FOR HIS MOTHER'S SAKE.

Evening Star, Issue 15373, 23 December 1913, Page 10

FOR HIS MOTHER'S SAKE.

(Written Specially for the ' Evening Star ' by John B. Norris, of Dunedin.)

Rather more than a hundred years ago a singular occurrence took place, the particulars of which I shall now relate. Scene.: Devonshire. It was autumn, and evening was just closing in, when a horseman stopped at the email inn that 6tood at tho extreme margin of the celebrated Northern Road; and ere the landlord was aware of the presence of a guest he had dismounted and entered the bar.

" A cold and bad night coming on, your honor," said Boniface, with one of his lowest bows; for, partly by tho fading light and partly by the "cheerful blaze of the large fire, he had already discovered that the cloak in which the stranger was wrapt was of the finest scarlet cloth, and that the narrow gold lace that edged the th-Tee-cornered hat was not counterfeit, but the genuine manufacture of Britain. Satisfied, therefore, that the stranger must have "money in his purse," he proceeded to suggest the .propriety of preparing a warm posset for the master and a feed of corn for the horse.

"No, no, master landlord," said the stranger, "a draught of your best ale will do; I've some miles to ride to-night." "Surely your honor can never think of crossing the hill," cried Boniface; "'tis perilous, indeed, and night coming on." t [ "Alack, sir!" interposed the hostess, " 'tis indeed a sa<d night. It will rain, your honor, and perhaps snow. Farmer Gubbins's lad, this time last year, went out to seek some sheep on just such a night, and he was found next morning, your honor, stiff—quite stiff." " Hut, good dame." replied the stranger, laughing, "he had but two legs to help him, and I havo four."

"Aye, sir, but the road is desperately bad," persisted the landlady, determined to make a bold stroke for a- guest. "And. truly, your honor, responded the landlord, taking up the cue, "a gentleman's coach and six broke down near the top of the hill, though three boys were scotching the wheels. There is'a great pitfall, too, out yonder."

"But, good man, you forget the moon that is to rise in half an hour," said the stranger, and he drew from his pocket a huge gold repeater, of almost the sizo and shape of a turnip. "Your honor had better be cautious," whispered the landlady, pointing to the adjoining kitchen, where several rustics were sitting. The stranger laughed at her praiseworthy caution. "Nay, good woman, I have no fear of highwaymen."

Heaven grant your honor mav meet none; but your honor had better stav " I cannot, my good woman, I" leave England to-morrow; so be quick " *-,"T he V- y ? ux , h - om ? r w --- S° on? " «»<* the landlord bringnig the pewter tankard and the long-stemmed glass. "But I trust, he continued, lowering his voice and looking oracular, "you ca.rrv but little about you."

Naught but what I can well afford to ose, replied the traveller, with a. careless laugh and a slap on his waistcoat pocket.

A deep but suppressed sigh seemed to form an echo to these words, and the traveller looked toward the kitchen from whence it appeared to proceed. The rustics, however, who were discussing their n.!e, were in too merry a mood to allow a sigh 10 escape them ; but in the farther corner he perceived a well-dressed younsr man sitting thoughtfully, with his'arms loldea on his breast.

Please, your honor, gie ns summat to dnnk your lienor's health," said one of the rustics, coming forward and making nis very lowest bow. °

t Well, my lad, replied the goodnnmored stranger, " I don't care if I c ive von a Queen Anne's ha]f-crown to drink confusion to all Pretenders and Jacobite plots; lor they do some damage to our London trndo-«o here it is, and much good may it dc vou."

Not stopping t'o receive the vociferous tluinKS of the delighted rustics, the traveller threw down his reckoning, wrapped his scarlet cloak closely round him. and proceeded to remount his steed. "Farewell master landlord," said he. '• T have never yet met a highwayman, and 'twill be strange if I do to-niaht."

