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  2. LITERATURE

    Far from the uttermost vergeof the land where in sorrow we're dwelling Lieth a realm ideal where beggar and noble may go; Wide are the bounds of that kingdom, long has its sceptre been wielded, ...

    Article : 342 words
  3. The Eplsede of Grim Death Fellew.

    Noontide of a January day in the "Sixties;" scorching sunrays beating relentlessly on the rough unformed footway of the dust-cursed thoroughfare of a Sydney suburb; a terrace of ...

    Article : 5,138 words
  4. To My Wanderer.

    Mother's thoughts are often sad, Thinking of her absent [?]ad; When other hearts are full of Joy, Hers whispers just "God bless my boy." ...

    Article : 110 words
  5. The Storyteller.

    "They shall have no scaffolding from me!" said Andrew Douglas. "A lot of scaffolding you and I got—didn't we ? —when we were painting the Crow's Nest Lighthouse — with ...

    Article : 1,875 words
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