■' • ' J. DONNE & SON, admiralty Chart agents, buokiclliits * station!**. 300 POST OFFICE PLACE MELBOURNE. t2 m & ■titt . "tt 'fa & tt Jfc Be.---' I •/36J \OV THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES ir* m CONTENTS PAGE Chapter I i " The whining schoolboy with his satchel." — As You Like It. Shakespeare. Chapter II . . .10 "A progeny of learning." — The Rivals. R. B. Sheridan. Chapter III 23 " Seest thou a man diligent in his business ? he shall stand before kings ; he shall not stand before mean men." — Proverbs. The Bible. Chapter IV 27 " And reach the far plains we are journeying to." — The Barcoo. Henry C. Kendall, " By forest green embraided The Western station lies." —Barwon Ballads. " C." Chapter V .38 " Some, for renown, on scraps of learning dote, And think they grow immortal as they quote." — Young. Chapter VI 48 " How far must I wander ? O God, how far ? I have lost my star ! I have lost my star ! " —J. Brunton Stephens. Chapter VII 56 e< Where the dingo's trail was the only track." — New Country. Mary Hannay FoOTT. vi CONTENTS FACE Chapter VIII ' . . .64 " To waste long nights in pensive discontent." —Mother Hubbard's Tale. Edmund Sfenser. Chapter IX 69 ". . . those that run away and fly." —Hudibras. Butler. Chapter X 75 " I've wandered east, I've wandered west, Through many a weary way." —William Motherwell. Chapter XI 82 " Preferred to ' spread-eagle ' the ruck, And make a long tail of the ' field.' " — Kingsborough. H. C. Kendall. ~v/j./x«ry6pTwv Si rrj va.vfj.axiy Kadfieirj tis vim) roiei $wKaiev yovov avros aviyvu)." — The Odyssey. ITAROLD with a breaking heart tramped along A the road. From time to time a terrible long- ing would come over him to turn back and to see Athnie once more. It was only with a great effort that he resisted acting on such impulses ; but the thought that he was leaving her was often more than he could bear. Day after day went on like this, and the same great misery was gnawing at his heart — the same deep regret that he had gone away without seeing Athnie, and the same constant desire to return and be with her again. One evening, coming on towards sundown, he saw at a turn in the road a camp-fire in the distance. When he drew nearer, he saw to his great astonish- ment Ponsonby Oberon ; but his surprise was still greater when on looking again he saw no other than the man who had years ago adopted him — the old merchant, Mr. Merton. Yet still greater wonders were in store for Harold, for he was no sooner seen by Ponsonby Oberon than that worthy man rushed out with both arms extended, and clasping the poor wanderer to his breast, called him his long-lost son. 2C0 HAROLD EFFERMERE 261 " Ah," he exclaimed, as he threw his cap away and gave another hug to Harold, " it's a wise father that knows his own child, as the poet says." Harold was too much astonished to utter a word, but with a look of great surprise in his face he turned to Mr. Merton with a mute appeal, which seemed to entreat for an explanation. Mr. Merton came up, took Harold by the hand, and kissing him affection- ately, said, "Yes, Harold, my poor boy, he is indeed your long-lost father." Overcome with wonderment, Harold went and sat down on a log, and rubbing his face with the sleeve of his shirt, seemed as one dazed and recovering from an impossible and incredible dream. He uttered not a word, but kept regarding Ponsonby Oberon and Mr. Merton with a stupefied, senseless stare that only showed too plainly that his mind was beginning to wander. Small surprise if it did, for the poor fellow had suffered so terribly both in mind and body during the last week that it was wonderful how he kept up so long. He had eaten hardly anything during that time, and sleeping even less, his mind in consequence became somewhat affected, and his nerves were all in shakes and tremor. Then these incredible surprises coming on him with such startling suddenness proved almost a climax to his strength, or rather perhaps to his weak- ness, for he was very ill both in mind and body. Little more, indeed, it would take for him to break down altogether. Soon that came too, for the 263 HAROLD EFFERMERE crack of a whip was heard up the road } and a loud and familiar voice was bellowing curses at no great distance away. Harold looked up with a wild stare, and to his final bewilderment he saw his late master, Mr. Brownlow. This was too much for him, and clapping his hand to his forehead he muttered, " My God, my God, what has come over me at all ! " He sank down beside the log he had been sitting on, and then his senses seemed to leave him and many strange things came to him as in a dream. He thought Ponsonby Oberon was bending over him, and it seemed as if he could hear him saying, " It is as the poet said, a little sleep, a little slumber, a little folding of the hands to sleep." His fancy seemed, he thought, to play him strange pranks, for the most grotesque scene of all was to see Mr. Brownlow sitting near him and talcing his hand tenderly, hoping he was not very ill. And he thought too he asked Mr. Brownlow how Athnie was, and the strange answer he received was that women were the rulers of the world everywhere. # # * * * It was now twenty-three years ago since Ponsonby Oberon had left his wife. They were only married about nine months when they found out only too surely that their modes of life could never run to- gether. Oberon, always a happy-go-lucky, careless sort of fellow, soon got through the few pounds he had when he married. Next he went into debt as far as he could get, and finally the pressure of his HAROLD EFFERMERE 263 necessities caused him to run away, leaving to direst poverty a wife who was shortly to become a mother, Oberon, after his escape from his creditors, took his way up into the bush — that refuge of the pariah, the spendthrift, and the ne'er-do-weel — and there he got employment droving. The first five pounds he earned he sent at once to his wife's address. But after a time an envelope came to him from the Dead- Letter Office returning his five-pound note, as well as his affectionate letter to his wife. Then Oberon having by this time earned another ,£5 hastened off to see what had become of his wife. He was in a great state of excitement all the while, and he made enquiries about everywhere in such a wild, erratic manner, quoting poets and throwing his cap off here and there, that people thought he was a lunatic at large. However the few pounds did not last Oberon long ; he had to go back once more to the bush, and never again did he see his wife, or hear what had become of her. When Oberon left her she changed her name to Effermere — her grandfather's name. She some- how found her way down to Sydney, and there she got odd jobs of washing clothes and scrubbing floors and such-like. Then Harold was born, and that was the hardest trial of all, for on that day there was not a bite or sup in the place, and there seemed no prospect for the poor woman but to perish with her babe by starvation and want. Truly she had come to a terrible state of misery and 264 HAROLD EFFERMERE suffering, and it would be hard to conjecture what the miserable end would have been, had not God in His mercy sent good Mrs. Merton to the relief. The reader already knows the rest. Now it is a most wonderful thing how strange chances do sometimes come to pass : perhaps it is the will of Heaven that it should be so. Well, when Ponsonby Oberon delivered Mr. Brownlow's cattle to the agents he went down to the office to be settled up with. There he was introduced to a fine- looking old gentleman, who had come to invest some money in station property, and who was told Pon- sonby Oberon would be able to give him full in- formation about the run he was making terms for. They were not talking long when Oberon, in his wild way of touching on everything, mentioned the name of Harold Effermere. Thereupon the old gentleman jumped to his legs, saying hurriedly, "What, Harold Effermere ! Did you ever hear him speak of me ? He was my adopted son." " By Heavens ! " exclaimed Oberon, " are you the same Mr. Merton ? Shake hands again. Did I ever hear him speak of you ? Ah, many a time and oft, as the poet said, and always