"AT THE SIGN O' THE JACK O' LANTERN."

Otago Witness, Issue 2923, 23 March 1910, Page 83

"AT THE SIGN O' THE JACK O' LANTERN."

By Mtktle Reed. (As Heviewed by Lola.)

"When I read through the letters of the D.L.F. to the page the thinj, which strikes me most is the large number of books read by the young writers, of -whom are still at school. Now, considering the time it takes to read a book straight through and digest its contents, I feel amazed. Many of the. books mentioned in the letters of these Little JFoIk are, I am quite sure, far beyond the reach of the average. child's v intellectual grasp. As there are so many books published to-day, and as most of us have so little time to read them, why should we spend even an hour reading one we do not understand? Some books are very interesting while we arp reading them, hut leave no impression on the minds, and are forgotten as soon as we have finished the last page. Other hooks we read over and over again: we find something fresh and beautiful in them each.time.•* Books in that respect are just like our material friends. Sometimes you can have a jolly time with a comrade *cor an hour or so; but if you had £o spend 1a day, a week, or a month with the same comrade as your one companion you wou-d grow tired of him. Another chum is a source oi real pleasure and happiness to you; as you pass along life's pathway in his company you love him more and more each day is his character slowly unfolds to your view. When you are old and grey you .and he -will look back to your youthful friendship as one of the dearest possessions of your life. Just so it is with books. As a child you read some good book: you will continue to value the impressions, the dreams, and noble ideals it aroused in your soul all through your after life, and its memories will cling to you a<s clings the sweet perfume of the violets you plucked from your first very own garden. Well, now, I am going to tell you a little, of a book I have just read. Shasta very kindly lent it to me during a recent illness. I was feeling Very down-hearted and sad when she brought -it to me. After I read it through I felt quite cheered up and buoyant once more I am always so glad I posess a keen sense of humour. "The Sign o' the Jack o' Lantern " is brimful of humour from beginning to end—quaint, refined-- humour, original and refreshing. "The Jack o' Lantern" was a queer, rambling house built by an eccentric old gentleman who was worried to death by the uninvited, visitations of his dead wife's numerous relations. When thi3 old gentle- ■ man died he bequeathed the house and its content's to his only nephew, -whom he had never met. It certainly was a queer house. Perched high on a hill with all the trees which surrounded it carefully cut so a 3 not to interfere with the view, it certainly did not inspire a. feeling or pride fn' its new possessor as he surveyed its eccentric, architecture for the first time in daylight. It was ■grey and weather-worn and the shingles were dropping from the roof in places. Along l the sides rambling wings and outside stairoases branched off in all directions, conveying the impression that the house had been built on the instalment plan, one wing after another having baen added as occasion demanded. "What the circumstances were which demanded the additional rooms Harlan, the unlucky heir to this large and commodious country residence, was ha -s. very short period to learn. Highest of all was the front part with its two small round windows perched away under the roof. Lower ' down was a long narrow window in the centre, and a, low window on eacr side of the large front door, the whole bearing a. resemblance to a grinning distorted human face. 'No wonder," said Harlan, the owner, clutching at a tree to support himself %s. he gazed in horror at his newly-acquired inheritance; "no wonder they call it tlia Tack o' Lantern. That's exactly what it is like! Why didn't he paint it yellow and be lons with it?" Through a blinding storm Hatla: and. Dorothy, his sweet little bride, bad come to their new home; thunder crashed and "rivid sheets of flame, lit up the peculiar windows. Dorothy was one of those women, unhappily gifted, whose natures are so attuned to beauty that ugliness hurfs more than physical pain, and this was her home-coming—-the end of her honeymoon! The house was in darkness, and Harlan found his stock of matches had almost run out. With the last one they -managed to find and light two candles. "Come," said_ Dorothy, "let us go on an exploring expedition." Each took a candle, and Harlan, leading the way, they went in and out of unexpected dcors, along queer winding passages into numerous untenanted rooms. From each room branched a suite of apartments, consisting jf a sitting room and two cr three bedrooms, eacu containing two or three beds. In every wing there was,. a * combined kitchen and dining room and an outside door. "I wonder," cried Dorothy, "if we've come to a lunatic asylum?" ' "Heaven knows'" muttered Harlan. You know, I never was here before." jj "I never saw so many beds in my life, said Dorothy, as she held up her dripping candle unsteadily. "Seems like Bedlam,'' answered poor .Harlan who was doubting iae wisdom of marrying on 600dol in hand, an unexplored heirloom, and an overwhelming desire to write a book of romance. Dorothy cuickly surmised his doubt and foreboding. " Womanlike, she instantly struck the right chord. . "Isn't it perfectly lovely," she asked, to

