SHORT STORY

Alexandra Herald and Central Otago Gazette, Issue 346, 25 December 1902, Page 7

SHORT STORY

* Doh't b slieve you've any religion at ■o.' said -WiHsfem~-Smr»h" to-Jake-Eldridee, as they lounged into the postoffice at Snapshot. :. 'Why sot?. You don't know everything, though you do happen to be a Britisher,' said the offended Jake. * Well, if you understood the gospel of labor, you wouldn't waste an hour every day waiticg while your mail la sorted, when you right to be at work in the swe't spring sunshine doing your beat to increase yqnr country"* output,' . 'Go-as the country t-ia't ao hard up for produce btit what it can spare me an hour or two,' earn Eldridge, drily. 'Canadians ain't like Englishmen. They don't shove . one another over a little island into the sea every five minutes. No, ait. Thia'ia God Almighty's country, this L", with plenty of room in it You bet, we can huatle when we've a mind to hustle, and we can loaf when we've a mind to loaf.* ' Daresey you can; but you have fire hundred people in Snapshot, and almost a thousand religions; too much religion is ae bad as too little; therefore, practically, you've no religion at all. ' Why, that*s all you know about it,* Kid Eldridge,.-indignantly. . 'Guess.l'm :Hard Shell Baptist this year. N-no! Come to think of it, that was year afore last. Last year I was a Presbyterian; I this j ear Quaker—got a new drib *, suit on purpose, ain't got no religion! Why, the truth is f've too much, for sure. I'm chock-full. You could make little maps all over me of the different religions I've been In my t'me, and thi places where struck ma most. I'm a Quaker now, and don t you forget it.' * Why are you a Quaker P Why not a Shaker?*

'l've never shook any of my friends yet, and I ain't going* to begin now. Guess I'm a little bit of a Canadian kind of Quaker in my 'manners. D'you think old George Fox wouldn't have known me as a genuine friend, not a 'hickory' imitation—them folks as ait on the ..fence and wait which side to jump down. No, air, Afik' the Princess' if I ain't apeakin' the rrosen truth. Bat I forget. Yoa can't ask the Princess if yoa don't know her. Jast come with me down to the Friends* school house—if a all red brick outside, and ekan whitewash within—and she'll convince yoa afore yoa can hit a yallow dog.' . . .- ._■ Winston Smith laaily swung himself off the poetomce counter (it is the ceneet thing to sit on the'poetomce counter at Snapshot) and followed his long-legged guide oat into the afreet, put the little Quaker meeting house, and down to the wharf.

' It's a wonderful country this Canada of oura,* continued the indignant Jake. • the primeat bit of the wnole earth. ■Come to the edge of the Ottawa shore. 8-*-ah! You'll frighten that bluebird off her neat; reckons sne knows me, but this yer British'bat of yours gives you away even to a bluebird, whicb don't take much interest in hats as a ginial thing.: Verily it does, bagoeh. Now look at the coffee-brown of the water—the timberrafts floatin* lazily along just as if they'd . done it for years—the blue sky, the green wOlews at the river edge; the Laurentian mountains a little way back, with their rows and rows of maples and pines atop of 'snu Where will you find a more beautiful sight f Gosh—l mean verily— , it's all the earth and the fence round it. It only wants the Princess out here just to finish it off a bit/ Winston allowed Jake to run on. A. recent convert to Quakerism, his speech was still mixed with that of other creeds.

'Jale was in a contemplative mood as they passed the bluebird and settled down for a smoke in a little harbour midway between the bpnk and the shore. Something in the serene atmosphere seemed to invite confidences. ' 'Breathe all your troubles and mistakes to me, and I will soothe you with my rippling song,' babbled the river. 'O, you puny beings miscalled man, how oitsn, as i flow ouward to the eternal sea, do I behold you by my banks, children of a larger growth Who murmur to me all your little loves and hopes and leara! Your pigmy stories are swallowed up in my breast j they are carried out to the salt ocean, and- buried fathoms dfepne*er to rise again* -*- It wait "vary hot Presently a potatobug, looking somewhat like a bloated ladybird, crawled from a bough above, and dropped on to Jake's neck. ■ His first im pulse was to be profane. 'Me bein' a Quaker on probation, I daren't let fly,* he said, apologetically to Smith. "Sides, if a too near the school house. The princess might hear me.' They smoked on until they attained Nirvana: were even as gods for whom Tin*? las no meaning. At ac bfl the bell clanged. The children hastened out'from the red-brick scboolhons« with merry laughter, and raced up the road to the village. Last of all came the princsFS. carrying in her arms a wee, wee g'tl, fast asleep, As she neared the arbor, she began to sing softly, and the bluebird listened on its nest, for it seemed to know and love the sound of her voice.

