AUNT SALLY'S ACCOUNT OF THE TIDAL WAVE.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 548, 21 February 1870, Page 3

AUNT SALLY'S ACCOUNT OF THE TIDAL WAVE.

( From Temple Bar/) [Conclusion.] Chapter 11. Had I not made an appointment to spend the day with my esteemed friend, Mrs Soursides, I certainly should not have remained in the house at Dolphin row. Dear Mr Saxby had pointed out to me the danger of such a proceeding; for though his letter was addressed principally to mariners, whom he warned against the influence of the sun and moon on the earth's equator, still he ominously referred to ill-built sea-walls, and I have very little doubt but that the sea-wall dividing that horrid railway from the raging sea is badly built. Any way, it was a ri9k remaining in Dolphin row; and if the seawall were washed away, who would answer for our houses not going too— or, at least, the possibility of finding a great hissing engine, its tender, the driver, stoker, guard, and, perhaps, all the passengers, floating about in the drawing-room ? Added to this, Alfred and his sister had been ruder than usual overnight, forcing what Alfred called "grief statistics " down my throat, until the time arrived for his usual disappearance bil-liard-room ways. When Alfred is annoyed, or is approaching the limit of his stay «at home," he seldom addresses me as " Sarah," or even the more familiar " Sally." It becomes that odious " Aunt Sally." And, on this night previous to poor Mr Saxby's failure, hardly a sentence did he utter without calling my attention to his remarks by prefixing or affixing this disagreeable name. " Good night, Aunt Sally. Perhaps this may be the last time we shall ever wish each other good-night," said the man, rising to leave for his haunts, and treating the solemn subject with fearful levity. I " Good-night," I replied, with dignity, and I trusted he would soon be gone, and not make the house smell so dreadfully from his horrid cigar lit at the candles on the piano. " Look here, aunt. If old Saxby's right, and you go up a tree" (he meant be drowned), " don't forget to leave me a lock of your hair." was his next remark, continuing to fill the room with tobacco smoke. "Mr Saxby will be sure to be right. I wish you would go away, and not laugh at things you cannot understand," was my reply. " Well, it is a shame ' to laugh at a thing one cannot understand," wo 3 his immediate retort; and leaving the room as he spoke, I had no opportunity of ascertaining whether " the thing " not to be understood was poor dear Mr Saxby or myself. I know he meant something personal by his sneering tone, and by the look of self-laudation which he gave to his sister Harriett. Harriett appreciated the joke, if such were there, and little else occurred until, as we parted for the night, I informed her of my intention to spend all the morrow at " The Eagle's Nest," the residence of my esteemed friend, Mrs Soursides. " That is fine. I wish Alfred had known it," remarked my sister, and we wished each other good-night. It was very early in the morning when I i left Dolphin row. I wished to have much of ! dear Mrs Soursides' society, and also to be on the higher ground. I thought that perhaps poor Mr Saxby might have made a mistake about the hour of the sun and moon being on the equator, and then the railwaywall would be washed away, and the train come into the drawing-room before the proper time. I do not think Mrs Soursides expected me so early; at least, she did not seem to have given her servants notice of my coming to breakfast, because the housemaid could never have been so rude and vulgar to me had she been previously prepared for my advent. The woman at once guessed part of my object in coming, and after snapping me up, when I asked if her mißtress was at home, by saying, " Of course she is, and in bed, where other ladies ought to be too," added, "I suppose, mum, you thought to get out of being drownded by coming on here ? " " I came to see your mistress. Do not let me disturb you. Go on with your work," was my reply, and said in a most kindly tone. " Thank you, mum. There isn't a room ready for you, mum. Perhaps, mum, you wouldn't mind taking a walk to the beach until the breakfast things is laid, and master is down," said the woman, giggling. Having just left the beach I was not going to return there, but felt very uncertain how to act. Mr Soursides' being at home was an unexpected shock, as I had been given to understand that he could not possibly return from conducting some legal business in town before the end of the month; but having accepted an invitation to breakfast, and also having on the night before told Harriett of the same, it would never have done now to return to Dolphin row. • • Whilst remaining thus in doubt, I overheard the housemaid inform Mr Soursides of my having called, and think her statement called forth something not unlike an expletive from that man, and on inquiry as to " What the devil does she want ?" " She said, sir, she was come to spend the day. I think, sir, she's afraid of this big wave as is coming, and come here to be safe," replied the hypocritical minx, mincing her words as if she were some one quite grand. I did not hear what followed very dis