Onward rode our cavalier. scarcely heeding the coming darkness—perchance because he was bent on some expedition of high empme; perchance wrant in sweet musings on his lady. Alas ! romance-loving reader, the age of chivalry had long passed away. It was the era of Dutch taste and of trench poetry—the prosing, matter-of-fact, earlier half of the 18th century— the, year 1720. And well fitted for tlio age was our hero. He was no knight, pricking forth in search of adventures, but Mr James Schriner. the "substantial" Hamburg merchant of Mincing lane, his thoughts most probably engaged upon his hales of merchandise, or, ii a female na.me arose to his tender recollections amid the softenmg_ influences of " the twilight hour," it was of "de vrow Johanna," the gallant barque which on the morrow was to convey him far beyond the pleasant chime of Bow Bells. Well, onward rodo Mr Schriner. looking and steering due southward. But what was that light echo which followed each almost noiseless tread of Strawberry's hoofs on the soft, chalky read ? He looked back, and perceived a well-mounted horseman making directly towards him. Flight was vain, for the middle, of that desolate road had scarcely been reached, and his pursuer was gaining fast, upon him. "A highwayman, truly !" said he. "It is well that I have pistols for him." The well mounted pursuer soon drew up close beside him. " I have a request, sir, which you must not refuse," said he, in a low and hurried tone.

Mr Schriner recognised in his pursuer the young man whom he had just before seen seated in the inn kitchen, and, struck with his bewildered air and the irresolute tone in which ho addressed him, his curiosity now almost superseded his anger. "What, is this the new methcod of savin" 'Stand and deliver'?" said he. °

" I have a ring, sir," replied the other, endeavoring by a violent effort, to suppress his agitation and extending a ring with the left hand, while the. other srrasped a pistol, "and for this ring 1 must have twenty guineas."

"Thus is a bad trade." said Mr Schriner, sternly, at_ the same time eyeing the highwayman with a feeling of interest he could not resist. " Here's my purse; off with you and seek a more honest livelihood." Tho young man put back the proffered purse. "No, take the ring. I pray vou, and give mo twenty guineas; lend, lend it me, I pray--only twenty guineas." Schriner, again surveying the. supposed robber with a degree of interest for which he could not account. " Well, then." said he, counting out the twenty guineas, "mayhap trouble may have brought you to this'; but bo warned by me, and seek out an honest calling. So give me the ring and away."

The stranger eagerly snatched the gold, faintly articulating ""Heaven bless you F' and Mr Seliriner, not sorry to escape, so c?siij from his first encounter with a highwayman, spurred Strawberry onward, first casting a look behind. There sat the young man, motionless on his horse, the hand which had been so eagerly stretched forth to secure the golden treasure still half held out, and his eyes, with a wild and sorrowful expression, fixed vacantly on the lowering, sky. "Poor fellow Teja-culated the kind-hearted merchant, " I should greatlylike to know what hath brought him to this." Ho now examined the ring for which he had paid so high a price. It was of plain gold, with a good-sized mocha stone, evidently not worth much above a pound, but with no inscription, or crest, or initials, or anything that might lead to a discovery of its late owner. Although baffled and disappointed in this, he determined to keep the ring as a memorial of his first encounter with a highwaymail; and, no other event befalling him on his journey, the next day saw Mr Schriner set sail from the shores of England.

W T e must now request the kind reader to exert that plastic faculty which enables him to " put a girdle round the earth in full ten minutes," and to review the changeful events of a long and busy life in an fcour j for we must overleap 10 jears, and

take our stand on Ludgato Hill on a fine October morning, whero wo shall again meet our worthy friend Mr Schriner. Just returned from his long sojourn abroad, he is taking a quiet stroll through London streets, marking the various changes that have taken place during his 10 years' absence. And many, as may bo well supposed, were the changes he noted—many an old name removed from beneath tho well-remembered sign, and many a young tradesman, sprucely dressed with lace cravat and ruffles, occupying that post of honor ,in the shop or in the countinghouse where "the old gentleman," in his flowered morning gown and velvet cap, erewhile stood, placidly summing up his gains and keeping a sharp look-out over his sons and apprentices. The 10 o'clock bell at length warned Mr Schriner of the time for his accustomed lunch, and he turned [ into the London Coffee House. One minute, however, ho stopped at the door, regardless of the bowing waiters, for the splendid show of plate that graced the windows of the opposite silversmith's shop absolutely dazzled him. He looked up to the sign—a Mermaiden freshly gilt, upon whose bright mirror, which, according to old-established belief, she held in her left hand, appeared the name of "EHersby." "Ah, so it is!" ejaculated the merchant, musingly. "Poor Master Havward gone to his long home. But who'is this Ellcrsby?"