Smith.' looked at Jake. He crimsoned as the princess came slowly down the path, her eupple figure swaying rhythmically with every step She was a tall, fair princees, Heaven's holy calm within her pore and candid eyes—a princess with flowing robes, of blue, a human forget-me-not, blossoming in the way. As she came down the path. Smith involuntarily took ,oS his hat, and stood bareheaded in the noonday heat So did Jake, his handsome features flushing like a girl's. The princess smiled when she saw them. ■ I fear me have robbed you of your nook,' said Smitb, making room for her to ait down. Jake introduced Winston Smith to her. He was troubled and ill at ease, and Smith instantly, dirined the reaeon for his constraint. When they returned to the village, Winston Bmith carried the child. U • W.e shall be much pleased to see you 'tola 'fcvening,' the princees said to him.. Frieid Jake ia to apeak in the court house en the Temperance Question.' He —ha has tried both sides of it.' She looked at Jake with a sweet, grave, diTWtniW. and that stalwart Apollo again husg hia head. T*»'A was the

™ Princes* Wa ; is,

reason of his -swearing off;' this was th reason he had joined the Society of Priands; this accounted for bis abstention from 'tanglefoot* warranted to kill at forty yard*. Jake wag emerging from the thoughtlessness of early manhood, and becemi ug a thinking animal. But he did not look as if his reflections made him happy., .„ Winston Smith's quarters were at the house .of the ' Begistrar's Lady,' as she called theraelf. He had drifted into this quiet little valley by* chance, and was too ; much its inhabitants -to 3 drift out again untiThe had more* of! them; there was rough matozial for a hundred novels in the strange individualities which surrounded him. Everyone was original, from the • Begistrar*a Lady *to t?.e printer's doyil. rt the office of the small paper. • The'rashk-ns were also origin*!, and depended on what novel . Mrs Judge Perkins had rvad lat-ly. She derived hrr ideas of costume from books, and imparted them to the • Registrar's Lid/' as hem* the litest Paris modes. ' The 'Bsgistrar'B Lady.' however, some- • times rebelled against Paris modes when ■„ it oame to appearing in a headdress of ' eagle's feathers, and the other accessories (they ware, not many) of tha costume '• worn (what Uttle there was of it to wear) ' by'LeloS*. th-« Uride of the Plains.' She ! said that no Christian wooaaa wouid go about in such scanty garb, and s> Mrs Judge Perkins had toe "mi dowa to mora conventional attire.

la additions to the disputes about fashions, a fhrce fi;ht was going on in Snapshot; between the powers of good and evil. .jAll who were not total abstainer* were disreputable; all *?ho drank watei led godly lives. No one seemed to be- able .to steer a middle coarse—from the jucUe downwards. Nobody drank beer. The ordinary liquid consumed in moments of conviviality was a fiery, scorching compound known as 'tanglefoot/ -which burned up a man in a few months, and transformed him into a howling, maddened demon without five minutes' notice. Under its influence a ms n had been known to turn his children into the pitiless storm of a winter night—only to go mad on the morrow, whin their frozen bodies were dug out of the snow. ~._.,*.

u There had been so many temperance meetings at Snapshot that everyone became intensely intemperate on the subject- At the meeting to which Winston Smith was invited by the princess, Judge Perking led off with a *flowe'ry oration, to the effect that he intended to be a waterdrinker for the future. This interesting. statement was capped by old Parkworks, the butcher., 'You see, jedge,'. he said, addreaßing that worthy,«where the leader goes the shaft-horse is bound to foller. Now, I'm a shaft-hoss, and il you leads quietly, danged if I'll kick over the traces. But if you kicks, then Pm bound to kick, eo'b not to be unreasonable and look better'n my betters.' This maiden effort was received with tumultuous applause. Jack -Eldridge followed Park works, and spoke with a rude, impassioned eloquence, which carried people cf their fast. For five minutes at least every hardened old toper in the. village vowed to reform. Then the seasoned offenders sneaked into Brobetf a tavern to discuss the speeches, 'and to moisten their parched throats. - A coolness gradually arose between Jake and Winston Smith. Of coarse, the princess was the innocent cause of this. Smith saw a good deal of her. Jake's Quakerism was of too recent a- data to enable him to visit frequently at the house of the princess' parents. Consequently, the novelist had the advantage of him in /many ways, although Jake and the princess had attended school together. They had a hundred associations in common, but, in spite of them, seemed gradually to drift apart. The princess' intellectual powers were much in advance of Jake's. She did her beat to conceal the fact, lest he should feel her superiority ;' but he was too intense on worshipping her to nothe this. Besides, everyone knew that Minnie Higginson, Parson Higginson's daughter, was madly in love with him—everyone but Jake. Winjtcn Smith, lying on the turf behind the bluebird's nest one day, unwittingly overheard Jake's proposal to the princess. He had been sleeping in the , short grss3, inly to be awakened by the musical notes of the princess' voice. -• '* Tadnf no ose',' said Jake; • I've loved you ever since we sat on the same form at school i and shared our lunches together, liain't worthy of yon, I know that. But since this English feller's come along you won't look at me; you ain't no use for me.'

