SHADOWS ON THE SNOW.

Dunstan Times, Issue 193, 6 January 1866, Page 2

SHADOWS ON THE SNOW.

11 [Concluded.] g William conceals himself in the hoi- -* lowed trunk of a gnarled old tree, and * " Stealing out from the house he saw a 8 female, her form throwing a long shadow! i- upon the snow He saw her, hist ; f Laura, lying in another man's arms, andfi e he dropped into his seat with a bitterS cry. His love was stricken dead, fi 's Part the second carries us far away '•■- from picturesque Devonshire, and we fiid ft ourselves nearer home, among the snowclad ranges of New Zealand. Williaml > with three others are a party of gold difljr gers. This part of the story is true J

nature, and the scene can be realised by many residents in this district. The author thus pictures the four men camped among the great ranges:— " A dark, cold, cheerless night. With the exception of this little tent, no trace of civilization is near. Here nature reigns supreme. The lofty mountains; rising range over range, appear to shut out from the world the gully in which our scene is laid The canvas above their heads scarcely screens them from the inclemency of the night. The district is wild, barren, and dismally bare of vegetation." The author then proceeds to describe the inmates of the tent, which he does with so much characteristic precision, that we are inclined to think that he must have had some personal experience, or he could not have drawn so correct a picture. The four mates so widely different in character and disposition, thrown together as we often see mining parties, by some unaccountable means, yet bound one to the other by almost brotherly ties. " On of the four was known as Gentleman George. There was no satire meant in the name. Gentleman George was simply a man of good breeding, a handsome fellow with laughing blue eyes, and the strength of a Hercules." Opposite to him, squatting upon a blanket, was Cornish Tom " He had been a gold digger for the last fifteen years, and had mined in California, New South Wales Victoria, and New Zealand- He might have made a moderate fortune half a dozen times, for he had fully that number of chances—but there was no rest for the sole of Cornish Tom's foot—no sooner did hear of a new rush, than he was oft'. Many were the rich claims he had abandoned to be among the first on a new goldf eld." The other was Dick Driver, a saving sort of character, and who never spent a shilling in waste. The fourth of the party was the hero of our story. Mr. Farjeon, like most authors, blames the diggers fur continually roving from place to place; but, did they not possess a spirit of restlessness, in conjunction with that of enterprise, in aii probability " Shadows on the Snow" might not have been written, while new discoveries would be but 'of rare occurrence. xne digger has his mission to perform—that of a pioneer of civilization. His calling, excepting under peculiar circumstances, does not tie him long to one place. He is not like the husbandman, the more he works the ground the better it produces. When a claim is once worked out it is done for for ever. Another thiug, more diggers go to a rush than can find profitable employment, but those who do so remain. The principle adopted by miners is " When your luck is out shift, and keep on shifting till an improvement takes place," and in nine cases out of ten this principle will be found to be a correct ona Cornish Tom's story itself proves that fact We all know that the allurements of a new rush are veryenticing,andtherealwaysexistsachance for those who are not doing much to do more. The party find themselves snowed up, the tremendous ranges being covered from base to summit. The following little dialogue accurately describes the self-pos-session and determined bravery which a party of diggers would undoubtedly exhibit under such circumstances, and the sang froid with which they treat impending dangers that would cause other hearts to pale. " After a few minutes of silence, Cor nish Tom says, ' Look here mates, I reckon we're in for it; we haven't three days' grub in the place, and can't get any more. This snow-storm is going to last and Fin blessed if I can see how we're to get out of it.' ' I have heard from some of the shepherds that places like these ai - e snowed up at f this season of the year, sometimes for months together,' said Gentleman George. ' The best thing we can do,' returns Cornish Tom ' is to try and hump it back ; to.morrow. Did you see any smoke from the next gully to-day ]' 'No' replied William. ' I saw it yesterday,' continued Tom * perhaps they are off. An eternal shame, it is' he grumbled, ' when we've found a rich gully like this, we should have to ran away from it. Why, we could make our piles in six months. I wonder what sort of ground they've got in the next gully. ' I wonder if they've got any provisions' speculated William. ' It strikes me,' said Dick Driver, speak, I ing very slowly, 'that we shall not be I able to get out of this so easily as we v think. Look here,' and he kicked the side of the tent, against which a mas 3 of accumulated snow was heavily pressing, ' there is an awful drift going on all, the tracks are rubbed out, We might as well try to walk through the sea. I should'nt be half surprised if we were never to get out at all. Hark ! what was that 1 " They all bent their heads, and listened. The only sound they could hear was the roaring of the wind past the tent. ' We may as well look it in the face' religious,—but if I had been, I think I

