REVEALED BY A DREAM.

Otago Witness, Issue 2130, 20 December 1894, Page 13

REVEALED BY A DREAM.

A STORY OF THE EARLY DAYS OF

THE GOLBFIELDS.

(Specially written for the Witness Cliristmas

Union Company's splendid intercolonial steamers a few hoars after leaving Melbourne. We had both the same story of disappointment to tell, ranch the same experiences to relate, and both in the same breath and with the same fervour of expression cursed Ooolgardia and all its works. Of course this was wicked, but the spirit of forgiveness wasn't strong in us ; our wounds were still open, and any way the truth must be told.

Shortly after that night, the air being cool and pleasant and the water like a millpond, I was taking a turn on deck before going down below for the night, when I was again joined by my friend of the evening. " I can't sleep," he said. " I've had a dream that's made me feel a bit uneasy ; and when I've had one of those breams sleep and I part company." "What! "said I, sm:Hrg. " You don't mean to cay you allow such things to disturb you? For men like ycu and myself there should be more than enough of vexation in «ur Hvea without trjicg to put life into the thado'srs that haunt onr pillows at nfght. For my part I look upon dreams as the sickly offspring of an uneasy mind, orelse they corns of a bad digestion— a weakness that men of oar claaß are not often troubled with."

"Yes, yep," he answered somewhat Bbarply ; " I bave heard all that before tonight. But my experience is altogether different. Of course there are dreams and dreams, and most of them are likely enough jaut what yon say they are ; but tbere are times wheo, do what you will, you can'fc shake off tha feeliag they laave behind. I thonght mach as you do oaco, but I bad an experience such as few men have in a lifetime. It's a good many years ago now, but notbirg but death will blot out the recollection from my mirid."

The man's manner and the sudd«in change in bis voice told ms he had something of interest to tell, and as the air was getting crisp, 1 propoatd an adjournment down below and something to moisten our sun-baked anatomies.

11 Now," he beg«-n, after we had comfortably settled dowu, " I want you to understand that this is a true story, and you can make what you like of it after you have heard it."

THE STORY.

It, is now 15 years ?go or more since it happenosi. I waa then tin mining in the New England country, not fay from Tenterfield, in Nby* South Wales. I came to the colony with a twin brother of mine about six yearn before. We were as like each other as two new minted sovereigns, and every bit as bright and fresh looking. He was tall and fair and heavily bearded, and a3 straight as a lance-shaft ; and so was I in those days, though I am now a bit grizzled and a good deul tb.9 woraa of wear, and not the man I was then by a long chalk. Rough fare and hard living aud many climates soon leave their mark on a man.

We landed in the colonies in tha thick of the early gold rashes, and there waa nowhere we weat that we didn't attract a lot of attention.

You see we were both striking-looking men in appsarance, &nd that, too, in a day when there were some splendid types of manhood to be seen, and this made the strong resorublaiiCQ we bore to each other still more remarkable. I never yet met a man who could tell one from the other. Which wan Bill and which Ned Traynor wtvs a question tbat puzzled tbe men who worked with us by day aud very often shared our tents by night, and many a rich joke and a good laugh we've had over the mUt*kes about onr identity.

Well, it was in 'G2, a few months after the Danstan •• broke out," that we made up our mindtf, like a good many others, to give New Zealand a toro.

I was at the time a bit rattled after an ngly attack of tropical fever I had caught in Northern Queensland, and ifc was agreed that Ned should cross over to Maoriland first, and if things turned out to hia liking I should follow after I had pulled myself together a bit.

