gan to quar-rel, for each of them was a-fraid that the oth-er cat would get more than her share. It seemed as if the quar-rel would end in a fight.

4.    At length they a-greed to ask a mon-key they knew to di-vide the cheese in-to two e-qual parts. They thought that, in this way, each of them would get her fair share.

5.    The mon-key was ver-v glad to act as judge. He al-so was fond of cheese, but the cats had not thought of that. They on-ly meant to keep each oth-er from get-ting too much.

6.    The mon-key soon came with a pair of scales, in which to weigh the cheese, when he had bro-ken it in-to two parts.

7.    Break-ing the cheese in two, he placed the piec-es in the scales. One was heav-i-er than the oth-er. So he took a bite from the heav-i-er piece to make them both a-like.

8.    Then he put it back in the scales, hut now the oth-er piece was the heav-i-er. So he at once took a bite from that, and then weighed them a-gain.

9.    The piece in the oth-er scale was now the heav-i-er, and the mon-key was just a-bout to take an-oth-er bite, when the two cats cried out, “Stop! Stop!”

10.    “Why should I stop?” asked the mon-key. “Be-cause we are con-tent to take the piec-es just as they are, ’ ’ said the cats.

11.    “No, no,” said the mon-key, “I can-not give them to you un-til they are both a-like. If you are con-tent, I am not. The law, my friends, must take its course. ’ ’

12.    So the mon-key kept on weigli-ing the two piec-es of cheese, but was ver-y care-ful to have one piece al-ways heav-i-er than the other.

13.    A-fraid that they would lose all, the cats begged the mon-key not to take an-y more troub-le. They said a-gain, that they were con-tent to take what was left.

14.    “Soft-ly, soft-ly,” said the mon-key, “you put the case in-to my hands to de-cide be-tween you. If you are con-tent to end the case now, I am not. I must see that right is done to me as well as to you. What re-mains falls to me for my troub-le. ’ ’

15.    When he had said this, he put all the cheese that was left in-to his mouth. The poor cats nev-er said a word.

16.    One of them might have lost a bit had the otli-er di-vi-ded the cheese, but by go-ing to law they lost all of it.

The Little Piggie Wig










There was a lit-tle pig-gie wig,

So fat it could-n’t run,

With eyes that twin-kled mer-ri-ly, And tail that curled for fun.

This pig-gie had a lit-tle trough, Which was al-ways filled with food,

Bran and broth, and tur-nips, too,

And ev-er-y-thing that’s good.

It’s lit-tle bed was made at night Of love-ly mead-ow hay;

There, cov-ered up, all but the nose,

It snored till break of day.

With sleep-ing and with eat-ing,

The pig-gie grew so fat,

That at last it could-n’t walk or run, So on the straw it sat.

At length it grew so ver-y fat It re-al-ly could-n’t see,

But the fat-ter, still the jol-li-er, And so it laughed “He! he!”

At last, one day, a strange man came;

A-las for pig-gie then!

For all at once it went a-way,

And was nev-er seen a-gain.


at School.

















1.    May had no less-ons to do in the e-ven-ing, and so af-ter tea she used to play with Ba-hy Boy. The game she liked best to play at was keep-ing school.

2.    For a class she had her four dolls, Ba-hy Boy, and, if she could find her, Sweep, the black kit-ten.

3. First, she took a pen-cil, and an old cop-y-book, and called their names.

4. “ El-sie Brown.” This was the name of one of the dolls. As she could not speak for her-self, May had to say “ Yes, teach-er,” for her, and for the oth-er three dolls, too.

5.    She put a cross in the cop-y-book as she did so, and then she called, “ Sweep Brown.” But the naugh-ty kit-ten had run out at the door and jumped o-ver the wall.

6.    “ Stan-ley Brown.” “ Yes, teach-er,” said Ba-by Boy, for that was his right name.

7.    May put a-way the cop-y-book, and got a lit-tle board, a bit of chalk, and a long stick.

8.    “ I hope you are not go-ing to beat the cliil-dren in your class,” said moth-er, who was sit-ting by the ta-ble mend-ing a stock-ing.

9.    “ Oh, no, moth-er,” said May, “ I will not hurt an-y-bod-y. I on-ly use the stick in point-ing out the let-ters; un-less Top-sy is ver-y naugh-ty,” she add-ed.

Top-sy was an old wood-en doll with on-ly one


10.    “ Now, chil-dren, can you tell me the name of this let-ter?” asked May, point-ing to the board, on which she had drawn some let-ters with chalk.

11.    None of the dolls spoke, and just then Top-sy tum-bled down on the floor.

12.    “ Oh! what a bad girl you are, Top-sy Brown,” said May. She gave her a beat-ing with the stick, and put her in the cor-ner.

