HIS THIRTIETH BIRTHDAY

Marlborough Express, Volume XXXIV, Issue 193, 18 August 1900, Page 2 (Supplement)

HIS THIRTIETH BIRTHDAY

9% . H| On That Day He Decided to Re- £^ (£ nonnco Preferment For tbe \* f% Girl He lioved* f *

u> By Lloyd Osborne. *«

His thirtieth birthdayl His first youth" was behind him, with all its heartburnings, its failures, its manifold humiliations. What had he done these years past but drift, forlorn, penniless and unattached, over those shallows where others had stuck and prospered? In the colonies he had toiled unremittinghr m half a hundred characters, groom, »cook, boundary rider, steamer roustabout, always sinking, always failing. Had life nothing more for him than an endless succession of not empty days on the farthest beach of Upolu, with scarcely more to eat than the commonest Kanaka and no other outlet for his energies than the bartering of salt beef for coprah and an occasional night's fishing on the reef? The noise of. an. Incoming boat drew him to the door, arid he looked out to see the pastor's old whaler heading through the pass. A half grown girl leaped into, the water and hastened up tfc> the store with something fastened m, a banana leaf. It was a letter, which she shyly nanded to the trader. Walter Kinross looked at it with surprise, for it was the first he had received for four years, and the sight of its English stamp and familiar handwriting filled him with something like awe: ,My Dear Nephew— l know you're pretty old to come back and start life afresh here, but if you haven't had the unmitigated folly to get married out there and tied by the leg forever I'll help you to make a new start, if you have the grit to do it. You shan't starve if $1,600 a year will keep you, and if you will try and turn over a new leaf and"makb a man of yourself m good earnest I am prepared to mark you down substan* tially m my will. But, mind, no promises; payment strictly by results. You're ho longer a boy, and this is probably the last chance you'll ever get of entering civilized life again and meeting 'respectable folk. I. 'inclose you a draft at sight on Sydney for $1,250, for you will doubtless need clothes, etc., as well as your passage money, and if you^decide not to return you can accept it as a present from y«£J old uncle. Affectionately yours, •■•■■■- - • AiiFßro Bannock. The house could not contain him and his eager thoughts; he must needs feel the sky, overhead and the trades against his cheek, and take all nature into .his puny confidence. Besides, Vaiala had" now a new charm for him, one he had never counted on to find. Hard and lonely though his life had been, this Samoan bay was endeared to him. by a thousand pleasant memories and even, by the recollection of his past unhappiness. Here he had found peace and love, freedom from taskmasters, scones more beautiful than any pictu^ and, not least, a sufficiency to eat. A little money, and his life might have been tolerable, even happy; enough money for a good sized boat, a cow Q,r two, and those six acres of the Paseoe estate he had so often longed to ljuy. How often had he talked of It with Leata, who had been no less eager than himself to harness their quarter acre to the six and make them all his little paradise. Poor Leata, whom he had taken so lightly from her father's house and paid for m gunpowder and kegs of beef; his smiling, soft eyed Leata, who would have died for him I What was to become of her In this new arrangement of things. By this time he had worked 1 quite round the bay, and almost without knowing it he found himself In front of Paul Engleb'ert'a store. Englebert was the' other trader m Vaiala, a peppery, middle aged Prussian, who had been a good friend of his before those seven breadfruit trees had come between them. He recalled Englebert's rough, jovial kindness, remembered how Paul had cared for him through the fever, and helped him afterward with money and trade. How could he have been so petty as to make a quarrel of these breadfruit trees? Poor old Paul! It was a Bhame they hadn't spoken these two years. On the veFanda, barefoot and In striped pyjamas, was Englebert, pretending not to see him. To Kinross, as he walked up the path and mounted the veranda stairs, the man looked old and, sick, and n6t a little changed.. "How do you do, Engleb.ert?/' hte said. The German looked at him with emoldering eyes. "Gant you see I'm busy?" he said. "You might- offer a man a chair," •aid'' Kinross, seating himself on the tool chest. . "Dere is no jare for dem dat isn't welcome," said the German. "I used to be welcome here," said Kinross. "There was a time when you

