An Old Mate of Your Father's Page #2

"An Old Mate of Your Father's" is a short story by Australian writer Henry Lawson, known for his vivid depictions of rural life and the struggles of the working class in Australia. The narrative centers on the themes of friendship, memory, and the impact of the past. The protagonist reflects on his connection with an old acquaintance of his father, exploring the bonds formed through shared experiences and the passage of time. Through Lawson's characteristic lyrical prose, the story delves into the nostalgia of lost relationships and the enduring spirit of camaraderie amidst the hardships of life.

• Short story

								

characteristic. Had the girl been lowered down a duffer, and asked to
point out the way to the gold, and had she done so successfully, there
would have been some sense in it.

And they would talk of King, and Maggie Oliver, and G. V. Brooke, and
others, and remember how the diggers went five miles out to meet the
coach that brought the girl actress, and took the horses out and brought
her in in triumph, and worshipped her, and sent her off in glory, and
threw nuggets into her lap. And how she stood upon the box-seat and tore
her sailor hat to pieces, and threw the fragments amongst the crowd; and
how the diggers fought for the bits and thrust them inside their shirt
bosoms; and how she broke down and cried, and could in her turn have
worshipped those men--loved them, every one. They were boys all, and
gentlemen all. There were college men, artists, poets, musicians,
journalists--Bohemians all. Men from all the lands and one. They
understood art--and poverty was dead.

And perhaps the old mate would say slyly, but with a sad, quiet smile:

“Have you got that bit of straw yet, Tom?”

Those old mates had each three pasts behind them. The two they told each
other when they became mates, and the one they had shared.

And when the visitor had gone by the coach we noticed that the old man
would smoke a lot, and think as much, and take great interest in the
fire, and be a trifle irritable perhaps.

Those old mates of our father's are getting few and far between, and
only happen along once in a way to keep the old man's memory fresh, as
it were. We met one to-day, and had a yarn with him, and afterwards we
got thinking, and somehow began to wonder whether those ancient friends
of ours were, or were not, better and kinder to their mates than we of
the rising generation are to our fathers; and the doubt is painfully on
the wrong side.
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