En a Summer Day.

Otago Witness, Issue 1337, 14 July 1877, Page 20

En a Summer Day.

A NEW ZEALAND STORY. in three chapters. By Hexry. Lapham, Swjtzerb, Chapter I, ,< If Sandy had not brought that bottle of whisky home, it. never would have happened ; because, though when Bill Merton had been on the spree for a while, he did not find it very hard to get right, again, yet, if that liquor 'had not been, there to tempt him, he would' have gone to his work at the proper time, and Jack, Conliffe might'have beenaliveahd^merry' now. To understand the rights andwrongs of the story, you must know that these three men were, in general,, as sober, steady fellows as any in the, province, and it was . only on especial occasions, such as this of St. Patrick's i Day, that they indulged at all. Of all days in the year this was the maddest, merriest day on the West Coast of Otago, and particu- : larly so at the township of' Greymouth. For twenty-four hours previously every coach that came in was crammed to overflowing with merry-hearted, diggers, ,. who from fifty miles round had come to see the races. Then was the great harvest time' for the hotelkeepers," and right ' well they knew how to make hay in the sunshine. • As soon as the clock strikesone on the morning of • thej jovial > day, the band comes out, and peacefiil~slumberers are roused from their/, first sleep, . by the mingled din of hideous brass instruments, played with happy disregard of time^ and supplemented by various uncouth machines in the form of kerosene tins and empty "billies," and followed by a crowd of shouting men, who go swaggering through the town to the lively music of Ireland's national air. When daylight brightens, 'every one appears ."in all their best,'* with the immortal green conspicuous here -and there, the shops, public offices, and banks are closed, and after watching the Hibernian Society parade the street, every one takes boat and away up the Grey River to see the races. At night the town hotels are ablaze with light, and dancing, singing, laughing, and revel go on gloriously till after two days, the seedy, blear-eyed men, finding the earnings of six months all gone, creep away ,by twos and threes to their homes " upcountry." But these good times have gone by, and St. Patrick is never honoured now as in the palmy days of my story — some ten years ago. Well, these men, Jack Conliffe, Bill Merton, and Sandy M'Gregor, were coming away from Greymouth a week after the races. There was a great difference between the three mates. Jack was as merry hearted a young fellow as oae could meet through a summer day. Always ready with a laugh or jest, and not "a lark" was too rosy for' Mr Jack to take share in. A tremendous lad for dancing, singing,- or making love. Not only was his" face well - featured, and lighted up with merry brown eyes, and set-off with irreproachable whiskers, moustache, and beard, but he was tall and well-built, carrying his head thrown back and shoulders squared — a rare figure among diggers, whose backs are bent and shoulders rounded with-constant stooping over pick and spade. Every one who knew him had a kindly word of praise for him ; and despite his numerous escapades, he waa burdened with no memories that would prevent his iooking straight and fearlessly into the face of either woman ' or man. The tall, loose-limbed fellow staggering by his side was Bill Merton— not a bad kind of man when sober — goodnatured and hard-working ; but with one unfortunate weakness that completely overpowered any good qualities he possessed. Scarcely had he been an hour in Greymouth. when some one or other of the landlords had invited him in to have a drink ; he, of course, returned the compliment, and there he had remained until this very evening, when his mates had forcibly brought him away. Sandy

