A Hotelkeeper's Story.

Otago Witness, Issue 1540, 14 May 1881, Page 26

A Hotelkeeper's Story.

• , . . • — — r. — ♦ By Ora Hope.

1 • ' {Written tor the Otago Witness.) ' ' ' Mister, I want you to write a letter for me. 1 It's to my wife— dang her ! I'll make 1 -her sorry for this. She couldn't ask if I was ■ ■ eiok or out of work. It's money she's after. ;< Never mindß what I'm a-sufferin' so long as Bhe gets the tin. Dang her agin ! But women, are all alike— a greedy, grabbin' lot I, left her plenty; she couldn't bave come short yet. ,1 only took a few pounds with \ me. Of , course I never wrote. What was ','/ the good of sending empty letters ? It was no 'fault of mine that there were no factories here, and I knowed nothing about any other 1 kind of .work. I tell you, Mister, I was nigh "'• starving afore I got a job. At last I made my way to Bendigo ; but I had always weak eyee, and the heat, and dust, and darned eandflies was too much for me. The hos- . pital coon fetched me up. I was stone-blind , for six months Nice news that would ha' bin to send 'home. Then 1 got a* job on a station, and here's my first cheque. You ' can look at it, Mister ; it's for £20. I was agoin 1 to send it right off to her, and tell her 'to get the young 'uns ready — that I would ' send home their passage-warrants in two months. I calls' at the post "office, and gets this doße of abuse. You can tell her now to '• atiok to her brother, as she says he's bin so i good to her— that I'm agoin' to drink every 1 shilling of that cheque instead of sendiDg it to ;her. If she chooses to write civil- like, and say she wants to come out, I'll send the .-paesage-warrants, but money I'll never send . ber,.,so help me ! Drat her ! she thinks of , nothing but money. ' I b'lieve if I could empty the Bank of England into her lap ' she'd only say, "Han't you got any more, Dick?" And see, Mister, don't put no "Dear wife." Just call her "Jemima Hants" — that was her name when I married her '; and you can sign it " Dick ■ Palmer." Give my love to the youngsters, > though.' - i I had some trouble to compose a letter to suit this irate individual. I tried vainly to

persuade him not to vciio until next day. He Baid * No ' ; hia temper -would cool by thai time, and ho would let nor off too easily. The letter ho had just received was certainly an aggravating one, full of reproaches, and without one softening word of affection. But then the writer had her grievance : N her husband had been eighteen

! months in the Colony, and had never written to her. This her first letter to him came to hand most inopportunely. I saw Palmer going into the theatre that night with some companions, very much the worse of liquor, and apparently enjoying himself. About twenty yeara afterwards^ fickle Fortune drove me from Melbourne into an establishment on a much smaller soale in an up-country township. There I again met Palmer. He was a man of gigantic proportions and strongly-marked teatures— a man not easily forgotten. We did not recognise each ' other at once— twenty years had changed both of us; but, I had a good memory for faces, and this man's face was a familiar one. He was driving into L in company with a respectable-lookiiig^elderly woman when I first noticed him. Iv answer to my enquiries, a neighbour told me they were Mr and Mrs Palmer, of Fernbauk, the magnificent farm and orchard which was making the little town famous. I frequently met him, but could not engage him in conversation. He was reported to be a reserved, morose man. '