The princess' voice was very sweet and gentle; 'Youare unjust, Jake. Minnie loves you. You paid her a great deal of attention, and it is only right that you should give yourself to her. I watched her face the other night j she betrayed her innocent secret. You had no right to i raise h'r oatpeetations by your attentions, and then to withdraw because I came back again to Snapshot. .Think of her humiliation.' ' Jake hung his head." 'They were—were only attentions; I didn't mean 'em'.' * Do you thinks asked the priscess, ' that I could build my happiness on the ruins of Minnie's hopes ? She loves you with her whole soul, and she is my friend.' •But if you loved me you'd think a darned sight more of yourself and less of her,' pleaded Jake. It seemed to Smith (he was perforce obliged to remain where he was) that the princess f rew pale. «We cannot go into that,' ahe said softly. «Jake, when we do wrong we must suffer it. I would never marry a man who has deceived someone else, especially when that someone is my dearest friend. True happiness does not consist in thinking only of ourselves. If you wish to retain my esteem (Smith saw that her lip trembled for a moment) you. . will offer yourself to Minnie.' ' But don't love her— not a mossle Thar ain t no other woman in the world for me cept you.' 'You *ill learn to love her when you see how sweet and winning she is. The greatest proof you cay give of your love for me is to—marry her.' ■ You'vo made me love you. Don't you .owe me nothin' P* 'Yes, I owe you something,'she aaid ► entry. ' I owe it to you that ycu should not be duloyal to your old schoolfellow We will put myself absolutely out of the question.' But he was by her sida, covering her hands with passionate kisses. • Say that yoa might ha' loved me if I

I hadn't fooled with Minnie. Say that, and, I—l'll marry her.' J For a moment, the Princess' eyes looked .at him very sweetly and tenderly, « Ycu ; must not ask ire that,' she said, and went away. I Jake picked np the handkerchief she had let fall, and stood twisting it in his fingers with a dazed look on his handsome face. *No heart, no heart,' he mattered. 'Notamossle. Sbe don't love me; she never did; bat I might ha* made her in time if it hadn't been for—Minnie!' As Jake bent down and kissed the spot where the Princess had stood, Winston Smith came out from his hiding-place, and took his arm. *Be a man, Jake. Bear your punishment. If she nad not loved you, she would never have set you so bitter a task.' ' Yes; it's bitter—bitter as hell!' he cried, without evincing any surprise at Smiths presence. 'Oat of onr pleasant vices the gods make instruments to scourge üb.' That's what ycu'told me the other day. I thought it was poetry stuff. Now I know what you meant. Why did you say it P'. •Why did I say it? Would you be yery much surprised to hear that I am in love with the Princess myself ?' Jake turned upon him savagely, as if about to strike.

' You'll ask her to marry you P' 'Not yet. It would be hopeless. I shall go away, make a name in the world, .seek the Holy Grail, tben come back and goffer myself to her. I am a worldling ibecause I have always lived among worlds lings. I will strive and work and —1 must conquer !* ' Think she'll listen to you ? You don't, know her.' ' Neither do you. We aren't worthy to know her,' said Smith, with sudden passion. 'Some day, when we've passed ihrough trials and afflictions, and borne them av she would iiavo us bear them; when we've put aside from us all that is of the earth, earthy j when we've walked as she'd have us walk; then, and not till then, shall we be worthy of her. The/e comes a moment in "the life "of every man when he ha& to choose his path or lose it forever. Do you think it isn't hard for me to go away without "speaking ? J'm ■ not fit to speak now. Some day I shall return.' They parted and w.-nt their diverse' ; ways. : • • * # * I,

The years go by,, and, under the 6'aadow of the silent hills beside the river shore, the Princss teaches in the villagi school, the child sbe carried in her arms is now the happy mother of a laughing babe; generations of blue birds' nest and nest again; but still no sign comes from the outer world, and still the Princess—waits !—Black and White.