M'Gregor «vas the little man walking on the other side of Merton, and he stepped on as firmly and steadily as if he had never known the taste of Jiquor. In person, short and thick-set, and clad in those queer nondescript garments- that diggers • affect so greatly — to wit, trousers of grey moleskin, huge guttapercha boots — which, when pulled up, reached to the thighs, and are impervious to wet, but which were now allowed to fall downwards from the # knee, ' recalling, grotesquely, the fashion of the cavaliers — a crimson sash about his waist, a shirt of grey flannel, a^ gaudy neck-tie, set-off with a huge specimen pin, knotted loosely round his throat, and a coat of dark-ribbed cloth completed his attire. By nature, he was a man of few words, with aharshrepellaht mariner; seemingly as hard and unimpressionable as a piece of his native granite ; but as even in that "granite crannies may be found, where kindly flowers spring, so in Sandy's rugged nature were .some soft points, of which one was 1 an affection so deep and' warm as almost to 'deserve the name of fondness for his mercurial young' mate Jack. Sandy's faults "were numerous enough, but' the one patent to ali observers was an extra development of that: national Scotch failing— c'annine'ss. 1 He 1 could not bear to part with a penny; toheap together pound "after' pound was his sole aim in life, and. this without any ulterior motive, for he had neither kith nor kin. . Despite, his closeness, he managed -to take part in every piece of fun that was going on, and enjoyed it too. However, he invariably chose his companions amongst men whose pockets were well-lined, and who were liberal in spending. Sandy's capacity for imbibing whisky hot was marvellous, yet he had never been seen intoxicated. One friend hinted that this might be accounted for by the fact that no compound ever distilled could affect a head so hard as his ; another, that Sandy was equally, taciturn whether drunk or sober, so it was impos"sible to tell his condition. : Only the' night before, some too confiding stranger, had been inveigled into offering" to , pay for as much liquor as S&ndy ,-could drink.] They were to,, drink^^grass jdrink, glass about, and before long the stranger ,,was f physically incapable of drinking, any more, or what was as. much to .the .purpose, of; payingfor : it. 'So Sandy i was presented by his admiring friends . with > a bottle oft whisky, as an appropriateireward of merit ; butj muoh to his disgust, theyiinsistedon his giving- ". a general shout "-^a* piece of: extravagance that'eost him a full ihalfguineai ;As his two friends were not present at this scene, Sandy consoled himself - with the reflection that the bottle of whisky, used judiciously, might be made to last for some time ; • but he was well aware that if either of them got holdsof it, there would soon be only*, the; bottle left.' Jack would drink it for mere fun>ofannoying his mate ; whilst to. Bill,iin;nis, present, state, .spirits .represented, the; whole staff, of- life — the only panacea; against the /awful' depression' that must follow. his late dissipation. ,' >„ .i. >v - <> ; Such, were'the three men' whoiwerenow making their way homewards by the light of a bright full moon. The only means' of communication between the beach and the town was either, by going along the shore, which involved a- round of s6me ; miles, or by following a tramway that was used to convey timber from the dense bush that is common along the coast to the ships that lay waiting in the Grey.The 1 mates had decided to keep to the tramway, as the shortest and easiest road home. On either hand huge birch trees stretch their horizontal boughs, casting black massen of shade into the numerous deep gullies over which they ' passed, the graceful fronds of the tree ferns lay motionless, while through the delicate tracery the silver sparkle of running water; might be seen. To the. left lay the birch bush dark and duijab ; but to the right, between the branchls fl shining glimpses .of. the sea caught the eye with a pleasant surprise, while the soft whisper of .waves upon the shingle beach could be faintly, heard. Presently Jack Conliffe began to sing, in a clear strong voice, the ever-; popular song of " John Brown," with its meaningless words and jovial marching tune. Merton tried to join in, and in an ambitious attempt to accommodate his unsteady footsteps to the tune, los,t' his balance, slipped from between his .companions, and rolled off the tramway., He fell with .his, head; against a comfortable, flax-clump, and .appeared at once to have, gone off into a .profound slumber, from; which no efforts of his mates could rouao him. "Well, here's a blessed fixj!" said Jack, looking at the recumbent .figure. "I don't know how the, deuce we'll, get him home. One -thing, .we can't carry" him.", "Carry him!" echoed Sandy., "Ye needna fash yersel' aboofc that ! Gin he canna gang hia am gait, he'll no be i carried by me." r , ' , As Jack stood in perplexity, he suddenly caught sight of something halfhidden under Sandy's coat— something it was that sparkled in the - moonlight. ; Making a sudden grasp, he found it to be the neck of a bottle. Sandy struggled, and swore, but Jack held fast, and laughingly demanded what the treasure was?

" Weel, gin ye must know, it's just 'a wee drap whisky theilads i' the township gie me."

" Hurrah !" Jack shouted. " This will raise Bill if anything can. Hand it over, old man." "Hout, ye young Me ; do ye no ken that gin Bill ance pita his hands on't, he wanna leave a drap 1" " But I won't let him drink it, Sandy " "Ye won't let him?" said Sandy, in a tone of contempt ;• " as though ye'or any ither mon could stop him." •• > '■'

"But he shan't even touch. the bottle,' I swear. ■ Come on, old- chap.' There !"- exclaimed Jack, in triumphant glee, as a swift snatch made the prize his :own._ ,; r t j ■>[ ■ He then took a stone, and-, clinked it against the bottle close to Bill's ear. Merton tiirned rouhd : at ohcej saying,' '? Mine's; 1 * whisky hot." , "Neat, you^mean/^qld " ' boy," laughed Jack. "Come, rise r up;, ' here's Sandy going to shout all- »roundj", , This amazing announcement had the', desired effect. With a great effort,' and ; " by- Jack's help, he got upon his > feet. .'' Sandy> meanwhile, stood by, glowering • j andiwondering where the matter would : > end.! ; ' ■■•■ - ■<• • ; i il'i' r- ■-

