THE ROSE AND THE WATTLE.

Otago Witness, Issue 2285, 16 December 1897, Page 37

THE ROSE AND THE WATTLE.

By Coi/Onbl Morris.

Chapter IV. Lost in the Bush.

Ia a very few weeks Lionel Forrester watf | quite at homo at Tawoomba. He was worth j his salt — of that there could be no doubt. I His fine, tall, athletic figure was hard as : nails in spite of the two London seasons he bad passed through and the dissapations of Sydney ; but then Lionel had been fond of field sports all his life, was well known in the OU.AO. rs a runner, No. 7 in his college eigbr, and runner-up to tha winner of the High Jtwnp at th« last university sports. Of oourse he was a new chum — had lots to learn and made many mistakes ; was often laughed at and took it good-naturedly ; but he teok pains to learn, took to his moleskins and flannel jumper aa though born to them, and promised soon to make a first rate-stockman. All day he would beawayat work,oned»y riding 20 miles east carrying a week's rations to a distant shepherd and his hut-keeper, the nextgoing as far due west on the same errand ; helping perhaps to round up sheep one day or riding into Georgetown, the next for the maii. Bat.vrfien evening came round he would take a plunge into a deep pool in the river, change his moleskins for tweed*, drop the free and easy manners of the colonial stockman, and in tha presence of ladies become again the polished gentleman, deferential and unembarrassed in ladies' society. Helen was delighted once more to m«et one who was familiar with London society manners and customs. They would talk of the theatres, of plays and operas they had both seen, of Kitten Row, the Park, of Irving and E len Terry ; and they soon found that they had mutual friends, of whom they had much to say. Later on Helen would be called on to play and sing, and wben through an accident (be was far too modest to mention it himself) it appeared that Lionel Forrester not only had a fine tepor voice, but that it had been well trained, he was also called on to add to the harmony of the evening. In all this May was an outsider. She knew nothing of the life of which they talked ; theatres and operas were unknown to her, eswerealso actors and actresses, but Bhe delighted to sit by and listen; their conversation brought up scenes before her which her vivid imagination coloured and lighted up until she almost believed that she saw them. The singing and playing also were delightful to her. Without a spark of envy she oould sit the whole evening through, listen to their talk or singiog, and truly enjoy it without once thinking to herself that she was neglected or forgotten. ' j

It was not until one day, when the pair were anxious to sing a trio, that Helen thought of asking May if she would try and take a part.

" Oome, May, and help us with this song," she asked.

" Ob, indeed, I can't," said poor May, blushing like a peony. " I don't know a note of music, and never sang a song in my Ufa.*

