HOME, SWEET HOME.

Dominion, Volume 1, Issue 211, 30 May 1908, Page 11

HOME, SWEET HOME.

In all tho glory of an autumn evening tho mackerel sky flushed rose-red with the sun's amorous glances, and the blackberry leaves . splashed with crimson and scarlet, or hanging limp and golden on trailing spray, a man sat on' a heap of fresh split palings and played "Home, Sweet Homo," on a concertina. When it came to the lines, "Give mo this and the peace of mind that's dearest of all 1 ," the man's hands shook, and the notes came quavoringly, then trailed away down tho valley like the cry of a woman in distress. He did not continue tho chorus, but. sat thinking thoughts that were conjured up by the words of the. song he had been playing, and all his thoughts were centred round the place ho called homo, and the wife who there waited for his coming. He tried hard to realise tho fact that it was barely eight months since sho had .waved good-bye to him as tho train steamed out of Spencer Street, and to-morrow he was going homo with a fairly fat cheque in his 1 pocket, the outcome of six months' solid work at paling splitting. Ho looked over to the little bark hut, with its well blackened billy and the frying part .hanging outside, while the open door' revealed two stretcher beds with a heap of blue blankets on one of them. The sight of the two beds set the man wondering afresh why lie had not heard from his erstwhile mate Dick Stacey, . and what had become of him. ,Thcy had'picked one another up as men do on tho tramp, and realising that they wero both ; a cut above the ordinary run of swaggies, and both very new at tho game, they had joined forces, and. struck up a very firm comradeship. ' As they .grew confidential they described their wives to -each other until Dick, laughingly, assured Bob Leach that he'd .recog-1 nise that missis •of his anywhere, blowed if he wouldn't; and Bob told Dick that he'd bet him a cake of terbecca that he'd pick his old woman out of fifty. Words spoken with jocose laughter at the time, but how vividly in sorrow did they return to. one, of tho speakers in later days. Three months after they started at' the timber mills. Tho Golden Goose rush had broken out tho other side of the hills, and after vainly endeavouring to persuade Bob to join him, Dick had packed up his swag, and tramped away after tha golden myth. Bob had faithfully forward-ed tho feT letters that arrived for Dick, and had each timo received a brief not® iff reply, always to tho effect that ho not struck oil yet, but was crpecting to at any moment. Tot tliroe weeks now he had heard no word, not even in reply to his last letter telling Dick that his contract was.up and ho was leaving for Mel-, bourne tho first of tho month. Even while he pondered ono of tho mill hands came whistling up the mountain track. A bunch of green parroquet feathers adorned his soft folt hat,' and a bunch of scarlet borries glowed from tho lapel of his toil-worn coat. It was by theso tokens that tho man had earned tho namo of "Gaudy Joe" among his mates, but withal he possessed a heart as tender as a woman's, and had been known to sit up the whole night with a sick dog, or tramp six "miles each way when his day's work was done to take a letter to an outback mate. He came up tho winding track

with a cheery "What oh, mate 1 How goes it? There's a wiro and a couplo of letters for-ycr. One of thorn's marked 'Urgent,' and has a Orsepital name on it. So I reck- ' onod it might be yer wife as was bad." ■■ j Bob' stretched out a trembling hand for ; the telegram, and toro it open. The words , swam beforo his sight for a moment, then , seemed to sottle, until tlioy started at him j like living things ,as he read. "Your wife died on 'Monday. Come at once." Without a word ho opoued the hospital letter. It was but a. brief note from one of the nurses, telling him that his wife was in a very critical oondition, subsequent upon an operation; that she was continually asking for him, and he must como quickly if, ho would see her alive. , This and the telegram containing the news of her deiitli had come together, while the man sat on the fresh split paling and played "Home, Sweet Homo." Without a word to the stricken man "Gaudy Joe" walked into the hut. Then he deftly kindled the fire, put on the billy, and set about making a quart pot of tea and frizzling slices from the lump of bacon that hung from the roof of the hut When all was ready bo went back, and, placing his hand with loving sympathy on Bob s shoulder, said: — . "Buck up, old chap. It's rough, PII admit; but then these things happen,,and wo can't help it. Come inside, and baie Eommat to eat and drink; then we'll get down to the station, so as yer can get the mitt train down in the morning. Besides, there's, the other letter yer haven't read yet. It might be full oft good news for yer." Bob looked up into tho face of kindly sympathy, then he said brokenly. " God help me, lad, and forgive me for not being with her at the end. You can read the other letter for me; nothing matters now that sho is none." , Ho buried his face in his hands again, whilo Joo proceeded to spell out tho lettor. Then suddenly it fluttered from his fingers, and ho knelt down beside Bob with tears of sorrow for his striken mate as' he told him that Dick Stacey had died of typhoid in the mining camp, and his mates had buried him in Whito Gum Gully. His last words had been a message for Bob to break the news to his wife, and try to help her with their one little girl. The milk train rumbled on , through the fresh beauty of an autumn morning past the rivor flats; whoro soft-eyed cattle waited for the gates to be uudono that led up to the milking shed round the feet of fern-clad imountairis, on whoso crested hoights the snowwhito mists still lingered. On and on till forest gave way to fields, and fields to yards that gradually grow smaller and smaller as tlie city hove in sight until they drew up j still in tho early morning at tho metropolitan station. When Bob leacli stepped out of tho guard's van his face was whito and drawn. The railway platform looked cold and cheer--1 loss, reminding tho man vividly of what his futuro lifo must be. And then _ , And then with a swat cry of joy that ; brought sleepy looking porters hurrying to tho doors, his arms woro around a little slip ! of a woman, and they were laughing and l sobbing over ono another Bob Lcach and his wifo. , ' i She told him in her own impulsive fashion 1 how it had all happened, and how sho was > alive when he had evfcry reason to believe ' her dead. , ! It was Mrs. Stacey who had diod m tho . hospital. She bad been taken dangerously,.

ill in tho street, had been removed to tho hospital, and an operation was immediately 'performed. In tho few minutes of consciousness that had been granted, her afterwards sho had asked the nurse to write to her husband, that he might come and see her. Sho had told them to write to Mr. Leach at the timber mills, and before sho could explain that this was tho man who would forward tho letter on. to her husband, had again relapsed into unconsciousness and gradually passed away. The liurso had taken it for granted that sho was Mrs. Leach, and had written first tho letter, and a little later the telegram containing tho nows of he-r death. "Oh, Bob," Ethel continued, "I only found out through the milkman asking me to go and seo to tho little girl, arid then I found from what sho told mo that they must be tho Staoeys of whom you had written to . mo. So I went off down to the hospital ,and found out all tho awful mistakes that had been made, not knowing, of courso, that Mr. Stacoy was dead too." At considerable expense to the Loaches they laid husband and wife together in God's Acre, and. in' their hitherto childless homo a golden-haired little maiden dances about calling them Daddy and Mummy, her fair young lifo unclouded with the tragedy that gave her to them. —From the "Age."