"What, my old friend Schriner!" cried a voice in his ear. Ho turned quickly round, and recognised ono of "the old familiar faces" with which he had been long intimate before his sojourn abroad— Mr Cooper, tho silk mercer of the Blackamoor's Head, in Cheapside. Friendly greetings passed between the pair, and they proceeded to,the little private parlor to discuss their pint of Madeira. " And so poor Havward is gone!" said the merchant; "and'yet he could not have been so very old."

"Master Havward is alivo and well. He has retired from business to his house at Shacklewell, for he. leaves it in excellent hands. Ah! 'tis nine or ten years since yon left England, else vou would have heard of Henry Ellershv." A hickv young fellow is he, for the dav after to", morrow he is to marry his master's daughter." a

' Lucky, indeed !" responded Mr Schriner, "for Hay ward hath doubtless made many a thousand, and there are onlv. I rcmeniber. his two daughters, Chloe' and Betty, to share his fortune. Tlien this Ellersbv was his apprentice?" "He was," replied the mercer'; "and such an .apprentice! Tis said he is come of a good tamily, too, though he never took upon him about it. It is Mistress Lhloe that he is to marrv. I her twelve yards of white silk but fast week for the wedding dress." Two or three other neighboring tradesmen now came in each, like the mercer, brimfull of the praises of the fortunate, apprentice. Indeed, eulogies upon Henrv Ellorsby and anticipations of his ' happiness seemed to supersede every other topic Iho never-failing subject of Jacoblv i P i ' 1,5e or commendation of the Uaipole .Administration, the menacing aspect of affairs in the Spanish Maineven city politics and citv news—were forced to rive p*, te to details of the handsome furniture purelwsed for the voung couple, to a bill-of-fare- of the wedding dinner, a.nd a sharp dispute between the mercer and his neighbor, a draper whether Mistress Chloe would war with her bridal attire of white silk her Valenciennes lappets and ruffles or her suit of Brussels lace.

_ V\ell I 11 even go and take a peep at this lucky young fellow," said Mr Schnner, resuming his tbive-coniorcd hat and gold-headed cane. "There muH be somewhat very taking, methinks. about this Master Ellersbv, since everybody .speaks so highly of him."

Mr Schj-iner crossed the war and placed himself before one of the windows, poriii" admiringly. .i fi it seemed, on the tempting display of salvers, tankards, mid choco° late pots, but keeping ~, c i ose wa tcli on the shop door.

His curiosity was not fated (o remain long unsatisfied, for an interestin.-r vonn«man. extremely well dressed, earn? to (lie door, and having beckoned a carriage that stood a. short distance, off. handed, two ladies into it, and then, with a. senilemanly bow, retired. ° "Is that Mr Ellersbv?" cried the merchant, scarcely conscious to whom he addressed the question. ."-Vv, that it is; Heaven's bleseinss on him!" said an old woman who stood" jun beside, with a basket of ground ivy. "Yes, 'tis good Mr Ellersbv.'the chantablest, worthiest, most roliiuoust ,-cutlcman in London." " °

"The rascal!" muttered Mr Schriner. with a tremendous thump of his <,oldheadcd stick, "the. very rascal who ohoafrd me out of my twenty' guineas and gave, me that paltry ring. Here's a. world for you! The poor rogue gets hanged and the .rich one laughs at him. Well, mv fair sir. you shall have good cause to remember, ere long, the Dunstable, road !" Thus saying, he'paced onward, scarcely knowing which wav he went, turning over in his mind twenty difforeni plans by which he proposed to dra.u' successful villainy to light, and uttering 'splendid tirades against wealthy knaves which might have thrown a political union into paroxysms of delight. The. more, violent the grief, it is said, the sooner it will mme t<> an end , and the. same may be said of anger. In a. short time wonder and curiosity and doubt succeeded. This young man must even at that very time have been an apprentice to Maker Haywa.rd. What, therefore, more unlikely' than that he should have been permitted to absent himself from his master's house for so Ion?? and what, too, more, unlikely than that" a sober young man of pond family should either have stood in need of comparatively so small a sum or taken that course to obtam it? Many stories, well authenticated ones, had been fold of pergonal reremblanee being so strong that even intimato friends had been for a moment deceived. Might not this be the case here? Still, while allowing, and even willing to allow, the full weight of these doubts, the conviction that Henry Ellersby, the silversmith of Ludgate Hill, was the highwayman in the encounter on the Dunstable road returned with ovormas;-e.rin,g force to Mr Schriner's mind. But this conviction was now associated with many mitigating circumstances. Although proffered the full purse, the. young man 'resolutely refused to take more than the twenty guineas, while even that he would not receive without the, exchange of his ring; and then arose vividly (o'hif. recollection the motionless attitude, the half-extended arm of the young man when he Inst saw him on the darkening road, and that lookof wild and fixed despair which he cast on the lowering sky.

