and cheerfully to the
applicant: "What do you think; shall we put the gloves on?" This
gentleman had a very peculiar hobby, to attend the sick and dying, and
to bury the dead. Some incidents connected with his hobby, are as
follows:--A tank sinker from Ayrshire Downs died in the hospital. That
day a new warder and his wife, who came from beyond Boulia, were put on.
The doctor's instructions were that any person dying of typhoid fever,
as did the man in question, was to be taken out of the ward and buried
as quickly as possible. Immediately the man died, the wardsman was
taking the body straight into the morgue, after sending word to the
blacksmith, who was also the undertaker, to come up, and remove the body
straight away for burial. Some of the patients, seeing the body being
carried out, verbally assisted the new wardsman with their suggestions.
Thus, the dead man was to be washed, shaved, and have a clean shirt put
on. It was late in the afternoon; the wardsman did not like handling the
corpse, so the story goes, that he got a bucket of water and a mop, and
mopped the body down. This he left on the table in the morgue, and
forgot all about the clean shirt or the shaving. There was an
understanding between the police sergeant and the bank manager that as
there were no clergymen of any denomination in the town, the sergeant
would read the services for the Roman Catholics, and the manager for all
others. The undertaker-blacksmith would notify the reader required, and
funerals were carried out at any hour, day or night. The tank sinker's
funeral was timed to leave the hospital about 12.30 a.m. For some reason
the bank manager attended this funeral. The body was then in the coffin,
and a start made for the cemetery. There were some of the dead man's
mates present, and the bank manager heard them complaining that it was a
d----d shame to bury a man naked. When the funeral reached the
graveside, the idea struck the manager that, as he was wearing a clean,
white shirt, it would be the proper thing to open the coffin, put his
shirt on the corpse, and this was done. The action gave great pleasure
and satisfaction to the men present, who, as a mark of gratitude, on
return to town, wished to knock up the public-house people and shout
drinks for all hands.

One night there was a funeral at which the manager was to read prayers.
The undertaker in this case had a small cart, used as a hearse, drawn by
a mule recently broken in, and