MAGISTRATE'S COURT.—Wednesday.

New Zealand Herald, Volume II, Issue 353, 29 December 1864, Page 5

MAGISTRATE'S COURT. —Wednesday.

(Before Thomas Beckham, Esq., R.M.) DBUNKEXNESS. John Wannigan, Thomas Shaw, "William Wallace, and James Dowling, charged with this offence, were treated in the usual manner. THE AUCKLAND JACK SHEEPABX>. Richard Dumfreys was brought up on remand, and fully committed to take his trial on four distinct charges, namely: — 1. Stealing from the house of Mr. Edward King in the Kyber Pass-road. 2. Escape from the Mount Eden Stockade, white undergoing a term of imprisonment. 3. Assault on Alfred Boone. 4. Robbery with violence —Sarah Lawrence. His "Worship strongly condemned the negligence of the jailor, and trusted that due care would in future be taken to ensure the safe keeping of the prisoner. DI3OBEDINCE TO LAWFCX COJMAXDS. Frederick Johnson Btood charged by Nicholas Christien, master of tie Beiherstieg, with this offence, on board that vessel on the 27th instant. Mr. Beveridge appeared for the accused. His Worship remarked that he could not interfere in any way with the case, without the consent of tho German Consul, in accordance with the 14th clanßO of. the " Foreign Seaman's Act, 1860." The accused stated that he had agreed with the captain to leave at Auckland. The articles being interpreted by desire of the Bench, clearly directed that the accused was compelled to proceed to any port (if desired by the master) until the vessel reached the port of departure, and was consequently ordered to be taken on board. STEALING A WATCH AT 3EELBOTJBNE. Jameß Lawler was brought up, under warraa received from Melbourne, charged with having stolen a watch from one John Sheedy, of that place. Constable Morrigan, deposed : I arrested the prisoner on Saturday last, at Steers' Dining Rooms, Shortland-street, in consequence of the description of the accused contained in the warrant from Melbourne (now produced). The accused ia also described as travelling in company with a woman named Say. The description agrees exactly with the appearrnce of ■ the prisoner, and he haß admitted that he was formerly of Melbourne, and is living with the female named Day.

The Court ordered the prisoner, at the request of the Commissioner of Police, to be forwarded to Melbourne by the first opportunity.

A DE3EBTEE. John Luiseii, charged with desertion from the German brig Reihersteig, was ordered to he taken ca board again. This concluded the business of the day.

" MY lOTTLE SISTER." " ~WiiESUsV Keighly ? Has anybody soea Keighly ?" asked the Colonel, suddenly, and with anxious looks all about him as if he expected Captain Keighly to answer the question by bodily presence. "Captain Keighly—who has seen him!" he demanded in a louder tone. A sergeant stepped forward, touching his cap. " Captain Keighly is intlio tint yonder—wounded, -yor Honor."

•'Badly?" " I think he was Sur. I caught him when ho foil, and the blood was spurting from his side," answered i>erp;eant Murphy. The face of the Colonel, that ft moment sinco had been bright with triumph, now took on a sad, foreboding look. " It was a famous victory," and Colonel Decker had distinguished himself, but if Jim Keighly was killed how much heart had ho for success : 1 Ho asked himself something like this as ho went toward the " tint yonder" that S-rgeant Muiphv pointed Theroholay, who had V«n tho foremost in the fight," his stalwart figure helpless, his ardent face ghastlv with approaching dissolution. Decker saw it all at once as ho entered. Ho could have cried out with sorrow, for almost as men love a woman had Tom Decker loved Jim Keighly. Tho hollow, dying eyes grtw brighter at sight of tho Colonel. Decker himself could not speak. A man of singular eloquence and readiness of speech, ho was dumb now. So it was Keighly who spoke first. no smiled —tho old gay smila ; it wrung Decker's heart to see it—and said, faintly, " We'vo won, Colonel !" How tho gay smilo ran through the faint voice, and made it jubilant! " Yes, Jim, we'vo won." What was it in those simple words that conveyed another assurance than of victory to Captain Keighly r He had scarcely thought of himself. They had carried him in hero after he was wounded, and lie had thought only of the "famous victory." What clso ? His wound was not painful. Ho did not suffer save from weakness. He was very faint to bo sure. What else, then, but the famous victory should fill his mind ? But when Decker's dejected tones answered him ; when, looking up radiant, he met Decker's grief-stricken face, his mind took in another idea. "It was a famous victory," but ho was drifting away from it. He turned his head and saw tho sad looks of tho two or three fellow-ofHcors. Then back again to Decker. " I believe I am going, Tom—is it so ?"' There was no military etiquette between tliem now, and Decker's silence was the only response to these words. Tho two grasped hands. A moment more, then a spasm of anguish contractcd Jim Keighly's face. " What is it, Jim r" "My little sister. I leave her all alone in the world. There is nobody—to look—out —" Tho voice was breaking off for ever. " I will look out for her, Jim. Yon leave her to mo, old friond. To me, Jim—to Tom Decker —you'll trust me, dear old fellow;" and Decker's voice broke off too, but for sorrow. How tho dusky, dying eyes lit here. " To Tom—Decker. Yes—yes—l trust him. Tell her—good-by—Tom. Dear littlo Elly. To —Tom J Voker!" The dying eyes opened once more. There w.is a movement of tho lips—no words. The arms stretched out with their last strength, and those two men embraced each other. "It was a famous victory." But Jim Keighly lay dead. That was the price that Tom Decker paid. For two or threo years these two had been such friends as history sometimes points out, or that sometimes discovers its splendid rarity to you in the modern days of life. Men who loved one another. And now Jim Keighly lay dead. Those whose natures can understand such a friendship between man and man can understand all the desolation that fell upon Tom Decker with this fact. Desolate, though covered with honor for his gallantry upon this field of battle, he went homo on leave of absence. He had no family. There was only one tie to call bim from his soldier's post. "My little sister." As he walked the deck of the steamer that was bearing him on his way he thought pcrpetual'y of the loss that sent him. " What a wonderful fellow he was—eo true, so generous, so simple and brave ! There was not another like him." And he thought ot the brief time that seemed so long, because so full, since thdir companionship. Business friends at first in New York. As soon as they knew each other more, friends and lovers for lift—ay, and for death! Noble souls both of them, each loved the nobility in the other.