with the deepest grati- tude and the greatest praise." From that it led to old Mr. Merton telling the story of Harold's childhood ; how Mrs. Merton had found mother and child in dreadful poverty, and how Mr. Merton himself came to adopt the boy. Then he told the story of Harold's mother ; her desertion HAROLD EFFERMERE 265 by her husband, with whom she only lived a few months, and finally that he was a drover of the name of Ponsonby Oberon. Upon this Oberon exclaimed with the wildest gestures, " What is this I hear at all ! After many years, as the poet said, the news has come at last. Know you not, sir, that I am the same Ponsonby Oberon ? After the fitful fever of many years, as the poet said, I now know all. So Harold Effermere is my son ! My Heaven, but of all the strange things that ever came to pass in God's unlimited creation, as the poet said, this surpasses them all — surpasses all understanding, surpasses all that might be dreamt of or imagined." Then he got up and walked about the room, pull- ing his hair and going on in a strange frenzy with a multitude of misquotations, and a wild, mad, fiery gleam in his eye, and the look of a man generally who had taken a final farewell of his poor chaotic senses. Well, we need not say any more about Ponsonby Oberon's behaviour on that occasion. It was highly characteristic of the man, and might perhaps, from a knowledge of his peculiarities, be better imagined than described. In short, then, Ponsonby Oberon received from Mr. Merton a full account of Harold's childhood and boyhood days, and in return Oberon told Mr. Merton the full history of the later career of the wanderer. Ponsonby Oberon told all after his own style of narration, which was a rich mosaic 266 HAROLD EFFERMERE work of misquotations, It happened that the station Mr. Merton was about to purchase was situated at no great distance from Mr. Brownlow's place, and was a large straggling run with a neglected herd, fully two-thirds of which were unbranded, It was this fact that induced Mr. Merton to purchase the station — for he was getting it on very low terms — taking a book muster, and of course would not have to pay for any of the unbranded cattle. Now Mr. Merton, whatever his hard business prin- ciples might be, had a good heart, and somehow the feeling clung to him that, though Harold was no relation or connection of his, still, for the sake of the old associations, he felt it almost a duty that he owed the young wanderer a helping hand, should he be deserving of it. His object then in going up into the bush was to inspect and take delivery of his new purchase, and to give the management of it to Harold, should he have sufficient knowledge of stock and station affairs to take charge of a cattle run. Chapter XXXVI v - All that is pure, and sweet, and beautiful Is born of pain. : ' — The Two Goblets.— Glo. Essex Evans. POOR Harold was very ill all that night, and the next day. They made a bed for him in the bottom of the wagonette, and continued their journey, Mr. Brownlow returning with them. It seemed strange that he should be turning back now, as he told Mr. Merton and Ponsonby Oberon that he was just on his way to purchase a lot of bulls. It seemed strange also that he should want the bulls, for it was only a short time before that he had bought a mob — sufficient to do him for the next twelve months. However, on they went, Mr. Brownlow riding along- side of the wagonette, and Harold every now and then looking out at him with a strange, puzzled stare, that seemed to question his presence in such a place. Ponsonby Oberon rode in the buggy with Mr. Merton. From time to time he would look back at Harold, and say, " So, my son, you were about once more to become a wanderer on the face of the earth, as the poet said. Ah, I know full well the reason," he would whisper to Mr. Merton, at the same time taking a cautious glance around to see where Mr. 267 268 HAROLD EFFERMERE Brownlow was. " The reason is, that old master of mine is a regular Turk to live with. Only I have had the patience of a saint, for all these )'ears I could never have got along with him at all. And as for himself and Harold running in double harness, why- it is, as the poet said, ' Crabbed age and youth cannot live together.' " Harold remained very ill all through ; and when they arrived at Mr. Brownlow's station very late one night, he was taken from the wagonette and put straight to bed, in the old familiar little room, which was connected with some of the saddest and sweetest memories of his life. Presently good Mrs. Brown came in, bringing a cup of soup, which she laid down beside him, and then taking his thin, wasted hand, said affectionately, " Poor, poor Harold ; I would have hardly known you. Oh, how ill and weary you are looking ! " Harold turned his eyes gratefully towards her, and smiling sadly, said, " And Athnie, how is she ? Dear, dear little Athnie, I could never live without her ; and oh, Mrs. Brown, I can never tell you how much it cost me to go away, and how much I have suffered since. And why and how I am here now I cannot tell, for so many strange things have happened lately, that I sometimes think it is one long dream." "Ah," said Mrs. Brown, in her good, motherly, affectionate way; "you must rest now, Harold; you must not think about anything, but get well again as soon as you can. Here, take this soup, and HAROLD EFFERMERE 269 then have a long sleep, like a good, clear fellow. Things will be better with you by-and-by." Harold obeyed like a little child, and after that he laid over on his pillow, and smiling, looked up at the ceiling, and then at Athnie's dear little pictures on the wall, and at all the other sweet, familiar little things that were to him as dear as life. Then kind Mrs. Brown settled the pillow under his head, and said to him, " Harold, you will now go to sleep, won't you ? " And he answered obediently that he would. Then she held out her hand to him to say "Good-night"; and the returned wanderer took her good, motherly hand between his own wasted palms, and said — two tears running down his worn cheeks — " Good-night, Mrs. Brown, and God bless you ; and dear Athnie, too — always and always." Then Mrs. Brown took away the light, and Harold, with the prayers of his childhood on his lips, closed his eyes, and as a weary infant went to sleep. After a while, Mr. Merton and Mr. Brownlow came into the room — very quietly too, so as not to disturb the sleeper. They lit a small bedroom lamp, and turned down the shade. " Poor fellow," said Mr. Merton ; " he is sleeping very quietly now, and looks very much better than I have seen since his illness. So this is all true that you tell me about him ? " " True ! " echoed Mr. Brownlow. " By gosh, sir, he's a trump. I can tell you I'm no easy man to deal with, besides ; but for all the abuse I slung at 270 HAROLD EFFERMERE him, I never had an impudent word from him. He's always done his duty to the letter, and, by hokey, he would take such pains to learn everything that was taught him, that with all the curses that I used to crowd on to him, I could not help but liking him. Confound him, I don't know why ! You'd think he was born among cattle to see the way he picked up all about them ; and it was the same with everything else." " Well, you cannot know how pleased I am to hear all that," said Mr. Merton. " At school he had the reputation of being a wild boy, with no taste nor desire for study ; and certainly when he came home he showed the fruits of it, for he knew nothing. Now you tell me he has tried to remedy the results of his own neglect at school." " Why, he had not a spare minute but he was at his books," said Mr. Brownlow. " I know I often wanted to get a slant at him to give him a regular broadside, be gosh, for going reading when he should be at my work ; but the fact is, I must admit, that he had a time for both. Not that I approve of too much learning at all, myself. No, no ; I think it presses on to a man's brain-pan, and squelches foolery and idiocy out of him, like Ponsonby Oberon, who's got so much learning that he can quote a poet for anything ; but for all that he's a cursed natural- born fool, as you can see for