have this nice quiet place all to ourselves, where you can write your books in peace?" Visions of fame and fortune chased away his doubts and,fears and lit up his soul with high ambition. . While sitting at supper their first visitor arrived in the form of a huge black cat, who rushed in with the aii of one who returns home after a long .ibsence. He was entirely black, with a white tuft under his chin. Be resented all Dorothy's friendly overtures, and sat at a respectful distance with his green eyes fixed on Dorothy's face. In the same dignified manner he effectively eluded all efforts to capture or eject him. "How imperial he is," remarked Dorothy. as she wiped her hot cheeks. "He's adopted us, and we'll have to keep him." So they kept him and named him Claudius Liberius. Next day Dorothy decided she would burn all the ugly old furniture or have it cut into firewood. Over this subject Harlan and Dorothy "fell out." Harlan went off for 1 walk in a huff. On his return he found that Dorothy had succeeded in burning one mattress. While poking s>niong the ashes they found a metal box containing a- handsome diamond brooch with the inscription "To R. from E." Eebecca was Uncle Ebeneezer's wife's name. Their next visitoi was Mr Bradford, uncle Ebenezer's lawyer and lifelong friend, Never in all her life had' Dorothy beheld viuch <v uersonage. He wore rough cowhide boots, light grey striped trousers, a rusty, motbeaten coat, a spotless shirt {xon", and asilk hat with a bell crown and wide turnedup brim. He looked so friendless and alone. As he sat in Harlan's parlour he was l.he complete type of the man who is a failure, but who knows it not. Mr Bradford is a noble character drawn bv a masterly pen. Scrupulously honest, courteous, and kind, he evinces a wonderful devotion to hi& _ old friend. "He was my friend —my colonel. I served under hirh in the war," he would say, with the slow tears gathering in his eyes, and straightenina himself he .would gaze at the portrait of Uncle Ebenesev which hum? above the mantel, bring his trembling' old hand ub in a feeble military salute, then, wiping his eyes, totter off down the avenue. One of the most original characters in the book is Mrs Smithers, who had served as housekeeper during Eb<niezer's lifetime. Persuaded by Mr Bradford she condescends to act in the same capacity for Dorothv, but only on condition that she is called .Smithers and is paid two dollars and a-half a week.

"I worked for your uncle for a dollar and a-balf, but I wou'dn't work for nc woman for less'n two dollars!" "She looks like a tombstone dressed in deer* mourning." girled Dorothy a= she described Mrs Smithers to Harlan, "She. declares Claudius is * oat your unc l * killed a week before he died, and Mrs Smithers buried him herself (the cat I mean). She makes me feel as if I were an v_nde,Haker, a grove-digger, and a cemetery all rolled intcs one!" Mrs Smithers, unlike poor Miss Maria in "Mrs Wiggs of the Cabbage Patch," could cook, and, manlike, Harlan declared anybody who could cook like Mrs Smithers would only go out of the house over his deed 'body. , "Very well," thought Dorothy. "I'll lei, ice old monument alone just a 3 much as I can." -At that very moment the old monument was on her bony knees with her head and shoulders up the kitchen flue. "I wonder." she muttered, "where 'e could 'ave put it? It would be bke the old skinflint to 'a»c 'id it in the stove!"

