A Plain Cook. . .

Free Lance, Volume III, Issue 124, 15 November 1902, Page 12

A Pla in Cook. . .

ONE of the poets tells us that love is only part of a man— it is a woman's whole Me. This is the story of a woman who lost her life, and lived on. She was a plain cook, and her name was Maud Hill. What her name might have been had shee been other than what she was is a matter for conjecture. It might have been Selma Hill, or Jemima Hill, or higher stall, Selma Jemima Hill. But, "hear parents, being of a prosaic nature, stamped their nature upon their child, and, lacking all power of imagination, and seeing that a highsounding name would not improve her, christened her Maud Hill. There is a divinity — yo<u know the rest. Maud was looked upon as one of the "lifers" of Bungalo Station. She had been cook at the manager's house as long as there had been a manager and his wife and family to cook for, which was a matter of some fourteen years. She was one of those indispensable people who can be depended upon to do a thing just as it ought to be done. The world is full of this kind of people — plain, mat-ter-of-fact, everyday individuals — and you never do a thing yourself if ycu can get one of the people of this class to do it for you. And you do not thank them when it is done , you take it as a matter of course that they should do it and the strange thin? is the people themselves have the same opinion. I often wonder, after they have finished serving others, if such people have any time left to da anything for themselves. You laud to tine skies your brilliant men who serve the world by flashes, but the people who do the odd jobs you call plain oooks and day labourers, and God knows wihat. LHke the boy, one is apt to wonder what becomes of them when they die. "Here lies a good man." "Here lies a noble woman," "Here lies an earnest Christian." Amongst such an endless array of virtue, would it not be refreshing to read, "Here lies a plain person." Bungalo also boasted of a housemaid whom destdnv had blessed with the euphonic title May Nelson • for May was a pretty girl and she knew it and so did evervbodv else. Her beauty was a kind of beauty peculiar to herself. Not like the. emtrancuig beauty of the rose or the camellia that you pluck and put in a vase and. sit round and worship, but rather like the naivete of the violet or forget-me-not that modestly hangs its little head, and that you gently nick and put away and treasure— the kind of beauty that men love when they are young, and ponder over when they are It has only one fault this kind of beauty — it does not last— it has to be plucked while it is young , but, while it does last it is altogether a lovable kissable kind of beauty As a rule men do not kiss plain cooks if they did vre might have better cook?. There is but one other stamp of beauty, and that is not a pleasant stamp. The kind of beauty that raases its head above all others in the warden and flares and glares, and reaches forward but that you leave and shrink from and pass bv one of the poorest things on the face of God's earth— a painted beauty. Tom Steele was one of the undersheipherds on Bungalo. May Nelson loved Tom Steel©, and Tom Steele loved May Nelson. And there you are. It has occurred before, and will occur again. Stalwart of limb, and stout or chest, with a face as honest as day, and from the sole of his foot to the top of his head the whole of him squarely set in something like 6ft of solid manhood— that was Tom Steele. As for his capabilities, he could break in and ride a young horse so that you could sit on one quite safely yourself after you knew that Tom had mastered it : he could muster a bat of rough country as clean as any man I know, and handle his dogs like a veteran. What more do you want in a shepherd ? But the point I most liked in Tom Steele was this • the station hands on. Bungalo were neither better nor worse than the ordinary run or people in the world Some of them were slightly worse and had a very loos© opinion of the honour of women, but woe betide the man who tossed May Nelson's name on his dirty tongue, for Tom Steele would have brained him. And those men knew it, and respected Tom Steele as a man who was a man and not a fool. Maud Hill also loved the shepherd — loved him in a dull, passive, plain^cookisth kind of wav, which, let me tell you. may be the noblest love of all. As the big breakers rise up from the sea. and throw themselves against the beetline cliffs so the unanswered love of woman rises with all its hidden force, beats against the front of ru^ed indifference, and rolls away back to be buried in the flood of the endless years. And in those endless years the plain cook had buried one niifht of her life — the night when May Nelson had crept to Maud's room and poured out the hopes of her little bosom, and told that she and Tom Steele were to be married.

