THE ROMANCE OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

Pelorus Guardian and Miners' Advocate., Volume 13, Issue 67, 29 August 1902, Page 7

THE ROMANCE OF OUR FIRST CENTURY.

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■-+#♦•+ VIVID & REALISTIC RICTUSES OF THE PAST. - By MAJOR GROSVENOR. PART IX. Mr. Barrington took a pinch of snuff, composed himself in a graceful ‘attitude, and began: The lady whom you just now met, is a common farmer’s daughter. She was bom in Norfolk, and her earliest years were spent in the ordinary drudgery of rural occupation. But when she was at about sixteen she went to service, in a gentleman’s household in Rochester. Here her amiable qualities, her good looks, her—er —superior instincts were remarked by her employers. They took an exceptional interest in her, and her education, which, up to this point, had been of a most primitive kind, was enlarged and strengthened by the attention and solicitude of the mistress. The girl’s quick faculties took eager advantage of these opportunities. Yon heard her speak, to-day, gentlemen. Beyond a soupgon —a mere trifle—of provincial accent, you could, I wager, discover nothing in that speech to betray her obscure and lowly origin.” “ Faith, I’m with you,” said the doctor — “ and your rum’s good. The craythur has a voice, too, that would bewildther a bir-r-d. But on, my friend.” “ You will not bo surprised to hear that Margaret had lovers.” “ Divil mend me,” said the doctor, ” why would that surprise me P”

‘ ‘ But, as you may imagine, she was not disposed to favor the advances of ordinary clowns. The youth who most gained her favor was not a rural swain. He was*a sailor, was mixed up with the smugglers, who then abounded, and, doubtless, his daring life and adventures, added to his handsome person and engaging manners, fascinated the imagination of the maiden, if they did not wholly steal her affections.” Here Mr. Barrington, with a fine air of self-approval, paused to refresh himself. The doctor winked at Holt. But that gentleman, already half asleep, took no notice. The romantic did not much affect him.

“ Well, Margaret’s lover got into bad company. The gang of smugglers with which he was associated, was attacked and dispersed by the coast guard. This young man was wounded in the affray. He lay concealed in a cottage, near Lynn, in Norfolk. News was brought to Margaret, then in service, with a request for help. The girl was much affected. She determined to go to her lover. But how P She had a little money saved—but the need was urgent, immediate. Moved by her affections, her pity, her sense of self-sacrifice —a hundred emotions, all worthy and honorable— she resolved upon an act, the full gravity of which she did not realise then.

“ That night, when the house was still, the girl crept to the stables. She had attired herself in the clothes of her master’s son, a youth about the same height and figure. She saddled a black horse, mounted in cavalier fashion, and set forth to Lynn. She rode hard, all night, arousing several turnpike men, and altogether making little effort to conceal herself from observation—which all points, gentlemen, to the circumstance, that she had not fully realised the enormity of—er—her proceeding, and its probable consequences.

“She saw her lover. Under the pathetic circumstances, and urged by her sympathetic nature, she yielded to his importunities, and consented to fly with him to France, there to be wed. Then she made the mistake, gentlemen, which nearly cost her her life, and, as it was, brought her hither. She attempted to sell the horse. It is probable that she was urged by her lover, or his companions to take this course. Anyway, she did it, and was promptly arrested and conveyed to Rochester gaol. “ Well, she had friends. She might have escaped with a comparatively light penalty if she had exercised patience. But she heard again from her lover. Ho urged her to attempt escape, when they could leave the country together. The intrepid young woman made the attempt, and succeeding, " flew to the man she loved. But alas! she was detected, and reconveyed to—er—prison. And now, of course, she was considered incorrigible and worthy of little mercy. The eminent judge—with whom I also had a passing acquaintance—who tried her, said as much when he sentenced her to death. He is an old man, and beyond the influences of beauty and attraction such as led others, more sensible to such matters, to pity the unfortunate young woman, “However, it is one thing to be under

sentence of death, and another to cheat the hangman. The young lady was not born for the gallows. Her destiny, I dare to prophecy, will be of a happier nature. Her friends—she had many—were indefatigable in their efforts to secure mitigation of her sentence. I forget who was Homo Secretary at the time. Ho was a hard grained fellow, at any rate. But several highly influential persons in the political and social world, took a firm stand in this matter. Margaret was saved from the hangman, and sent hither for

14 years. She is at present an assigned ser-

vant to an excellent settlor at Liberty Plains —where, as you know, they are all free people—and, therefore,” went on the pickpocket, with irony, “may be supposed to constitute a section of the elect of—er—colonial society. But I know little of human nature, if—er—there be not many of these superior creatures, who would gladly take to wife, this convict beauty. I know, indeed, that Margaret has had several admirable offers of marriage. But she has refused them all. I think, wisely,—at any rate, as at present situated. Doubtless, long before her time is expired, she will receive free pardon. Then she will be in a more independent position. But, perchance,” he concluded, as he took a pinch of snuff, with an air, ‘ ‘ she yet clings to her old love. Women are strange—creatures—very strange.” Here a snore from Holt, caused Mr. Barrington to raise his eyebrows slightly, and smile.