Hours _ passed away ere Mr Schriner could satisfy himself as to what course he should adopt, and the hells had now chimed four. The hitherto crowded streets we.ro beginning to be deserted, both by belles in brocade and thrifty housewives in calamanco, ail homeward-bound to refresh themselves with their early cup of Bohea. when Mr Schriner acain found himself before the door of the Mermaid. He looked into the shop, now empty, and took a close view of its master, who'was standing apparently looking over the ledger. "It roust be he.'' said the merchant, and, entering, he asked for Mr Kllersbv.

The _ genteel, interesting young man came forward, and respectfully inquired the wishes of his new customer. " I have been many years abroad, Mr F.llersby," said the merchant. " and I have some foreign money which I would wish to sell for old gold and silver." The young man bowed assent, and requested his customer to walk farther in. Mr Schriner drew a Dutch ducat from his purse and threw it on the counter. I must have twenty guineas for this," said he.

"Twenty guineas:" cried the silversmith, in uncontrollable surprise. "Yes, twenty guineas," said Mr Schriner firmly.

"Good sir. what can you mean? It. is scarcely worth ten shillings ! :l "Very likely, Mr Kllersbv, vorv likely; but what say you to this*?" and he removed the glove from hk hand. "Ten years since 1 paid twenty gui.ncas for this very ring."

The young man clasped his hands in agony. " You did, sir, you did ! and principal and interwst both are at your sorvio*.

Ms, but the worthy family thai knownot of this, my only crime ! " This seems a strange affair," said Mr Schriner, much moved at tho extreme agitation of the young man; " vet do oot distress yourself, but tell me how it came to pass that on that one evening you camo to lay aside an honest and respectable calling to enact the highwayman on the Dunstable road ?"

"I will,tell you, sir, for you have a nght to know all," returned' the roung man, glancing a hurried look round'him; "but—but—Mi- Harvard is now in the counting-house; might I ask so great a favor as that you would call on- me any time in the evening? Tho money I have at hand, and I will instantly count it out to you."

I wall ca.ll on you an hour or two hence, replied Mr .Schriner. "In the meantime be not cast down; your secret will be safe with me; a.nd loath indeed should 1 be to disturb Master Harvard's good opinion of you ; so farewell!" The kind-hearted merchant returned to the opposite coffee-house, and sought to beguile the time by turning over a file of old newspapers, when the following advertisement struck his eye.:—"lf \] v? gentleman dressed in a scarlet cloak, and mounted on a strawberry horse, who o"j the night of tho 14th October, 1720, met a man hear Dunstable, and received from him a gold ring with a Mocha stone, will call upon Dr Calamy, in Charterhouse square, his loan, with tho interest thereon, will be repaid, with manv thanks." Surprised and delighted at this additional proof that the good opinion which he oould not help forming of tho young silversmith was well founded, Mr Schriner turned over the other papers, and found the same advertisement iterated and reiterated. " Poor fellow, poor fellow!' ejaculated he; "it must have been some strange chance indeed that forced him to this. Well, I know not how it is, but I feel greatly interested in him." Punctual to his appointment, Mr bchnner soon after knocked at the now closely-barred door of the Mermaid, and was ushered nito the counting-house. Mr Ulersby soon after appeared, and, casting a suspicious look round, as though h* really believed the- old proverb ""Walk have ears," counted'out the moncr,. which he placed before his guest, while 'in a low and agitated tone he sa-id: "It appears sir, that you have heard of mv good fortune Alas had any of my kind neighbors known lull the sorrow I have Buffered on account of this my great crime, they would soon have retracted their opinion of my happiness."

