Summary

Andrew Robertson Nuggets in the Devil's Punch Bowl…

There was an envelope, and the postmark was Melbourne.
"Not much clue," said Bill; "nameless, so far." The man, evidently, by the clay smears on his trousers, and by the general appearance of his clothes, was a digger.
"I saw a tent in my dream, so I'll look for it," said Bill.
He went along the little track for a hundred yards, and there, behind some stunted bushes, stood a weather-stained, ragged tent. Everything about it was squalid, unkempt, unwashed, and unlovely. The only bit of sentiment, or romance if you will, was a photograph of a girl, pinned to the tent, at the head of the bed.
Source: Gutenberg

Andrew Robertson Nuggets in the Devil's Punch Bowl…

Alec saw that her light was out. "Heartless!" he said, "and here am I tossing undressed upon my bed, a prey to unrequited love, and torn by a thousand bitter thoughts, vainly regretting what might have been. It is all over. There is no more happiness for me in this world. Love is dead."
He lay for hours rolling from side to side, and felt as if sleep had fled for ever. He could not close his eyes, and he longed for daylight that he might get up and ride away from this now hateful spot. The sight of Bond would madden him; better they should never meet.
Source: Gutenberg

Andrew Robertson Nuggets in the Devil's Punch Bowl…

The soft footfall of a horse was heard behind some boulders. A merry snatch of song floated on the still air. A horse and its rider came round a bend of the track. They were on their way to Borombyee. The rider was Alec Keryle of Glengo Station.
Alec was in love, as any one could see at this moment. The mask was off. When not alone the visor was down. There are times when a face can be read like a poster on a hoarding. At other times it is a blank wall. He gazed long and fondly at the homestead: a light streamed from the dining-room window. "There sits my darling Elsie!"
Source: Gutenberg

Get perspective with Kwize: daily news enlightened by great literature