yourself." " Well, well," said Mr. Merton ; " now that we've talked over this matter, and seen that Harold is HAROLD EFFERMERE 271 right and sleeping quietly, let us also get to bed ourselves." With these words they were leaving the room, when they were met at the door by Ponsonby Oberon, who was coming into Harold's room with a cup of strong tea in one hand, and a lump of buttered toast on a plate in the other. " Where are you going to with that ? " asked Mr. Brownlow, catching Oberon by the shoulders, and turning him out of the room, the door of which he quietly closed. To this question Ponsonby Oberon answered, his eyes getting to blaze up, " Is there any need to ask ? Can't you see that I am going to succour the dis- tressed, as the good father attends to the wants of his offspring, so the poet said. I have made some toast for Harold with my own hands, and some good strong tea, that will make him feel as fresh as a sea breeze." " Hear now, by the hokey," broke in Mr. Brown- low ; "just turn back with the whole thing at once. Strong tea to a fellow that wants sleep and rest, and then to wake him up at this time of night to take it, too ! By the gosh, Ponsonby, but you're getting more and more of a fool every day. Dash my wig, do you want to keep him awake all night, you con- founded batter-brained idiot?" Ponsonby Oberon laid down the tea and toast with such haste that the one was spilt, and the other rolled over on the floor. Then he pulled off his cap, which 272 HAROLD EFFERMERE he seemed to wear almost day and night, and threw it with all the force he could muster against the wall of the house. Mr. Merton thought that the excited drover was preparing to fight, so he laid his hand on him with a soothing touch, and said, " Come, come now, Mr. Oberon, calm yourself, will you ? Really, though Mr. Brownlow used rather forcible language " " I have the steady calmness of a haloed saint, as the poet said," broke in Oberon, and he went on in such grand heroics that Mr. Merton thought he must be drunk. But Mr. Brownlow seemed to take no notice of him, and explained that it was only Pon- sonby Oberon's peculiar form of madness that made him go on like that. " The madness," he said, " of a natural-born fool." Then he ordered Oberon off to bed, and told him not to come disturbing Harold any more that night. " I obey," exclaimed Oberon, as he walked off with a wild gesture ; " that obedience which, as the poet said, has always been the bane of my genius." Chapter XXXVII Love — in a hut, with water and a crust, Is — Love, forgive us ! — cinders, ashes, dust. — Lamia — Keats. A FTER what we have feold in the last chapter ■* ■*- two or three days passed away, and Harold was getting gradually better, and regaining his strength. But he saw nothing of Athnie during that time, and he often wondered and wondered what could be the cause. Once when he had been asleep he woke up very suddenly, and as he did so, he thought he saw the flutter of a white dress, as it vanished out at the door. But when he came to think over it, he knew he must be mistaken, for he heard no footfall, and he saw nothing further. He turned his head around and his eyes fell on some delicacy, which had been prepared for him and left on the table beside him. " God bless good Mrs. Brown," he exclaimed, at the sight of this ; " she is always doing me all sorts of little kindnesses whilst I am asleep." That evening he was able to get up and walk about a little. A small slab and bark-roofed dairy was the nearest house to him as he went out from Si73 t. 274 HAROLD EFFERMERE his own room. Seeing the door of this building open, he went over and walked in. How great was his surprise and delight to see Athnie there. She was all alone, and did not see him, for her back was turned towards the door, and she Avas bending over a milk-dish — carefully skimming off the cream. Gently he walked over towards her, and she did not hear him. He laid his hand softly on her shoulder, and said, in a quivering voice, " My darling Athnie." She dropped the skimmer from her hand, and, trembling and much agitated, looked up at him with bashful eyes — the blood coming and going in her cheeks all the while. He strove to take her in his arms, but she put out her hand, and with a gesture kept him off. " I am glad to see you are getting better," said she ; "you have been very ill." She was trembling all the while, and her voice seemed to choke her. " I believe I have been ill," said Harold, with a far away tone in his voice. " Something appears to have been the matter with me. I feel dazed and stupid now, and there are so many things seem to me as a dream — a terrible dream and nightmare they appear to have been, but at times, and here and there, a vision of sweeter things." The sad expres- sion on his face touched her woman's heart, and she said, in a voice full of tenderness and pity, " Poor Harold." And thus her love had overcome her pride, and the next moment they were in one HAROLD EFFERMERE 275 another's arms, and Harold felt that the happiness of that moment compensated for all the misery he had suffered. After a while, he looked at her pleadingly, and said, " My darling, you have been distant with mc. "Oh Harold;' she replied, in her sweet, loving voice, " I thought you could have never really loved me, or you would not have gone away without me." " My sweetest," he said tenderly, " it was the very greatness of my love for you that made me go away." " Ah, but without me, Harold," she urged, " without me. " My dearest," he said, " could you be content with a poor man's lot, in a boundary rider's hut ? " She turned her pure, trusting eyes on him, and said, " And why not, my Harold, dear ? the greatest happiness is often in the humblest cot." "Ah, but consider it, Athnie; consider what it would mean." " I have considered it, Harold," said she, with deep earnestness, "and I know with you I should be happy, if it were only a sheet of bark we had to live under." He could not refrain from clasping her to his heart again, and exclaiming, " Oh, my darling, I never thought your love for me could be like this." He kissed her again and again, and at last she broke away from him, and laughing, said, " You'll have to help me skim these dishes now. You bad boy, you 276 HAROLD EFFERMERE have caused me to waste so much valuable time, that you must now try and make up for it." ' Let me do it all, Athnie," said he eagerly, as he took up a skimmer, and proceeded, in a very clumsy and inexperienced manner, to take the cream off the dishes. rg Ah, but you mustn't dip down like that," said Athnie, standing over him, and giving him a playful box on the ear. " You dear, foolish, stupid, awkward fellow, you are taking up the thick milk, as well as the cream." She attempted to take the skimmer from him, but he seized her hand, and pressed it so that she cried out, " Harold, Harold ! " Then he kissed the little hand ever so tenderly, and said he could eat it. And for that she again boxed his ears, and playfully hunted him out of the dairy altogether. Well, all this is very foolish no doubt — very foolish to us old fellows, who cannot understand the sweet foolery of love, and all the delicious nonsense which overflows between the young hearts of boys and girls. Chapter XXXVIII " For rum and everlasting 'baccy lusting, And altogether filthy and disgusting." —A Piccaniny—]. Brunton Stephens. " TT/"HY here you are, my son, 'full of life and V V youthful vigour,' as the poet said. Be gosh, only yesterday evening I was looking for you every- where. I wanted to give you a piece of paternal advice on things in general, for, as the poet said, ' Train up a boy in the way he should go, and when he is old he will not depart from it.' " This was the morning after the little affair of the last chapter, and, needless to' say, the speaker was Ponsonby Oberon, and his characteristic speech was addressed to Harold, who was just returning from a morning walk, and was feeling happier and better and stronger than he had done for a long time Ponsonby Oberon clapped Harold two or three times on the back, and continued, — " Now, my boy, your fortune is made if you only have the grit and tact of your father. As the poet