A Sydney Nor'-Easter.

Evening Post, Volume LXI, Issue 86, 13 April 1901, Page 1 (Supplement)

A Sydney Nor ' -Easter.

I I, Julia Jobson, am convinced it was I not a serpent's- wiles mat brought death into the world, and all our woe. It I was a warm, moist wind blowing over Paradise. "There is no crime I could not commit when this wind blows," said Lye froctiously, after nagging Adam till he was driven out of the leafy cave' to the company of ichthyosaufia and duckbilled lizards, " but as no crime but one is open to' me, her© goes f6r the fcirbftden fruit." Yes, original sin came into the world with such a wind as tile Sydney nor--' caster. Now, to-day was a specimen day, but it is not unique. Tarn just as ufib.ap.py five days out of the seven because ef that wicked wind. When 1 awoke this morning I tried to get, up to go for a. rids, bub kadn't strength to lift my head from the pillow, so I lay still, wondering why any one, who hadn't brain-softehing, persisted in living whilst there were all around us such unrivalled facilities for drowning. That's all our harbour is good for. Yet not a «oul among the people i know makes proper use of it. Also I wondered Ikw I'd get through the day, or should I catch the express train and shorten the day— in th» harbour — under it. Corisande, our mijfit, brought in tea and opened the windows. The sight of the tea annoyed me. I jumped up and threw it out of the window, thereby scalding my dog, who always lies below waiting for my morning paw-wave. I wasn't sorry—^only chuckled a fiendish "Aha." Then I tried to go back to bed, but was too tired, and started to dress. I could find only ode stocking. It's a psychological fact that on nor'-easter mornings I can • never find my clothes. I hunted all over the room, ransacked things, then collapsed on the floor thinking, "I really have a duplicate of all those garments, so their loss does not count. The real disaster is the loss of my spine. Now, where did I leave my. spine? I had it all day yesterday— l thought I had it when I went to bed. Perhaps it is in the bed." I look vacantly in that uirection. My vitaliby is at low ebb. I yawn incessantly. I'd be all right if I could find' my spine. It was such a baautiftil spine, too! Where could I have left it? Last night I rode into the township to leave a pair of shoes to be mended. Could I have left my spine as well? No, it didn't need . mending, and if it did would I entrust it to an ordinary cobbler? I sank lower, slapping at the flies on the matting with the one stocking* I could fiiid, and feebly wisSing I were dead. From without the < door Corisande enquired, "Dtm't you want your wrapper, Miss Julia, and these other things that you left in the bathroom last night?" "O, is that where I left 'cmV See if my spine is in there also, Misfit." "Your what, Miss Ju — " "Spine, spine — see if it's on the floor or jamm'efl- in the waste-pipe." There was a silence minutes long, then the Misfit asked, "Isn't spine another mame for b'aokbone?" I didn't answer. I was too drowsy. Presently she came ba«k, and said breakfast wate waiting. I brightened, for at a meal there are always possibilities of quarreling. The poet says "the .meal uasKared is food unblessed," and I used to believe it until I had experienced sthus far oi a Sydney summer. Whilst dressing I pondered over the manner of the deaths I would inflict upon all the persons I know if I were an absolute monarch. \ Outside birds sang in the gums, cow-beils tinkled in the fern hollows, a «nild sun beamed from the mild blue sky, a soft wind brought the scent of burning grass, trees, and erush'ed leaves. These things seemed to woo me to " come out into the outer glery." But I jumped at the windows, Sad banged them down, saying to the wind, " You treacherous thing ! Gammon you're not carrying 70 per cent, of moisture!" The rivets of every joint were loosened, my morale lowered ; yet I used to jest at "that tired feeling," and declared (before I knew, aught oi a Sydney sumn»er) that it was a fiction invented by persons who dealt ia liver pills and whiskies. I dressed somehow, and as I did so I glanced over a story I "had begun to write (by request) fcur months ac;o (just when the nor'-easters began). The first chapter, written on a west-wind day, is strong, brilliant, and epigrammatic. The second chapter bears traces of my nor'eastererd brain. Here's a bit from 'it: — "Needless to say, a wedding at the splendid station homestead was the occasion ,of endless bustle and confusion. From the surrounding stations squatters came like sheep " (" sheep" is crossed out, and "rams" substituted, then that is crossed out, and " locusts" inserted. The rest of the page is filled with drawings of faces and dogs' heads. My own name is written 28 times most carefully, | there are two sets of noughts and crosses, and the word "hell" twice. The story proceeds over the -leaf) " locusts to feast their eyes on the lovely bush bjido, who t i era the sun had reached his zenith would wed the man to whom' she had given her whole heart, and half her Riverina propertiy." Then come a lot of frantic scrawls, and the remark, "the Misfit, is a, beast." and a pen-drawing of a man's face with "Pigdog" written across it. It is the face of the man who wanted the story, but he isn't a pigdog — and I have never seen him. The story continues,- — "Nimitybelle, my first and only love,' ex-