were a precious good friend of mine, Paul Bnglebert." "Dat wass long ago," said the trader. "I've been thinking," said Kinross, "that I've acted like a fool about those trees." "Dat wass what I was dlnfcihg, too* dese two^dree years," responded the other. "Take them; they are yours," said Kinross. "You can build your fence there tomorrow." "So!" said Englebert with dawning Intelligence. "De Yerman gonsul has at last to my gomplalnt listened." "Hang the German consult No!" cried Kinross. "I do it mysejf because I was wrong; because you were good to me that time. I was sick and lent me the |100 and the trade." "And you want noding?" asked En« glebert, still incredulous. "I want to shake your hand and be friends again, old man," said Kinross, "same as we used to be when we played domlnos every night, and you'd tell me about the Austrian war, and how the prince divided the cigars with you when jrou were wounded." The German looked away. "Oh, Kinross," he said, with a queer shining look lo his eyes, "you make me much ashamed." He turned suddenly round and wrung the Englishman's hand m an Iron grasp. "I too, wass fool. Ho, Malia, de beer!" His strapping native wife appeared with bottles and mugs. At the sight of their guest she could scarcely conceal her surprise. "Prosit," said Englebert, touching glasses. "You know dem six tigers of de Pasgoe estate," he said, looking very hard at his companion; "very nice little place, very sheep, yoost behind your store?" Kinross nodded, but his face fell, lo spite of himself. "I from the American gonsul bought him," went on the German, "very sheep— s2oo Chile money." Kinross looked black. "Dey are yours. Pay me back when you have de money. I buy dem only to spite you. My friend, take dem." "Paul, Paul," cried Kinross, "I don't know what to say—how to thank you! Only this morning I got money from home, and the first thing I meant to do was to buy them." "All de better," said Englebert, "and, my boy, you Want goffee. If sde gof« fee dat bays, and I will get you blenty leetle drees from my friend, de gaptain m Utumbau blantation. Yoost one glass beer. Ho, Malia, de beer!" Kinross tore himself away with difficulty and started homeward, his heart swelling with kindness for the old Prussian. He exulted ltt the six acres he had so nearly lost, and they now seemed to him more precious than ever. Then be remembered he was leaving Valala, and again he heard the hum of London m his ears. He found Leata sitting on the floor spelling out "The Good News Prom New Guinea," m the missionary magazine. He sat down beside her and pressed her curly hair against bte lfps and kissed it "Of all things In the worfd What wouldst thou like most, tart*?' he asked, "To- have thee always near me, Klnlrosl," she answered?. "Before I had no understanding and was like the black people m the missionary book, but now my heart is pained, so full It is with love." m "But if I gave thee a little bag of gold," he said, "and took thee to Apia, my pigeon, what wouldst thou buy?" *2?irst I would give $10 to the new cHnrch," she began. "Then for my father I would buy an umbrella and a shiny bag m which he could carry his cartridges and tobacco when he goes to war; for my mother, also an umbrella and a picture book like that of the missionary's, with photographs of Queen Victoria and captains of men-of-war; for my sister, a Bible and a hymnbook, and for my brother a little pigeon gun." "Tomorrow we shall go to Apfa and buy them," said Kinross. "This morning the pastor brought me a letter from Britain with a present of many dollars." "Oh, Kinirosl," she cried, "It was breaking my heart! I feared the letter would make you go back to the white man's country." His resolution was taken, be It for good or evil. "I shall never go back," he said.— Ainslee's Magazine. Clever Engineering Feat. A railway recently built In southern Bavaria practically carries a creek across the railway, instead of the railway crossing the creek. The stream is a small tributary of the Isar river, that m stormy times is swelled to enormous proportions. Every bridge that has been built over It has been carried away. Finally a young engineesi'Offeredi to solve the difficulty. A tunnel of strong masonry was first constructed across the valley and reenforced on the outside, toned toward the torrent with all the- rocks available that had collected; there. Cross walls leading from the solid rock and across the tunnel were built and strongly braced. This was done to protect the railway. The rest was left for nature to do. At the first strong rain everything happened as the young engineer had predicted. Bowlders and: rocks coming down with the water filled up the big hole left between the tunnel and the rocks, until the overflow carried everything across the tunnel. The bed of the torrent was raised by itself, and now there Is not the slightest danger of Interruption In this part of the railroad even after the most severe rainstorm. TOheitee Urn Value. Hicks-~You know that "silence Is golden,'" Wicks*-That means it Is very precious because It is so scarce.— Boston Transcript