tion, moving very slowly, and very
upright, and very straight, like an automaton.

BOGG OF GEEBUNG

At the local police court, where the subject of this sketch turned up
periodically amongst the drunks, he had "James" prefixed to his name for
the sake of convenience and as a matter of form previous to his being
fined forty shillings (which he never paid) and sentenced to "a month
hard" (which he contrived to make as soft as possible). The local
larrikins called him "Grog," a very appropriate name, all things
considered; but to the Geebung Times he was known until the day of his
death as "a well-known character named Bogg." The antipathy of the local
paper might have been accounted for by the fact that Bogg strayed into
the office one day in a muddled condition during the absence of the
staff at lunch and corrected a revise proof of the next week's leader,
placing bracketed "query" and "see proof" marks opposite the editor's
most flowery periods and quotations, and leaving on the margin some
general advice to the printers to "space better." He also corrected a
Latin quotation or two, and added a few ideas of his own in good French.

But no one, with the exception of the editor of the Times, ever dreamed
that there was anything out of the common in the shaggy, unkempt head
upon which poor Bogg used to "do his little time," until a young English
doctor came to practise at Geebung. One night the doctor and the manager
of the local bank and one or two others wandered into the bar of the
Diggers' Arms, where Bogg sat in a dark corner mumbling to himself as
usual and spilling half his beer on the table and floor. Presently some
drunken utterances reached the doctor's ear, and he turned round in a
surprised manner and looked at Bogg. The drunkard continued to mutter
for some time, and then broke out into something like the fag-end of
a song. The doctor walked over to the table at which Bogg was
sitting, and, seating himself on the far corner, regarded the drunkard
attentively for some minutes; but the latter's voice ceased, his head
fell slowly on his folded arms, and all became silent except the drip,
drip of the overturned beer falling from the table to the form and from
the form to the floor.

The doctor rose and walked back to his friends with a graver face.

"You seem interested in Bogg," said the bank manager.

"Yes," said the doctor.

"What was he mumbling about?"

"Oh, that was a passage from Homer."