And lie tlionglit of this little eister. Honest Jim ITcighl}" was not a man given to talking much of himself and connections. Decker knew that his sole relative, a sister, "was somewhere up in Vermont, with old friends of the family. And now and then Jim would be absent on a visit to her, and now and then he would speak of "my little sister.' 1

Thinking of all this, and in view of her loss, hi 3 heart ached for the little lonely thing. He had a dim fancy that in one of his visits to her Jim hud carried her a doll for a gift. He didn't know much about children, espocially little girls; but -wouldn't it be a good thing for him to open her heart to him by carrying her a doll ? So, with all tenderness and gentleness, this military hero turned these questions er and over in his mind with as much anxiety as he had ever turned over some weighty question of war or business. And when he started from New York northward, packed away in his valise was the mcsl wonderful doll he could find in all New York. But in fpite of' this Parisian bonne bouche to win his way, I do not think that Colonel Decker ever contemplated a military step, or found himself in any situation, civil, social, or military, which embarrassed him like the thought of the coming interview with Jim Keiglily's little sister. He wasn't used to children, and, to tell the truth, was a little afraid of them, regarding them with that mixture of gentleness and distrust which perplexes many of the tenderest men who have never been mv'ih associated with children. Ho alwayß expected tlu mto cry at any moment; and in anticipation of thi; catastrophe he was rather shy of making adva it e5. With these ancient feelings, revived and exaggerated by the peculiarity of his position, Colonel Dicker " waited" in the great old-fashioned parlor at High Mount, the place of the Wcsterlyns, just outside of Montpelier, the present home of Elly Keighly. He heard a voice calling " Elly! Elly!" and to fortify himself he glanced nervously at the oblong box containing Elly's doll. " Elly ! Elly ! " and then some murmured words of explanation ; and tljen a hush; and then tho light fall of little feet, lie looked anxiously toward the door ; but it was a young lady who entered. So Elly wouldn't come. He went forward in his direct way.

'• lam Colonel Decker, Captain Keighly's friend. I "'as with him when he died. He gave his little sister to my charge—a welcome charge to me, you will understand, for Captain Keighly was my beßt fiit.au. Jyu }ou think the child will see me?"

He paused for an answer, looking still anxiously toward the door. The pause was so long his eyes caine bick more observantly to her to whom he questionrd. She was standing before him with a farawi y look on her face—a young pale face, full of tho the self-absorption of some great sorrow. So absorbed was she there was no room for any personal consciousness. And when she raised her head at last and said, FO simply, " 7am Captain Eeighly's sister," Tom Decker forgot his peculiar position, and lost any embarrassment he might have felt in the pity and sympathy that overwhelmed him at sight of that utterly Btriken face and tne dejected tones. She sat down by him, and with a quiet gravity that was more heart-breaking than sobs and tears listened while he spoke of the dead. She looked so like Jim, as she listened there, with her patient, melancholy face—so like Jim, and yet bo unlike him in lh-3 drooping helplessness of her youth and sex and her calm so eloquent of the desolateness that had come to her, that altogether it was almost more than brave Tom Decker could bear. It was not until he had left her presence, and was driving back to town, that he realized what his mistake in° volvod.