13.    Then she point-ed to an-oth-er let-ter. This time Ba-by Boy put up his hand, and gave the right an-swer, for he knows O and S. May has taught him


14. “ Stan-ley Brown is the best boy in the class,” said the teach-er. “ He shall have the prize. ’ ’

15. And what do you think the prize was? A lump of su-gar! Ba-by Boy liked it ver-y much, and crunched it up with his lit-tle white teeth.

16. Then May put a-way the board and the big stick.

She took Top-sy out of the eor-ner, and laid her in bed with the oth-er dolls, for it was time for her and Ba-by Bo}r to have their sup-per of bread and milk.

Oliver and Boyd’s Sunbeam Readers {adapted).

The Duck and Her Ducklings.

taught    quack    style

marched    cried    gen-teel

walked    mam-ma    though

There was an old duck which had three lit-tle ducks,

Three lit-tle duck-lings, chuck, chuck, chuck!

She took them for a walk, and she marched them back,

And taught them how to say to her, “Quack, quack, quack! ’ ’

The duck-lings went be-hind, and the duck went be-fore,

Three ducks and one duck, that made four:

A duck-ling is a duck, if I know white from black ;

But a duck is not a duck-ling, though, “Quack, quack, quack! ’ ’

This duck was gen-teel, and she walked with great state,

Then cried, “Now, duck-lings, mark my gait;

So much, you see, de-pends on the style of the back.”

W. B. Rands.

And the duck-lings said, “Yes, mam-ma, quack, quack, quack!”

Little Chickens.

















1.    Once up-on a time, a hen made her nest, a-mong the hay, in a big barn. In the nest were ten white eggs, and she took great care of them.

2.    One of the eggs held a dear lit-tle chick who was just wa-king up. To her the shell of the egg was like the wall of a pris-on.

3.    So the chick be-gan to tap, tap, on the shell with her beak. The shell was not thick, but she found it hard to break.

4.    “ Let me out! Let me out!” she cried. She thought that she was ma-king a great noise, but no one heard her, for the hen was ta-king a nap.

5.    “I must try a-gain,” said the chick, as she set to work once more. This time she gave such a sharp tap that the shell broke.

6.    “ Peep! peep!” cried the chick, as she saw the light for the first time. “ What a fine chick I am ! ’ ’

7.    The hole in the shell was a ti-ny one at first, but the chick soon made it big, and ver-y glad she was when she could creep out on to the straw, which lay on the floor of the barn.

8.    She had nev-er seen her moth-er be-fore, but she knew her at once, and such a kind moth-er she was!

9.    “ Well, my child!” said the moth-er, with a loud cluck, “ how do you like the world, now you have come in-to it?”

10.    “It is so big\” said the poor lit-tle chick, who be-gan to shake with fright, “ and the bright light hurts my eyes. ’ ’

11.    “ That is the sun,” said her moth-er; “ you will soon get used to him. He will not hurt you. Come un-der my wing, and go to sleep; then, when you wake up, your eyes will be stron-ger.”

12.    The chick was on-ly too glad to do as she was told. Mrs. Hen told her that the barn was a ver-y small bit of the big world, and that some day she would go out and see the grand things in the farm-yard.

13.    “I will teach you how to find fat worms, if you are good,” said the kind moth-er hen.

The chick did not know what her moth-er meant by worms, and she felt too sleep-y to ask just then.

14.    “ Peep! peep! You must uot get on top of me!” These were the first words the chick heard, as she a-woke from her sleep.

15.    It was one of her broth-ers who spoke. He had got out of his shell while she was fast a-sleep un-der her moth-er’s wing.

16.    Then she saw oth-er broth-ers and sis-ters a-round her; and bits of shells lay all a-bout the nest. There was hard-ly room for the first lit-tle chick to move.

17.    “Peep! peep!” she cried in her weak voice. “ I am so glad to see you! What a large fam-i-ly we are to be sure! ’ ’

18.    “ You are not much like the rest of us,” said one of her broth-ers. Then the first chick saw that three chicks were brown, three black and white, three speck-led, and that she was a pret-ty yel-low.

19.    She was just go-ing to say that the three brown ones were the best, when there a-rose a great noise—“ Peep! peep! peep! Cheep! cheep! cheep! You are ta-king up all the room! I can’t move!”

20.    Mrs. Hen cried “ Cluck! cluck! cluck!” in a cross tone, but the chicks on-ly made more noise than ev-er.

21.    At last, in came the farm-er’s wife to see what was the mat-ter, and to give them some food.

22.    How nice it is for lit-tle chicks, and lit-tle chil-dren, to have a dear moth-er to take care of them!

Nisbet’s Story Readers (adapted).