It was the first time in our lives we had said "good-bye" to each other, and somehow at the last moment of parting, as I took his hand in mine and looked into his face, I felt, I couldn't tell why, that we weren't to meet again. His first letter was written from Gabriel's Gully, whsre he remained for a few months and then made his way to the Dnnstan,

From there he wrote me that he wasn't very favourably impressed with the country, but he had joined a party of four and pegged out a claim that gave some very good prospects, and he would wait and give it a trial before advising further, I received one or two letters after that, and then we lost the run of each other, for in those stirrirjg times, as you know, post offices were not as plentiful as they are now, and the exciting hunt after gold seldom allowed a man to tarry long in one place. Four years, or a little over, after the departure of my brother for Maoriland, I was tin mining in the New England country, not far from the little township of Tenterfield. I had at that time not heard anything of my brother for upwards of two years, though it's likely enough he had written to me often during that time, but his letters failed to find me.

It w«3 early in January— one of the warmest months on the New England plateau. The day had been a sweltering hot ona; but* as iaj^etty .generally, the owe

Number of lSd^

By F. M. B.

had both, my new acquaintance and I, drunk deeply of the bitterness of Coolgardie, and were returning to New Zealand — as the old saying goes, sadder but wiser men. Our first meeting was on

the deck of one of the

up there, the night waa cool and pleasant, and a man was always able to refresh himself with a good sleep at night.

But on this particlar night I found I couldn't sleep, and after tossing about uneasily for a couple of houre, I lit the slash lamp that stood close by, and tried to read myself to sleep with a three-month-old Sydney paper. Two or three times I dozed off into a light; sleep, bat each time I woke up with a great start, and looked around wildly, as if I expected to sea something;, though v» hat that " something " was I could not explain.

However, I did go off to sleep or Into a state that passed for Bleep, that lasted, I believe, some hours, and during that time I had one of the most terrible experiences tbat ever a man suffered outside of the regions of the damned.

What I saw during those fearful hours I'll tell you. I saw an abandoned but partly unroofed on one side of it, through which the wind blew in cold, fitful gusts. There were two men sleeping in it, and ose of these I recognised as my brother. He lay on a bed of newly-cut fern and tuseock in one corner of the but, and was sleeping heavily.

In a bed of the samo kind in tho opposite end I saw another man, but instead of sleeping, he was Bitting shading a lighted candle between his hands and looking in the direction of his sleeping companion. The expression in his face almost froze tbo blood in my veins. After a seoond or two he raised himself lightly and orouched over on hi* knees, which brought him nearer to the other bed, and again he looked and listened with the same fiendish expression in his face. He then rose noiselessly, fixeo the candle in a cleft stlok that stood in the ground close by, and hurriedly dressed himself.

I saw all this as plainly as I see you now, and I saw the murderer's axe descend, and heard my name mlDgled with the terrified appeal which came from my brother as tbo hot blood streamed down over his face, blinding him and drenching the bed on which he lay. After he had received the first blow he tried to struggle to his feet, for he was a powerful roan, but the axe of the murderer fell swift and heavily, and he fell back, with his head and face beaten almost into a pulp, meaning feebly in hia death agony. Flinging* down the axe, tbe murderer haatlly removed a heavy bait, such as was then worn by diggers as a receptacle for their gold, and as he did to I noticed that the little fis.gsr of his right hand was missing, and that the back of the same hand showed ao ugly scar running from the finger joint almost to the wrist. He then dragged the body, still warm, from the hut out iuto the darkness and along a narrow traok that led down to the river that swept along with a noise like thunder.

My absence from the claim on the following day brought my mates to tbo hut, and they found me delirious and raving wildly over the events of the previous night. A severe attack of brain fever followed, afcd it was some months before I had regained my usual strength. After my recovery I wrote many letters to New Zealand, and never lost an opportunity of making inquiries from miners who had been in that colony, but the only tidings I ever gleaned of my brother was that he had made a big rise on the Dunstan, and cleared out, it was thought, for the west ooast of the North Islaud. i then wrote to the inspector of police on the West Coast, but I wa9 told that though there were men of the name on the field, there was none answering to the description I bad given. I was then, for the first time, satisfied in my mind that my brother had been murdered, and that I was the sole human witness of the crime.