Maud Hill had listened until the little housemaid's tale was done, and then the two girls 'had talked until the small hours of the morning had grown into oig ones, and when, they parted they felt as women feel who have revealed unto each otiher the hidden depths that lie within them. Tom Steele was fortunate m obtaining some ground close to> Bungailo, under the perpetual lease, or deferred payment, or lease in perpetuity, or whatever in the world they call it. What I mean to sa,y is, Tom leased 1000 acres of rough, tussock country, built a house, got married, and settled down. The Miry River ran through the property, and Tom buult his house on the banks of the river. Some of the old identities shook their heads, and sa^d that they had seen the river in flood-time sweep over the "lace where Tom had erected his house but, like aj great many other knowing folk, who are wise behind the hand, they did not gave vent to their opinions until the house was up. Tom still worked at the station when his services were required. After he had been about a year married, and was the father of a eon, he oame over to assist in the big: muster before shearing Passing tihe house, he had a short chat with Maud Hill, and then went on to join, the man. It was something to see the shepherds at BuiLgaJo start for a muster — seated on tiheir horses, like a small band of scouts, the free, embracing air playing on them, and putting that spirit into them that makes 1 men feel inclined to go anywhere and do anything. But, at this particular time there was nothing to do, unless to order their dogs to be quiet. The said dogs were miakin7 a most unwarrantable din, and there seemed to be a constant war between dogs' barks and men's voices. Moving hither and thither among the men being; constantly teiased and chaffed, but taking it all in good part, was one of the characters of the 1 station He had worked on Bungalo, man and boy, for something like forty years ■ — in fact, ever since it had been a station, and was under the hands of the original owner. He was a kindly old soul, but had a relierious mania. They called him Rteligiom Ned "Don't forget to save a bit of tucker for that, dog of mine, Ned," cried one. "And remember to feed my hack when I'm away, Ned," siaid another. "And, whatever you do, don't forget to say your prayers Ned." "And, be sure and put in a good word for me Ned." '"Look here Ned, if you forget to feed that dog of mine. Old Nick will have that ciai-casa of - ours as safe as a gun." To all of which pleasantries the old man answered "Aye, aye, ladsi I won't forget. God bless you, lads. God bless you."_ When all was ready, the contingent set off. It took them about a week to muster. Bright as the weather had been when the<- started, the 'second day turned into one of those dreary days, when it does not exactly rain, but are always expecting it is going to pour — a dull, heavy, depressing kind of day. The weight of it was such that it settled over Maud Hill, and made her think and say all manner of unpleasant thin<*s about certain voutiig men who marry pretty little wives and take them away to live in a lonely bit of country, and leave them and clear off to muster, and to run round sales, while the i>oor little wives breathe out their sorrows- to the rock and tussock and scrub, and sret irritable and mopish and sometimes go mad for the very want of a little sympathy About 10 o'clock in the morning it be>gan to rain in real earnest — not merely an ordinary rain, but a downright pour, a northerly flood rain that made the treacherous Miry River rise and leap and foam and plunge like an anery demon seeking whom it might devour. Then, Maud Hill began to think of the words of the old settlers about the position of Tom Steele's house, and wished that someone would bring May Steele across to Bungalo before the river rose too high • but the men were all away from the homestead except old Religion Ned and he was not fit to send. At last, Maud's brave heart could bear it no longer, for the sullen drip, drip, drio of the ram seemed to be the little housemaid's voice plaintively calling:, "Maud' Maud! Maud!" So the cook ordered Ned _ to put Duke the strongest and steadiest horse on the station, in the springcart and dressed herself in one of the men's big oilskin coiats, and went away to cross the river. Did I not say that the love of a plain cook migrht be the noblest love of all, for here was Maud Hill facing death in the black, gurgling river for the wife of the> man that she loved. If I might be allowed to slierhtlv plagiarise a popular modern novelist, I would say that Maud Hill was like one of the heroes of old plunging into the thick of the fray for the sake of iniured innocence, brandishing the wonderful motto/, "A plain cook to the rescue."