said, a chance comes to every man at least once in a life time. Yours has now come, and if it is a case of 277 278 HAROLD EFFERMERE ' like father like son,' as the poet said, you will make the most of your opportunity, and, Harold, be a credit to me." Harold looked at him in some surprise. Oberon, giving him an occasional enthusiastic clap on the back, went on, — " Yes, my son, you are to get the management of this new place that Mr. Merton has bought ; that is, of course, if you prove up to the high water- mark of his expectations, as the poet said. And now I have to give you the advice of an old dog of the roads, and that is, a little judicious flattery covers a multi- tude of sins, as the poet said. The love of praise is the weak point of every man ; and now, my son, Mr. Merton is the man you must give a broadside to in that quarter. You must hold by the talent you inherited from me, the advantage which my genius obtained for you." " In that you are mistaken in me," said Harold quietly, " for I will flatter no man to obtain a favour for myself, and what is more, I will compliment no man who has done me a good turn." "Ah, the same old conscience that troubled you when we were travelling on the game," exclaimed Oberon impatiently. He was prevented from going on farther, and warming up to his subject, for just then the bell rang for breakfast, and Mr. Brownlow's great loud voice called out at the same time, — " Come here, you two fellows ; let us get along HAROLD EFFERMERE 279 with our tucker, for we have no time to spare if we are to get to the ' Yellow Water-hole ' to-day." "Yes, yes," said Oberon to Harold, "we are all making a start for Mr. Merton's new place to-day, and all going well, should get there the day after to-morrow. But what old Brownlow wants coming with us for, dash me if I know, for, as the poet said, he will be more a hindrance than a help, and he will be croaking like a bull frog all the while." This last sentence he uttered in a very low and cautious tone, taking good care, of course, that his employer did not catch any of it. However, after breakfast off they started, Mr. Merton and Mr. Brownlow in the buggy, and Harold and Ponsonby Oberon riding on horseback. In short, then, towards the evening of the third day, the party arrived within sight of the station they were about to take possession of. As they drew nearer a crowd of hungry-looking blacks' dogs ran out to yelp at them. The homestead itself was situated in a semicircle of native humpies and gumpas, which were composed of grass and boughs, some of them being partially plastered over with mud. Out of each of these vile dwellings came forth from one to half-a-dozen foul-smelling, dirty, rag-clothed Abori- gines. There were males and females ; some were o old, and others appeared young, but all looked as if they belonged to some wretched lazar-house, where only the most nauseous and terrible diseases were dealt with. Ah, yes, they were indeed a poor, miser- 280 HAROLD EFFERMERE able, pitiable, disgusting lot, as they swarmed around the buggy, asking, in broken English, " Where come from ? " " Which way come up ? " " You got 'em terbacca ? " and such like. Every now and then some old black fellow or Jin would throw a stick at the yellow barking curs all around. From time to time, too, the miserable, starving dogs would take to righting amongst themselves, and then there would be such noise as was never heard before — black fellows cursing and swearing in a mixture of English and their own tongue ; decrepit-looking old Jins jabbering and screaming away, and dealing out blows here and there on the groups of snapping, yelling dingoes that seemed to be without limit. Ponsonby Oberon exclaimed, — "It is, as the poet said, 'chaos and confusion all embroiled, and discord with a thousand various sounds.' " He had scarcely uttered the words when some yelping dingoes nipped his horse's heels, and straight- way the animal gave a kick up and a plunge, and poor Oberon was laid over in the filth and ashes of a black fellow's camp. Immediately half a dozen Jins gathered around him, wiping the dust and ashes off him, and sympathising with him after their manner in their own poor kindness of heart. " Poor fellow, you," they said, slapping him with greasy hands, which left more dirt than they wiped off; "poor fellow, you; too much a stupid cobra. Can't savvy which way ridem buck a jumpa." HAROLD EFFERMERE 281 Oberon had been smoking at the time of his fall, and his beautiful meerschaum was now in the mouth of a grey-headed, greasy, old black fellow, who came up smoking it, and asked if he might keep it for his honesty. Ponsonby Oberon, in his confusion and wild excitement, snapped the pipe from the black fellow and put it in his pocket. Then, thinking over what he did, he took it out again and threw it off as far as he could heave it. Immediately there was a wild scramble of J ins and black fellows to get the " budgery fellow pipo, cranky fellow, white fellow, throw away." Mr. Merton was now laughing till the tears streamed down his cheeks. A short time before he had been calling out, in the most utter disgust, — " My God, my God, what sort of a place is this I have bought at all ? " Ponsonby Oberon's horse was now careering down the road, followed by half-a-dozen yelping dogs, and Harold racing as fast as his horse could go to try and catch the runaway. " Here, come, come," said Mr. Brownlow impa- tiently, in a loud, gruff voice, "get up in the buggy, Ponsonby. Nature has made a natural-born fool of you enough without you making matters any worse." Oberon, with much slapping of his chest and wild gesticulation, obeyed, quoting poets and thundering wrath all the while. The buggy went on a little farther, and then stopped at a little low slab hut, roughly thatched with coarse grass, the only building 282 HAROLD EFFERMERE that had even the remotest pretensions to the name of house. Here there were also crowds of blacks, and the place all round was strewn with bullocks' bones, dirt, and rubbish of the most evil-smelling varieties. There was no sign of a white man to be seen any- where, and, excepting for a few pots and pans and dirty cooking utensils here and there, the place might be taken for a blacks' camp. "Is there any one at home?" shouted Mr. Brownlow. No answer. "Is there anyone at home here?" repeated Mr. Brownlow, in a loud and terrible voice. Immediately there was a shuffling of feet and jab- bering inside the hut. Then the door opened, and a woebegone looking man came out and stood blink- ing stupidly in the light of the setting sun. Chapter XXXIX " And the cattle we hunt, they are racing in front, With a roar like the thunder of waves. — Song of the Cattle Hunters— Henry Kendall. YES, a woebegone looking man he certainly ap- peared to be. He shaded his eyes with his hands, and looking up with a puzzled stare, said, " Oh, you're the gentleman come to take delivery of the station. Get down, get down, turn your horses out, and come and have some supper. I got no cook or stockman here just at present. Knocking along the best way I can. Things are a bit rough, as you may see, but I suppose you're bushmen, and don't mind that." " Ah, by Heaven ! " said Ponsonby Oberon, slapping his chest, " we're bushmen, but there is even a limit to endurance, as the poet said." Then turning to Mr. Merton and Mr. Brownlow, he continued, " Let us go and camp down at the creek. Why, this cursed cabooche is only a blacks' camp at large." Mr. Merton, though not admiring the way the sug- gestion was put, still felt it was the best thing they could do. So he said politely, " As you have no cook, and there is a big party of us, I think it would 3 284 HAROLD EFFERMERE be the best if we rigged our tents down by the water- hole. You see otherwise we would be putting you to a lot of trouble." " Well, yes," said the man, " perhaps, now, it would be the best. You see things, as I say, are a bit rough here, and, anyhow, I'm run ashore for tucker." Mr. Brownlow, who was driving, touched up the horses, saying, " Well, let us go and get turned out, then." " I never thought, Brownlow," said Mr. Merton, " that that man could come down so low and be such a wreck. I