I wrote to the polioe commissioner of the Otago goldfiolds, describing my brother and acquainting him with my suspicions, and about gix months afterwards reoeived a curt note saying that inquiries had bsan made, but tbat nothing was known of auoh a person, and the police had no knowledge of a crime such as I described.

Two years afterwards I drifted to Ballarat. I was engaged with a party of four othera worklrjg a pleoe of rich ground abont half-a-dozen miles from tho township, and within a quarter of a mile or so from the famous De Bullion mine, that was then — and, I believe, ip still— the richest goldminicg property in Victoria.

Oa a Baturday afternoon there was usually a general roll-up from the thousands of tents along the flats and gullies, and far Into the night Ballarat was about as warm a place as you could find anywhere in the Queen's broad dominions. The fun was fast and furious. The dancing saloons and the gambling dens were the favourite resorts, and you may depend upon it some rough work went on at times in these place 3. Men quarrelled just as readily as they made friendships, and a man who felt in the mood for either one or the other never had much trouble in getting accommodated. Passing a noted gambling den kept by a Spaniard named Morelle on one of tnoge lively Saturday nightß I saw a crowd of men around the door excitedly diacus&ing tbe particulars of a gambling dispute which had just taken place inside. While standing undecided as to whether I should go inside and have a look round, a man came out of one of the rooms in the centre of the long passage that ran through the building and accidentally ran against me, and then turned sharply rouud as he went through the door into the street to mutter something intended, as I took it, for an apology. "Hallo, old man! What's op?" I heard someone cay. " You couldn't look worse if you had lost a year's crushing in the De Bullion."

But I had neither eyes nor ears for anything. I felt dazed and stupefied, but I pulled myself together by a great effort, and staegered into the street. • r Can it be?" I asked myself, when my understanding and power of speech returned ; 11 can it be that I have seen my brother's murderer?" It was only as he hurriedly jerked his head round to snap out something after running against me that I photographed hia features in my eye. At once the terrible scene of that night of horrors, then two years ago or more, flashed before au mjnfl* IheiQ Qould be. no mistake.

I had seen tha murderer.

Besides, I felt his presence. I felt instinctively that he was near m«, and I needed no further proof. After steadying myself a bit and bringing my mind back to the encounter, it suddenly struck me that he, too, had seen something in me that gave him an ugly shook.

He looked as if he had seen the ghost of his victim.

It was then getting late, and I decided on remaining in the town for the night and running him down next day. There was only one spare room in the Diggers' Arms, so the landlord informed me — a small, slab-built box at the back of the house, and one of the two beds in it was already occupied.

The moment I entered the room I felt, though I couldn't tell why, that I was again in the murderer's presence, and without a moment's thought 1 walked over to the bed on whioh a man lay sleeping.

There could be no mistake whatever about it. There he was, the same in overy feature as on the night on whioh my brother died by his hand. There were the samo swarthy features, the came ragged blsck beard, tho small, vioious mouth and heavy eyebrows. His right arm was thrown across bis breast, and I saw, ju3t as I did on the night of the murder, that tbe little finger was missing, and there also was the knotted soar extending from the socket of the dismembered finger acroe»the back of the hand almost to the writt.

I bad before me proof "strong as holy writ " that my brother's murderer was in my power — at my mercy — just an his hapless victim was in that lonsly hut in the Now Zealand ranges. What shall Ido 7 I asked myself. I havo no evidence on which I could bang him, though I know him to be a murderer as surely a 9 if the crime was witnessed by a hundred people. My first thought was to take him by the throat and squeeze tha life out of him. Ab I looked at him, sleeping as calmly as if he had never Bteeped his hands in innocent blood — though people aay there is no sleep for murderers— the whole ghastly scene, tho crouching murderer, the swift blow of the axe, tha smothered cry for mercy, the cruel response, the dying moaas, and tbe appeal to me, his brother — the whole iicane os me up before me, and, almost without knowing what t did, I put tho candle away from me with the intention of strangling him. Aa I did so tbe light fell on his fac-3, and he moved uneasily, muttering something in broken Buglisb, whioh confirmed my impression of his appearance that ho was a foreigner of aomo sort. TiiG next minute a new thought — and a belter one, I hope — came into my head. Why not set about to obtain evidence of bis guilt;, and bave him publioly strangled by the law 1 The task was worth tbe effort o£ a lifetime. Tnero must be some means of connecting him with the crime, and I would set about the task at onca, and never leave it until he was handed over lo justice. And with that resolve I lafc the room and the house, and hurried out into the cool morning air.