L , like all small townships, was well supplied with gossips, to. whom the subsequent arrival of a young man who called himself Palmer, and paid a lengthened' vioit to Fernbank,* was a subject of much speculation. Mr Palmer was supposed to have had no children, yet this young man had ,been heard to speak of him as his father. For a' week after he came off the coach at my door I was pestered with enquiries concerning him, as if it were at all likely that a stranger; who had passed -but one night under my roof • had given me his confidence. One of the [ two lawyers who made rather a scanty living" in the peaceful township was supposed to know all about it, as he had spent two whole days at Fernbank since. The doctor, too,, had been sent for ; but both those gentlemen were confirmed bachelors, and not easily j 'got at 'for news. However, after many surmises, the gossips came to the conclusion , that Mr Palmer was a bigamist ; that young. Palmer had come out to assert bis mother's; rights; that the shock had nearly killed Mrs Palmer— hence the doctor's visit ; that Palmer was going to purchase his son's sijence by dividing bis property with him-—, hence the lawyer's visit. Mr Burford and Mr Payne, the two lawyers I have, spoken of ,- were in the habit of drinking a friendly glass (sometimes, more) together' in my house every night ; and as their clients were very often the subjeot of their conversation, I beoame ' aware of a great deal of my neighbours' business that perhaps I ought not to have known. The first evening those gentlemen met after Burford's visit to Fernbank, Payne was railing at. young. Palmer in unmeasured terms ; ■ ' .'. . ' He is an unmanly our to sacrifice his mother like that. His motive is easily seen. He knows that he is heir-at-law should' the nld man die without a will, and he is coveting the whole of his wealth. Let him take care ! I£ I know Mrs Palmer at all, she will hate him. Her influence with her husband is supreme, as it should be, considering how much he -is indebted to her, and she will -never consent to enrich this young cub even after her death, Believe me, he will lose all in the end,, as he deserves to.' ' Softly, softly, my friend ! What, could the poor la.d • do, without money or friends, against two such astute customers^ as old Palmer and me. We first assailed ijim_ with hard faots, showed him the impossibility of proving claims $hai had been dormant for a quarter' of, ; a century!, especially in the absence of his' mother, and to bring her out requires money, which he has not. Then, without appearing to want to appeal to his sympathies, the old man' told his side of the story : how very badly he had been treated by his firßt wife ; how he had suffered .from bad eyes for the first few yearß he was In the Colony, rendering it difficult for him to support himself, let alone , contribute to the ; support of his family. ,Arid, Payne, had you beard him .describe the kindness of Mrs Palmer No. 2, who was his fellow-servant 1 on a station, you could not help admitting him to be a "monster of ingratitude" had he not proposed to take care of her and the five hundred pounds Bhe had saved for the rest of her life.' And Burford chuckled over the recollection as he re-filled the glasses. 'The fool should not t have allowed himself to be bamboozled ' so. Why did he not have a legal sdvißer as well as his adversary ? ' ' Want of funds, dear boy ! You Bee we bowled you at once, knowing that he could not afford counsel from Melbourne. Palmer told him that the only lawyer in L , besides myself, was an inveterate gosßip, and that' as it was only to avoid scandal we would consent to treat with him at all, he had better beware of confiding his olaims to an indiscreet adviser.'

' Ah, well, Burford, I've often had my revenge for as scurvy a trick, I will yet, when business is slack, enough, bring an action against you for slander.' ' That has been a mutual threat for so many years now, Payne, that I hardly think the action will ever' eventuate. Seriously, though, I hardly 'think we would have found Alf Palmer such a soft cake if he had only his mother to think of. He fell in love with one of his shipmates. There was a minister on board, who married them, and I imagine he is rather, afraid of going back to his wife without some substantial proof of his father's riches. His lady-love does not imagine she hat married a poor man.' ' Oh, is that how the wind blows ? Then I suppose the old man has come down with the dust handsomely ? ' « He's not such a fool. Alf is not dan--gerous while he is poor. ' He will allow him to live in one of his cottages, pay his wife's expenses from town, and give him a start ia a small way at his trade. He ia a painter, and according to his deserts, will any further assistance be Riven. There is a promise, but only a verbal one, that A'f will be his heir, always providing that Mis Palmer consents. Nctbing will lie done against her wishes. Rather than have her annoyed, Palmer would oorvert his property into cash ami le&vo the Colony All the young couple have to do now ia to conciliate the old lady. It op glit to b;* an e&by taak, as she has no relations of her own.'

' It will bo impossible ; and, with all your boasted astuteness, Bui'ford, yoij have not