know his family, and they are highly respectable. He has one brother a leading barrister, and another a doctor with a wide practice, and there is a sister of his a leader of fashion." " There is a black sheep and a ne'er-do-weel in every family," said Mr. Brownlow gruffly. " Your ne'er-do-weel, after all, is only genius run to seed," said Ponsonby Oberon, standing in the back of the buggy and clapping his chest. " Ah, and by gosh, man, what sort of a fellow is a natural-born fool run very much to poetry and to seed ? " said Mr. Brownlow, as he turned round and looked at Oberon. " What is the difference now, I ask ? " "By Heaven, sir!" exclaimed Ponsonby Oberon, throwing his cap down in the bottom of the buggy, " if you had asked what is the difference between a learned man like myself and an uneducated man, I could have answered you in the words of the philoso- HAROLD EFFERMERE 2S5 pher and poet, the same difference there is between a live man and a dead one." With these words he jumped out of the buggy and took his horse from Harold, who had just come up leading the animal by a broken bridle. " Well, we'll camp here," said Mr. Brownlow, pull- ing up the horses beside a lily-covered lagoon. " And I have to remark that it's a nice place for any fellow who's been rolling in the blacks' camp to jump in and knock some of the muck and stink off him- self." But Ponsonby Oberon did not hear this, and so there was no reply to the remark. We need not be too lengthy at this point. Next morning the man in charge of the station came down, and Mr. Merton made known to him that he wished to be shown over the run, as he wanted to see the country, cattle, horses, and anything connected with the place. Horses were got up and off they started. After travelling for an hour or so they got amongst the cattle, but they were so wild that it was as much as Harold, Oberon, and Mr. Brownlow could do to round them up and steady them. Mr. Merton, who was no horseman, did not go out of a canter. When he came to where the cattle were rounded up, Ponsonby Oberon shouted out, " By Heaven, sir ! this herd has gone to want and wreck with a vengeance, as the poet said. They're as wild as March hares, and there is only an odd one here and there that's branded. What the neighbours have been doing that they didn't soch 286 HAROLD EFFERMERE their stamp on to them is a thing that knocks me into ' pye.' " Mr. Merton looked at them and rode round them, saying, " It's only too true ; there are far more unbranded than otherwise." Mr. Brownlow, with a laugh and a curse, uttered the grim and suggestive joke, that it was like his confounded luck that this unbranded herd weren't a bit nearer to him. Just then something again startled the mob, and they split into a dozen lots and rushed in all directions through the thick Gydia scrub. All that day they had the same experience, both cattle and horses were as wild almost as they would be in their natural state, and for the most part there was only a percentage of them branded up. In the evening, as they were riding back, Mr. Merton and Mr. Brownlow dropped some distance behind the others. " Well," said the former, " what do you think of it all, Brownlow ? " " Think of it ! " shouted Mr. Brownlow with a curse. " Be gosh, Merton, it would take a dozen heroes two years, working day and night, to straighten up this herd. They are utterly gone to pot altogether. It would take a good man on a trained race horse to catch some of the mobs, and when he does, he might as well try to hold the wind as keep them. Why, man, there is not so much as a yard on the place that would hold a pet calf. A man would have to work like a giant and a bullock to go anywhere near putting HAROLD EFFERMERE 287 this station right. Dash my wig, sir, how did this man ever come to get charge of the place at all, and what sort of asses of owners must they be, that they did not make him double quick march long ago. " He was looking after the place for two rich cousins of his, who knew nothing whatsoever about pastoral affairs," said Mr. Merton. " They got disgusted with their sinking fund at last, and put the place up to auction, and sold it for whatever it would fetch. I had been told by a very reliable authority that there were six times more cattle on the place than showed in the books, and as it was sold on a book muster, I considered that I had a great bargain." " Ah, well, it's most likely it will turn out a dear bargain for you in the long run," said Mr. Brownlow, with brutal candour. " That's what you townsmen get for not sticking to what you understand." Mr. Merton rode along for some distance after this with his head down and feeling very much dispirited. At last he looked up suddenly and said, " Brownlow, as an old and experienced bushman, what would you advise me to do ? " "Advise you to do," repeated Mr. Brow r nlow, with a jeering laugh ; "why, sir, I would advise you to try and find bigger fools than yourseif, and get them to buy your pig in a poke, as the saying is." Mr. Merton was silent again for a while. He naturally felt the bluff counsel of the rough old squat- ter. At last he said, with some decision, " No, 288 HAROLD EFFERMERE Brownlow, I'll give it a trial, anyhow, before I put the place in the market again." " Well, you got stacks of money, Merton," said Mr. Brownlow, " and of course you can please your- self in the choice of a hobby ; but I should think, be gosh, something in the way of a model farm in the suburbs of a town would be more in your line. But, man, if you ever do get this herd straightened up, what will the most of them be but stags and scally- wags." " Well, I'll give Harold a chance to do something with the place," said Mr. Merton. " It will be your last chance," replied Mr. Brownlow ; " he'll do the best he can, that you may depend on." Just then Harold dropped back, and Mr. Brownlow shouted to him, in his loud, gruff voice, "By gosh, me shaver, this is a nice thing Mr. Merton is going to do for you — going to give you a cheque book and a free hand to run this station to the last degree of destruc- tion. Ah, by Jupiter, me boy, won't you have a fine time of it — won't you make things hum over in the little township ? You'll turn artist, too, and paint it red." Mr. Merton turned to Harold and said, " Yes, it is all true. I am going to give you full charge of this place : you'll have a cheque book, as Mr. Brownlow says, and an account in the bank as well, and you will do the best you can in my interests, will you not ? " HAROLD EFFERMERE 289 ^ " Ah, that I will, Mr. Merton," said Harold earn- estly ; " that I will, sir, and it will not be my fault if things are not to your satisfaction. Mr. Merton, I have to thank you again and again for your very great kindness to me." u Chapter XL " Sed resdocuit id verum esse quod in carminibus Appius ait, ' Fabrum esse suae quemque fortunae.'" — Pseudo-Sallust. WELL, good reader, we suppose you would like to know how Harold got on in the heavy duties which he had undertaken. As you are anxious to know them, perhaps it might be as well if we just give you a brief summary of what he did. Be it remembered in the first place, then, that it is just a year and ten months since he took charge of Mr. Merton's station, and now we will tell you in a few words what he accomplished in that time. Mr. Merton, as he said, gave Harold a free hand, and placed ample funds at his disposal to work and manage the place. The first thing the new manager did was to set half a dozen good, capable men to work making a proper stockyard. They did not lose much time over the work, as they were to get a bonus if they had it completed by a certain date. When the yard was finished, he sent the men to make three other branding places on different parts of the run where the cattle were thickest, and after that he had large tailing yards made all over the station, and on the 200 HAROLD EFFERMERE 291 back creeks and places where they were most re- quired. But in the meantime, and immediately after the first yard was finished, the real business for Harold commenced. He succeeded in getting three or four good stockmen, and these, with seven black boys, composed his mustering staff. Day