A Party Postponed

IT happened in “The Blessed Isles”— sometime in ’93 — A dozen miners struck the town, all bent upon a spree; From Gira and The Yodda and the gold fields of Sud-Est, With the thirst that calls together men from East and North and West.

Came Flannigan, Macßackett, Bud and Ryan—“shammy’s” full — The rest of us were pretty broke, for mining had been dull!

Then Micky Dennis drifted in: He’d had a lucky spin, But 12 months out with foodstuffs scarce had left him weak and thin.

Too ill to even “square the store,” to hospital he went.

“It’s blackwater,” the doctor said. “His life’s not worth a cent.”

“I guess I’m done for, boys,” said Mick, “You’d better hang around — To drink a farewell at my grave I’ve left you each ten pound.”

Some stayed about in sympathy, and some in thirsty hope.

And day by day the matron handed out the “dying dope,”

“Last messages” and “tender thoughts he has about his mates.”

“We may not see him?” “No, indeed!”

We hangs about and waits.

The month went by. All stony broke, with thirsts as deep as sin.

All credit gone! No stores! No boys!

The Southern boat comes in— And, sailing, takes as passengers, Mick and his Matron bride ...

To leave us cursing wasted days when Micky nearly died.

Alice Allen Innes.

“Salamaua,” Olola Av., Vaucluse.

Mr. J. S. Neil, H.B.M’s Consul and Agent at Nukualofa, Tonga, sailed from New Zealand in May for Pitcairn Island on official business.