" May I how can you tell such stories 1 Why, I often hear yon Binging about the house. Oflly this morning I heard you singing Bucli a pretty tune. 1 could not catch [ the words— you were too far off— but the melody was something like this " — and Helen bummed a few bars, striking at the same time a few notes on the piano. " Ob, that," cried May laughing ; "it is one of Hannah'a favourites, and I picked it ! up from her "; and then she broke into : i And fhey'ra haugiag men aud women, too, For wearing of the green. ' As her rich, deep contralto voice rose and fell in the fine old lush air, "By Jove I" muttered Lionel Forrester in astonishment as he glanced up at Helen. " Why M^y," she exclaimed, " what do you mean by saying you can't sing ? You ' have a real gift, my dear. What would I nofc give to havo such a voice, iu6tead of my thin little soprano. It ia a sio, May — a positive cin — to neglect it. You must let me give you a few lesson*. I have had any number myself, and I think I can remember enough ,to teach you something. You will let me, won't you, dear ? " " I shall be only too happy if you will take ' the trouble, but I am such an awful duffer, Helen. It is good of yon." " Duff-er or no duffer — whatever that may mean — I am sure you will do credit to any teacher with that lovely voice, May. Am I not right, Mr Forrester ? " j " Indeed you are. Miss Mainwaring," re- ' turned Lionel cordially. 'I don't profess to be a jadge, but I should say Miss Somers has a remark *ble voics." " Well if you two, who are ouch dabs at it, say I can BiDg, I suppose it is true. A* any rate I will swat hard at it, Helen, if you are good enough to take the trouble of teaching me." " Ob, May, May ! when will you learn not to talk slang?" ""Did I talk slang then? Well, I am ! afraid I did. I can't help it, when I get a j bit excited ; but Ido try hard to break off \ the habit, Helen," said poor May, blushing once more. From that day May's ltttsonß in eioging began, and she soon showed that she bad an ear as well as a voice, for she quickly beaefifced from the tuition given her by H*len ; and who can describe her joy and the pride and delight of her father when she Bang her first eolo before him. After Forrester had been domesticated at Tawoomba for a couple of months, one morning MrSjmers informed the party that he and Ooptain Mainwarirg were about to\ visit new ground he thought of taking up some 30 or 40 miles away, and const qaently they -would not return for Borne day?. " I leave you in charge of our girl», Forrester," be said as they were about to start. " What are you going to do to-day ? " " I hnve only to carry tucker to Manro, air, to-day." 41 Wei), then, gooi-bye, my dear*, we must ,be off," and in a few momeDts the two fathers were riding away. Lionel Forrester, after | getting his stores from old Nicboll* 1 , thestotcI keeper, spent his day at home vrith Helen, siDging and talking, whilst May looked iv occasionally in the course of her housewifely duties. So the afternoon passed, until at length May ventured to remsrk: "You ought to look dippy if you arc going to Moaro, Mr Forrester, or you will get stuck up in the bush ; if it gets dark you will mies the track as sure as a gun." " Miss the track 1 ' he exclaimed. " Why, I know it well I I don'c think I could miss it ; but if I d--/ it, would not much matter, as it is all pretty open country." " Ab, you don't know what a difference the dark makes ; and once off the track you will find that kind of open country raore difficult : to find your wry through than even thick scrub," May returned seriously. Lionel Forrester looked incredulons, but got up, | cross and reluctant, to prepare for t.h* ride. [ " Ace you riding old Peter to-day," askod May. " No, I am goiug to take the eoHV' he answered, looking aa much a« to s»y, " What | business in it of yonrs ? " May saw he was annoyed, and walked thoughtfully away iootead of explaining, as she intended to, that if he lost his way the old stook horse would probably bricg him home. The shepherds' hut ia which old Monro lived with his hutkeeper was about 10 miles from the station. For the first five miles tha country was open rolling downs, and then came a tract of ao- called bu?h — large trees, sometimes in dumps and sometime* apart, with bits of scrub* here and a little glade there ; so that at times you could see 50ycls or tiOycis before you, and then again you found yourself surrounded with tall scrub and f,r«ei>, unabla to ace more than 10yds round. ' Most puzzling country to find your way through, for one glade or clump of trees was so like hundreds of others that for all but old bushmen^it was impossible to tell whore you wore. Through this country there ran a track that, had been worn by use, so that in daylight or even in the bright Australian moonlight it was easy for anyone with their wits about them to find their way. Lionel Forrester arrived at the hut all right, and delivered the week's supply of tea, sugar, flour, &c , that he had brought. " Y're late, muster," said the hutkeeper, " and ye'd better keep y're eyes Bkinned going back or y'll lose the track." Lionel started at hearing him give the same note of warning which he had received from May. •■ Nonsense, Davis 1 Why, I know it pretty well as if it were a made road." "Do yer, boas 1 " answered Davis with a grin. " Well, ye'd better bide here the night if ye tak ma word for it." "Can't," anwered Lionel shortly; "the boss is away, and I must sleep at the house." " Well, mister, then ye'd better be off, and nofc spare the 'oss while it is light." Lionel Forrester at once turned his horse and cantered away on his return jonrney. When about a mile from Monro's hut the sun- went down, and after the short twilight darkness set in, and Lionel was alarmed ; but he found that the' track was still fairly visible, and felt at ease, oece more dismissing the fears which the warnings he had received had engendered. It was now, however, necessary to walk his hor»e at a slow pace lest he should override the track, This slow action was con-