But, injured innocence wag a brave little woman, and was doing what slie could for herself, and just when her .stock of courage was beginning to ooze away, she saiw her deliverer enter the far side' of the river, strike away up stream, when the current caught the spraiieoart, swept it and tossed it and played with it until sturdy Duke found his feet, and fought atnd struggled and tu"<red and nulled until he landed Maud Hill by the side of Tom Steele's wife. In a moment the two women, shivering; and wet amd cold, were in each other's arms, and the one said "Maud," and the other said "May," and that was all they d'd say All they said, untal they into the house when they held a council of war. "What is to be done, May? I would not risk goring back, and at the rate it is coming: down the water will be into tlhe house in about a quarter of an hour." "Tom has a hut at the sheepyards, about half-a-mile from here," said May. "If we wraip the baby up well, and pack what we can in the cart, and cover it over with, hoirse-oovers, we can get out theitfe and be ouite safe." "That's tihe i>lan," said Maud ; "and when the rain slackens a bit we will try and out u~ a flag so that Tom will see where we are." The heaw rain and the fear of a flood sooti drove the men home from the hills. Knowing; the ~osition of Tom's house, they all eialloped to the ford, but by that time the river had risen above its banks 1 , and was washing round the youiiie: shepherd's home like the waves of the sea. Tom made a mad attemnt to force his horse into the stream,, and to swim across*, but has mates held him back, and he fought and struge-led, and fairrlv lost his 'head. "Here, chains — let me to — God — she's my wife*— aind child — blast vou — you don't know what it. is — Lord — let me ~o — confound vou — let me ero> — to blazing hh — — • witih vou — let me ero 1 " Then, a biw kindly hand was laid on his shoulder and a voice said "They're not in our hamdisi. lad : they are in God's* hands ; and all that the likes of you and me can do at a time like this lad is'to pray. That's all lad, to i>rav." It was old Religion Ned. I have heard some "very noble oravers but when I saw them in cold print I thought they looked very goody. so I shall leave Ned's nraver where it is — engraved on the hearts of the men thiat heard it. In due time, Maud erected her fla<r, and when the river fell the men galloped to ithe hut at the sheepyards. Frantic with ioy Tom led his wife and child a<way from their place of refuse but Maud Hill the nlain cook, followed after by herself. In the ioy of the moment she, wais forgotten — as such people are sometimes too apt to be forgotten — but in the years that followed, she was paid a hundredfold and a thousandfold for what she had done. When she no loniger felt* fit for Bungalo, she went to live with Tom Steel c and his wife and she became to their children a grandmother and godmother and a/unt and sister and playmate and evervthins all rolled into one. And as old Time worked hi 1 * "bam ores with her the people among 1 whom she moved thought heir no> lonp<er olain but loved her as all that was kind and honest and true A heroine, you say A -Joan of Arc' Not at all. Only a domestic servant on an u-n-countrv station. — Bv Arch. M. McNicol, in the "Witness."

St. Andrew's Church was the scene of an. exceedingly pretty wedding on Saturday, November 18th, when Mr. Fred. J. Eairle, of tlhe "Evening Post" staff, and third son of Mr. J. Earle, of Wellington, was married to Miss E. M. Boulsiton, fourth daughter of the late Mr. S. Roulston, formerly of Greyimoiuth. The ceremony was performed by the Rev. S. Ogg, in the presence of many friendsi. The bride was given away by her brother, Mr. W. Roulston, and looked winsome and pretty in ai trained gown of white nierveilleux, with laoe and orange blossoms. A long tulle veil was worm over a wreath of orange blossoms, and her bouquet was of choice white floTseirs. The bridesmaids were Her sister (Miss Edith Roulston), Miss Violet Earie and a tiny maid (Miss Beryl Earle), daintily frocked in white silk lace. The two former wore dresses of •white Indian muslin,, with lace insertions, old gold sashes, and white picture hats. All three carried prettily-ar-ranged baskets of buttercups and daisies. The bride's gift from the bridegroom was a bicycle, and the maids received gold brooches. Mr. J. M. Earle acted as best man. * * * At the conclusion of the ceremony, the "Wedding March" was played by Mr. Pierard, organist of the church. A reception was held at the residence of the bride's mother, where a large number of guests were entertained. The many beautiful presents were much admired. A handsome standard lamp was presented by the literary staff of the "Evening Post " and the Diamond Association Football Club, of Which Mr. Earle is vice-president, gave a splendid set of carvers, silver tea. set, and salts. The bride's mother wore black brocade, and Mrs- Earle was in a pretty heliotrope and black gown, with lace, and a bonnet to match.