Tbere vraa at that tlma in Ballarat one of the clevereat detectives that Victoria has EinC3 known. I put the case into his bands, furnishing him with all the particulars that I thought would be of any assistance to him, and promised him a reward from myself of £500 if he succeeded in convicting the man of the murder or of proving his innocence. The oaso was a strange one, he said, and a difficult one to work, but he woald see what ho could do, and he promised to meet me again in the course of a we«k. Two days afterwards one of tbe hands from the De Bullion mine rushed breathlessly into our olaim and told ns tbab Bomo of the timberlcg had given way in the 50ft drive, and he expected some of the bhift were smashed up below. When wo got to tbe mine, there wan a crowd of man round the mouth of tbe Bhaf fc, and from what I could learn from the manager there wasn't much hope of bringing any o£ tbe men up alive. A party of men had gone down and were clearing away the wreckage, and we were asked to stand by and take our turn as a relief party. In about an hour's time word came up that tb6re was working room for half a dozen more men, and I went down with the others.

The first of the lmprisonod men we camQ to after a couple of hourB 1 hard work was lying face downwards, pinned by some heavy pieces of ti caber. "A Spaniard," said a man beside me, " and a queer lob ; but it's all up with him now. Pa6o him along this way." As we lifted him he moaned feebly. I started at the sound of the voice, and as we got into the light I recognised in the battered and bleeding wreck the man who was now associated in my mind as the murderer of my brother.

A week afterwards I received a message from the medical superintendent of the hoßpital stating that one of tbe men fatally injured in the Da Bullion mine requested before his death that a pßcket, which he entrusted to the dootor, should be banded to me.

On opening this I found it to be a confession of the murder of my brother, ownmitted in an abandoned hut on the banks of the Molyneux river in New Zealand, They bad left the Dan stan together, intending to go to the West Coast, but he murdered him in an abandoned hut, where they had camped for the eight, and threw the body into the river. They had been mates together for a short time, and be bad heard my brother often speak of me and of tbe great resemblance between us. He had seen me several times since I came to Ballarat and learned my name, and he felt as if I was the ghost of the man he had murdered, and be had made up his mind to leave the field as soon as possible, as his life was a burden to him. He was determined before he died to make the only reparation in his power. He had taken a thousand pounds' worth of gold from my brother, and he asked me to accept that amount and £600 in addition, with some mining shares that promised to be valuable in the future. He also directed me to go to his tent, where I would find a digger's belt with a receptacle for gold, which had belonged to my brother. The thousand pounds I accepted, but the remainder of the bequest and tbe mining shares I banded ovm to tho hospital. I was in New Zealand in the following jag, wd through the jdudueas ol Birßarxy

v ij a ■"* Atkinson, who waa then Premier of tfcd colony, and to whom I confided the par* ticulars, a seaich of the polioe raoords waf made, and It waa found that the body of $ man corresponding to the description ixrf* nlshed by me waa found about three weeks after the date of the murder on a river boach known ac Deadman's beach, near the Beaumont, in the Tnapeka district. The body was badly decomposed, and tho wounds on the r»6ftd and faca were thought to nave teen caused by the bocly coming into collision with snags or drifting timber, and the usual verdict of " Found drowned " was returned, and no more was heard about it.