“Ah !” said he, “ the loves and woes of beauty have little interest for Holt.” “ Faith, you’re right,” said the doctor. “ If it was a story of pikes and bayonets, and slaughther and fight, it’s little snore

you’d hear from Holt. But a pretty gir-r-1 has no attraction for the tough ould hero—if she ivir had. I think Holt’s awuteheart has ivir been ould Ireland. And here’s to her bright eyes, and soft bosom, and the green gown she wears, and the dewdrops as diamonds, that bejewel her beauty. Och ! shall I ivir see her again?”—and the worthy man swigged off his liquor, and sighed prodigiously. He had emptied the jug, during Barrington’s narrative, and was in a fit mood for fight or friendship. At this moment, the open doorway was darkened by a shadow. Looking up, Barrington beheld a mean face, wreathed in servile smiles, two small, cunning light grey eyes, that shifted furtively from one object in the room to another, a broken nose, and one of those wide, thin-lipped, shapeless mouths that ever go with a protruding jaw, and retreating chin and brow. A child or a dog shrinks from such a face. A horse, contemplating its sinister meaning, trembles. The instinct of nature revolts from the aberrations of nature. This man was such an aberration ; a creature such as we sometimes meet, and not always in the lowest places, teaching us that the mystery of evil has only found an intelligible explanation in that of the Bible, and that it is not wise, in our advanced intellectuality, to scoff at the Devil, as non-existent. At any rate, to contemplate Mr. Snaggs —such was his appropriate name, —suggested brimstone. His whole aspect was irritatingly fiendish : not aggressively so—that would have been tolerable, as indicating something of manhood; but crawlingly. The knowledge that a snake is in the room we occupy, does not communicate a comfortable feeling. Just such a sensation was experienced by those who sat or stood in the presence of Mr. Snaggs. He was tall—taller than he looked ; for he had a way of stooping forward, as though about to grovel at your feet, that lessened his height to the observation. He was lean —narrow chested, with broad lips ; and his legs, encased in corduroy breeches, and woollen stockings, seemed so fragile and undependable, that people marvelled they sustained him. But they did, very ably. There were few in the colony who could get over the ground, or over more, with the rapidity and ease, that Mr. Snaggs’s legs enabled their owner to accomplish. A shade of disgust passed over Barrington’s face; Holt-growled an oath; the doctor eyed the visitor with the curious eye of the physiologist. As he often did—to his detriment—the latter now expressed his thoughts aloud. “ If I had him, in rejooced measurement, in a bottle, and was home once more, how I could show the boys the queer thricks nature plays in the Antipodes.” “ Sir,” said Mr. Snaggs, showing some yellow teeth in his smile, “ did you address me ?” The doctor was confused.

‘‘No, Sir,” he said, hastily. “It was not you I spoke to. I was addressing a picture of my moind.” “The doctor, Mr. Snaggs,” said Mr. Barrington, who had recovered himself, and now assumed his usual courtly air, —“the doctor and I have been discussing the curious forms of fauna and flora, in this part of the world. He but expressed the movements of his thought, when his eyes fell upon you, in the doorway. How is it, SirP” he went on, as he placed another jug of liquor on the table. “It is not often you honor our little hamlet with your presence. Did you travel hither by boat, or road?” ‘ ‘ By the road, Mr. Barrington ; for I had company, and so feared not the rascals that are abroad. His Honor the judge was with us. We go further to-morrow —to Windsor. His Honor the judge has public business on hand.”

“ Indeed,” cried Barrington, with an alert air. “ And his Honor—where is he now?” “At Parson Marsden’s house. He lies' there to-night. I have his order—his request, I should sa7,” —and Mr. Snaggs’s yellow teeth were again in evidence—“ his Honor’s request that you quarter me, Mr v Barrington, for the night. But you must not incommode yourself. I can lie anywhere. In a corner. Oh, dear me, I am the most simple of men. A crust, a draught of water, —I thank you, Sir, that is excellent rum—a clean board to repose upon, and a guileless heart—ah! Mr. Barrington, so I can sleep as a babe—an innocent little babe.”