tinctly, as I walked away as fast as I could. Mr Soursides muttered something about having breakfast sharp, as he had to be off, and then seemed to talk to himself about " old cats," whilst he walked up and down on the gravel-drive. I watched the sea for at least half an hour, and then ventured once again to lift the knockner of " The Eagle's Nest." Dear Mrs Soursides was down, looking— as she always . does, and ever will do—perfectly charming, and received me most kindly. Mr Soursides is never pleasant, and generally cynical. Being a lawyer, he delights in putting everybody in a witness-box, and ascertaining a reason for everything. "lam so glad you have come. Do come upstairs and take your things off. The coffee has only just been made. We had almost given you up," said dear Mrs Soursides. " Speak for yourself, my dear. Dolphin row is not the pleasantest part of Dawlish, if Saxby proves a prophet," said Mr Soursides, as he put aside the newspaper and coldly bid me welcome. Breakfast was not a pleasant meal, although dear Mrs Soursides did her best to be agreeable, and to calm my fears as to passing sounds. " How did you leave all at home ? Quite well, I hope," asked dear Mrs Soursides. " Quite well, thank you," I replied, trying to collect my thoughts, which were disturbed by the rumbling of a passing waggon, which might have been poor Mr Saxby's wave. " The gratitude for the inquiry must be great. Did they insist on remaining to be drowned ?" asked Mr Soursides. " They only laugh at the wave, sir; and, sorry as I should be were they drowned, I cannot but think it would Berve them right," was my reply. " What I for laughing at the waves, or at Mr Saxby ? Scant justice you ladie3 would dole out, I fear," said Mr Soursides, looking over the edge of the horrid Times newspaper. " Oh, what is that ? Is it the wave ? " I asked, as there waa a dreadful bump somewhere. ? "Don't be nervous, dear. I think itis Susan throwing the fire-irons down in the drawing-room," said dear Mrs Sourside3, trying to reassure me. " Perhaps it is friend Saxby arrived to see his ware, and the coastguard are saluting him," suggested Mr Soursides. " Perhaps it is no such thing. I thought you were obliged to go to Exeter to-day," said dear Mrs Soursides, sharply. Mr Soursides took the hint, and, greatly to our relief, was soon after out of the house. It seemed a long time until luncheon. Perhaps waiting and watching the tide made the hours pass slowly; still, with ihe exception of terrible anxiety, chiefly caused by Susan, who appeared to insist on being more noisy than usual, time was not passed very unpleasantly. Dear Mrs Soursides knew all about everybody, and she told me the real truth about numbers of the people we always meet. Then we talked about what the Standard said, and what a nice paper it- was for news about all the dreadful things going on every day, and how wrong it was of the Times to let people put in letters abusing Mr Saxby. After this we tried to work, but as it was time for the wave we could not do much. It was just then I thought I should have fainted, for, as we were both looking out at the sea, that horrid Susan banged the door, and then screamed out — "Lunch is ready, ma'am ! " " Is it the wave ? " I asked tremblingly. " Lor' no, miss ! The wave's done coming, and the coastguards say it were all stuff," said Susan, sneeringly. Mrs Soursides led the way to the diningroom, and it was not until after two glasses of sherry that I was quite myself again. I might have been disappointed at the wave not coming. I might have been sorry for poor Mr Saxby, but Susan's noise at the door, and then her dreadful impertinences, quite upset me. To tell me that common coastguard-people knew as much as Mr Saxby, and considered his predictions as | stuff ! Certainly the sea did not behave differently from usual during the afternoon, and, seeing all things so safe, I was prepared to return to Dolphin row; but dear Mrs Soursides was so pressing that I was induced to remain for dinner, and thus foolishly rendered myself liable to be again insulted by Mr Souraides. The^iorrid Chinese gong sounding the dressbellyxecalled my memory for the moment to poori Mr Saxby and the wave; bnt its unearthly clamour being explained, I proceeded to dear Mr Soursides' boudoir, and by seven o'clock descended to the drawing-room. " Hallo, Aunt Sally 1 How does the world fare with your Saxby and the sad sea's wave ? " was my brother's salutation. "I did not expect to see you here," I replied. "Rather the contrary— drowned ? " said Mr Soursides, who had asked him to dinner. " Dinner is on the table, sir," said the parlour-maid, interrupting that man's sneering remarks; and accepting his arm, I went into the dining-room. The dinner was made a very unpleasant meal. Alfred and Mr Soursides did little else than refer to poor Mr Saxby's failure, whilst deay Mrs Soursides repeatedly remonstrated with her husband for his rudeness in not considering my feelings; and I was not sorry when it was over, and I was once more safely at home in Dolphin row.

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A Bandy Man. — A recent police case bas drawn attention to the arduous duties expected of auctioneers who have to contend with the violence of brokers. But an advertisement in the Times the other day proves that their labours are less Herculean than Atlantean : " Mr Oldfield has just had placed in his hands for private sale an excellent detached family residence, with attractive grounds, croquet lawn, well-stocked kitchen garden, and small paddock, the whole about two acres." We should think Mr Oldfield's hands were also two acbers, having to hold a house and grounds up in this way. He must have more strength or skill than a friend of ours, who tbe other day was clumsy enough to let a, handsome widow and £20,000 slip through his fingers.