So thi3 was Elly, the little sister whom he lmd received in charge from dying Jim Keighly. The consolation that he had anticipated was entirely out of place. A doll would not console this Elly Keighly whom li© Tiad seen. .And. th.cn hs rcmemberedwith a half tinile, that he had left the oblong box with its Parisian treasure, upon the parlor table at High Mount But how could he console lier? How could lie be of service to his charge without wounding her delicacy ? She had seemed a child to her brother—"My little sister." "Well, Bhe can not be ixiore than twenty," reasoned Colonel Decker. " Sho" » a child to me, as she was to Jim :

fifteen years mates some difference. I hope she'll sec it so."

But the reasoning and tho pcrploxcd questioning proved that ho feared slio wouldn't.

He went to see her again the next day, and (ho next, and the next, until tho dayß ran into weeks. " She has such simplicity and frcsh-licartedncss, and she loved Jim so deeply that byand-by slio will associate me so with him that sho will let mo tako his plaeo as far as I can." This was what tho Colonel had meant to bring about by lingering and waiting so long. To tako Jim's placo to her as brother and guardian. Sho needed such a protector sorely enough, for with Jim ICeiglily's brave lifo had departed tho solo support of hers. And to have her go out teaching, or any thing of that kind, this young, gently-nurtured, dclieatc creature, why it would have broken Jim Keighly s heart. He had taken steps, too, to prevout any such necessity. There had been an investment which promised ample support to her; but three months ago, what had seemed so safe to Captain Keighly proved rotten to the core, and thus Elly Keighly was pretty nearly penniless at the saddest time of her existence. So it was that Captain Decker stayed to let time and association teach Elly Keighly to regard him as a brother in Jim's stead. And waiting for this teaching ho found himself taught quite another lesspu. There came n day when something must bo said ; for tho furlough was nearly out. He began to her when sho came into greet him that morning : " Elly, in two weeks I must go back to my regiment." Elly. He could call licr Klly now for Jim's sake. He thought she loved now for Jim's sake. " Elly, in two weeks I must go back to my regiment." Not a word did sho answer him. Ho waited, looking down at her. Such a pretty pale face, noble like Jim's, yet full of girlish freshness. By and by it lifted to him. " I want to ask your advice about something before you go, because you were dim's friond, and ho would like to have had me appeal to you first for advice." Yes, as Jim's friend. Ho hud taught her the lesson. Well? " "What a blockhead I have been!" lie murmured inwardly. " I have had an invitation from tho principal of the Hiirli Hill school to become a teacher there, but Mrs. Wcsterlvn thinks I had better take a situation as governess. The Gnylords need a governess in town this winter, and Mrs. Westcrlyn thinks I might get the post." She went on to tell him of tho advantages and disadvantages of each placo, that ho might give her a clear judgment, but lie hardly beard a word of what she said, his thoughts were in such a tumult. " It must not be, it must not be !" ho broke out at last. She looked at him astonished. " Elly, let me tell you how J came here." And ho told her of his mistako in supposing she was a child ; of his perplexity and doubt as he thought of their interview ; and of the doll ho had purchased on the way, to open her heart to him. " I had adopted you there at Jim's death-bed, Elly, for—' my little sister-'" With a broken voice ho repeated every word that passed between her brother and himself at that death-bed. He had never told her all before: he could not. " He gave yon to mo, Elly ; his last words wore : 'To Tom Decker.' You shall livo here, or where you like ; hut you must let me do for you as Jim did. I have nothing else to do with what I have. Klly, it would have been the bitterest anguish to Jim to have had you wearing your life away in teaching. And, Elly, think—Tarn fifteen years your senior. Your are a little child to me. And think too, Elly, that I loved him, and he loved me. He trusted you to me, Elly." " There," he thought; " that is tho only way no, and I will make it easy to her." But all the time ho was groaning at tho " way." While he was talking Elly's face was growing red and pale by turns, and the tears ran down her cheeks. " No, no. I can't, I can't! "* she presently faltered, never looking up, but trembling visibly in her effort at control. "Elly, are you so proud? Ho was my only friond. I loved him almost like a woman. Ho left you to me as a legacy. It was my consolation." " No, it is not becauso I am proud ; but I cannot, I cannot!" " Why, Elly ? " She looked up for an instant at that appealing voice. Her secrct was in her eyes, but she did not know it. "Eliy!" There was a new tono in tlie voicc. Everything had changed at once to him as he met her eyes. " Elly, will'you hear another story ? "Will you let mo plead a different cause ? If you had listened to the other I should never have told this, becauso I should have known then that that was j our choice. But now—Elly, you will not be 'my little sister.' Oh, Elly, can you be my wife ? " And in this last sentence the whole story of lovo was told. "What did Ellv say ? What could Elly say, who all the time had loved him too well to be his " little sister P " And this is the end of my story, but not of theirs. God grant it may not end for a long long timo to them. Colonel Decker has been on other battlefields since then, and he has won other laurels, but the one he holds most sacred of any is that where Captain Keighlcy lies buried ; and sometimes, in tho silence of his tent at night, he seems to hear again tlioso last words—" To—Tom Decker."