should say my prayers twice over tonight.' " The only answers Gentleman George or Cornish Tom gave was a steadier puffing at their pipes. They were well aware of their danger, but they did not care to talk over much about it; they all knew and could grasp the full extent of their peril—all but William Fairfield. He had never realised it, until that night, and now it came back upon him with terrible force." The party consider their best means of escape, and the probable time they could hold out against the storcn. Comish Tom bemoans the low state of the tobacco more than the scarcity of provisions. Each one expresses a hope that he shall once -more see his relations in the old country, when the ever hopeful Tom says energetically:— " And so you will George, but you're not going the right way about it. We must keep stout hearts, and we shall be all right. At all events we won't stop here until we're so tightly snowed in that we can't get out. We'll start to-morrow, and cut our way out of it." William fancies he hears a ciy, and goes to the tent door to see; but nothing is heard save the roaring of the wind. An avalanche occurs, but beyond a slight frightening the men take no harm. Huddling close together in the tent, and it being impossible to sleep, gentleman George calls upon Cornish Tom to tell them a story. Tom readily accedes to the wish of his friends, and relates as thrilling and romantic a story as we ever recollect reading. Tom gives it as a reminiscence of his Victorian goldfields adventures. The story may, like most others, be overdrawn, nevertheless in substance it might be substantially correct. Many extraordinary circumstances have taken place on the goldfields, especially in the early days, when Forest Creek, where the story is laid ) was inhabited by men of very questionable moarlity. Murdering Flat, Choke'm Flat, Madman's and Starvation Gullies are no myths, they are known to many in Otago. Cranky Bill and Teddy the Tyler, sometimes working with <i mate and sometimes alone as a " hatter," are characters that can readily be realised, and we are sure thai all vr-n.-Ws - f Mr T?n.ripnTl'<i VinnlUUctb till iiraucio *jl A»j.A. i«iji-u«M ~~~~. whose experienoe dates from the time of Cornish Tom's story will agree that there is much foundation for the narrative.. The expression is easy and natural, and many quaint sayings are introduced which can be readily recognised as peculiar to a goldmining community. Cranky Bill does not appear by any means to lack good sense, He displays considerable judgment and accuteness. He appears to be merely an excentric sort of character, possessing, like many persons we meet almost daily, individual peculiarities, many such on the goldfields being designated as being " a shingle short." Cranky Bill comes out to the colonies through misfortunes at home, or " under a cloud," as Tom terms it. His wife dies soon after arriving in Melbourne, leaving a weak delicate little girl behind hj?". Cranky Bill places his child under the care of some people, and goes to the diggings. Both him and Cornish Tom work together as mates near Forest Creek. After working out a rich claim he goes to Melbourne to see his daughter, and finding that she has not been well cared for takes her back with him to the diggings. Tom works as a " hatter" during Cranky Bill's absence, but has a run of bad luck the ! whole time. Upon the return of the latter they once more become mates, and go to live and work in a back gully in the ranges known only to cranky bill and an illgrained fellow, Teddy the Tyler. Before taking Tom to the gully Bill makes him swear to take care of the girl should anything happen to her father. Tom does so after his own wild fashion, in a form that he deems most binding : " I rose and bent over the dear little. one's face—l can feel her sweet breath again upon my cheek—and kissed her. Then I said, ' That kiss is a sacrament, Bill. By all that's holy, I will be a second father to your little girl. So help me God.'" It is past ten o'clock at night, and to prevent being followed they start off at once to the gully. They travel till morn intf, and resting during the day, arrive at midnight at their destination. William fancies he again hears a cry for help. All four go from the tent, and cooey, but receive no answer, and once again Cornish Tom resumes his story. "As they walked down the gully, Teddy the Tyler rashes out of his tent, revolver in hand, and lets fly at Rill's dogBill jumps on the fellow and wrests the revolver from his hands, at the same time sending him spinning a dozen yards away. '/You murdering villian, you,' said Bill as Teddy the Tyler rose from the ground with an evil look, and shook himself, ' Do you know you might have shot my little girl?' "' A good job if I had' muttered Teddy the Tyler vindictively. "Cranky Bill strode quickly up, and seizing him by the shirt collar, forced him