after day Harold and his party went out, com- ing in late in the evenings with great bellowing mobs of cattle, which would often break and rush in all directions when it came to yarding them up. But they used generally to manage to get them all in after a lot of trouble and chasing of obstinate runaways. Then next morning, very early, they would draft the calves from the cows, and after breakfast they would be branding for the remainder of the day. Such calves as they were too : some of them would be three and four years old, and in a great number of cases the calf and its mother would be branded the same day. There were even instances where three generations of clean skins were branded at the one time. As soon as one mob was branded no time would be lost in going out to get in another. But the get- ting them — that was the trouble. Many and many a time Harold came out of the thick Mulga scrub with hardly a rag of clothes on him. He might perhaps have the collar of his shirt or the waistband of his trousers, but that would be about all — the bristling scrub could account for all the rest. Once he was charged by a wild bull, and was turned over, 292 HAROLD EFFERMERE horse and all. It was a miracle that he was not killed, but as it was he did not recover for several days. On several occasions the horse he had been riding was severely horned. Once going at a terrible pace through the timber, the animal he was riding went into a hole, and turning a complete somersault broke its neck, and coming over on Harold's leg at the same time, pinned him to the ground. There he might have died, had not fortunately one of the stockmen come that way and released him from his position. He had to be brought home in a cart and suffered terribly for several days. One day a horse was brought in that none of the stockmen would ride. It was a splendid-looking animal, but had all the vices of the devil. " Very well," said Harold, as the men one and all refused to have anything to do with the brute ; " very well," I will not ask any of you to do anything of this sort that I cannot do myself." With these words he put his own bridle on the animal, which had to be held by two strong men to get it saddled up. The girths were hardly tightened when the brute broke away, and with terrible squeals, roars and grunts, plunged and bucked about the yard in a most terrific manner. The stockmen all ranged themselves on the top rail of the fence, and had their own remarks to make, such as, " By jingo, he's a corker ; I knew him when he smashed Sam Hennis's leg." " I remember when he stove a nigger's skull in," and a third told how he got HAROLD EFFERMERE 293 rid of a crack rider and was a month in the bush with the saddle on. They all agreed that the boss was a " pluckton " as they said, but were afraid that he would have more than he could deal with this time. They were mistaken. Harold rode the horse with- out the least difficulty, despite all its efforts to get rid of him. But when the rails were let down, the mad brute plunged out through the opening, and being badly mouthed tore off, bucking, plunging and bolt- ing at a most ungovernable rate. As the animal raced off at a furious pace for the scrub, the men sitting on the stockyard exclaimed almost with one voice, "God Almighty, he'll be killed in the timber ! " Next moment they saw the vicious animal dart into the scrub, then seemed to plunge over a mass of dead trees, and giving a terrible buck reared over, crushing Harold on a heap of falling branches and decaying logs. The men carried him to the house, and after a while, opening his eyes, he looked at them and said, " The accident is a bit of bad luck ; but, boys, all of you go and camp out on Myrtle Creek to-day, and muster all the unbranded cattle there, and hold them in the big tailing yard up the creek. I will meet you the day after to-morrow." The men went out, saying, " More likely it will be the week after to-morrow after the smashing up he has got." But Harold, though terribly bruised, kept to his word, and towards the evening of the third day they -94 HAROLD EFFERMERE saw him, to their great surprise, coming across the plain. But their astonishment was, indeed, many times greater, when they saw that he was mounted on the animal that had dealt so foully with him only three days before. We just give that little incident down as an in- stance of Harold's varied experiences. We now hasten to matters of more importance. In nine months all the yards were made, and be- fore the year was out there was not an unbranded calf on the place over six months old. After that Harold mustered all the stags on the station, some fifteen hundred in round numbers, and he sent them off to the boiling down, where, although they only netted twelve and sixpence per head, still they more than paid for all the improvements he had put up. Then he sent away all the marketable bullocks that were fat to the Sydney market, and realized splendid results. Next he sold 4,000 cull cattle at an average of thirty shillings a head, and then he spayed all the worst of the breeders that were left, and weaned and herded all his young cattle. After that he got up a splendid lot of well-bred bulls, and thus made a great move towards the future improvement of the herd. As for the horses, he sold them all off excepting about 150 of the best, and these he kept in two horse paddocks, and always had them quiet and con- venient. But to our lady readers all this will have little HAROLD EFFERMERE 295 interest. They will no doubt be asking how about his relationship with Athnie all this time. Well, we shall have much pleasure in saying just a few words on that point. Harold had a private interview with Mr. Brownlow some time after taking charge of the station. What he said we do not know exactly, but the sturdy old squatter was heard to exclaim, "Oh, dash your buttons for a pair of fools ! I won't trouble myself any more about the affair. Yes, you can come over here as often as you like, but mind, be gosh, that you don't collar any of my calves when you're going back. You got the name of being dead nuts on anything that's not branded, and now that you got Mr. Merton's herd cleaned up, you'll be wanting to keep your hand in on mine." Harold took Mr. Brownlow's hand saying, "Sir, let me thank you ever so much for your kindness. You do not know how happy you have made me." " Oh, be off with you," burst out Mr. Brownlow, in his gruff way. " Dash my wig, but you're a fool — be gosh, you are." Well, after that Harold would be over as often as he could spare the time, and he would take the old walks with Athnie — the old delicious rambles by the river bank — but what they said to each other on those occasions it is not for us to repeat. Some- times Mr. Brownlow would look out, and seeing them together would exclaim, " By gosh, to think that that fellow should have such a reputation as a manager, and being a level-headed fellow and all 296 HAROLD EFFERMERE that, when I see him acting the fool before my very eyes/' Mr. Brownlow used often to make that remark, and before Tonsonby Oberon went away with the fats, the reply would always be, "'Acting the fool,' you say, my master ! But know you not what the poet says, 'It takes a wise man to act the fool. Harold is a true son of a worthy father, in fact, like father like son, and acting well his part where all the honour lies, as the poet said." With that he would slap his chest with both hands and look proudly at Mr. Brownlow, who would return the look with a dreadful scowl and burst out, " You cackling poet-quoting idiot ! Talk about acting the fool ; I tell you, sir, that no one can do the part of a fool properly but the natural-born fool himself." Chapter XLI " But ne'er on lovelier bride than thine Looked these delighted eyes of mine ; And ne'er in happier bridal bower Than hers smiled rose and orange-flower." — Fitz-Greene Halleck. ~^HESE little chronicles are now fast drawing -*- to a close, but there is one happy scene we must not forget to mention before saying " farewell." It was a most beautiful day in the end of April — beautiful in every respect. The sky was clear, the air was cool, and the strange, sweet odour of