" Look here;" said Jack, holding up' '"'" ' the bottle, "here it is, but you* 'sh'arft " " ' taste one drop till you come onto the' ' tram." - ■ • . .' ;;.;;; • - 1 When there, Jack handed the bottle, to , ; * Sandy, whispering, "Off home nqw^but 'j, keep in sight." , Then, f as,the;Scotchman., ,' >. started, he said, **By , Jove? ü ßill, -there's n.V: Sandyi off with ;the- grog •; bub comealongj.i U; old man, we'll catch him." 1 ■ - ■• «^ \ •■> •> m »v 1 'Hlolding fast by Jack's arm, he managed '<" to rolT 'alorig the' tramway at > a* • fearful s - u: < pace]; whilst" -Sandy keps &qdgirijg' r '-'just' : s aheajdi iiow lost in'the s'Ha'do^of th'e'l^ej4,/' ' ' •riowi pausing in sbme'patch^pfmboiiiShl'' ' '" and]liftiug,theb6W%t^isJps^atw^C<||i f '1 sight Bill would.uttprajshout, and spring , ; ; ' forward, so that.it;toqk^U'jMkfssiarengtb,,^l' and;adroitness to keep r hiin-. irpny toppling,: ',[', ■ over amongst the f erns.aad, bushes .on: the dv sof timossy ground at their side. . So.theyLMi enticed him along the 1 beach and'ttpithe, *, r < terrace, till the half-mile bf toad' was past,; '-".il ,and|they were at home. 1 * HereJ'dfcours^'y •Bill 1 received ' the .promised 'drink; '/•and'' J, soon lay snoring in blissful 1 uhconscioui- 1 ' V ness on his stretcher where'helffad"'^ first; 1 .l. l drppped down. "'.' \* ""\ . *'° _^' "'' [ !i ~~' T k '^' : ~ Sandy and Jack: sat do]wn, ou^e^^ie*^*. dooi* to enjoy a^ smoke tef^ore turning 'in.* \'l' r At WeU, Jack, Jad," said hisjmate.^wHat, 1 '*'.] has jfche spree cost you thia year Vh •■<■ v '...i ■\ a r, ' '|Let me see "—and, ; between long re- f T fleotiye puffs at his pipe, ;he countedup-4- -i,y rifjJSight^-twelve^twenty-fiveVyflsl'SboutJ*^*' -five and 1 twenty s adtefl, • 3STdt' so bad 'tihiti'- ' for five days 1 ?"- - "' : • !!i - »" '■'"'« 5u hau-iv a ; , 'f'iNqf saaWd, 3 'eh ?' ' Wellf I%nna%W 1 " !i the'gudeVt;""- *\K' "'; I ' l- n wew<J , "Saedidl enjoy imyielVitoo,.^^ n i cost joust w»u pound, fqrbye my lodgingi-;oia' and' that <i ten*, and- sixpencei)ihat;!«autd?Jhr M'Rorie_made me ihout.-- ;Eh !f but'hc'if^la an awful man yon—never content!^ neter/ 5 <" ,f\ Well, -Sandy; 'you^need'nb^ growl f iis : house,, l'd :hae got the w-hjsky.and-myten,, JU andj sixpence. ,!:Mair{nqr r ;ha|fc,aVpbundiJ , f : f , 3ed,'lad,£t'SiawfaVatfa"^T.-.{i > f f '><v\ t ,* r jWhy, Sandy, I-. wouldn't ihavetyonrsv '.« money with all the anxiety it 'gives: you"; for alM^bwydu'Ve 1 ' ■'«"- £lo^ooo,- youf old miser f (fa^ybu're ( alw&ys vlo;! rgrunting;^ moaning 1 'qveF'sqm^ stray MV ' ' saxpence, '/ wHile-Tvernot' a .pouM f t 6 ffly . " " ( credit, nor * care on my iafiid, ( Sfe/ 1%. ; , , . X', Let, the, world jog al^ngas^it .will, —» „; -• " ! • I>U '.^S fr?S Pd^y,^' ■ : r j'} ;- Mr.' ! ■j" , ) < . ,"jOu &jA ou/,ay.l ..It's a'; mighty .fine, ; , ','• the noo ; but wait till yer auld,-my ( lad!?' ; . 5>5 > Jack's eyes;turned to -his mate i with a I - merry flash. *' I'll never grow oldi bless <■ '• ye— would not, if -P could. < -Fancy me - v shivering over a fire, knocked up by half '*, a spree, blind, deaf, and what do you' call /' it %— ' Hirplin' along the road.!' ' Ifp,' no,'/ 1; a shortlife and a merry orie.'V'f / [- _*„) ' "• ' f> "Anyhow, yell need to! be vera auld I , before ye're vera wise,, my lad. Let's,.. ' turn in noo. 'Tis eleven.o'the clock and .<: mair." - . ' „.• - ~ „