The malevolence, low cunning, and withal humorous appreciation of the sentiments with which he was regarded by the company —expressed in the sinister visage of this man, as he made this speech, and ended it by gulping down a good half-pint of rum had an effect upon the others little short of consternation. Holt arose, and awkwardly, and with a bluff “ good-day, Barrington,” went forth. The doctor would have followed, but Mr. Snaggs stayed his departure.

“Do not go yet, Sir,” said he, with an insinuating grin that sent a shiver down the doctor’s back. “ I have heard of you, Sir, and desired to know so eminent a gentleman. What a pity now—what a pity,” and he fixed his little eyes upon the ceiling. “Do you know, Sir, that his Honor the judge, and his Excellency the Governor—er—-the late Governor, I should say, perhaps—had, in contemplation—but what am I saying?” and he started. “I am talking too fast. I am revealing secrets. I am—gentlemen, forgive. Mr. Barrington, your rum is dangerous. It induces tongue-wagging. Ha! ha! Yes. I must be careful” —and he leered at the others, as who should say, “ Oh! you fools. Do you think I cannot read you!” and presently helped himself from the jug. Then, with much labor, he drew a great watch from its fob, and consulted it, pursing his lips, the while, with an official air.

“ But I must return to his Honor,” he exclaimed. ‘‘l must tear myself away from this delectable company, I must indeed. His Honor is of an impatient temper—and to-day—oh!” and Mr. Snaggs cast his eyes upwards. “Really. Whether it be that his Honor is not accustomed to the saddle, and—er —naturally feels irritation of—you call it, I think, the epidermis, doctor ? Just so. Whether that be the case, or that the weighty affairs he hath upon his mind tend to disturb the philosophical serenity of that organisation, I know not. But, it is certain, my dear Mr. Barrington, that he is in a devil of a temper—yes, yes. I was very glad when he billeted me upon you, Sir—the calm and composure of whose temperament are notorious as being not the least of your many admirable qualities. Gentlemen, I must return, and report to his Honor the judge.” With that ho arose—wiped his lips carefully, beamed upon the others, and, clapping his hat upon his wicked-looking head, went forth.

The doctor and Barrington, gazed at each other, for some seconds, ere the latter spoke. “ Smoke —smoke a pipe, to clear the air of that pestilence !” he exclaimed. The doctor lighted his pipe, and puffed forth a disinfectant.

“ There is mischief abroad,” said the pickpocket. “ Whenever or wherever you see those two together, be sure of it.”

“To Windsor, he said. Aye. I can make nothing of it. But it may have to do with this affair in Sydney.”

“That Snaggs now,” said the doctor. “ He is Atkins’s clerk ?” “ He is familiar—the worst devil of the two. The inspiration Of the other.” As ho spoke, Barrington went to the gate. The doctor followed. They looked up the street. Mr. Snaggs had paused in front of the town stocks, and, while he felt his chin with his fingers, regarded its occupants with complacency. “You!” he said, addressing a huge fellow with a dark sullen face, who sat painfully in the stocks, “you are the man, known as Gipsy Tom. Humph!” The man deigned no reply. “ Answer, dog!” cried Snaggs. The Gipsy raised his sullen face, and fixed his eyes upon the clerk. “ I warn you,” he growled. “ Leave me alone.” “ Ha! ha !” chuckled Snaggs. “ What a crow hath our game cock. And you, fellow ?” and he poked a fat little man, who sat beside the giant, in the ribs. “ Milk tonneres /” screamed the little man in a fury. “If I ’ave you in my ’ana, I choke you.” “ Your name ?” “ Go to ze devil!” “Eh ?” cried Snaggs. “ Just so. I thank you for the reminder. His Honor will be —er —furious. Good-day, gentlemen. Gipsy Tom, your back is broad. I shall have a new oat prepared, with which to scratch it.” And with that, the amiable Mr. Snaggs wriggled onwards, and made rapid way to the Rev. Mr. Marsden’s cottage. ‘‘ I shall not sleep while that snake is under my roof,” said Barrington. “ Aye,” said the doctor. “Snake! That is the word. Can it be,” he went on, thoughtfully, “ that nature displays herself in paradox; and that a being, we take, by its outward form, to be a man, may be as the reptile itself?” “Faith!” said the pickpocket, “ I should not wonder. But take another glass, doctor. Then go. I must prepare for this fellow. I must harbor the reptile, sting me though he may, with his fangs.” AN ABORTIVE CONSPIRACY. The Rev.. Samuel Marsden resided in a cottage on the rise, overlooking the hamlet of Parramatta. It was a square-built, deep-roofed building, with a verandah, and looked very much like the reverend occupier—sturdy, dark browed, earnest, and not at all spiritual, of aspect. There was nothing about the building or its surroundings to indicate that the owner was other than a highly practical man. In the garden grew vegetables. Mr. Barrington tended roses—the parson preferred cabbages. The minister of God prided himself upon his kidney potatoes : the devil’s agent thought more of his pansies or dasies. Such are the strange variants of human nature; such the frequent paradox of life. The Rev. Mr. Marsden sat in a hard chair, opposite a soft one occupied by Mr. Atkins. A bottle and a glass were upon the table. They were before Mr. Atkins. Mr. Marsden had little taste that way; but his guest was of a different opinion. To sit and talk without the assistance of alcohol, seemed to Mr. Atkins heathenish and improper.

