evening helping to patch up the principals. Later on he took up a
small collection for the loser, who happened to be Barcoo-Rot in spite
of the advantage of an eye.

The Salvation Army lassie, who went round with the _War Cry_,
nearly always sold the Giraffe three copies.

A new-chum parson, who wanted a subscription to build or enlarge a
chapel, or something, sought the assistance of the Giraffe's influence
with his mates.

"Well," said the Giraffe, "I ain't a churchgoer meself. I ain't
what you might call a religious cove, but I'll be glad to do what I
can to help yer. I don't suppose I can do much. I ain't been to
church since I was a kiddy."

The parson was shocked, but later on he learned to appreciate the
Giraffe and his mates, and to love Australia for the bushman's sake,
and it was he who told me the above anecdote.

The Giraffe helped fix some stalls for a Catholic Church bazaar, and
some of the chaps chaffed him about it in the union office.

"You'll be taking up a collection for a joss-house down in the
Chinamen's camp next," said Tom Hall in conclusion.

"Well, I ain't got nothin' agen the Roming Carflics," said the
Giraffe. "An' Father O'Donovan's a very decent sort of cove. He
stuck up for the unions all right in the strike anyway." ("He
wouldn't be Irish if he wasn't," someone commented.) "I carried