Burning with desire, and haunted with. inspirations, Harlan settles down to wri J, > his" romance, when he is rudely interrupted by the arrival of the first instalment of the uninvited guests. Tall, pale, and slender Elaine, with her blue eyes and yellow hair, looked ".6 frail •'.hat it seemed a passing zephyr might blow her away. Bereft of father and mother, friendless, homeless, penniless, by her mother's advice Elaine had come to throw . herself on- Uncle Ebenezer's benevolence. What could sweet Dorothy uid. kind-hearted Harlan do but b-d her stav .md rest a few days? And Elaine settled! down peacefully. All through her girlhood she had heard of Uncle Ebenezer's generous hospitality, and it seemed quite right and proper that bis heir ihotild carry out his uncle's generous plans. The same day which brought the sentimental clinging Elaine also- brought- another uninvited guest—breezy, cheery, practical Dick, who was filled with the joy of living. He introduced himself to the amazed; Dorothy as "Dick, merry Dick." He explained" he was Uncle Ebenezer's wife's sister's husband's sister's husband's only son, end if he was anything of a nuisance ju3t to tell him so, and.he would skh> at once, Dorothy, seized by an hospitable Impulse, pervaded him to stay just as he had been in the habit of doing. He stayed, and bsqama Dorothy's real helper and friend. Harlan laboured on at his romance, his work obliterating all the material world ground from his mind. Dorothy saw little of him, and thiit little was net comforting—*noody and taciturn -as he always appeared. Dick .intuitively .perceived that Dorothy was worried, and felt it his duty as a avail and a gentleman to oome fce her assistance. Privately he considered .barlan n fool to shut himself .ip in a- .stuffy library with ..-. lot of dry old books; instead of being outdoor* enjoying his life. When he discovered' hi**.Harlan "was writing <*. book hi?, heart - v«w moved with vhe most profound pity foi hi.-, hostess. Books 'o Dick %ve/e ucaaau. tup; things which mak» life unpleasant and dieaereeable. He had gone through college, but failed to srraduate "I just tasted learning delicately here .and there. I lust read niy alscbra. through once hastily; like tekin ga •iniff >t f virtlipt. "•'"'d then M it .alone." ■»«. matted Dick as he described iiT.-: nolle?* career; "I'm not going to sponge, here: T paid Uncle Ebenezer board all along, and there's no, reason wbv T should not pay you," he protested to Dorothy. Dick took charge, .of Mrs (Wither'*, the cow, and the poultry yard. He bolleoteil the sggs ,and other produce and sold th*M at the sanatorium' over the way. securing price? which astonished iiiitocent Dorothy, who little gpeogprl that most of the inouey came out of D'ck's own picket. He always brought full price back from the "repair shoo," as he christened the sanatorium. The portrait of Uncle Eb°uer;er made a powerful impression on Dorothv. It was the •picture of a man soured and' -mhHtered bv what life had brought him. and who seemed , to wear p peculiarly mslienaiit exnression. So powerful and penetrating SS&g the, personality of Uncle RWn,o*»-. t>o+, Dorothy feT as if ho were continually watching her aetions. Day aft«r day strmeevs g,vti'"?iT at the Jack o' Lantern and announced their intontiO'i of rerrwnnintj for indefinite per'ods. until Dorothy f«l* she kr>~-v why win? after xnfist had been to house. At last a horde of reV+ions at the queti house on t>e hilltop. T 1 was the assves-s'\-o Mrs Holmes pnd fstt thro* utiru riotous children, v/ho vM-fcnnod acrob'+ic f°ats of vocal' m'-i(.cf'i ; oa all over the j lt y.i' , o, and c.-'.i=sd Clnu' I 'ui Lih»rii»B to race ,„ sf r- zr'*r\* ,A in a inost r - , d ; °"iifie.-7 manner. greatly to that mysterious animal's silent

