And old George, he'll go back--a fifty-mile ride, but what's that on a good horse?
He'll be late home, but he can cross the rock ford the short way over the creek.

I can see him turn his horse loose at the garden-gate, and walk through the quinces that lead up to the cottage, with his saddle on his arm.

Can't I see it all, as plain as if I was there?
And his wife and the young 'uns 'll run out when they hear father's horse, and want to hear all the news.

When he goes in there's his meal tidy and decent waiting for him, while he tells them about the poor chap he's been to see as is to be scragged next month.

Ha! ha! what a rum joke it is, isn't it?
And then he'll go out in the verandah, with the roses growin' all over the posts and smellin' sweet in the cool night air.