"The departed was a 'Roman,' and the majority of the town were otherwise—but Unionism is stronger than creed. Liquor, however, is stronger than Unionism; and, when the hearse presently arrived, more than two-third of the funeral were unable to follow."
This quote juxtaposes the divisions in the town, in this case religious, with the ties that bind it together. While the deceased was Catholic and the majority of the town is not (the town presumably is majority Protestant), they overcome that difference because of their shared union ties. This illustrates the hierarchy of solidarities in typical bush culture. Some of the social and cultural pretensions of urban life are left behind, and new solidarities are formed. Class solidarity, in this instance, takes precedence over religious solidarity.
"They were strangers to us who were on foot, and we to them. We were all strangers to the corpse."
The motif of the stranger, or the state of being strangers to one another, illustrates the divisions among bushmen so prevalent in the text. Up until this point, the group that forms the funeral party is unified, drinking together at the pub and then beginning the procession together. This quote, though, reveals their internal divisions, as the funeral party divides itself into those on horses and those on foot. Against these internal divisions is juxtaposed the dead man: a stranger to them all. In this way, what could originally be seen as a cohesive community is revealed to be a number of isolated groups.
"The procession numbered fifteen, fourteen souls following the broken shell of a soul. Perhaps not one of the fourteen possessed a soul any more than the corpse did—but that doesn't matter."
This quote illustrates the dark humor of this text. A procession of men respectfully following a hearse with a dead man they do not know; this is Lawson's trademark irony. Perhaps, the narrator suggests, there are fewer differences between the men and that corpse than they may think. The narrator's quick dismissal of this dark thought demonstrates the text's nihilistic approach to life and death; even the darkest observations are quickly left behind.
"You'd have taken more notice if you'd known that he was doomed to die in the hour, and that those were the last words he would say to any man in this world."
This quote is an ominous reminder of the lack of attention the men paid to the stranger in their midst when he was alive, compared to their devotion to his funeral procession when he dies.
"A stage priest or parson in the same position might have said, 'Put the hat down, my friend; is not the memory of our departed brother worth more than my complexion?' A wattle-bark layman might have expressed himself in stronger language, none the less to the point. But my priest seemed unconscious of what was going on. Besides, the publican was a great and important pillar of the church. He couldn’t, as an ignorant and conceited ass, lose such a good opportunity of asserting his faithfulness and importance to his church."
This quote demonstrates the narrator's disregard for social hierarchies and his distaste for social conventions. These opinions, and the egalitarian ideology demonstrated by this quote, are emblematic of the bushman stereotype that dominates Australian nationalist identity.
"It didn’t matter much—nothing does."
This quote highlights the nihilist attitude of the narrator towards the emotions of life and death. Bush life, this quote suggests, requires a numbing approach to matters of the heart.
"I have left out the wattle—because it wasn’t there. I have also neglected to mention the heart-broken old mate, with his grizzled head bowed and great pearly drops streaming down his rugged cheeks. He was absent—he was probably 'out back.' For similar reasons I have omitted reference to the suspicious moisture in the eyes of a bearded bush ruffian named Bill. Bill failed to turn up, and the only moisture was that which was induced by the heat. I have left out the 'sad Australian sunset' because the sun was not going down at the time. The burial took place exactly at midday."
In a matter-of-fact montage, the narrator rattles out a list of typically Australian images that might be expected to turn up at the funeral. In doing so, he fills readers' minds with the classic imagery of the Australian bush. In a clever twist, however, he emphasizes these images' absence, thus providing a cutting demonstration of the lack of sentimentality present at the funeral.
"The dead bushman’s name was Jim, apparently; but they found no portraits, nor locks of hair, nor any love letters, nor anything of that kind in his swag—not even a reference to his mother; only some papers relating to Union matters."
This quote highlights the importance of the dead man's union identity in the story. Throughout the text, his union membership is his only identifier: as this quote reiterates, there are no other pieces of evidence of his relationships or ties to life outside this bush town.
"We did hear, later on, what his real name was; but if we ever chance to read it in the 'Missing Friends Column,' we shall not be able to give any information to heart-broken mother or sister or wife, nor to anyone who could let him hear something to his advantage—for we have already forgotten the name."
This is the final sentence of the text. Its matter-of-fact tone demonstrates the emptiness and deep sense of futility that accompanies bush life as depicted in this story.
"The fall of lumps of clay on a stranger’s coffin doesn’t sound any different from the fall of the same things on an ordinary wooden box—at least I didn’t notice anything awesome or unusual in the sound; but, perhaps, one of us—the most sensitive—might have been impressed by being reminded of a burial of long ago, when the thump of every sod jolted his heart."
In this quote, the narrator describes a situation that would be well-deserving of an emotional reaction. He denies, however, the presence of sentimentality. Just as in the list of images that may have been present at the funeral, but weren't, this quote evokes the specter of melancholy—only to dismiss it.
