Wake up, Aussies, it's time for a good Henry Lawson's story.

There's a special kind of charm in Henry Lawson's lighter pieces. Those moments when the

great Australian storyteller steps away from the bush hardships and the lonely swag men,

and instead turns his eye toward the small, human surprises that brighten ordinary life.

That pretty girl in the army is one of those gems. It's a story that begins with something simple, a chance encounter, a passing curiosity,

and then quietly unfolds into a portrait of youthful pride, mistaken impressions,

and the gentle comedy of people trying to impress one another.

Lawson gives us a glimpse of the world as he saw it,

full of rough-edged characters with soft-setters, at everyday scenes that suddenly sparkle

when viewed from just the right angle. As you listen, notice how Lawson lets the humor sneak up on

you. Nothing is exaggerated, nothing forced. It's the kind of tale you might hear in a

railway carriage or a country pub, told with a wink, a shrug, and a fondness for the quirks of

human nature. And now, Henry Lawson's That Pretty Girl in the Army. This one starts with a poem,

which Lawson was also famous for in addition to his short

stories. Now I often sit at Waddy's when the night is very near, with a head that's full of jingles

and the fumes of bottled beer. For I always have a fancy that, if I am over there, when the army prays for Wadi,

I'm included in the prayer.

It would take a lot of praying, lots of thumping on the drum, to prepare our sinful,

strained, erring souls for kingdom come.

But I love my fellow sinners, and I hope upon the whole that the army gets a hearing when

it prays for Wadi's soul.

The Salvation Army does good business in some of the outback towns of the great pastoral

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