ducive to thought, and his at once recurrent to the two girls. May was dismissed veiy shortly : nico girl ; would be good-looking if well dressed ; kind and thoughtful, but too slangy for me— not my style. But Helen I Ab, that was different. What a thoronghbred air she had ! How well she cinried herself ! What a perfect lady. One need never be ashamed to see her in any drawing room or at the head of one's table. Would she ever sib there 1 And then his thoughts turned to bis prospeots in Amtralia. He would buy a run soon. Sheep always pay. There is the wool and the increase. Why, the increase is sometimes oent. per o«nt. 1 Think of thatdoable jour Hock in one year I And then — and then — he would go home an Australian wool kinp, with Helen as his lovely bride. How bis London Mends would congratulate him ! But here his dreams ware broken by his horse palling up. " What is the matter, old man ? " he said, and found an impenetrable barrier of tall scrub before him. 11 Hullo, my boy, we are off the track I We must jttst hark back." He turned his horse and looked back. " Wliere can we have got to ?" he soliloquised. " Well, let me see ; we muat ksep to the right — yes, we must have gone off to the lefc of the traok ; so if we keep edgir g to tho right we mast strike it again." So to the right he went, bat found he had to turn to the left again, to clear a clump ; then again tothe right ; then straighton, then round again ; now to the tight again ; and so he wandered on, but no track, " Well, I can easily find it by daylight, and we had better camp for the night, old man," be said, addressing liia horse. It was in a small glade that he dismounted and loosened the saddle girtbs. It was the first time he had ever camped out, and he felb somewhat alarmed ; bnt he quickly pullad himself together, and bis brave spirit soon made him more cheerful. He had no rug, no tea, no billy : " But never mind," hs thought, " I cau surely bear one night without 3upper." And then be led his horse, to a large Jog whose dim form he could see in the heavy shadow of the bush and sat down. In" an instant something flashed past him, almost striking him as ib passed. He started up, hi» heart beating and throbbing with fear". Ifcwas, he knew at once, a large black snake that had been coiled on the log, and upon which he had almost placed bis hand ! He retreated from the deep shadow of the bu*h I to a clear, open space in "the centre of the glade, and there, seating hiowslf on the ground, he lit his pipe and prepared to pass' r.he long hours of the night holding his hors» by its bridle. (To be continued.) THEN DON'T WATOH THE POT. A watched pot never boil* and a watched * clock never goes. Nothing is gawk, enough for impatience. Minutes, hourt, wid d»ys »n mere words after all. We are h&ppy — * day is . bub an hour ; we are miserable — *n hour is a day. " ' r lAom the summer of 1890 to tho autumn, of 1892 wabq'c long to contented and. busy people; but to Mrs Annie D.uiton ib seemed* like one of those tremendous geologic periods that the learned men talk about. For it w»« measured by weary heart-beats and' footsteps taken in pftiti. Her trouble bog*n as it begin* with an uncounted mchitude of women — the tired and. languid feeling, the diegaefc with food, the distress after eating, the coated tongue, the gr'mdiog pain &fc the pit of the stomach, the nausea and vomiting of acid fluids, &<?.—» 'dreary^ list. ' ' ' ' *< t l Writing of her experience recently, she says t"After a, time I bad so much dis.fcreaß that I '■ never wanted anything to eat — t-Ke'very eight |of it m»»dc me s-'cK. Night after night came, ! bringing sl>er> to oiiiera, bnt" not to m*. I w&» i low, iim<?vaUe, >»nd worn out, and would t ifc for hours sll t»l ne, wivbing for no company. And thet>, to nervous. Why, the plighteib noise ' startled kjo. •' Two terrible years of 'this I was dragged ■through. Iv that time I lost. four atone in. . weight, growing continually weaker. I consulted doctor af fcor doctor, but they were not; able to <lo me any real good. I tiiod change of air, ye'j vrau disappointed in my hope of any advantage from it — I 'only lost ground, aad became more and more feeble. " Th«»n carae unexpected help. lu•September 1892 a neighbour of iniue told me of the good Mother yeigtl's Curative Syrup had doneher, aa<l urged use to try it. I had heard this medicine well spoken of for yearn ; still I bad no faith tha.6 it would benefit m* in w.y condition. . Howevoi'i my husband got me the Syrup from Derby, and affcr I had taken it a few days X felt better. I coo id eat once more, and my , food 1 agreed with me. Afte't I had used three . bottles I was a new woman. ' / was well ; aud I have been in good he ilfch eve* sinot«. Now 1 recommend the- Syrup to all onr customers, and friends, «nd bo 4oi i s, my husband. — Yonrs truly (Signed), Aonie Datton, Nottingham ' Road, Boirawash, neat Derby, October 6, 1693." J: As to the openiug symptoms, the narrative of Mrs Susannah Durose is identical with that of Mrs Duttou, go v/t\ jieecr not repeat them. "In October 1890," sajs Mrs Durosa, "I » read about Mother SeigePe Syrup in a little book. I got ft bottle, and after taking it a short tiiae I was well as over, although I am 78 years old! My daughter, who suffered f com "weakness and neuralgia, toot the Syrup with greafe benefit. I know many ethers vrho have beeu cured by it after all olber means had failed. — Yours truly (Signed), Susannah Durose, Hawthorn Ool.tage, Borrowasb, near Derby, October 6, 1893." Tne latter lady would be called very old, as she is 78 ; and, as lives average nowadays, she is old. SW of us, perhaps none, have any hope [of living as long as she has. Why nob ? " Thedays of our years are three score years and ten," says David. But most of the race fail to reach 70, while many exceed it. There is no law, no edict, on the subject. We are each ' entitled to live ari long as we can, and to be as happy as we can ; and both depend (accidents excepted) on health ; and health means tho continued natural action of the digestive process. And that Mother Seigel's Curative Syrup promotes that a host of witnesses in England alone> j have testified. - _- — All Qaiet There.—" I'm glad. to know,", remarked Mias Cayenne, " that Mr and Mrs Jinkles are living far more happily than they were formerly." "Indeed?" !' Yes. lam • informed that they haven't spoken to each other for wetks." — Both Nervous. — Suitor (nervously)? II Mr Matchitt, I—cI — cr — why— cr — your — er daughter — I wish to— cr — speak " Mr Matchitt (also nervously) : " Look here, young man ; out with it. If you wish t« marry my daughter, say so. Don't keep Itt* Bittiner here in this awful suspense 1 X