" A.nd now you have heard my story, do you still think I'm childish or super<titiou3 because I'm sometimes Influenced by dreams 1 "

"V Christmas Comes dut Osor a Ykai; — lUilway station.— Old Gentleman (genially to lady surrounded by a bevy of youngsters i 11 And are all these fine children ycura 1 " Maiden Lady: "Certainly not; how dare you, sir? Do you take me for an incu,« bator l "

*«,* Christmas Day in barracks is a dull day for single officers, who observe il quitqi as a Sunday ; but in tho anoient days of tha array tho officers used to go in for festivities on Christmas Day, especially at dinner, when the peacock used to be in great demand foip the regimental dinners. Sometimes it wast made into a pi«, at one end of whioh tha head appeared above the crust in all its plumage, with the beak richly gilt, and at the other end of the pie tho peacock's tail was displayed. An anciont army oath was, "By cock and pie."

The oarcases of three fat wethers '.bruised for gravy were generally used to make sauce for a single peacock.

The peaoock dance vras in the old regi« roents callod tho " Pavon," and tbe officers always performed the dance with drawn swords.

V Wno Santa Claus Was.— St. N cholaa was a bishop of Myra in Asia Minor in the fourth oentury. The " Lives 0$ the Saints " Is full of queer tales, but few are stranger than those told of the Bishop of Myra. In Patara, his native town, there was a nobleman who, by the foroe of clrcum? stances, had been reduced to poverty so great that, unable to provide bis daughters with marriage portions, he was about to turn thorn out of the house to make their living as beat they could.

Nicholas heard of this case, and going to the house af tor dark on Christmas Eve, bearing with him a purse of gold, he wrs puzzled as to the best method of oonveying the gift to its recipients without being known. Looking through the window, he »aw that the old man had taken off his cloth stock, ings and hnng them up before the fire to dry them. After all was quiet Nicholas ascandecj the chimney, an old-fashioned wide affairi and threw tho purse of gold down with saofi precision of aim that it fell in the old man'if stocking.

On Christmas morning the old gentleman roto, found the money, and with it provide^ a man ie go portion for his eldest dfcughteft Similar presents followed for the two youngqf, the old man hanging up his stockings wgt(» larly after that, and thus originated tQ6 practice of hanging up the stockings to #&• celve ihe presents of St. Nicholas on Christ mas eve.

%■* Parted by Chmstmas Presents. — It was a Christmas gift which severed the friendship which had existed for several years between May Eastlake and Ethel( Higglns; or, to speak striotly, they were parted by two Christmas present*.

Tbey had baen olobc friends, as yon m»y infer from the fact that each tent the other on Christmas Ere a token of esteem befitting the season of loving and giving.

A weak before Christmas, May found In A oertain shop a vase which she thought wooliJ ba Just the thing for Ethel's Christmas prosent, and she bought it with t«ho intention of sending it to her when the day ahoald arrive.

The shopkeeper had several other vases jast like It, and, as it happened, Ethel Higgios saw them too, and decided to buy one for her friend.

On Chrielmas Eve each of tbe girls t*nt the vase she had selected to the person for whom it was Intended ; but the result was very unsatisfactory. " Well 1 " exclaimed May, indignantly, after she had undone the package, "so Ethel Higgins thinks that vase isn't good enough for her Christmas present, does she ? That settles it. I'll never speak to her again." When Ethel Hlgglns removed the wrappings from the bundle tbe messenger left with her, and saw the familiar vase she bad sent to her friend, she turned red and then white with mortlGcation and anger,

and ejaculated t 11 So May Eastlake has the impudence to send my present back, has she? Well, I always thought Bhe had some sense, but I see I was mistaken. If I ever havo anything to do with her again I hope I thall know it,"

Thus the two maidens became eitraiigod, and tbey have nevor discovered that thsy were parted by their own desire to ejprc^a their appreciation 0i O&0& Other at the liftpsg Cbxlztmas time.