_Geebung
Times_: "A well-known character named Bogg was found drowned in the
river on Sunday last, his hat and coat being found on the bank. At a
late hour on Saturday night a member of our staff saw a man walking
slowly along the river bank, but it was too dark to identify the
person."

We suppose it was Bogg whom the _Times_ reported, but of course we
cannot be sure. The chances are that it was Bogg. It was pretty evident
that he had committed suicide, and being "a well-known character," no
doubt he had reasons for his rash act. Perhaps he was walking by himself
in the dark along the river bank, and thinking of those reasons when
the _Times_ man saw him. Strange to say, the world knows least about
the lives and sorrows of "well-known characters" of this kind, no matter
what their names might be, and--well, there is no reason why we should
bore a reader, or waste any more space over a well-known character named
Bogg.

SHE WOULDN'T SPEAK

Well, we reached the pub about dinner-time, dropped our swags outside,
had a drink, and then went into the dinin'-room. There was a lot of
jackaroo swells, that had been on a visit to the squatter, or something,
and they were sittin' down at dinner; and they seemed to think by their
looks that we ought to have stayed outside and waited till they were
done--we was only two rough shearers, you know. There was a
very good-looking servant girl waitin' on 'em, and she was all
smiles--laughin', and jokin', and chyackin', and barrickin' with 'em
like anything.

I thought a damp expression seemed to pass across her face when me and
my mate sat down, but she served us and said nothing--we was only two
dusty swaggies, you see. Dave said "Good day" to her when we came in,
but she didn't answer; and I could see from the first that she'd made up
her mind not to speak to us.

The swells finished, and got up and went out, leaving me and Dave and
the servant girl alone in the room; but she didn't open her mouth--not
once. Dave winked at her once or twice as she handed his cup, but it
wasn't no go. Dave was a good-lookin' chap, too; but we couldn't get her
to say a word--not one.

We finished the first blanky course, and, while she was gettin' our
puddin' from the side-table, Dave says to me in a loud whisper, so's she
could hear: "Ain't she a stunner, Joe! I never thought there was sich
fine girls on the Darlin'!"

But no; she wouldn't speak.

Then Dave says: "They pitch a blanky