newed--bathed in the hot blood poured out freely by the
"sons of the line." Whether the fleet was laid up or not, George was
going! He might be over age, but no one could say what age he really
was, and he was tougher than most men half his age. He left Queensland
for Egypt with the Remount Unit in 1915, and is to-day in Jerusalem,
with the British forces. Maybe he is treading the Via Dolorosa gazing
at a place called Calvary, hoping that _One_ will remember that he,
too, had offered his life a ransom for past sins, which were many.

"For ours shall be Jerusalem, the golden city blest,
The happy home of which we've sung, in every land
and every tongue,
When there the pure white cross is hung,
Great spirits shall have rest." [1]

Prince Dressup was the dandy of the ship, a "swell guy" even at sea.
His singlets were open-work, his moleskins were tailor-made, and his
toe-nails were pedicured. The others wore only singlets and "pants,"
but had the regulation costume been as in the Garden of Eden, his
fig-leaf would have been the greenest and freshest there!

At one time he had been the best-dressed man in Sydney, giving the glad
and glassy optic to every flapper whose clocked silk stockings caught
his fancy. Some girl must have jilted him, and this was his revenge on
the fluffy things, the choice of a life where none of them could feast
their eyes on his immaculate masculine eligibility. Or, maybe, he was
really in love, and some true woman had told him only to return to her
when he had proved himself a man. If so, he had chosen the best
forcing-school for real manhood that existed prior to the war. And
there was real stuff in Prince Dressup; for, although there was
distinction and style even in the way he opened shell-fish, he took his
share of the dirty work, and when the time came he would not let
another man take his place in the ranks of the fighters for Australia's
freedom. He said, when we knew of the war, "that it would be rather
good fun," and when he died on Gallipoli, the bullet that passed
through his lungs had first of all come through the body of a comrade
on his back.

Chum Shrimp's size was the joke of the ship--he must have weighed three
hundred pounds. He could only pass through a door sideways, and the
"Binghis" (natives of New Guinea), when they saw him, blamed him for a
recent tidal wave, saying that he had fallen overboard. He was the
most active man I have ever known