FROM FENWICK.

Otago Witness, Issue 2915, 26 January 1910, Page 81

FROM FENWICK.

By Wilhelmina Shekriff Bain.

They met in an excellent Murrumbidgee hostelry on the verge of the vast out back. Mr Haldane Was an octogenarian, alert and upright, every now and then straightening himself more erectly still, with implied challenge' to any wight who should dare to deem that 83 years made him an old man. His form might have seemed shrivelled, but for his joyous determination to think health and vigour; just as his small white-bearded face might have appeared wizened to anyone who failed to note his dark blue eyes—eloquent of integrity and success. His niece,.Mrs Baker, was a model companion : quiet, and invariably pleasant. But she knew, his life, and she had hea : rd all his, stories; so Mr Haldane welcomed the occasional visits of her friend to the hotel parlour. Miss Valpy was a listener that delighted him : intelligent, sympathetic, and-innately dignified. She was rather lonesome at the time, for her duties as a relieving teacher had brought her far from her Moana home, and the girl bachelorhood \of her frequently-changing quarters was becoming arid to her soul. She had been really pleased to encounter her old-time classmate, Mrs Baker, and she enjoyed the acquaintance of Mr Haldane with all its associations of other lands and other dfiys. "So you don't teach astronomy in your school?" he commented on their first meeting. "Aye, there's not much I don't know about astronomy. I've read Sir Robert Ball, and Proctor, and there's a lady, too—what's her ;name? Ay, ay"— (with pleased surprise);—"and a great woman Mrs Somerville was. But geology ! Nothing beats geology! It's wondcrf ul everything's . wonderful —that's quite true. But I must be away; I mustn't talk too much!-" Manifestly he was on guard against garrulity, as against every other decadence of the years. Yet he loved to monologise : to tell of his triumphant contest with poverty, of his life partner but six months gone from Kis side, of his boyhood, and of Fenwick, in the land of Burns. When he liked people he reverted to earlier modes of speech; he was more fluent in his native dialect, and he could "lippen oniy sensible body to ken sensible expressions" I "I'm a bootmaker," he stated on another occasion. "We were maistly bootmakers —shoemakers, that is—or weavers. An' I had weak health, an' Ailie—she was lame; she had been sair hurt when she was a bit lassie o' nine. An' we said we'd just be freends, jist freends. Then we mairried! We cam to Victoria, an' we landed wi' some money, for I mended a' the boots on the ship, an' Ailie was a dressmaker. An' my first job on shore was bxeakin' stanes—sixteen shillin's a day for that, mair than I could make in a week in Fen'iek. Then we gaed up country a bit. I'm a bootmaker, an' Ailie was a dressmaker. We did rael weel. Then we cam to the Riv-erina', an' I've plenty o money, routh o' money. She used to say that .gin we'd chosen oor lives we couldna hae din better." . I One rather chilly evening he sat rigidly comfortable and pleasurably expectant, for , his niece had remarked that Miss Valpy would probably call. Other occupants i were in the roam, and they were convers- ; ing in lively fashion; but they would not i stay long, and it whiled away the time. Mr Haldane thought, to look on, and throw in a word as might happen. "A fellah does get full up!" a young selector exclaimed to the commercial traveller beside him. "Full up! But it's the first of June. Rain's bound to come. They've had point fifty at Glenana already." . "Fifty points!" Mr Jenkinson replied. "I came by there last week, after passing millions on millions of acres of baked r-lay as flat as this floor. Point fifty won't much for them." ''-Wait a bit! You're a billy boy from '■"fi.xmania. I've seen your mountains and 'iv trees and your grass. They're all -Vhr. But wait till you see our rain and —hot it can do. Fifty points is a good •■ -inn in!?. and it's coming this way. -"yf, n bit!" "That's it," quoth Mr Haldane, "bide ■ wee. In a month's time you may see ' it- same baked olav wavin' green. it's no the land that God made, ---" rabbits in the drooth tearin'. starva•'~n mad, at the roots o' the native grass was sae bonnie or ever thev were "->ror*ht oof. The vermin! Puir things!" ■•- as an afterthought. 'The vermin! And the lunatics!" i * incubated Mr Strang as he'rose to accom- j -jp«« Mr Jenkinso.n up the street. r r Haldane was not long alone, for his -' -"9 entered the parlour, bringing with her "'irs Vajpy. "Come in by! Glad to see -on!" he "cried heartily. "Glad to see >-.v friend o' Mary's?" There was some (ksultovy chat as the ladies arranged their —ochet patterns, then Mr Haldane took 'in his .tale. "Mv fnimily's a.' settled ■•■-ion'." he said, gazing into the fire, "an' '-ey're daein' fine. I'm list aboot to turn -vervthing ower. Mary kens. I've three "kindred pounds a year, forbye what'll "ime in. I've plentv. But I'm no idle. I'm a bootmaker, an' I mend a' the harass, an' milk twa. -cocs, an' I'm aye busy. Yes, I read a. lot: but my wife she could write. Whiles she sent a letter to the capers—maistly the Sydney Herald. She was rael clever! Ay, ay! There's been sicht o' the name; we coont frae Ailie Teuton, her gran'mother; her mother was Ailie Gilchrist;.oor dochter, Mrs Prentice, )p Ailie, an' her bairn's Ailie." _ # "Aye : that "gj.es'a sense- o continuity ?|S ye say—hv a mainner—in a mainner. v o ] Fen'iek' is hilly, no' flat. Near by MosgieV ye ken;. no' far off. An agricultural countryside; in the village thev -vere -maistly weaver?—-dboct a thcoaand! . %]k —an' fine lads anwmsr 'them for centuries back. There was Guthrie—a great j ■writer on church affairs, an' he helped to fpt Fen'iek church built-in 1640. There