It was evident that the' conversation between this strange pair had hot been of an agreeable character. Marsden’s heavy face wore a frown. The judge’s thin lips were upturned by a sneer. “What could the man expect?” broke from Marsden, in growling tones. “He hath brought this mischief on himself. He is arbitrary, tyrannical, self-opinionated.” “Faith!” said the judge, “as to selfopiniativeness, he is no worse than others. To my mind, he has but taken a firm stand against certain corrupt practices. That is his fault; that the cause of his deposition.” Marsden regarded the other sternly. “ Aye !” said he, “ but how hath he done this ? Not by persuasion ; not by conciliation. He has acted as an autocrat. You know how that temper wrought him evil, when he commanded the ‘ Bounty.’ ”

“ Aye, aye, that story is in everybody’s mouth now. Well, let it pass. I wonder what keeps that rascal Snaggs. Ah ! there he comes, up the walk. What a wriggle hath the fellow ! ’ ’

“ The walk oftimes proclaims the character,” said the parson. “ I wonder, Atkins, how you tolerate that fellow.” “Do you? Well, the answer is simple. He is useful —very useful. He has no scruples, and his methods are successful. Tolerate him ! Ha! you don’t understand. Ho is very tolerable, is Snaggs. Why, if it were not for him ; for the corrective he conveys to my benevolent instincts, I might—tut, tut,—l might begin to have faith in human nature.” “ Have you no such faith ?”

“No more than I have in yonder cabbages, Mr. Marsden. And, I dare wager, that if you, parson though you be, would permit your conscientiousness full play, you would have as little. Human nature! Pooh ! —a bad lot, a bad lot,” and he took a pinch of snuff with zest. A tap at the door. “ Come in,” cried Marsden, and Mr. Snaggs entered, with a twist and wriggle. “ Well?” said the judge. The clerk pursed his lips, and shook his head, from side to side. “Humph!” said the judge. “ Have the horses out. We ride to Windsor to-night.” “To-night, your Honor!” cried Mr. Snaggs, aghast. “ I beg your Honor to remember, I am not used to the saddle.”

“Nor I, Snaggs. Yet shall I ride to Windsor to-night. So see to it.” It was with.a smothered groan that the clerk retired, to do as ordered. “I am sore,” he muttered. “ How shall I bear the journey further ?” But he knew his master’s temper too well to remonstrate further. And half-an-hour thereafter, he was jogging behind the judge, in sore travail. Two mounted constables brought up the rear. His Honor the judge did not dare to travel unprotected. There were those abroad who would gladly meet him unattended, and he knew it. He grinned as he thought of it. To be feared, and hated, was not an unpleasant reflection.

It was dusk when the party crossed the ford to Windsor. The judge rode to a tavern. He knew he would not be welcome at the barracks, and, anyway, he preferred the company he had with him, and that he might encounter in the inn, to the supercilious gentlemen of the little garrison. A huge fire burnt in the cavern of the fireplace in the room into which he was ushered. And presently supper was laid—a round of salt beef, cheese, butter, bread, and a great jug of English ale. The judge motioned his clerk to sit down, and join him in the meal. “Your Honor is condescending,” said Snaggs, with a wriggle. “But the kitchen—”

“Pooh! sit down, rascal. So you heard nothing favorable ?’ ’

“Nothing, your Honor. There seemed to be little surprise felt by the villagers.” “Ha! well, perhaps so. Now eat, and quickly. Then get you to Birket’s farm. You know where it lies —in the flat. And bid him come hither, for that I have travelled to see him, and want his news. Eat —and there is the jug.” (WO SB 00.NTINU8D.)