How They Talk.













“Buzz, buzz,” said the Fly

As lie flew swift-ly by.

“Hum, bum,” said the Bee, “Bet-ter not stop me!”

“Coo, coo,” said the Dove From his house up a-bove.

“Caw, caw,” said the Crow To the corn-field be-low.

The Dog said, “Bow, wow.” “Moo, moo,” said the Cow.

“Mew, mew,” said the Cat.

“I squeal,” said the Rat.

“Peep, peep,” said the Chick,

As it picked up a crumb. “Cluck, cluck,” said the ITen,

But the Fish were all dumb.

Said the Goose, “I siss.”

Said the Snake, “I hiss.”

But the Lark on the wing Said, ‘ ‘ I sing—I sing. ’ ’

“Baa, baa,” said the Sheep As she heard the Lamb “Bleat.” “Quack, quack,” said the Duck, “I’m al-ways in luck.”

“Croak, croak,” said the Frog. “Umph, umph,” said the Hog.

Said the Li-on, “I roar As you ne’er heard be-fore.” Said the horse, “I neigh.” Said the Don-key, “I bray.”

Said the Ea-gle, “As I fly Ver-y high in the sky,

But a dot I seem,

Yet you hear me scream.”


“Hoot, hoot,” said the Owl. Said the Wolf, “I howl.” Said the Ti-ger, “I growl.”

Then a lit-tle boy said,

As he held up his head

A-bove the beasts that were there,

And the fowls of the air—

‘ ‘ I laugh, and I cry,

I weep, and I sigh,

And I can speak words;

Which can-not be done By the beasts or the birds.


“A-bove all more than they,

I can think what I say,

And can know what be-long To the right and the wrong.”

If you can-not do what you’d like to do, Try to like what you have to do.

The Hard Lesson







giv-en    per-form

(should    tried

'could    walk

1.    This less-on is so hard,” said Ma-ry, I can-not learn it, and I will not try.”

2.    “ My child,” said her moth-er, “ how do you know that you can-not learn it, if you will not try“?”

3.    “It looks hard,” said Ma-ry, “ and I know that it is of no use to try. Be-sides, it is so long that I should nev-er get through it, if I were to try ev-er so much.”

4.    Ma-ry was not an i-dle girl, but she had made up her mind that she could not learn the less-on, and she had giv-en it up be-cause it looked hard.

5.    Her moth-er said no more for a min-ute or two; but she soon saw her lit-tle girl take up her book once more, and look at the less-on as if she wished she knew it.

6.    “ Ma-ry,” asked the moth-er, “ did you ev-er walk a mile ?

“ Yes, moth-er, ver-y of-ten.”

“ Did you do it all at once?”

“ No; I did it step by step.”

7.    “ Then try the less-on in that way: learn a part at a time; and, if you keep on, you will soon know the whole. ’ ’

8.    Ma-ry did as her moth-er told her, and in less than an hour she knew her less-on.

9.    Nev-er say you can-not do an-y-thing un-til you have tried ; and be sure that, if you do not give it up, you will not fail to per-form an-y task which will be giv-en you.


















How is it, when our ba-by’s put up-on the rug to roll,

He crawls straight to the coal-box and dives a-mongst the coal?

Or, if he finds the black-lead brush, left out by careless Sue,

He blacks his face, his pin-a-fore, his hands, and clean socks too?

How is it, when I sit at tea, and to my mouth I raise

My bread and jam, that down it falls be-fore my star-tied gaze?

It al-ways falls the jam side down, and to the floor it sticks;

And then I’m scold-ed well, and told I’ve nas-ty, dir-ty tricks.

How is it the po-lice-man tall, looks ver-y cross at me?

I won-der if he knows my faults, and can my tem-per


But, if he wore just com-mon clothes, like an-y otli-er man

Would he look quite as fierce, d’you think? Come, tell me if you can.

How is it, when I’m told to play in-side the gar-den gate,

The road seems just the place for fun? (the gar-den walks I hate!)

The but-ter-flies all play out there; they’d be so nice to chase.

How is it, then, that I must stay in this dull po-ky place ?

How is it, when the dark-ness comes, and I must go to bed,

That’s just what I don’t want to do; I would sit up in-stead ?

Yet, how is it when morn-ing comes, and I must rise and dress,

That bed’s the warm-est, co-si-est place: I don’t know I con-fess.

—Margaret Cameron, in Blackie’s Large Type Poetry Books.

The Dandelion.











dan-de-li-on, yel-low as gold,

What do you do all day?

I just wait here in the long green grass. Till the chil-dren come to play.

Oh, dan-de-li-on, yel-low as gold,

What do you do all night?