_ Do not distress yourself any longer on this account,' said our merchant, kindlv: I have seen your advertisements and reference to a worthy minister, who, I am sure, would never give his countenance to anyone undeserving 0 f it. , so proceed, I pray you. Tell me what led to it. and then let it be dismissed to;-, ever from your mind."

"I will, sir. Through tlis groat kindness of a friend—indeed, the only friend of my late mother—when my apprenticeship wa's half completed I was transferred from a very incompetent master to the care of good Mr Hayward. I had been with him not more than a year, when 1 received intelligence of tho dangerous illness of my mother, and I requested permission to go and see her. Although ho was on tho eve of a journey, he kindly consented, and 03 he was going by the Dispatch he granted me. the use. of his horse. Would that that kindness had never been granted, for then I could not have followed you! ] soon arrived at Dunstable, but it was only to see my mother reduced so low as to be unable to leave her poor cottage, from wlrar.ee the landlord daily threatened to eject her, on account of arrears of rent. Almost beside myself, with barely more money than would serve to carry me back again. I went to the landlord, a proud and wealthy man ; but the only answer I received was that she must remove on tho morrow. Scarcely knowing what I did, I entered the inn kitchen, where I first saw you. and sat down to think; but no, I could not think—to lament over—o! to curse this hard fate. Twelve pounds were ov. ing for rent alone, and where was 1 to ralr.c them? My mother's friend was dead —Mr Hayward was on a long journey. To whom could 1 look, and look for alid, by the morrow? And then, when I revolved in my mind tho scanty wardrobe, the wretched income of my poor mother, compav?d with her former condition, your meiry lau»h rung on my oar, and your well-tilled purse glittered to my frenzied imagination like the delusive well-spring that mocks the thirst of the eastern traveller; and then, more maddening than a.ll, when 1 heard you Iwast, proud and heartless as it seemed to be, that all tliat glittering treasure you could well afford to lose, the temptation overcame, me; I rushed to the stable, paddled my swiftfooted grey, and galloped after you." "And truly you were greatly tempted," said the kind-hearted merchant. "But proceed."

"Truly 1 was. sir; and jet let no man say that he is forced to do evil. Better thoughts arose in mv mind, even while I was pursuing you, and once I had almost turned my horse's head and gone back; but distrust puvailod. 'Twenty guineas,'' said 1. 'will pay all. and leave, my mother sufficient to carry her to London; yet how j is it to be raised'.' 1 will not be the highwayman, though I act his part-, for I will give my jing as an acknowledgment that, the nvmey shall some day be, paid.' Miserable snbtei fuge! If could not dis> I guise frmii my conscience even then that 1 was indeed a. robber. But. 0! bow bitterly did T fed that truth when the forbidden gold actually touched my hand, and this remembrance has haunted me through many an anxious, day, and many a. restless night. At length, after nearly three years of anxiety, I opened my mind to Dr Calamv, ok whose ministry we attended, and told him my fatal secret; but still, although from that time to this I have caused advertisements to be inserted in the papers, I never received any intelligence. 0! sir, I thank Heaven tint 1 have at last seen you. for you know not the load of tn>uble that is now removed from my mind." "Think no more of ii, from henceforth, Mr Kllershy," cried Mr Schriner. "I only regret that you did not make, me acquainted with your circumstance;;, for the purse and all its contents should have been at. your service. So your mother was of good family, you say? What, did she marry contrary to their wishes? Alas! I. have great reason to lament that such things an: sometimes scarcely forgiven."' "It was so, sir; my mother so greatly offended my grandfather by her ma.rriag'n that even after my father's death, and when she was reduced to von- great distress, he, absolutely forbade her even to cross the threshold of Micklc.ham Hall." "Of Micklcham Hall! Her name then " Mary Schriner," returned the young man with a sigh. 0, my nephew! my only nephew!" cried the' merchant overjoyed. " Only three days since ] returned to Old England, wealthy indeed, but sad at heart, for methought I had no relation in the wido world wherewith to sha.ro it. Thank Heaven ! to-day I have found a relation, a son of my dear sister, Mary Sdiriner. This is the happiest day of my life, aye, tho happiest, lny own n-?phew, for old James Schriner has found a staff for his age, and an heir to his fortune, in his dear sister's son, Hentry Ellcrsbv."