the wild flowers floated in the zephyr. On the shady side of the garden the dew still glittered on the blushing rosebuds, and the sweet young grass matted the country all around with an emerald carpet, fresh and clean and beautiful. Perched on the giant cucalypt, the melodious magpie warbled his sweetest notes, deep, joyous and clear. On the smaller bushes great varieties of curious little, hopping, fluttering birds twittered and screeched, whistled and cooed, a marvellous medley of songs. Great gorgeous butterflies came fluttering lazily along on perfumed wings, and tasting daintily of every flower, floating backwards and forwards, hovering over plant 207 298 HAROLD EFFERMERE and bush, lighting now for a moment, and opening and shutting their great vari-coloured wings, as they drank in the honey from the flowers. In short, we may say a delicious scene, and one to make glad the heart of any man who was not altogether devoid of the sense of appreciating the highest poetry of all — the poetry of Nature, and the deep, sweet sense of the beautiful and the sublime. Here then we have to describe another scene. In the middle of the garden a great marquee was erected, whilst all about the enclosure there were smaller tents. All suddenly from one of these we hear a familiar voice calling out in excited tones, " By the hokey, Lenden, old man, what have you done with my other boot ? Here I am the proud father of a worthy and happy son, and am I to go to his marriage in a few minutes' time with only one boot on ? It is not as if I was about to lose a son, as the poet said, but I am to gain a daughter. Come, disgorge the boot, for there's not a moment to spare." Ponsonby Oberon was going about from tent to tent blaming every one in turn for having taken his boot. Presently Mr. Brownlow came along and called out, " What's this devil of a racket you're kicking up here for a mad fool ? And what the deuce have you been throwing the bed-clothes about like this for ? And here's a pillow-slip laying in the dirt, and, by gosh, if there's not a boot in it ! " HAROLD EFFERMERE 299 Ponsonby Oberon slapped his chest with great vigour, and, coming over, exclaimed, " By heaven, sir, it is, as the poet said, by losing we are rendered sager. I mind me now I put it in the pillow-case myself last night just to have a playful whack at young Mr. Lenden. Ah, all is not lost that's care- fully put away ! " " Carefully put away ! " echoed Mr. Brownlow. "By Jupiter, sir, you want carefully putting away in a lunatic asylum yourself. Here are these two fools, who are going to try whether marriage is a failure or not, just waiting to be hitched, and you fooling round this way at the last moment." In spite of Mr. Brownlow's contempt for love and marriage, and all that relates to the married state, there was a look almost of happiness on his rugged old face as he walked up to the clergyman with Athnie on his arm ; for he was to give the bride away. And Harold, how did he look ? Well, in the words of his erratic father, he " seemed as if he breathed happiness at every pore, and wished an eternal peace and goodwill to all mankind, as the poet said." Where did the clergyman come from ? He came all the way out to the station, over a hundred miles, purposely to perform the ceremony that would make two happy, and both as one. Mr. Brownlow's house was not large enough to give accommodation for all the guests who were invited, so small tents were rigged in the different ^oo HAROLD EFFERMERE vl parts of the garden, and there the bachelors found pleasant quarters. And a jolly time they made of it, too, the night before the wedding. Truth to tell, most of them had drunk more than one glass of whisky, and they felt so happy and merry that they were singing, playing, and dancing more than half the night. But, with the exception of Ponsonby Oberon, it was only the gay young bachelors, like young Lenden, who were carrying on in this way. In the house slept Mr. Merton, who came all the way up from Sydney to see his station, and be present at the wedding. Old Mr. Lenden and his wife and family were there also, and Miss Lenden acted as bridesmaid, and, we believe, captured the heart of a good-looking young squatter, who lately came up to that part to live. Well, it was all very pleasant, and all were very merry and happy. Perhaps young Mr. Lenden showed a slight trace of sadness just at the time the marriage was to take place, but he acted his part of " best man," so Ponsonby Oberon said, " as if to the manner born ; " and he kissed the bride too, and, with something of a tremor in his voice, wished her a life-long happiness. Then, turning to Harold, he earnestly wished him the same, and, shaking hands with him, offered his congratulations, and added, with a playful little smile, " Harold, old man, this is one of those cases where the ' best man ' did not win." And the breakfast in the big marquee ! Ah, that HAROLD EFFERMERE qoi o v was another most pleasant affair. And the speech- making ! Well, there was never such a variety of rhetoric since the world commenced. Mr. Brownlow stood up and gave vent to a remarkable piece of oratory. He had, perhaps for the first time in his life, taken just one glass of whisky too much, and it was marvellous how it altered the whole character of the man ; so much so that Ponsonby Oberon, who came after, said that though he knew his worthy old master for a long time, he "only now for the first time found out that there was nothing of the bear about him, but the skin, as the poet said." To which Mr. Brownlow interjected with some vigour, "Be gosh, Ponsonby, it did not take me as long to find out that there was nothing of the fool about you, but the head." But the real speech of the occasion was made by Mr. Merton, who dwelt eloquently on Harold's success as a station manager, and the splendid results his ability, his industry, and his courage brought about. Mr. Merton's style was perhaps somewhat lofty and rhetoric, but, after he had gone on for some time in Harold's praise, he said, "You all know the history of my investment in station property. You all know the sort of a place I purchased, what a hopeless, tangled, neglected station it was ; the cattle running as wild and uncared for as the buffaloes of the American prairies, and the horses as free and untamed as the mustangs of the pampas. That was a state of things that meant a sea of work to 302 HAROLD EFFERMERE rectify, and the man who was to do it must be possessed of mental and physical energies, such as few managers of our time can lay claim to. " I confess when I saw the place myself, and saw the cattle and horses, or rather caught a passing glimpse of them — I confess, my friends, I felt that I had once for certain made a serious mistake. My friend Mr. Brownlovv did not encourage me to take a more hopeful view ; advised me, in fact, to get rid of the place as soon as possible, and to make the most of a bad bargain by considering the first loss the best, and to sell the place before I incurred a greater. By some strange obstinacy on my part, ladies and gentlemen, I did not take that advice, though it was the opinion of one of the oldest and most ex- perienced pastoralists of this Colony. That advice, my friends, would probably be the soundest that could be given under ordinary management, but I was fortunate in securing one to look after my in- terests, who carried out and so thoroughly accom- plished his great work as to exceed my most sanguine expectations. " At this moment, ladies and gentlemen, the station has not only repaid with good interest all that it has ever cost me, but it has yielded a few thousands besides. You all know (pointing to the bridegroom) to whom I owe all this, and proud and delighted I am to be here on this happy occasion to speak about it. You all, no doubt, feel that to one who has been such a good, true, faithful, and HAROLD EFFERMERE 303 laborious servant I owe something more than mere thanks and praise besides his salary, for this has truly been a labourer more than worthy of his hire. If that be your thoughts, you think justly, and I myself will not be one of the last to take a less liberal view. Therefore, I think I can make