claimed tho enraptured bri'degroomelect, striding forward to meet her who met him with the old familiar gesture he knew so well — the throwing out of the hands— ' Nimitybelle, how shall I -- ,' then, his voice ceased, as if he had been shot through the heart, for. in the gum-boughs and wattle-bloom shade he saw the dark sinister face of the man who of all men knew that he had a wife and family m England." (Across the rest of the page is scrawled the intimation :—>" If ever I finish this ringtailed story, I'll ask the goanna of an editor ten ginnies for it.") The Misfit came, saying breakfast was waiting, so I walked feebly and still yawning into the dining-room, fell into my chair, and rested my elbows heavily on the table. "Didn't you sleep?" asked Mrs. Jobsor.. " Sleep, j^es. Nine hours without a break. What a beastly breakfast P' Mrs. Jobson ostentatiously ' turned a page Of the morning paper, and began, to read a leader eulogising free trade. She is i a white-hot freetrader, and says theseven deadly sins Jist should be revised, and headed with the greatest sin — protection. I moved the coffee-pot, so she had no rest for her paper. Then I m.;»iked "No policy is possible for jfederated Aust ralia but that of protection." Still she •neither spoke nor moved.. "Mrs. Jobson," I said wearily, "You have ashes on your head. Why?" That roused her. "Because you carried ashes and black mould in my gar-den-hat yesterday for the fern-bed. It's disgraceful. I was nearly blinded when I put the hat on this "morning." "I never did! The Misfit brings in coals in your hat." "Now, Julia!" "Well, I had nothing else to carry the earth in." - "You had the little barrow." • "O ! At last I know my place in your perspective, Mrs. Jobson. So you'd see your only daughter wheeling a barrow." "Why not — in your own garden? It's a little barrow, and painted a nice blue." As I haven't energy to lift my cup the' "Misfit, on nor'-caster days, kindly fills me a row of saucers with' tea, and in my spineless condition it is little labour for me to lean forward and lap. I wished to eat. ''Will you crack this egg for me, Mrs. Jobson?" I asked. "I'm too •weak." " No ; it's encouraging your weak will. I was up at five this morning to gather flannel flowers." / - > I began to ,cry, but the effort to wipe my eyes was too great, so I stopped, and told Mrs. Jobson that it was a pity this township of ours wasn't a candidate for the Federal Capital. She could then pose to the commissioners as the oldest inhabitant, 105, at least. It would be a proof of the healthiness 'of the place, and it was" a pity for a woman not to make some use of her looks. • Mrs. Jobson looked at me' speechlessly for a time, then remarked that the person who would put an envelope of ox-alic-a-cid crystals in the sugar-jar might be expected to speak like a lunatic. "The sugar-jar was the driest place I knew of," I retorted; "besides, I would soon have used the acid cleaning my old straw hats; and, besides, . again, it was tho Misfit's sugar-jar, not ours.'" " Well ; and isn't it possible to poison a Misfit?" T " Quit© possible ; but what then? Mrs. Jobson, you'll tell me next that it's a sih to kill a Misfit! Your intellect is going, surely." The postman's ring. "One letter for you, mem," said Corisande, who put it dj|rn. Mrs. Jobson was intently reading the mining reports. I wanted her to say from whom was the letter, so I jerked out a remark, " Maternal Jobson, that's a summons." She • sat up ' indignantly. " How dare you say that, Julia! Why I never so much as saw a summons ; oh, yes I did, it was going into Mrs. Metlernich's, and — " "How many legs did it go on? Did it crop grass, or could it raise its hat?" But she was reading her letter, and frowning. A drab moth floundered into my fourth saucer of tea. I baled him out with a spoon, and put him into Mrs. Jobson's coit'ee. Then I fell to pondering: Why have all my friends fallen off of late? They're beasts, I knW ; but they don,'t know that I know it. It is terrible to tbink that while one is yet young life should be such a blank. The time to die is when you've ceased to inspire love. "That time had arrived for me, and the tide would be full at 11 p.m. "Julia, what do you. thfnk?" , "I think I'll be 'at home' at the Morgue to-morrow afternoon. But no cards need be issued. It will be a quiet reception. I'll wear a bathing-dress, and I do hope the sharks will leave me wholly Julia Jobson." * » "The . Poleycows are coming down at the end of the week ! — They're ooming to have the, children's teeth and eyes looked to, and -they want to come here. How fortunate that we've let the house and are going away. You must write and tell then so. Do it at once, and it will catch the ten post." She rang. The Misfit appeared. "Miss Julia's going to write," intimated Mrs. Jobson. Corisande disappeared; then re-appeared with a quilt and two pillows. iShe spread the quilt on the floor, placed the pillows one on the other, then ranged the, ink and writing- block on the floor at' the head of tJbte pillows. I lowered mysqlf, rested .my chest on the pillows, and bega?n to write. It was the only position hi which I could write a line. So a little blood got into my brain. "Make it nice, and factful, Julia," sid Mrs. Jobson. "Just tell the truth, but tell it .delicately and regretfully, and say I would write myself but for—" "The fact that you were never learnt to write." " But for the accide# to my thumb in the coffee-mill. Begin with, my good wishes. Corisande, some fresh toast." I wrote: — "Dear Mrs. Poleycow, — My mother moos her kind rega-rds, and is very sorry she can't entertain you— I don't remember ' any more. I don't think I wrote any more. Tho tired feeling increased, aud I drowsed miserably, di<eaming of my "at home" day at the Morgue. The kitten came,, upset the ink, thoroughly soaked her paws in it, then trod them dry on'the back of my neck and hair. The Misfit, who knew I had a press- , ing engagement in town for 3 o'clock, roused me in time, Caressed me, and ran me off the premises. I walked like a slug, and got to the station in time to see my train slide tout. And I did so wish to keep ' that engagement. No train for another hour and a half. In my despair I could have sat down on the station asphalt, and like Job, scratched myself wi' a broken pot. If I could drive" to the tram terminus, three miles off, I'd be able to keep the appointment, but no cab was to be had-