brought the affair to a satisfactory issue. Bach party is still at the other's meroy ; neither is secure. Mrs Palmer is a jealous, suspicious woman. If the son plays hia part well, he cannot fail to arouse a feeling of affection in his father, and that will be enough to make the old lady his enemy. The whole party will be always in hot water. You've spoiled a most Interesting case, Burford, but I can forgive you, for, after all, it is only deferred. It will crop up again when Coloniai experience has given your softcake a harder crust. He and his wife will not content them in comparative poverty in full view of the fertile fields and smiling- orchards of Fernbank.. It would have been better to have treated them more seriously, and it is I, the future counsel of the other side, who tell you so.' ' Well, whatever the ultimate result may be, Payne, it will bring grist to our mill,; but I cannot, for the life of me, see how you can on such slender evidence prove a marriage alleged to have taken place at a revival meeting bo long ago, or even prove tho identity of the Baid Jemima Hants and Richard Palmer.' On hearing those names mentioned in connection, it flashed across my memory where I had met' Palmer first, and I jemembered quite clearly the letter I had written, for him. I now became more interested in' the conduct of the father and son' to each' other. ' " " ' i That all parties were dissatisfied was j apparent from the 'first. Alf made up his •mind secretly to send for his mother as 1 soon 1 as 1 he < could afford it. Bat he was never ablejio afford- it. Hia father had given him .such a niggardly start, and work came Inapi slowly, that he found it hard to keep out of debt. His wife was not a thrifty woman., and then the olive branches arrived withanunfailing regularity that rendered saving,' money out of the question. To justify his conduct' to his poor mother,, who had such a' long weary struggle to rear and educate her; family, He wrote her lying letters, declaring the 1 accounts they had heard of his father's, wealth were much exaggerated, that he was: only above want, and that it would cost more' to substantiate her claims than his property was worth. , , , -; „ Old Mrs Palmer had treated him and his. wife with indifference.until the birth of their first child. They called it Richard, and the grandfather appeared much taken up wit,h it. Then her indifference became intense dislike. To know that ' her husband had visited his son's was. Enough to throw her into a passion bordering on madness, from the effects of which she would ba prostrate for days. She began to torment herself with visions of the young people, whom she regarded as her enemies, taking up their abode in her house after her death, and covering her memory with shame ; that the world would know she had no i been a lawful wife, and that she had only been there on sufferance. ' (The public had been to understand that Alf was the son of a former marriage, and that his' mother had died at hia birth.) The old man's life waa a wretched one. ' His sin had found him out,' and he was enduring, all the misery of remorse He had ' ample means to make those he had wronged amends in a. pecuniary sense,, but this old woman's obstinacy-pre-vented him from lightening the load on ljis conscience by doing so. • , But he- never wavered in r his loyalty to her, and would not deceive her, though he' could easily jiave done so. When' Alf was seven years' 'in L 'he found ( himself hopelessly in debt, burdened with six children and' a' 1 delicate wife. • Almost .crazy, he made a pitiful appeal to his father io pay his debts and give him a fresh start: Richard Palmer consulted r hiß wife. She consented on conditions. < • f I'm afraid oi , them people, ; Dick,' she said,; ' I know they'll do us harm yet. If , you make your will so that they will have nothing to gain by our death, I'm willing to help them. You know, Dick dear,, lam older and weaker than you are, and I can't live much longer.- If you do what I want you will take a load of my mind, and I cat spin orit the rest of my days quiet-like As it is, I'm always' dreaming of poison, and suoh. When I'm dead you can alter your will, and do what you like with Fernbank.' ' I'll do whatever you like with Fernbank, Mary. No one will ever have It that will speak ill of you. We will .send for Burford to-morrow, and whatever will you chose to diotate I will sign.' ' Get the gig now, Dick, and go into town and bring him out with you. Tell Alf what we are going to do for him, and that he has nothing to gain by treachery, aa your will is made. And you can tell him, Dick, that when this business is doc e. he can come out to see us .as often as he. likes, and bring his wife and children, too.' „, • • And, she, who would soaroely have given them an apple before, filled the gig with presents. Eggs, bacon j dairy produce, fruits' fresh and preserved, were put in with eager, trembling hands, and her last words as he drove off were : ' Bring the lawyer home with you, Dick.' I've often wondered since if the old lady was responsible for her actions at this time. She spent the afternoon with a slate and pencil in. her hands, trying to put her r thoughts into form ; and when Mr Burford came out he had no difficulty in drafting a document to her mind. That night Richard Palmer's will was signed.

The next morning, as he rode into town to arrange with his eon's creditors, his horse shied as he was passing the schoolhouse, frightened by the shouts of the children who were just l*>t our. He was thrown heavily on the newly-metalled road, and oarried home a corpse. Hia wealth was left wholly to Mary. At her death it was to bedivided bstween the hospital, and tha Wesleyan Church, of which they were both members. Alf Palmer was cat off with a shilling.

Mrs Palmer's pastor and lawyer endeavoured to persuade her to make some provision for thofe of her husband's family who were etill in poverty in England, but she refused.

' If it wasn't for them,' she would say, ' Dick would ba alivo y« 5 t Making a will is always unlucky, ft»d if it wasn't for them he needn't have mudo his.'

Strangers visiting the cemetery at L are frequently shown "Richard Palmer's grave, with the shi'ling whjoh was duly tendered to his son firmly affixed to tho headstone. Mary did not survive him long. Alf

is still struggling with .hard times. He has the sympathy of a good many; but Mr Payne smiles at his poverty, and says * it serves him right.' •