no more suitable and substantial wedding offering than to take my young friend in as an equal partner in the property which he has so well, so ably, and so systematically managed and conducted." With these words he sat down amidst great ap- plause ; and Harold, too overcome to express his feelings, could only at first tearfully declare his thanks and gratitude. But after a while, gradually gaining the mastery of his emotions, he spoke slowly at first, but as he went on, growing stronger, more confident and more eloquent, till at last his ideas and feelings came forth in one grand unbroken stream of words. "As for myself," he concluded, " I take no credit for what I have done. My good and generous employer has been pleased to accord me the highest praise for it, yet the feeling remains with me that I have done no more than my duty, and I hope, with God's help and blessing, I shall never do less. It is, of course, a well-worn truism that we all have our duties to perform ; let us but endeavour to carry them out to the best of our power, though in my own humble efforts I often feel how much I fall short of my aim, however earnest and hopefully 304 HAROLD EFFERMERE resolved it might be. But, my good friends; ladies and gentlemen, whatever little I may have done in my good master's service, and in improving my own poor state, I owe to the gentle guiding hand of one who is and has been to me the dearest blessing of my life. Whatever little I possess of knowledge, of learning, of goodness, or charity, or of better things, I owe to that same dear one, and it will be now the further duty of my life to make her life as peaceful, as happy, and as free from cares as ever did man truly devoted to one he loves beyond all things, to whom, through the goodness of God, he owes the noblest, grandest, sweetest happiness of his life." Chapter XLII " After many years "— H. C. KENDALL. " Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace, To silence envious tongues. Be just, and fear not ; Let all the ends thou aim'st at be thy country's, Thy God's, and truth's." — King Henry VIII. — Shakespeare. ' T is years long after, and though the curtain ■*■ has long ago dropped, we stand before it for the last time to say a few words concerning the characters, who are now hidden from view. Harold has now grown a rich man, a very rich man, some say a millionaire, but we can hardly think so yet. Long ago he was appointed a Justice of the Peace, and took the trouble to at once make himself well acquainted with his "Magistrate's Guide," and to serve out justice kindly yet impartially. All he says and does has force and wisdom, and thus it is his opinion is constantly looked up to and asked for, and his word has weight. In learning and knowledge too, what a field he has travelled over since last we saw him. There is not a standard work of value, scientific, classical, mathematic or philosophic, that he has not found 305 v 3o6 HAROLD EFFERMERE time to make himself acquainted with, and with his marvellous memory to retain and extract the pith and marrow therefrom. Thus his classical learning has given him refinement, culture, and poetic taste ; his mathematics have made him calcu- lating, methodical, exact and logical, whilst the scientific and philosophic have broadened and deep- ened his mind, making him tolerant and kindly towards all religions and creeds, and at the same time causing him to feel not anger, but pity and sorrow, for the narrow-minded sectarian bigotry to be found within so many professed followers of Christ. He is a high authority on political economy, and it may be perhaps for that reason, as well as his practical knowledge of governmental affairs, that he has been so often asked to stand as member for the district. But so far he has always declined the honour, though lately they have been touching him on his weak point, and telling him that it is his certain duty that he should give some portion of his knowledge and abilities towards the service of his country. It is this word duty that is mak- ing him think over the matter. At the same time there is a large section of the people who say they will return him at the next election in spite of himself. At present he takes the chair at all dis- trict meetings ; he is a ready and masterful speaker, and on more than one occasion has been deputed by the people of the district to go down HAROLD EFFERMERE 307 and interview the minister on certain important local matters. Yet withal, he is a plain, simple man, with no vanity or pride about him, and seem- ing always to be perfectly unconscious of his merits. And, moreover, he is good-tempered, cheerful, obliging, having no foes, and in fact the idol of all who know him. His wife is not less popular, and their two little children are the admired of the district. Such pretty, well-mannered, good-natured, loving little things they are ; bright and intelligent also, but withal full of that beautiful, touching simplicity, which is the sweetest charm of childhood. Mr. Brownlow lives on his own station, and for a man of his age it is wonderful how he gets about. He constantly visits Athnie and Harold, finds fault with everything, and never seems to be so happy as when he is growling to the best of his ability. Nevertheless, the two little children are always de- lighted to see him, and when they hear the dogs barking on his arrival, they run to the door, and clapping their little hands, call out, " O, mamma, here's the goody man that always brings the lollies." Then they will run out to meet him, and if he sees no one looking he will take up the two little things and kiss them, and stroke down their bright little curly heads, calling them all sorts of en- dearing names. When they think there has been enough of this, they will break out quite suddenly, " Did 00 bring any lollies dit time ? " 3o8 HAROLD EFFERMERE Mr. Brownlow will answer, " You hungry little savages of sweet tooths, how well you never forget them." With that he will put his hand in his pocket and pulling out a handful of sweetmeats nearly choke the children with them. " There you are now," he will say. " You little grinding machines, it's like feeding a pair of corn crackers to see the way you can munch." But he does not like to be caught doing these things, and he will say to Athnie that " Youngsters are the plague of life ; they are always howling and screeching and going on in such a way as if they liked it." Mrs. Brown lives with her daughter. She is now a fine, stout old woman ; more good-natured than ever if that were possible. She often likes to talk with Athnie and Harold about old times, and to laugh and cry over them again, Such a good, dear, lovable old woman she is that one is made cheer- ful and happy by only just seeing her. But what about Ponsonby Oberon ? Yes, cer- tainly, he must not be forgotten. Well, some time ago, he came across Hain Friswell's Familar Quotations, and the book so charmed him that he stole it. He now makes it his constant study, and in fact speaks in quotations. There is nothing that he delights more in, than to rattle a few of them about Mr. Brownlow's ears. And Mr. Brown- low will get in a terrible rage and shout out, " Dash my wig, Ponsonby, you natural-born fool, I HAROLD EFFERMERE 309 thought I knew all the old rubbish you'd picked up from those cursed potcs, but lately you seem to have gathered a whole stack of new ones, and be gosh, man, you are headlong on the road to destruction now ! " Then Fcnsonby Oberon would slap his chest with great vigour and say, " Ah, sir, you well might ask with the poet, whence is my learning or hath I toiled over books, consumed the midnight oil. My learning is without limit, sir ; and as you know I can throw a light on any subject, and, as the poet said, ( adorn everything I touch.' But what am I saying; is it not throwing pearls before swine? Is it not wasting one's sweetness in the desert air, a man of my talent here in the bush, as the poet says ? " Butler & Tanner, The Selwood Printing Works, Floras, and London. / JUW^^TjbIU I u t£± »"M i mwyt^m i UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY Los Angeles This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. C822H