A lorry laden with 'chairs, piled high as the telegraph wires, and drawn by four great hairy-hoofed horses, was rat- | tling down under shadow of the giaiii gums. I scanned the pile anxiously. is T ot a phxce where anything but a bird could perch. The lorry stopped, and il« driver spoke, "Missed the tryne? Well, you just get into my seat— why, I can drive standin' on a shaft." ' • His seat, a little iron thing that just fitted him, was perched out over tho horses. Not to keep an appointment in Paradise would I sit in that, but I intimated that if he could matte a. burrow amongst the chairs I'd be glad. j Presently I was standing on the footboard, and embracing legs of chairs. One of the leaders looked deliberately round at me, then kicked the horse behind him. It was horrid equine humour, and was meant for a nudge, but the lorryman said kindly, "Don't you mind 'im. Drivin' this team is like bein' in bed, and now I'll drive as if I'd a sick biby aboard." He had a nice, boyish, thin, dark face, and he looked about 22. We rattled along the quiet, tree-shadowed road for a mile, then he said, '"Don't the road seem short when you've company? I've bin on this road with these chairs sinca eleven this morning, and I was full up of it.""Where are you taking the chairs?" I asked. "Back to where they was hired from. There's tons o' crockery underneath ; a dead weight. Mrs. Blank, she Fired them -for her garding-party last -week. My word, i^ was a posy sight — stiff with Cardinals and archbishops and toffs!" He had mentioned the name of aleader of society. " Yes," I agreed, "it was a pretty sight." Then, with some obscure idea of fixing my social status for him, I added, "I was there." He turned a beaming face to me, and slapped his knee. "I knew I'd seen your smile somewhere buffore. You was servin' tea in that bell tent neai the gyte !" I was so glad I came. He gave me a^record of his life— a good one, and went minutely into the value of belonging to "the union." I assumed great interest, asked many questions, and finally queried, "Are- you marriea . for Mrs. Jobson always asks that of the casuals who come seeking "for work and a bite," and somehow I thought it the proper thing to ask. xvly driver looked so pleased as he answered, " No, I ain't married, but I suppose you are?" "No." "No! {in great glee). My word, I'd a thought you'd bin snapped tip ages ago." t He had an accurate knowledge of racing and race-horses, and, after speaking of the big prize in the Melbourne Cup, he said in an undertone* V Wished I could win it! I know now who'd I arsk to share it with me." t "Wouldn't you like a van or a lorry of your own?" I asked hastily. " Not as well as a snug noos agency. What d'you think of a noos agency?" The only incident of that/ drive at which I quailed, was the halt at the hotel while the horses sucked up pvcat draughts from the trough, and Vishor* on the "balcony stared at me. On the tram dummy I drowsed a.cali miserably,' and when one of my brolly spokes pulled the fringe-net off r. woman's back-hair, I just smiled souilv. 'and with difficulty refrained from tcl. : ■ ing her what a bad match were hair arA ' net. Then a gust of nor'^eastor pullcthe brolly itself away from my sleopr hand, and the conductor cLased it dor.-*; an embankment, right into a mob of grazing cows, and the cows stampeded over it. What the 'conductor handed back was a little bundle of rags and sticks. The' tram was .delayed three minutes, so I missed the steamer, and, of course, could not keep the engagement. I spent ths , next hour or two looking for a 'nice quiet drowning place, and 1 just ns I had found one, and had stuck my hat (containing farewell messages) on a stake on the beach, the "wind swung into the west. The Sydney nor'easter was dead, and I delayed dying.— Lynette, in Australasian. A STORY OF THE HELIOGRAPH. _-o < A C.1.V., invalided home from South Africa, tells an English exchange' the following story: — The major in charge of the heliograph department was very fond of his work. Whenever there was a chance he began his- flashing. On one occasion, after a forced march of the C.l.V.'s, they camped for a- day at the foot of a kopje. The major made his way to the top with his apparatus ■ and began heliographing. Presently the general in charge came up and joined him. Almost directly a light came full on them from the distance. On the ■ alert at once, the major signalled back in return. For fully -five minutes this went .on, when the general remarked that they -were not answering. f 'No," said the major, "I can't quite make it out but will you kindly lend me your glasses." Having done so, the major looked at the light, then handed .them back to the general with £he remark: "We had better go down to camp, sir." "What's up?" said the general. "Well, general, to tell you the truth I have been calling up an old biscuit tin.",