to the ground, by dint of mere muscu!ar strength." Tom and Bill live toge'ther for five weeks in a gully adjoining the one in which the quarrel took place. They had accumulated much gold, and lived very comfortably. Tom relates very pathetically some of the incidents of their stay in the gully—- " How I loved that dear little angel! She called me Eather Tom, and eveiy night as she knelt by the crib we had made for her, she used to wind up her prayers with ' God bless papa and Father Tom, and make me a good child.' Then on Sundays we would take a walk and gather wild flowers, and in the evening Bill would read a chapter out of the Bible. Do you know mates" said Tom suddenly breaking off, " that I don't think Sunday on the diggings is at all properly spent. I know lots of ■ ijgers who make a practice of spending hin sly-grog shanties and nobblerising. I don't know where the fault lies,)but it's true enough there's something wrong- Those Sundays with Bill and his little girl are never out of my thoughts- I wish I could spend my Sundays now as I did then. A short time after this, Tom goes oif to a station for provisions. He is away a night and a day, when returning, and within half a mile of home, he meets Cranky Bill running about like a madman. He has missed the girl from the tent, his dog is also missing. They search the whole night but find nothing. At last their attention is directed towards a tree by some laughing jackasses sitting on its branches. ■ They find a hole, and in it is the dead body of the little girl. The dog Whiskey they find shot through the heart a short distance off. Between the dog's teeth are the shreds of a handkerchief known to have belonged to Teddy the Tyler. Placing the dead dog at Tom's feet, Bill exclaimed " ' Who shot him 'i You she he's been shot. Who did it; Whoever killed the dog, killed my child.'" Cranky Bill dashes off like a madman in the direction of Teddy the Tyler's hut. Tom dramatically describes the meeting— " I saw Teddy flying up the range with Cranky Bill tearing after him. Teddy, who had a revolver in his hand, turned round twice and fired at Bill, .... but before they got to the top my mate seized Teddy and grappled with him. Then commenced such a sti'uggle as I never wish to see again, and presently down they dashed one over another, locked in each others' arms. I ran up to the spot where I knew they must both fall; and although they came down with a fearful crash, they were not separated. They were both dead." Tom seeks assistance, the gully is rushed, and the miners bury Cranky Bill and his child in one grave. Tom's story over, Gentleman George fancies that the cry heard by William might have been from the party in the next gully. They all go to see, excepting William, who is left in charge of the tent. He fancies he again hears cries for help, and at some distance from the tent, finds two men benumbed, rigid, and apparently dead. He carries them to the tent, almost despairing of restoring them to consciousness, he searches for some means of identification, and finds in the pocket of one a letter in Laura's handwriting. He opens it and finds that the being on whom he is exercising his skill to i-estore to animation is her brother Arthun, who. having forged his father's, Reuben Harrild's, name, is disowned by him. He Arthur, emigrates to New Zealand. William at once accounts for the shadows on the snow, and the meeting between Laura and the man at midnight. Part the Third brings us back to Warlcycombe- The surface of the earth is again covered with snow. It is Christmas Eve, the house is once more filled with guests. Laura is however, very sorrowful and pensive. William and Arthur Harrild have returned home. They are introduced by Doctor Bax. The meeting is a happy one. Arthur is received and forgiven by his father, and William and Liura are reunited. The work certainly possesses very great merit, and will be read with avidity by every man woman and child on the goldfields. Among the actual hard-handed delvers in the so 1, the story will be highly aopreciated. It tells them of something t ley know, and of what they can readily realise, and the subject will doubtless be for some time to come the theme of con versation among the actual residents in tents among the snow-covered ranges. To all who wish to enjoy a really pleasant evenings' reading, we cannot do better than recommend them to spend half'a crown in the purchase of Mr Farjeon's book.