w<as Howie, historian o' the Covenant, aboot the same time. An' James Young, he's professor o' homiletics in Ameriky this day. George Fowlds set off for New Zealand, an' noo he's Minister for Eduea- ! tion in that Dominion. His faiither's loom ! in the Auckland Museum ? That's grand ! I Ye saw it your last holiday? There's a lad frae Kyle!" j Mr Haldane mused very contentedly, then he resumed: "James Dun lop—lie wasnae a weaver though, he was u fair--1 mer's son—he went to Denmark, an' he's a noted dairy expert this day. But there was a Fen'ick lad—John Fulton—jist a born genius. He was a bootmaker —or shoemaker, in oor style—aye makin', miakin'. There was a lame man, an' ho ma.de a machine that helped him rael week He made a gasometer for his mother when he was but a laddie; an' then, as he got older, he quit wcrkin' at his trade every day ; three days a week he worked at boots, an' the rest o' his time he made an orrery. He made an orrery! There were 200 wheels in it—he made everything himsel' ! At 1-rst he went up to London—oh, Glasgow got his orrery ; it's in Kelvin Museum." The leal Scottish heart was deeply moved by this final reminiscence. Only in response to gentle interrogations did be narrate that Fulton returned from several years in Lcndon to die penniless in Fenwick. "But the lads stood by him. Aboot thirty gave sixpence, or a shillin', a week—what he had—for months. He needed for naething; but he jist faded away, like a shadow." Mr Haldane himself looked whiter and slighter as he concluded. But Mrs Baker was very fond of her uncle; she understood him, and could help him in every mood. So she a cosy little supper—as a farewell to Miss Valpy, she said. "But she's coming to Glenmavis at Christmas, Uncle Will," she asserted brightly j and with this and other pleasant prospects the evening happily closed. When the window-dooi' was opened for the parting guest a soft patterning was heard. "Rain! the rain has come!" everyona seemed to exclaim at once. "Delicious!" rejoiced Miss Valpy as she stepped forth : "I have only twenty yards ■to go, but I shall walk through the rain!" "It's but a drop or two," Mrs Baker remarked to her uncle: "but there may be more very soon."- "We'll gang, hame the morn, Mary. The horses are in fine fettle; but we'll no' gie the road a chance to get heavy. An earlv start? I'll be ready, lassie. Hame to Glenmavis."