disgust. There was Uncle Israel, who arrived bringing all his household goods, which consisted of a patent bed, patent bath, and a box containing samples of every patent medicine in the States. Uncle Israel was 96. There also appeared Mrs Judson, a much mafrie dperson, who had been married seven times and left seven times a widow, and who indulged in reminiscent monologues. Then came Mr Harold Vernon Perkins, poet, who would insist on reading incoherent poetrj to unsympathising audiences. Mrs Judson was muoh surprised to find so few relations of dear Rebecca's staying at the Sign of the Jack o' Lantern that summer, and kindly sent notice to all the nonarrivals to stay, at home, inventing reasons which would be real obstacles to the coming of each. And Dick whistled cheerily as he posted each missive. By degrees the whole of the inmates of the Jack o' Lantern became possessed of a single idea (with the exception of the master of the house, who was -absorbed: in his book). The idea was that of a hidd-en treasure concealed somewhere about the house or grounds. The orchard was the most popular hunting ground, and at midnight each inmate sallied out with spade or shovel to conduct a search. Mr Perkins, poet, was discovered halfway up the parlour chimney, and to account for being there explained that he was writing a, sonnet on chimney swallows. Even shadowy, romantic Elaine, not knowing what she sought, began to investigate. Pain would I linger over the startling surprise Uncle Ezenezer sprang upon his unworthy relations in revenge for the untold sufferings entailed ur>on him by their wrangling and jan«rling while uninvited guests in his house. While dusting Dorothy found the old man's d : ary, which contained a faithful record of his inner life. It was begun on his wedding eve, and continued until the day of his death. Three weeks after the commencement were written the words. "She died." The two little words were the key to a world of pain. The last lines, written on the eve of his death, were, "To-morrow I shall iom my deai Eeoeca. and leave all my relations k> fight it ou/; among themselves. I do not-'feast death, but I shudder cvt relations; relations m-ake H£b unpleasant. Did not know my Rebecca- possessed so many or such kinds Khali, be very quiet in my grave with no relations at hand. Should like to hear and see effect ol surprise on. Jeremiah. Mv Bedford w'.U -\ttend to that. The end." - ■ - The surprise .vas great when at 1-J o'clock at night in the orchard, by the light cf a- dripping candle held in Uncle Israel's shaking hand and " smoking lantern. Uncle Ezenezer'* last will and testament was read. Dick watched, the assembly with an awful glee he could not suppress. Claudius Tibarius sharpened his claws vehemently on the tree trunks and purred loudly with evident pleasure. 'Nothing was left to expecting legatees. Dick. Mrs Smithers, and Harlan receiving all. "Gee out of my houf-e were the concluding \rorda of the thoroughly exasperated "Get out!'' After % tense .nlence-Mrs Dodds giggled hysterically, "We all diarronds was going to be trumps, but its turned out s'oades.' 1 I have gone more into detail than I meant to have done when !>' began this little review. But the humour is so. quaint and unconventional that I hardly know -what to leave outor where to leave c-ff. W-e admire Dick s sturdy, honest character, and sweet Dorothy into our hen.rts and lingers there Harlan, too, we like, romancer though he •wflp. g!T.)ispins nt ideals and shutting out the veal. He~ doubtless knew his house was the scen.p of disturbance, but living in his ideal world he was amta oblivions to the ronse-nu-encM; The children mi<rht scream, Slain* hive hysteric-. Mrs Smitherc •»&«. funeral odes in a h*«h cracked voi"e, never by any chance lighting on the right note: Dorothv prow thinner and eaclr day. trying vainh- to keer> rjeace Vt-tfSeft her ouarrp 1 - some" sruests and for 1] v>eonle 'nth sift mean-", to fall b"«k o-: Havl?n lived m a, Wd of dreams. Even Dorothy became detscW and dream-like. ftvvio~°r. he :-e~ch°s wurtb at last. D>k marries Elaine, and all live happy ever after.