I wait, and wait, while the cool dew falls, And my hair grows long and white.

And what do you do when your hair grows white, And the chil-dren come to play?

They take me up in their dim-pled hands, And blow my hair a-way.

Hats off to the Flag.

Hats off !

A-long tlie street there comes A sound of bu-gles, a beat-ing of drums, A flash of col-ours be-neath the sky ; Hats off!

The flag is pass-ing by.

A Child to the Sunshine.

mer-ry    pret-ty    wake

seared    o-ver    where

Good morn-ing, mer-ry sun-shine!

How did you wake so soon ?

You’ve scared a-way the lit-tle stars, And hid the pret-ty moon.

I saw you go to sleep last night Be-fore I gave up play-ing;

How did you get back o-ver here,

And where have you been stay-ing?


o-pen    branch-es    done

clear    loud-ly    be-gun

sweet    gay    swing


O-pen your eyes, dear, Night is done;

The sky is clear,

The sun is near,

The day be-gun.

The lit-tle birds,

So sweet and gay,

On branch-es swing And loud-ly sing  Come out to play.”

Printed and Published by Anthony James Cumming, Government Printer, Brisbane.

On Fanoej eternal camping-ground Their gì lent tentj aregp read,

And Glory yuaròg with golem n round The b/eouae of the dead.

Theodore, O'Hara.



Anzac.- T/iif ¿9,4 WA/, 25 T" Arr/l ,

/4 w/. CL/mrmny , Go^e^nrntrt Pnnhgr, 3ns6a

»    ((m


   Sortie—An attack by besieged troops upon the besiegers.

(Fr. sortir, to go out).

12.    Howitzer—A short cannon of light weight for firing shells horizontally.

13.    Coup (Fr. pron. koo)—A sudden stroke or blow ; a successful hit.

14.    Supermen—Imagined persons of the future, of higher powers than

those of present humanity. (A “ hybrid ” word from Lat. super, and Eng. man. Cf. para-sol, starv-ation).

15.    Magazines—The cartridge chambers of the rifles.

16.    Inertia (Lat. iners, idle)—Inactivity ; lifelessness.

17.    Crimean—Referring to the terrible hardships undergone in the

Crimean War (1854-1856).


[ By courtesy of Editor Journal of the R.M.C. of Australia.



Bullets splashed all around the boats and tore through the wood-work. The pack upon my back was torn with bullets but I was untouched. We pulled with all our might for the shore; men cried, laughed, prayed, swore, and still the bullets tore through the boats, throwing all into confusion. A midshipman, in the pinnace which was towing the boats, a little chap of


“ ’Tis April and St. George’s Day,” is the chorus of a sweet and joyous song of Old England. April is in the middle of the English spring, and on 23rd April, St. George’s Day, trees are bursting into bright green leaf, and orchards are clothed in pink and white blossoms. St. George lias been chosen as the patron saint4 of England since the days of Lion-hearted Richard,and the fabled story of his fight with the dragon is pictured in gold on England’s coinage.


“Moons and rings! How funny!” said Freda to herself. Eight little shining moons seemed to be constantly jumping over and through rings of silver and gold.

“Saturn’s moons and rings, of course!” cried Freda, clapping her hands with delight.

Gradually the moons and rings changed into golden sheaves of corn and shining reaping-hooks, and Freda and Tommy found themselves in a huge cornfield on the cliff side.


Just then there appeared in the east a golden cloud, which Freda thought looked like a cradle. On the cloud lay a little baby, but the brilliant rays of golden light were so dazzling that Freda was obliged to close her eyes. The sea and the cliffs around her seemed to be bathed in gold.

“Sunday’s child is full of grace!”

sang a child’s voice from the clouds.

“Tell me, you dear baby, am I a Sunday’s child?” asked Freda, with eyes still closed.

“Yes, you are a Sunday’s child,” came the answer. “Every day has its gift and its lesson. Upon you have been showered Sunday’s gifts. If you use them aright you will grow up into a good and beautiful woman. ‘Sunday’s child is full of grace.’ ”

—Adapted from The Oirl’s Realm.


1.    Shock—A pile of sheaves of wheat, oats, &c.

2.    Quartette—A song in four parts.


   A gush of fragrant1 steam came from the mouth of the coffee-pot. “We too, are the products of a plant,” said the coffee grounds, “but we come from the fruit of the coffee-tree. A few weeks ago we were seeds in the berry of a plant which grew in Arabia. Each berry contained twin seeds.


   “We are the descendants of the most ancient of the coffee family, and are proud of that fact. Branches of our family have travelled to most of the warm countries in the world; and our cousins in Brazil are now far more numerous than we are.